NiMSA: The Anatomy of a Political Body in Cardiac Arrest

By LAUMSA Literary & Debating Society

Written by Akande Richard (BiG R)

If NiMSA were a human body, the cardiologists would have called Code Blue weeks ago. Our national association, meant to be the beating heart of 90,000 future doctors, is now suffering from acute political arrhythmia, complete with presidential palpitations, regional hypertension, and the occasional Twitter‑induced convulsion.

And the surgeons? That’s us, the intelligentsia, standing in scrubs at the theatre door, whispering, “God, abeg.”

Scene 1: The Presidential Broadway

Enter Mr. Ahmadu Sardauna, NiMSA President. One bright morning, he glanced at the Constitution, smiled, and said:

“Cute document. Let me cook.”

In his now‑infamous press release:

He suspended the Southwest Regional Coordinator, dissolved her entire council, and advertised their seats like Airbnb listings.

He declared the Vice President Internal (VPi) seat vacant, like a landlord evicting a tenant for playing loud Afrobeats.

He redrew Nigeria’s map, shifting Kwara to North Central, as if state boundaries were a CBT question he could just click “Next” on.

But Chapter I, Article 4, Section D(i) clearly says: you need two‑thirds GA approval to suspend an MSA or officer.

Instead, the President’s gavel was sprinting faster than Sergio Ramos on a reckless tackle.

If this were medicine, we’d diagnose: Acute Executive Overreach with Constitutional Necrosis.

Scene 2: Southwest, the Bard in Scrubs

Then came the Southwest reply, and Shakespeare would have thrown his quill in envy.

Words like “executive brigandage” and “intellectual cacophony” flew like scalpels. They crowned the President persona non grata from Lagos to Ife and basically said:

“Sir, we’ve discharged you against medical advice. Ward round over.”

Their prescription was clear:

Kwara = still Southwest.

VP Internal = still in office.

Regional Coordinator = still queen.

Anyone accepting Sardauna’s ‘appointments’ = enemy of the region.

It was classy rebellion, like a consultant smiling at you, then ripping your case note apart in front of the ward and your crush.

Scene 3: ILUMSA & The VP Internal Clinic

Finally, Hammed Olamide Dauda (HOD VPi) scrubbed in with scalpel‑level precision and TikTok‑grade shade.

Diagnosis of the President included:

Vacuous thought process (yes, in writing)

Erratic speech patterns

Delusions of constitutional grandeur (omo)

He then assumed Acting President, quoting Chapter II, Article A and Chapter V, Article C, while reminding everyone:

“Twitter Spaces are not a General Assembly. A Google Meet link is not the Constitution.”

In Gen Z terms:

“Dear President, dey your lane. No dey slide tackle like Casemiro after 80 minutes.”

Diagnosis: Acute Political Myocarditis

A body of Nigeria’s brightest future doctors has now become a student‑union telenovela, debating:

Whose ego has the higher viral load,

Which region Kwara belongs to,

And who gets the next seat in this theatre of drama.

Our stethoscope to the Constitution picks up:

Murmurs of executive overreach

Arrhythmias of regional defiance

Chronic hypertension of personal ambition

Meanwhile, the real heart murmurs, the health issues of our communities, wait patiently for the attention of their future doctors who are busy debating geopolitical anatomy.

Prescriptions for a Sick Association

1. Immediate Constitutional Resuscitation – Article IV, Section 2 leaves no doubt: only the General Assembly can fill or vacate elected offices. No freestyle surgery via Twitter Space. Shall we repeat that for those at the back?

2. Aggressive Ego‑ectomy – Southwest pride is fine, but NiMSA cannot function as a federation of feuding fiefdoms.

3. Refocus on the Patient – NiMSA is tachycardic from drama, hypotensive in relevance, and ischemic from endless press releases with a chronic shortage of real health initiatives.

Our Final Incision

We, LAUMSA Literary & Debating Society, observe with equal parts shame and fascination.

This is supposed to be a gathering of Nigeria’s most intelligent students, the future cardiologists and neurosurgeons. Yet, we have spent a semester debating egos like it’s Big Brother Anatomy, while the real patient, NiMSA, lies on the operating table, waiting for someone to scrub in.

Dear NiMSA leaders:

The GA is your only operating theatre; stop performing secret surgeries.

Southwest will always be Southwest, in politics and in geopolitical anatomy.

And history will ask,

“How did the healers of tomorrow become the patients of their own hubris today?”

Now scrub in, doctors‑to‑be.

The real work is saving NiMSA before rigor mortis sets in.

Until we resuscitate her, no one dares call time of death.