I have seen the argument by Dr. Akuno George on politically organized medical camps. I understand the concern — that politicians should build sustainable health systems rather than engage in what appears to be episodic, tokenistic outreach.
That argument is valid.
But it is incomplete.
My own experience tells a more complex and more useful story.
In 2001–2002, during the highly charged campaigns that ushered in H.E. Mwai Kibaki, the Kenya Medical Association (KMA), working alongside National Health Insurance Fund and political actors, organized a series of medical camps across the country. At the time, I was a young medical officer.
Those camps changed my understanding of healthcare in Kenya — permanently.
We travelled to parts of this country that many policymakers speak about, but have never seen. Remote, underserved, and often forgotten regions — Mandera, Kitui, Baringo, and many others. We met many of these politicians including Kalonzo Musyoka, Charity Kaluki Ngilu
In Baringo, I was stationed at Kimalel Health Centre. That is where the reality of inequity in healthcare hit me hard.
At Machakos District Hospital, where I worked, we did not have access to Vicryl sutures — we relied on catgut for everything. Today, that would be considered unacceptable clinical practice. Yet that was the standard in a district hospital.
Now imagine what was happening in Kimalel.
Medical camps exposed us — young doctors — to the true state of healthcare disparity in this country. Not in reports. Not in boardrooms. But in real life.
And importantly, they did something else that is rarely acknowledged:
They brought doctors face-to-face with power.
During those camps, we interacted directly with national leadership. I recall vividly sitting next to Dr. James Nyikal when he made a direct appeal to President Daniel arap Moi to improve the terms of service for healthcare workers.
That moment mattered.
Because shortly thereafter, we began to see improvements in those terms.
Would that conversation have happened in an office in Nairobi? Perhaps.
But would it have carried the same weight — surrounded by patients in need, in the harsh reality of underserved Kenya?
Unlikely.
Medical camps create a unique convergence:
• The suffering patient
• The frontline doctor
• The political decision-maker
All in one place. At one time. Confronting the same reality.
That is not tokenism.
That is policy pressure in its most human form.
The camps also had tangible public health benefits:
• They expanded access to care in areas that had none
• They created awareness and drove NHIF enrollment
• They exposed systemic gaps to those with the power to fix them
I recall President Moi urging families in Baringo to sell one goat and enroll in NHIF. That messaging, delivered at that moment, increased uptake of health insurance in those communities.
So yes — politicians must build systems. That is non-negotiable.
But to dismiss medical camps entirely is to ignore their strategic value.
Medical camps are not the destination. They are the bridge.
A bridge between:
• The underserved community and healthcare access
• Young doctors and real-world experience
• Policy and lived reality
• Power and accountability
And perhaps most importantly:
They are one of the few platforms where a young doctor can stand in the same space as power — not as a spectator, but as a witness and an advocate.
We should not romanticize medical camps.
But neither should we trivialize them.
The real question is not whether medical camps should exist.
The real question is:
How do we structure them so that they serve patients, strengthen systems, and influence policy — all at once?
I’m probably in KMA today due to the impact of those medixal camps. I’ve also helped plan many other medical camps including the latest and highly successful Aluoch Joseph medical camp in Sawagongo
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Dr Simon Kigondu is a gynaecologist and commentator on health policy.
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