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The god of Nyesom Wike

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Rivers State governor, Nyesom Wike

Last week, Rivers State governor, Nyesom Wike and his entourage were in Ahoada area of the State, on a mission to flag-off a road construction. Then a drama was staged. It was skillfully perfumed by a sweet-smelling fragrance which disguised its heretics. As the governor sat to the panoply of songs and fawning political chicanery often entertained visiting political bigwigs with, an unnamed traditional ruler sauntered out to speak. You would think it was a typical narrative at a religious gathering where congregants are regaled with ludicrous and unverifiable claims.

So, the natural ruler was handed a microphone and he began his “testimony”. The only difference here is that he did not preface his narration with the usual deafening “Praise the Lord!” to which congregants usually chorus “Halleluyah!”

If you hitherto didn’t know the havoc that political fawners wreak on the psyche of Nigerian political barons, at least, you saw the viral video of that event. It was an attempt to make god of a mere mortal. Nigerian politicians, ever so creative in negativism, seem to be the only species among global politicians who author this brand of gimmickry. Watching the video, you cannot but pity the obvious imprisonment that political office holders are banished to in the hands of those who make gods out of them for political and selfish reasons. It also shows you how the minds of politically exposed persons are skillfully penetrated by a coterie of ingenuous, disingenuous and obviously idiotic spins. These are all in the bid to penetrate the unearned mounds of cash and positions in their possession.

Back to the video. Then, the fawner-in-chief began. Wike must have thought the man was going to shuttle into the usual political chicanery. No, this time around, a very brilliant brand of groveling was invented which thereafter must have remarkably reshaped the politics of hoodwinking of political barons which Wike and his political class cohorts were used to. I can bet my last dime that, as streetwise as the Rivers governor is, this latest gambit fazed him silly..

Apparently clearing his throat at the magnitude of his narration, the traditional ruler began, to which Wike listened with the usual half attention. The governor must have initially thought that he could recount what the ruler would say by rote. The usual practice is, begin the address of the governor with panegyric, then bring out your request, often for cash and position. However, something in the prefacing of the narration by the traditional ruler, who was decked in the complete regalia of an Ikwerre chief, must have sounded an alarm in Wike’s mind that this was going to be a very unusual narrative.

Then the natural ruler threw the bombast. Or bomb. A lady was admitted into an Ahoada hospital and was ostensibly in the throes of labour pain, struggling frenetically to be delivered of a child. Then she heard nurses in the hospital discussing an impending visit of Wike to the community on January 11. Immediately the pregnant woman heard this, said the traditional ruler, she hysterically shouted “God of Nyesom Wike!” three times. Miraculously, continued the ruler as he maintained the straight face and mien of a money-doubler, her baby came out seamlessly. We didn’t hear the traditional ruler chant the usual epilogue of such ecclesial narration which is always, “Halleluyah!” nor the frenzied shouting response from members of the congregation.

Wike must have been dumbfounded and confounded. A Master of Political drama before and even outside of the microphone, Wike, I reckon, immediately felt masterfully outperformed by this ingenious political con. Concluding, the ruler asked the governor for permission, which he claimed the woman’s family demanded of him, to have the child named after Nyesom Wike.

The pandemic of deodorizing political office holders is a scantily studied political culture in Nigeria. I submit that if properly examined, this culture of deifying mere mortals who hold political power, research may find out, harbours the key to understanding how and why political office holders suddenly go out of control immediately they are vested with power.

I was once in the presence of a governor who was told by one of such disingenuous fawners that his attire was similar to Obafemi Awolowo’s. “Your Excellency sir, the way your cap is tilted was same way Papa Awolowo used to slant his cap!” Adjusting the hapless cap fondly, an infantile smile suddenly jumping on his face, the governor was like a child who had just been handed a self amusing toy or a bar of choice candy.

The politics of adulation and deodorizing of political office holders may have a long history that is a throwback into our African culture. During the Ibrahim Babangida military autocracy years, a Guardian commentator labeled it the Kabiyesi culture or the culture of investing office holders with the same infallible and super-human qualities and epithets of the omnipotent. According to the commentator, apparently unable to find a corollary in modern day power structure to heap on present political authorities, Nigerians and Africans in general reincarnate all those frightening, deifying and godifying features and nomenclatures that we once attributed to monarchs.

Adulations in traditional Africa can be compared to what is found in popular South Indian cinema. Those who research into that cinema culture say it is a highly melodramatic entertainment scene and plotted around what is considered improbable twists of fate. This cinema setting, in the estimation of popular culture scholars, is woven around exaggerated locales and sauced with folksongs, dances, and dueling cinema scenes that are not reflective of the reality of life. The patronage of that cinema culture is largely the poor of society. Not excited by it, critics dismiss its vast popularity as bemusing or an indication of how viewers have sunk in a surprising moral and intellectual somersault.

But we cannot dispute the fact that adulations are part and parcel of us as Africans and that they have existed for centuries. In fact, panegyrics, more than a work of literature, defined the politics of imperial cities. Ancient Rome was renowned for its pioneering role in panegyrics for political powers. It went beyond prose and poetry to becoming a pastime of aristocrats, emperors and generalissimos as one of the forms of encomia in Rome. Among the Yoruba, adulations, praise-singing suffered metastasis of an almost pandemic proportion. In palaces for instance, special places and roles were reserved for fawners and palace courtiers whose sole role was to extol the panegyrics of kings.

It was in this process of odorizing kings that they got invested with epithets of Igbakeji Orisa – second in authority to the gods and Kabiyesi, Kabiyesi being that the king was beyond questioning. This must explain why it was a taboo for monarchs of that era to be seen eating or drinking in public. This was in the bid to continue to sustain the myth of kings’ sacredness, so that they could carry aloft the mythical garb of being far removed from ordinary mortals.

The culture of praise-singing was easily transported into the blanket veneration and loyalty accorded godfathers, elders and ancestors and accounts for its presence in virtually all cultures in Nigeria. It is why these cultures easily transform into clientelism and gerontocracy. Some African anthropologists studying this phenomenon have labeled it sacrilegious in that they attribute God or god’s features to mere mortals. Only in very few instances have attempts been made to look at the dangerous impacts of political panegyrics and dogmatic eulogies of political office holders on Nigerian democratic politics and how the phenomenon negatively impacts on societal well-being.

As I said earlier, it is not only in Nyesom Wike’s Rivers State that you would find the kind of deification politics which happened last week in Ahoada. It is present in virtually wherever there is politics in Nigeria. Indeed, there seems to be a large clique of political panegyricists who, like vultures, wait for political office holders to ascend their imperial offices. They take time to study them and find out what their Achilles heels are. Once they ascend the offices, the vultures unleash their subtle attacks on the politicians’ minds. Having found out their weak points, until they lead the political office holder to Golgotha, the vultures will not let go of their throats.

These vultures come in various forms: religious, political or social. Pastors and Imam variants exist too. So also those who come in the cloak of political pundits, hiding theirs in the veneer of political party wisdom. For some political office holders, their Achilles heels lie in being told that “even Awolowo, Zik or Sardauna” didn’t perform as much as them. This adulation opens the wallets of state in their possession. For others, it is something as mundane as extolling the political office holder’s sartorial appearance. The political barons are so naïve not to know that, on many of those occasions, those adulations are sardonic.

The implications are dire for society. Political adulations have led to cronyism, favouritism and perversion of extant rules. By cuddling political office holders’ vanity veins, the vultures have variously misled them into taking decisions that they most often wouldn’t have taken. Those who are engaged in adulatory politics are mostly people who cannot compete favourably on a level playing field. They needed to tug at the soft spot of the political principal to get favour. That, to me, is the gospel at Ahoada.

Dr Festus Adedayo, a journalist, lawyer and columnist writes from Ibadan

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Opinion

NASS Pensioners: How Akpabio, Abbas Should Not Treat The Elderly

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On Monday and Tuesday last week, workers and political operatives within the precincts of the new Senate building in the National Assembly complex, Abuja, were treated to a replica of the Theatre of the Absurd. This type of drama originated in Europe and later spread to America in the 1950s. It was influenced by existential philosophy and Albert Camus’s essay The Myth of Sisyphus.

In that work, Camus captured the fundamental human needs and compared the absurdity of man’s life with the situation a figure of Greek mythology, Sisyphus found himself, where he was condemned to repeat forever the task of pushing a boulder up a mountain, and repeatedly sees the same roll down the hill as he approaches the top.

He, thereafter, juxtaposed life’s absurdities with what he called the “unreasonable silence” of the universe to human needs and concluded that rather than adopt suicide, in frustration, “revolt” was required.

82-year-old Dr. Muhammed Adamu Fika, former Clerk to the National Assembly and former Chairman, of the National Assembly Service Commission (NASC), who calls himself the “smaller Adamu Fika,” must have come across the Camus essay in deciding to lead an emergency meeting of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries of the National Assembly on November 18. The emergency meeting, which was jointly held with members of the Association of Retired Staff of the National Assembly was meant to salvage the pathetic plights of the National Assembly retirees.

Eighty-two-year-old Fika can hardly gather the pace to navigate round the corners of the National Assembly, but he insisted on making the trip to enable him to preside over the meeting as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries. As his retiree colleagues, many of whom are far younger, saw him struggling to walk the required distance from the Bola Ahmed Tinubu Library, originally fixed as venue to the new Senate building, they had to provide some shoulders to lean on. At one stage, an office chair was converted to a wheelchair to ensure the elderly Fika got to certain locations. It was a sad tale, especially if you look at the essence of Fika’s trip to the National Assembly. He was there to preside over a meeting to press home the need for the payment of the entitlements of National Assembly retirees. An alarm had earlier been sounded on the different Whatsapp platforms of the retired workers of the National Assembly to the effect their members were dying in numbers. It was revealed that no fewer than 20 retired workers had died awaiting the payment of their entitlements in the recent past. Another set of retirees numbering 12 were said to have been bedridden in different hospitals across the land. That alarm was more than enough to prompt Fika and his retiree colleagues to an emergency meeting. But the sight of an elderly man, fighting a just cause on an improvised wheelchair was more than absurd.

Payment of the entitlements got stalled after former President Muhammadu Buhari assented to the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023, which mandated the National Pensions Commission (PENCOM) to hand over assets of the staff of the National Assembly in its custody after the passage of the National Assembly pension law.

In the beginning, there were no signs that things would go south on the implementation of the Act. Three months after the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act came into effect, PENCOM had written the management to convey its decision to hand off the pension assets of the staff of the National Assembly, while requesting the National Assembly management to provide it with account details to remit the accrued funds. The 10th Senate and the House of Representatives also provided hope for the retirees by providing a take-off grant to the tune of N2.5 billion in the 2024 budget. However, the NASS management could not comply with the request from PENCOM because the Pensions Board had not been inaugurated. Months after months, the retirees waited. Those who were already enjoying their benefits when PENCOM was administering had the payments terminated, while the waiting game ensued.

In trying to fast-track the implementation of the Act, Fika, as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries had forwarded a letter to the President of the Senate, Godswill Akpabio, and the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Tajudeen Abbas, intimating them of the council’s recommendations for positions in the National Assembly Service Pensions Board.

Fika said in the letter, dated February 27, 2024, that “Considering the pathetic health conditions of our retired colleagues, Your Excellency will agree with me that the establishment of the National Assembly Pensions Board is overdue five (5) months after Mr. President’s assent.” He said that his letter was premised on the provisions of Sections 2 and 17(3) of the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023, which indicate that the presiding officers of the National Assembly shall make the appointments subject to recommendations of the Council of Clerks and Secretaries. But some persons are insinuating that the undue delay might have been instigated by two strange bedfellows-politics and money. Where the two are involved, simply things hardly follow a straight course. However, nothing justifies the nearly 20-month delay in inaugurating the Pensions Board.

At the end of the emergency meeting on Monday, further meetings were said to have been scheduled at the instance of the Senate President, Akpabio, his deputy, Jibril Barau and others but there were no conclusive steps, yet.

A communique released after the meeting indicated that the retirees observed that the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023 went through full legislative process in the 9th National Assembly and was assented to by President Muhammad Buhari. It further noted that the delay in implementing the Act has caused undue and untold hardship to the retirees who are unable to access their retirement benefits, adding that while a number of the retired Staff have died, many others are bedridden due to sufferings occasioned by the non-payment of their entitlements.

According to the communique, the meeting decried the pains the retired staff have been subjected to and recalled that appropriate recommendations as per the composition of the Pensions Board have been made to the Presiding Officers of the National Assembly, in line with the enabling Act.

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The Fuji Music House Of Commotion

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Like every lover of Yoruba traditional music, language and culture, I have of recent been inundated with requests to lend a voice to the newest raging fire in the Fuji music genre. Since the passage of Alhaji Sikiru Ayinde Balogun, popularly known as Ayinde Barrister or Agbajelola Barusati, there have been longstanding tiffs on whom of the trio of Ayinde Omogbolahan Anifowose, KWAM 1; self-named King Saheed Osupa (K.S.O.) and Wasiu Alabi Pasuma, was the “King.”

These musicians’ recent quest for supremacy is not new. From time immemorial, supremacy battles have been part and parcel of Yoruba music. Apparently now tempered by modernity, in the olden days, the battles were fought with traditional spells, incantations and talisman aimed at deconstructing and liquidating their rivals. Mostly fought on genre basis, I submit that pre and post-independence entertainment scene would have been livelier, far more robust than it was but for the acrimonious liquidating fights of those eras.

In the Sakara music, Abibu Oluwa, a revered early precursor of this Yoruba musical genre, who reigned in the late 1920s and 1930s, had Salami Alabi Balogun, popularly known as Lefty Salami, Baba Mukaila and Yusuff Olatunji as members of his band. Oluwa praise-sang many Lagos elites of his time, especially Herbert Macaulay to whom he sang his praise in the famous track named “Macaulay Macaulay.” In it, he sang the foremost Nigerian nationalist’s alias of Ejonigboro – Snake on the Street and prayed that he would not come to shame.

Sakara also produced the likes of S. Aka Baba Wahidi, Kelani Yesufu (alias Kelly). It was sung with traditional Yoruba instruments like the solemn-sounding goje violin whose history is traced to the north, and the roundish Sakara drum, beaten with stick and whose appearance is like that of a tambourine. Sakara music is often called the Yoruba variant of western blues music because of its brooding rhythm though laced with a high dosage of philosophy.

When Oluwa died in 1964, he literally handed over to Lefty who, born on October 1913, died December 29, 1981. Lefty, a talking drummer under Oluwa, churned out over 35 records before his demise, one of which was a tribute to Lagos monarch, Oba Adele (Adele l’awa nfe – Oba Adele is the king we want) and another to the Elegushi family. I dwelt considerably on Sakara because it is believed to have had considerable influence on other genres of traditional African Yoruba music, especially Apala and Fuji, with the former sometimes indistinguishable from Sakara.

Apala music, whose exponent is said to be Haruna Ishola, originated in the late 1930s Nigeria. Delivered with musical instruments like a rattle (Sekere) thumb piano, (agidigbo) drums called Iya Ilu and Omele, a bell (agogo) and two or three talking drums, Apala and Sakara are the most complex of these genres of traditional Yoruba music, due to their infusion of philosophy, incantations and dense Yoruba language into their mix. Distinct, older and more difficult in mastery than Fuji music which is considered to be comparatively easy to sing, Ayinla Omowura, Ligali Mukaiba, Kasumu Adio, and many others were Apala leading lights of the time. The three genres have very dense Islamic background.

The latest entrant of all the three genres is Fuji. Pioneered by Ayinde Barrister no doubt, for an Apala musician biographer like me, I am confused that Omowura, as far back as early 1970s, asked listeners in need of good Fuji music to come learn from him – “Fuji t’o dara, e wa ko l’owo egbe wa…” Sorry, I digressed.

While KWAM 1 emerged with his Talazo music from the ashes of his being a music instrument arranger for Barrister’s musical organization in the early 1980s, the feud in the house after Barrister’s death erupted when narratives allegedly oozed unto the musical scene that KWAM 1 referred to himself as the creator of Fuji music. He however promptly denied the claim. For decades, Osupa and Pasuma were locked in horns over supremacy of the Fuji music genre. In August 2023, the two however seemed to have decided to thaw their feud as they shared stage with Wasiu Ayinde, at Ahmad Alawiye Folawiyo, an Islamic singer’s 50th birthday celebration in Lagos. KWAM 1 glibly acted as their senior colleague at the event.

As an indication that they are no bastards of the teething and recurrent supremacy battles that emblemize traditional Yoruba music, the three Fuji music icons seem to have gone into the trenches again. It first started with Taiye Currency, an Ibadan-based alter-ego of Pasuma picking a fight with the musician who self-styled himself Son of Anobi Muhammed’s Wife. In a viral video, Currency had disclaimed reference to Pasuma as his “father” in the music industry. In another video not long after, KWAM 1, like some kind of father figure, was shown asking Currency to apologize to Pasuma.

A few days ago, a video of Osupa went viral. Therein, he was chastising a particular hypocrite he called “Onirikimo” and “alabosi”, who is “stingy and is ready to shamelessly collect money from those under him.” Osupa also claimed that this “shameless elder” had strung a ring of corn round his waist and should be ready to be made fun of by hens. Watchers of the endless tiffs among these Fuji icons swear that KWAM 1 was the unnamed Fuji musician Osupa was casting aspersion on.

The trio of Sakara, Apala and Fuji music also witnessed such petty squabbles. While many claim that the fights were promotional gambits aimed at having their fans salivate for their hate-laced musical attacks against one another, some others claim that the rivalries were genuine. In the Apala music scene, Haruna Ishola and Kasumu Adio fought each other to the nadir, with Adio, who sang almost in the same voice and cadence as Ishola, suddenly vamoosing from the musical scene. Rumours and speculations had it then that a mysterious goat bit Adio and rendered him useless. While Ayinla Omowura also fought Fatai Olowonyo, Fatai Ayilara, among others in the Apala genre, the duo of Yusuff Olatunji and S. Aka also feuded till their last days. This is not to mention the interminable fight between Kollington Ayinla and Barrister.

If the tiff between the trio of KWAM 1, Osupa and Pasuma is about age and Yoruba traditional respect for elders, KWAM 1 would easily go away with the trophy of the best of the three. However, if philosophical depth, musical elan, research of lyrics and deployment of Yoruba language are at issue, none of the other two musicians can unbuckle Osupa’s sandals. Osupa began his musical career in 1983 as a teenager and has gone through the mills, his late father being a musician, too and Awurebe music lord, Dauda Epo Akara’s musical contemporary.

Unlike their predecessors, the three Fuji musicians are literate and should thus address their musical issues in more mature manner. Osupa even recently bagged a degree from the department of Political Science, University of Ibadan. One thing they should know is that, whether one is supreme to the other or not, their fans will readily queue behind the brand that delights them.

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Almajiri: Why Northern Leaders Must Look Themselves in the Mirror

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Two incidents happened during the 1994/95 NYSC service year, which I was part of in Birnin-Kebbi, Kebbi State, and they gave me profound culture shocks that I still remember till today. I would equally say that those incidents probably justified the Federal Government’s decision to float the scheme.

 

We were told that part of the reasons General Yakubu Gowon floated the NYSC was to ensure national integration, cohesion and exposure of young Nigerians to cultures of other parts of the country other than where they were born.

First was the shock of seeing a director that I was attached to in the then Government House, who had just taken a new wife, and sat among drivers, gate men and other junior staff to dine. I saw them seated round a huge iron pot of Koko, a local delicacy, exchanging one big spoon made of calabash, as each took turns to use the spoon to eat the delicacy. It was as if I was witnessing a scene where children of a big family were struggling to catch a portion of food or where people were eating Saara, as they say it in Yorubaland.

As I walked past the noisy crowd, I was transfixed seeing the newly-wedded director among the lot. He saw me standing still, as I couldn’t comprehend what he was doing there, and he got the message. ‘Taiyo, (as he used to call me) you won’t understand,’ he said as he waved to me to keep going. When we later saw, he explained that what he just did was a way of assuring the commoners that ‘we are all one,’ as they felicitated him on the new bride. But I could not fathom how the occupant of a ‘huge office’ as that of a director in a Government House , would sit among “commoners” on a tattered mat to share a single spoon and eat in public.
The other incident was quite pathetic. My friend, Tunde Omobuwa, was posted to a school in Yauri, in the southern part of the state, for his primary assignment. But he found the place boring on weekends. So, he arranged to always be with me on weekends.

One such weekend, we decided to take a stroll round the streets near the Government House. We took off from the place of my primary assignment, the Federal Information Centre; bought corn beside the office, and started ‘blowing’ the ‘mouth organ’ as we strolled. We were too engrossed in our gist and the sweetness of the corn to note that some young boys were trailing us, praying that some leftovers of the corn would drop for them to scavenge. Somehow, the two of us dropped the corn cob almost simultaneously. We were more than taken aback by a commotion that erupted at our back. Four eight or nine year-olds had descended on the supposed leftovers and broken the corn cobs into pieces. I was again transfixed as if one was hit by an electric shock. Remember that feeling when you play with electric fish?

I was moved to tears as I had never ever seen a group of children scavenging on nothing as it were. I beckoned to the kids and offered them N20, which was the highest denomination at the time, and with some smattering Hausa words told them to go buy their own corn from the same place we got ours. As they left, heading to the corn seller, I couldn’t erase that ugly sight from my mind. Was it really possible that some people scavenge on nothing this way? I was later to see incidents of children swarming around restaurants and pouncing on near empty plates.

These incidents told me clearly that the North was a different place and that the life of the boy child is not only risky and endangered but sold to stagnation and deprivation, unless you are one of the lucky few.

Having benefited from the free education policy of the Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN) between 1979 and 1983, when the Second Republic was terminated, I knew that there is a lot the government can do in educating the children. In my secondary school days, I was the Library Prefect at one point, and so I saw an excess of books supplied by the government to our school. So, I was an example of the feasibility of free education. It was the same way the Action Group government had handled education in the years preceding Nigeria’s independence and the First Republic.

So why can’t the state governments in the North declare free and compulsory education for the young ones out there? Why should children be made to scavenge on empty corn cobs just to see if they can find pieces of seeds left over?

And why was my director giving drivers and gate men in the Government House false hope that they were all the same, instead of him to challenge them to seek to lift themselves up the social ladder?
I think there was no excuse for the North not to have adopted a free education policy, just as Chief Obafemi Awolowo did in the South-West. And if we say the North needs to look itself in the mirror, you again remember the efforts by President Goodluck Jonathan to educate the multitude of Northern children through the Almajiri Schools. That government built more than 400 of such schools, which were abandoned because it could upset the oligarchy. The oligarchs forgot the truism that the children of the poor they refuse to train today won’t let their children sleep peacefully.

But the governor of Borno State, Prof Babagana Zulum, appears to have got the message. Last week, I was thrilled to see him organise a summit to reform the Almajiri system.

The Almajiri education system is a traditional Islamic method of learning widely obtained across states in northern Nigeria. Through that system, which is tied to Islamic teaching, youths, especially boys are kept out of the formal western education system. I don’t know why the teachings by Islamic scholars cannot go alongside that of Western education as it obtains in Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq and other Islamic countries that are doing well economically and in the world of science, technology.
While addressing the summit, Zulum had mentioned the need to address the root causes of insecurity through the provision of education for citizens of Borno, adding that improper teaching of Islamic studies has contributed to the emergence of Boko Haram insurgents in the state.

According to him, to curtail whatever is the adverse effect of Almajiri education; the Borno State Government has established the Arabic and Sangaya Education Board to introduce a unified curriculum for Sangaya and Islamic schools. He said that the reform would include establishing Higher Islamic Colleges to cater for Almajiri children and blending the religious teachings with the secular curricula as well as skills.
He said: “The Sangaya Reform is a great development. It will give Almajiri a better chance in life, particularly the introduction of integrating western education, vocational, numeracy, and literacy skills into the centres, which are also described as Almajiri and Islamic schools.

“Distinguished guests and esteemed educationists, government’s intention was to streamline the informal and formal education systems to quality integrated Sangaya School for admission into colleges and universities.”

One would have thought that governors with radical postures like Nasir el-Rufai and others before him would have proposed this type of reform, but it is better late than never. Zulum should be supported to get something out of this.

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