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The Ikoyi high-rise rubble

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The Ikoyi skyscraper tragedy has more than its 21 fatal floors. It is like wood falling on wood; and more wood falling on wood; a tangled narrative woven by fate and circumstances. The building came down in style: a very huge structure collapsing on itself in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t an implosion and it was not an explosion. It just got tired of standing and fell on its bottom. What force failed the feet of the building and what was the impact of the fall on its immediate neighbours, including its two sister high-rise buildings?

If this happened in black man’s ancient times, the skyline crash would be blamed on thunder and its celts of precision fire. But this is the year of our Lord 2021, the divining priests are different. That is why, I, a stark illiterate in architecture and engineering matters, will be asking unschooled questions. I start from the first pictures of what remains of the Ikoyi building. Look at them. I see a huge pile of sliced concrete – I wanted to say sliced bread, almost neatly packed, but no; this is death. Is that how they fall – and sit- like a tired mountain of serrated rocks?

Lagos and its leaders are habitual newsmakers; they are a stubborn riddle. The headline last year was about the Lekki Toll Gate; this time, it is about an Ikoyi skyscraper that crashed. Those in the news last year are in this news again. I read Dele Momodu and his Pendulum two days ago. He described the tragedy as a jigsaw. In the good old jigsaw puzzle, the game starts when a picture is cut up into odd shapes. You get back that your picture -and win- only if you can correctly piece together the pieces. We have a complex case on our hands. The Ikoyi free fall has more than 21 levels of tragedy. At the very base are the raw wounds of personal losses; in the middle is the question of what went wrong; occupying the upper floors are bolts of the intriguing politics of who benefits from this misfortune. You’ve seen statements and exhumation of long buried videos; you’ve heard allegations and denials and threats; you’ve read of a fierce Berlin scramble for the assets of the unburied dead; we’ve also seen complementary visits by the government of Lagos and by the owners of Lagos. The fall is as huge as its elephantine benefits; every knife of imaginable curves is out, carving pounds of political capital.

There is a panel of inquiry charged with answering all questions connected with this tragedy. What will it find? The ones before this one, what were the fruits of their labour? The government said the developer got approval for 15 floors but jerked the building up to 21. That was an addition of six floors! And were those additional floors built in a day? Where was the law when the money-man rewrote the approval in his own image? Now, when buildings collapse, who do we blame? The owner? The builder? The construction workers? The regulators? Or all? I I think the last option is the correct answer. Did the Ikoyi building give any warning signs that were ignored? We do not know and may never know. It is a jigsaw, a puzzle. Every star you’ve seen in the skies of that place was involved in the making of that horror. But the living among them are exhaling relief sighs because so much has died with the dead in that mound.

Dele Momodu said the developer wanted his own residence in that particular tower. What he was building was a condominium, not a death-house. The man was not known to be tired of living and so could not have built for himself a fatal trap by cutting corners. He was also neither an investor in suicidal terrorism nor a self-killing Samson fulfilling a morbid divine purpose. Now, did the man put his trust too much in the expertise of his specialists, ignoring fatal fissures and crevices? If he didn’t trust the foundation of his dream, the super and sub-structures, would he be caught taking his lords, spiritual and temporal, on a triumphal tour of the floors? What really happened? We saw a showy video of some white wizards of construction. Were the white men in the building when it fell? If they weren’t, where were they? We saw another video of praise and worship, of prayers and electrifying songs of victory over the enemy. Who was that enemy?

How long are buildings, especially tall ones, destined to stand? Zaria Gorvett of the BBC answered a similar question in August 2016.

Gorvett said “Egypt’s pyramids were the skyscrapers of their day – and they are still standing 5,000 years later.” So, what brought down that 21-floor building in our Lagos before its full moon? That is the question to ask and for which we must get the correct answer(s) if there won’t be another crash. Everyone knows that vultures forever hover over Lagos lands. For this one and its precious ruins, hawks and vultures appear fighting already. Read the news. Going forward, we will see the horrors clearly by the time ‘widow’ inheritors take over. Greek biographer and historian, Plutarch, recorded the feat of a man called Crassus. The man was famed as Rome’s wealthiest man of the first century BCE. Rome of that era was always on fire but it had no fire service. Crassus saw business here and proceeded to build a vast empire of riches from the mass misery of victims of fire disasters. Was he involved in the fire breakouts?

History is silent on this but check out how he acquired his vast fortune: “Crassus or his agents would, on the spot, purchase buildings that were still ablaze and the buildings abutting the flaming structure at a fraction of the buildings’ worth. Once the deal had been concluded, Crassus’s personal fire brigade would step in and seek to halt the damage…” (See ‘The Great Fire of Rome: Life and Death in the Ancient City’ By Joseph J. Walsh, at page 32). The Crassuses of Nigeria must be salivating over that Gerrad Road property already. Sadly, we may not hear a whimper after they are done ringing their bells.

History pays a generous attention to disasters and whatever may have caused them. It assumes that man would read and sweat to prevent a silly repeat of what was bad and destructive. But is it in the nature of man to learn? Like a massive stroke, something snapped in that Ikoyi building and levelled the rich and the poor. Was there any sign of an impending crash? We think disasters are thieves in the night; that they very rarely whistle their coming. We think tragedies usually come crashing in to laugh at the folly of wise men. There was the mythical Tower of Babel, an audacious attempt to “take the celestial kingdom, piling mountains up to the stars.” What crashed it? Was it the fault of man or the force of God that fractured and crashed the lofty house?

Beyond myths, there have been many disastrous crashes that claimed lives and sealed fates because of the greed of man. One such bad story happened in Rome in 27 CE. Historian William Slater said “as destructive as a major war, it began and ended in a moment.” The tragedy of Fidenae theatre – that is the incident. Its casualties were so many that imperial Rome never forgot the calamity. Slater said the builder, one Atilius, an ex-slave, wanted an amphitheater of outstanding stature, but he “neither rested its foundations on solid ground nor fastened the superstructure securely.” Motives matter in what we build and how we build it. In this case, Atilius, as recorded in history “had undertaken the project not because of great wealth or municipal ambition but for sordid profits.” He completed the construction and threw it open “to host gladiatorial spectacles.” Then, Slater wrote, thousands flocked the stadium “—men and women of all ages.” Sorrow, tears and blood visited the stadium almost immediately. Slater, the historian, puts the tragedy elegantly in this narration: “The packed structure collapsed, subsiding both inwards and outwards and precipitating or overwhelming a huge crowd of spectators and bystanders. Those killed at the outset of the catastrophe at least escaped torture, as far as their violent deaths permitted. More pitiable were those, mangled but not yet dead, who knew their wives and children lay there too. In daytime they could see them, and at night they heard their screams and moans. The news attracted crowds, lamenting kinsmen, brothers, and fathers.

Even those whose friends and relations had gone away on other business were alarmed, for while the casualties remained unidentified, uncertainty gave free range for anxieties. When the ruins began to be cleared, people reached to embrace and kiss the corpses—and even quarrelled over them, when features were unrecognizable but similarities of physique or age had caused wrong identifications. Fifty thousand people were mutilated or crushed to death in the disaster.” Ancient Rome blamed Atilius, the owner/builder of the amphitheater; history blames him too. But should he solely carry the burden of guilt?

Some works should represent the ethical immanence of God. The construction industry is one. Regulators and building specialists, workmen and artisans have people’s lives right there in the cusps of their palms. They will go to hell whose greed cracks roads and crashes buildings and kills people. Steve Jobs has an interesting viewpoint here. He warned that “your work is going to fill a large part of your life,” and “the only way to be truly satisfied is to do great work.” What then is great work? It is work that endures.

A jigsaw tragedy is what we have in Ikoyi, Lagos. Ghostly questions stomp that eerie place demanding answers. Will they ever get justice? Men and machine have been busy on that plate of fate since last Monday. They are still there, roaring round the rubble like lions in search of lost cubs. How do we piece together life and its meaning from this pile of death and tears?

The man who built the failed skyscraper was its ‘inmate’ when it crashed. It was his labour room; he went in there very expectant of joy in bouncing bundles. But he was brought out dead, his pot and its precious water got lost in the debris of death. And it wasn’t as if the man was a daily face there. Yet, the crash waited and chose his very presence to end everything, including the dreamer. I have heard questions on how and where the man got his billions. We’ve heard and read other stories and the stories of others. We’ve heard repeated shouts of horror, the sighs of receding hope and thunder claps of escape. A job seeker failed to get what he sought there; he left that spot sad and crest-fallen. He soon had cause to thank his God for making him fail. ‘Blessings of Failure’ won’t be a bad title for his memoirs.

One youth corps member flew off the killing field of North East Nigeria; she landed on the velvet laps of Lagos and sadly died at the safe harbour of Ikoyi. There is a word called fate, inscrutable is its sole adjective. The white man calls it destiny; the Yoruba say it is Ayanmo. There is no armour against its darts. It is the handcuff which chains man to where his portion lays. May God heal the wounded and repose the souls of the dead.

 

Celebrated columnist, Lasisi Olagunju, writes  from Ibadan, Oyo state 

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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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