Sometime in 2003, the then Vice President Atiku Abubakar was informed that the Nigerian Population Commission’s 2003 Demographic and Health Survey of Nigeria was ready. The most powerful vice president in the history of Nigeria immediately issued a goodwill message that would be published in the report. In his message, Atiku Abubakar wrote that the implementation of the 2003 Nigeria Demographic and Health Survey (2003 NDHS) “further shows the renewed effort of government to alleviate poverty and to resolve related health problems with the goal of overall improvement in the quality of life in Nigeria.” He then made the mandatory statement of urging all the people involved in the three tiers of government to utilize the information provided to ensure success in the health sector. At the end of the message, Atiku splashed that memorable signature of his across the page with the characteristic Nigerian dot at the end. And, he did not forget the mandatory title, Turakin Adamawa. That was enclosed in a bracket. Next, an elaborate ceremony took place where the chairman of the commission, Mr. S. D. Makama, shook hands with the Vice President as cameras clicked. The 348-page report was then handed to Atiku who then handed it over to an aide of his, who then handed it over to another aide and on and on until it got to the shelf where all reports like that go to collect dust. The next day, the newspapers of the day reported the summary of the report findings. Nigeria’s fertility rate was 5.7. Infant mortality rate was 100 deaths per 1,000 live births. Under-five mortality rate was 203 deaths per 1000 live births. Everyone thanked the US Agency for International Development (USAID), United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), UNICEF, ORC Marco and all the other international agencies that provided the funding and technical support. And the nation moved on. Hidden inside the report were some damning statistics that should have concerned Atiku. 60 percent of primary school age children in Nigeria were attending primary school with significant variations by regions. At the secondary school level the disparity was even more pronounced. For instance, primary school attendance in Atiku’s North East was 49.5% for male and 39.1% for female. In the South-South it was 83.2 % for male and 81.1% for female. At the secondary school level, North East showed 22.9% attendance for male and 14.9% attendance for female. In the South-South it was 51.6% for male and 51.5% for female. Fast forward to August of this year. Atiku Abubakar ventured into social media. He joined Facebook and Twitter and even started a blog. In that world, he encountered young people who expressed their dissatisfaction about the way things are. In a blog post announcing a scholarship for a Nigerian university student, Atiku stated his belief that, without education he would not be who he is and where he is. He touted how he built a kindergarten and then a primary school and later a university. “But in all of this I have remained dissatisfied,” he wrote. “I have always felt that I could do more, that Nigeria could do more, for the proper education of our young people.” In the essay competition he established for the scholarship, Atiku asked young people who he noted bear the brunt of failed education system to write on: “More Learning to More People: How can Nigeria be more innovative in bridging its literacy and skills gap?” Two weeks ago, Atiku Abubakar granted an interview to the Hausa newspaper, RARIYA. In the interview translated to English by Premium Times, Atiku explained how he went to school despite his father’s opposition. He was sure he would have ended up a cattle herder if he had not done so. Here is the former Vice President Atiku Abubakar in his own words: “I was around 9 or 10 years then. We had a very wealthy neighbor. At times, I take his cattle for grazing when I return from school. He then used to pay me with either wheat or something and that was what I would take to my mother and grandmother for them to cook for us. We sometimes eat twice or once a day. This started even before I enrolled into school. At the time, they used to go round and pick children and enroll them by force. When they came for me, my father took me and ran away with me up to Cameroon republic. They hid me in a particular village, but we also met the same situation there; children were being forced to school by the government. “So he took me back to my grandmother. I was concealed behind a door the day the people came back for me, but my mother’s younger brother brought me out, and took me to the residence of the village head where I was registered. That was how I got enrolled into formal education. After I started schooling and I was even in class three, I decided to visit my father and see how he was doing. However, immediately I arrived, he told me that I was not going back because he never wanted me to enroll. He said he preferred that I commence Quranic school and there was cattle rearing and farming to do. “Our headmaster in Jada then reported my father to the Judge. A police guard was then given a summons for my father. They used to come along with a particular stick, which was serving as the writ of summons at the time. He took it to the ward head that also promptly summoned my father. My father was informed that we were being arrested. The guard took us to Jada; we were taken to the court, and the judge told my father you have broken the law by refusing to allow your son go back to school. He therefore sentenced him to either go to prison or pay a fine of ten shillings. My father said he had no ten shillings, and he was taken to prison. My grandmother eventually hustled and got the ten shillings and paid the fine. My father was eventually released and he went back to the village. Unfortunately, I did not get to see him again until I received the sad news of his death. “That was how I continued with my studies and completed primary school. At the time, there was only one examination, that’s common entrance exams that was written; those who came first, second or third are taken to either Zaria or Keffi colleges. The rest up to 10th position went to Provincial College. The others are then taken to various vocational schools. After graduating, they were then given a start up capital. Honestly, I prefer this method of education, not what we have now.” So, this was what Atiku went through to get an education. According to the National Population Commission, as of 2010, 31% of Nigerians within the ages of 6 to 16 have never attended primary school. 72% of children in Borno State have never attended school compared to 27% in Kwara state. In Imo state it’s zero. In the North East, 56.8% of female aged 5-24 never attended school. For male it was 48.5%. As Vice President for 8 years, Atiku had the chance to transform the lives of all children roaming the streets of Adamawa, if not the whole of Northern Nigeria, by implementing policies that could compel them off the street and into the classrooms. Unfortunately Atiku used his 8 years to enrich himself, family and friends. Isn’t the purpose of education to empower and ensure that the next generation has an easier path to a better life? Isn’t the reason we strive to get to the top to pull up those at the bottom? The lessons of our experiences should make us advocates for those still trapped in these kinds of experiences. Those children that Atiku left behind in Jada some 60 years ago have had their own kids who are now cattle herders. More than a generation after, they are living in the bondage that Atiku escaped from. They are secretly hoping for a judge or a leader to mandate that they go to school. Atiku knew such a feeling. When he had the influence and the power to stir policies, he did not even read a report that was handed to him or do something about the findings. Now, Atiku cares. Sure, we will vote for Atiku.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Nov 2013 08:05:42 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015