Breaking no laws, just barriers: Mentoring the next generation of Arewa women

I look around my community up North and am struck by the two opposing emotions that fill my heart: pride and concern. Concern, because I see countless Arewa women whose dreams are dimmed by societal limitations and expectations and systemic neglect. But pride swells in equal measure because, deep down in my soul, I know the […]

I look around my community up North and am struck by the two opposing emotions that fill my heart: pride and concern. Concern, because I see countless Arewa women whose dreams are dimmed by societal limitations and expectations and systemic neglect. But pride swells in equal measure because, deep down in my soul, I know the incredible power and potential that lies dormant in the hearts of these resilient daughters of the soil; Women who, if nurtured, guided and empowered could lift not only their households but our region and nation.

The truth is: the underdevelopment of Northern Nigeria is inextricably linked to how we have neglected our women. But the beauty of this realisation is that the solution is within our reach—because history, religion and data all agree: empowering women is the most strategic investment a society can make.

Actually, one of the most destructive myths that must be put to rest is the notion that Islam hates or discourages female education. Nothing could be further from the truth. The Prophet Muhammad said, “Seeking knowledge is obligatory upon every Muslim male and female.” In Islam, the intellect of women is honoured and recognised as a matter of right and means to learning with meaningful contributions toward society.

In fact, the oldest continually operating university in the world, which is recognised by UNESCO as the oldest degree-granting university, Al-Qarawiyyin in Fez, Morocco, was founded in 859 AD by a Muslim woman: Fatima al-Fihri. It is not the religion that is the problem, but misinterpretation, poverty and cultural barriers. Today, only 47 per cent of girls in Northern Nigeria complete primary school, and less than 25 per cent finish secondary school (UNICEF, 2023). These are statistics, lives paused, potentials wasted, and dreams unfulfilled.

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My own journey began at the tender age of four. A story so famous and retold so many times by my aunts so that sometimes I feel I can remember the moment. I told my beloved grandmother that when I grow up I will become a doctor so I can “inject her eyes” so she can see without using glasses. That innocent dream could have faded with time, like so many others, but it didn’t because it was nurtured. My mother, a public health nurse and double-qualified (RN/RM), was my first mentor. She championed me with her whole heart. Through her, I had an idea of what was possible, and by JSS3, I had made up my mind: medicine was my calling. And yet, as I walked this path, I met many brilliant Arewa girls whose dreams were never watered. The difference between us was not talent or capacity. It was support. It was belief. It was mentorship.

Beyond the moral and personal case, the economic argument is compelling. According to the IMF, women’s participation at the same rate as men will increase Nigeria’s GDP by 23 per cent by 2025, or by $229 billion. That is not charity; it is smart economics. How do we get there in a region where mobility, security and cultural norms often constrain women? The answer lies in technology and the digital economy.

Today, Arewa women can earn globally from the comfort of their homes. A young girl I know has just finished an online coding boot camp and now works for a tech firm in Silicon Valley right from her home in Northern Nigeria, making more than $100 a day. She is not the exception; she is the example. According to Google’s Africa Developer Ecosystem Report (2021), remote female tech workers in Nigeria are making $200-$500 per month and sometimes even more. With access and mentorship, thousands of others can also follow the same path.

Arewa is in the midst of a health crisis. The NPHCDA estimates that Nigeria requires at least 300,000 additional midwives and nurses to reach maternal and child health targets. And in most of our societies, cultural demand makes female patients prefer female providers, especially in areas like birth and reproductive care. But we are not preparing nearly enough women in these roles. What’s worse, most of our present-day nurses and midwives are retiring, and there is no one to fill the gap. Imagine if each of our Arewa states pledged to fund 50 girls annually into community nursing and midwifery training. That one investment would save thousands of lives every year. It would create jobs.

Mentorship changed my life. Without the women and men who poured into me, who affirmed me, who refused to let me shrink myself, I would not be here. That is why I believe so deeply in the power of intergenerational mentorship. Young Arewa girls need role models—women who are not just successful but who have succeeded without compromising their values. They need to see Muslim women who are doctors, engineers, digital experts, farmers, and entrepreneurs. They need to hear that their dreams are valid and that their limitations are negotiable. In case studies by the African Women’s Development Fund, women who are accompanied by mentors find that 67 per cent  of such girls will enroll in university, whereas 52 per cent of them set up a venture. That’s not a theory but a proven course.

Empowerment is not a one-size-doesn’t-fit-all affair. Not every woman wants to be working in tech or wear a white coat. Some want to be teachers, tailors, farmers, or homemakers. And that is okay—there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. The aim is not to force women into a box but to unlock the doors so they can open doors so they can walk through freely and exercise their own free choice. We must also recognise the intersectionality of gender, faith, ethnicity, and class. A poor girl in a village and a middle-class girl in town may need different interventions, but both need to be seen, supported, and equipped.

Programmes such as the World Bank’s AGILE (Adolescent Girls Initiative for Learning and Empowerment) are already giving results aimed at reaching over 20 million girls in Northern Nigeria through cash transfers, school improvement, and life skills. But that is not enough; neither is it deep enough. But we have to dig deeper and further.

The Arewa woman isn’t waiting to be rescued—she is waiting to be heard. She is not powerless—she is underutilised. She is not disinterested—she is underserved. We must invest in her education, equip her with modern skills, connect her with mentors, protect her dignity, and protect her from harm. In doing so, we not only uphold the values of Islam but also a prosperous, just, and inclusive future for our region. So, I ask: What if we raise a generation of girls who believe they could lead, heal, build, and teach? What if we gave them a seat at the table—not as guests, but architects?

It’s time to dig up this goldmine of talent and purpose locked away inside the Arewa woman. Let’s be the mentors, allies, and policy-makers who help them rise not someday, but today.