Education as Arewa’s true oil

If there is one truth that history never fails to prove, it is that no society rises above the quality of its education. For Arewa, the foundation of progress has never been buried in the ground but written in the minds of its people. Long before oil was discovered in the Niger Delta, Northern Nigeria […]

If there is one truth that history never fails to prove, it is that no society rises above the quality of its education. For Arewa, the foundation of progress has never been buried in the ground but written in the minds of its people. Long before oil was discovered in the Niger Delta, Northern Nigeria was already exporting knowledge and ideas across the Sahel. From Sokoto to Borno, Kano to Katsina, centres of learning thrived. Scholars debated philosophy and science. Students travelled for months in search of wisdom. In those days, knowledge was the true measure of wealth.

Today, that legacy stands on fragile ground. Many schools are empty. Millions of children are out on the streets, holding bowls instead of books. According to recent figures, more than 20 million Nigerian children are out of school, and about 80 per cent of them live in the North. In states such as Kebbi, Sokoto, Zamfara and Yobe, more than half of school-age children are not enrolled in any form of formal education. Among young women aged 15 to 24, literacy rates in the North West hover around 32 per cent, compared to more than 80 per cent in the South. These numbers should trouble every conscience because they do not just represent statistics. They represent futures that never began.

It is easy to say that poverty is to blame, or that insecurity makes schooling difficult. Both are true, but there is also a deeper problem of perception. In many rural communities, formal education is still viewed with suspicion, as though it threatens faith or culture. Yet the early Muslim scholars of the Sokoto Caliphate did not separate knowledge into religious and worldly categories. They taught the Qur’an alongside law, governance, mathematics, astronomy, and public administration. They understood that education was a tool for building a moral and prosperous society. That is the balance Arewa must restore.

The Almajiri system was once part of this culture of learning. It produced scholars and moral leaders who shaped the region’s identity. But decades of neglect turned it into a humanitarian crisis. Children who should be learning have been left to wander, hungry and forgotten. Reforming that system is not an attack on tradition. It is an act of redemption. Every Almajiri deserves both spiritual guidance and the ability to think critically and compete globally with their counterparts. The two can still exist together, just as they once did.

When people say that Arewa is poor, what they often mean is that its people have not been given enough tools to create wealth. The greatest resource of any nation is not its oil wells or its gold mines but its citizens. Oil dries up. Gold runs out. Knowledge grows. Look at Singapore or South Korea, both without natural resources, yet their investment in education turned them into global powers. If Arewa commits to the same, the North can rise again as a hub of intellect and innovation.

But the reality in many classrooms tells another story. A single teacher handles over a hundred pupils. Roofs leak during the rainy season. Desks are broken. Some schools exist only in name. Yet even in these harsh conditions, you will find children walking miles

every morning to learn under trees or in open fields. That determination is proof that the hunger for education is still alive. It only needs nourishment.

Government must lead by prioritising education budgets, not treating them as charity. But progress will not come from government alone. Traditional rulers, religious leaders and community associations must all take responsibility. Parents must understand that the most enduring inheritance they can give a child is education. Scholars must continue to preach that seeking knowledge is an act of worship. And the wealthy must see education as the truest form of charity.

The kind of education Arewa needs must also evolve. The future will not wait for anyone. It will belong to those who can think, adapt and create. Literacy is only the first step. Vocational and digital skills must follow. Schools must train minds to solve problems, not just to memorise answers. A young person in Gusau or Bauchi should be able to compete with someone in Lagos or Nairobi, not because of privilege but because of preparation.

Technology can bridge much of the distance. Smartphones and the internet can bring classrooms to remote villages. Lessons in Hausa, Fulfulde and Kanuri can reach children who would otherwise never sit before a teacher. When communities embrace these innovations, they do not lose culture. They strengthen it by ensuring their children survive in a changing world.

Still, the greatest battle is not against poverty or technology. It is against attitude. There was a time when the most respected man in a community was the teacher, not the politician. That time must return. When knowledge regains its honour, ignorance will lose its throne.

Arewa’s real wealth is not in its soil. It is in its people. It is in the girl in Sokoto who dreams of becoming a nurse. It is in the boy in Bauchi who fixes radios and could one day build machines. It is in every child whose mind is bright but whose chance is dim. The region that once taught the world can teach it again, but only if it remembers that education is its true oil. When Arewa begins to value learning again, the pyramids that will rise next will not be of groundnuts, but of ideas and ilusstrious daughters and sons.