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Is Nigerian Education Becoming A Scam?

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Is Nigerian Education Becoming A Scam?

IMAGINE spending four years or more in university, attending lectures, hundreds of thousands spent (if not up to millions even in the so-called federal Universities), burning night candles, writing exams and holding onto the promise that education is the key to a better future. Now imagine graduating, only to sit at home jobless, with a degree that feels more like a decorative paper than a passport to success. Across Nigeria, frustration is rising among graduates who followed the “go to school and succeed” script, only to end up stranded. With limited opportunities, rising tuition costs and a system producing a more certificates than careers, one question echoes louder than ever: “Is education not beginning to look like a scam in Nigeria?”

For decades, education in Nigeria was considered the ultimate ladder to success. For generations, education was the dream every parent pushed their children toward, often at the great personal cost, such as selling of property and taking loans to ensure their children had access to schooling. From primary school through to university level, families invested not just money, but hope, believing that a certificate would open doors, provide security and lift entire household out of poverty. The popular belief was simple: “Go to school, graduate, and secure a good job.” This belief wasn’t just preached at home, it was echoed in classrooms, in churches and mosques and through government that praised education as the key to national development.

The system once justified that belief. Back then, a degree was a badge of honour. Graduates were respected and often walked into jobs with banks, oil companies or government agencies. The promise seemed real and for a time it worked. Education was also tied to pride. Being the “first graduate in the family” was a badge of. Communities celebrated academic excellence and government’s scholarships rewarded brilliance. The narrative was strong and simple : “Education equals success”. However, the landscape began to shift. The job market grew smaller, universities became overcrowded and strikes disrupted academic calendars. The number of graduates increased, flooding the labour market faster than the economy could absorb them. Today, the Nigeria job market tells a very different story from the one many were raised to believe. Each year, hundreds of thousands of graduates are released into an economy that cannot absorb them. For many, the job hunt begins with high hopes and ends with frustration. CVs go unanswered, interviews are few and far between, and even when job is found, it is often in a role that barely reflects the years of academic struggles or the qualification earned.

The phrase “overqualified or underqualified”has become too common. Many graduates now work in unrelated field just to survive, such as teaching without a degree in education, doing POS even as a first class graduate in biochemistry e. t. c. And others are stuck in endless internship or NYSC with no transition to permanent employment. One of the most painful realities is the demand for experience. Something fresh graduates are expected to have but rarely get the opportunity to build, as a result, doors stay shut no matter how polished the degree or impressive the grades. Even the much anticipated NYSC year offers no long-term promise. Many Corp members are placed in irrelevant roles and in completion, the majority returns to Jo hunt. Those lucky enough to get retained or have a job often earn peanuts and sometimes, not even enough to cover transport, feeding and rent. The public institutions continue to battle frequent Asuu (Academic staff union of universities) strikes, leading to delayed graduation and disrupted learning. Worse still is the growing mismatch between what is taught in school and what the job market demand. Graduates are increasingly told they lack practical skills, critical skills and digital literacy. But how can students be blamed when they are taught theory in an overcrowded lecture halls, with little or no exposure to field?.

The sad irony? Many of those who once mocked skilled trades or informal works are now embracing tailoring, farming and other skilled trades, not because they gave up on education but because education gave up on them. The long-standing belief in education as the guarantee of success is being reexamined. The gap between academic questions and real-opportunities has widened so much that many now wonder if we have been sold a dream that no longer exists.

The struggle faced by Nigerians

The struggle faced by Nigerian graduates today are not just the result of bad luck or poor decisions; they are deeply rooted in a broken system. At nearly every level. The country’s educational structure is out of sync with the real world. Starting with curriculum. In a world where digital skills, artificial intelligence and creative thinking are shaping the future, many Nigerian universities still teach outdated theories using notes that haven’t changed in decades. Students are handed information and not transformation. They graduate with certificate, not skills, ill-equipped to face the demands of a modern job market. Then, there is the state of the institutions themselves. Public universities are overcrowded and poorly maintained. Students sit on broken chairs in jam-packed lecture halls while laboratories remain empty or under stocked. Access to current learning materials is limited and practical exposure is almost non-existent in many courses. Lecturers, though passionate, are often overworked and underpaid and it reflects in the quality of delivery. Poor funding has only made matters worse. Year after year, education receives a disappointing share of the national budget, far below global standards. Which results in frequent strikes, abandoned infrastructure, demoralized staff and a generation of students who spend more time at home than in class. Employers are looking for skills that universities don’t teach, and there is a little effort to bridge that gap. Internship programmes are rare and often ineffective and job placements care left to chance or connection.

Entrepreneurship, which is often seen or promoted as a solution is not an easy alternative. The environment is tough, access to funding is limited, support systems are weak and the business space is riddled with bureaucracy and inconsistent policies. Loan are difficult to access and start-up policies rarely favour young people without collateral or connections. (See the rest on www.tribuneonlineng.com)

Ultimately, the problem is not just that graduates are jobless, it is that the system that produced them did not prepare them to thrive. With all these challenges stacked up, it is no surprise that the mindset of young Nigerians is changing and fast. 5he belief that education is the only route to success is being questioned more openly than before. These days, the most common advice among youths is not just go to school but to learn a skill, start something and “japa” if possible.

Many students now go through school with one foot in and one foot out, attending classes while also taking tech courses online, learning fashion design, baking or managing small business. Certificates have become a backup plan, not the main plan. For some, school is just a formality to keep parents happy while they focus on what might actually pay the bills.

Social media has played a major role in this shift. It has exposed young people to new paths such as content creation, digital marketing, coding, forex trading, photography e.t.c,these opportunities don’t necessarily require a degree but offer quicker returns. Influencers, tech brose and entrepreneurs have become role models, not PhD holders.

Even among parents, there is quiet shift. Many who once pushed their children to get degrees now emphasize “getting something you can fall back on”. The one-sharp line between “educated” and “skilled” is getting to blur.

For those who still believe in education, it is often no longer about knowledge, it is about migration. A foreign degree is now seen as a ticket to Japan, with better job prospects and quality of life abroad. As a result, studying becomes a means to an end, not the end itself.

What this all shows is that the Nigerian youths are no longer just accepting what they were told. They are questioning, adapting and rewriting the rules. And while the mindset shift might seem rebellious to some, it is simply survival. Because when the system stops working, people stop waiting and start looking elsewhere.

What are the solutions to all these? First, there must be a complete overhaul of the outdated curriculum used in many Nigerian institutions. Education should evolve alongside the demands of the 21st century workplace. Courses must be restructured to include practical skills, digital literacy, Entrepreneurship and critical thinking. Universities, polytechnics and colleges must begin to teach students not just how to pass exams but how to solve real-world problems, adapt and innovate.

Secondly, there should also be a collaboration between academic institutions and the private sector. Employers should be involved in shaping course content to ensure relevance. Internship programmes, mentorship opportunities and graduate trainee scheme must be institutionalized. This would give students early exposure to real work environment and reduce the experience gap that hinders many job seekers today.

The government must prioritize education in its budgeting and planning. Proper funding can improve infrastructure, reduce strikes, increase research opportunities and attract skilled educators. When learning environments are stable and well-equipped, the quality of graduates will improve significantly.

Also, merit must be brought back into the system. Recruitment processes in both the public and private sectors need to be transparent and fair. When opportunities are distributed based on competence and not connection, young people will feel more motivated to build their skills and compete.

While, studying and working abroad offers great benefits, Nigeria must also create an environment worth coming back to. Scholarships, exchange programmes and international collaboration are great, but there must be incentives for young talents to return and build at home. The goal is not to stop migration, but to make staying an equally valuable option.

The system may be flawed, but it is not beyond repair. With collective will and smart decisions, Nigeria can reshape its education sector and open doors of opportunities for its youths. A future where young people no longer feel scammed by the system,but empowered by it. It is a goal we can achieve if we start now.

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Opinion

“Let President Muhammadu Buhari Rest in Peace” – By Nasir El-Rufai

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The recent launch of a book on the life and legacy of our late leader, President Muhammadu Buhari, has stirred deep emotions and renewed divisions among those who once formed his inner circle. Having followed the headlines and images from the event, I felt compelled to make a simple but urgent appeal: let us allow President Buhari to rest in peace.

A careful look at those who dominated the book launch revealed the same factional lines that existed during Buhari’s lifetime. One camp was prominently represented, while others—equally close to the late president—were excluded. This selective engagement compounded by the choice of location of the event were red flags, and raises concerns about whether Buhari’s legacy is now being shaped to serve narrow interests rather than historical truth.

More troubling was the presence of long-time critics of Buhari, some of whom now hold high office, delivering glowing, but clearly faked tributes. These are individuals who once blamed his administration for nearly every challenge facing Nigeria, but who now appear eager to revise history—perhaps to deflect responsibility for present failures.

It was also unsettling to see individuals celebrating Buhari in death who had neither his trust nor his respect in life. President Buhari was a principled man who did not easily forget personal or political disrespect, and he made his preferences clear to those around him.

I have not yet read the book, Soldier to Statesman: The Legacy of Muhammadu Buhari, and it is possible that some media reports lack context. However, many of the so-called revelations attributed to the late president appear one-sided and unfair, especially as he is no longer alive to respond. Explaining the thoughts and motivations of a complex leader through selective anecdotes risks distorting, rather than preserving, his legacy.

President Buhari was far from perfect. Many of us who supported him expected much more from his civilian presidency. However, as someone who worked closely with him in opposition political, and governance roles for over a decade, I believe much of his administration’s shortcomings stemmed from the actions and failures of a powerful inner circle—relatives, advisers, and officials who did not always share his commitment to integrity and public service.

Buhari himself remained, to the end, a man of deep faith, personal discipline, and unquestioned patriotism. Those now invoking his name for self-justification should reflect on whether they can claim the same standards.

My appeal here is simple: to all Nigerians: admirers and critics alike—let President Muhammadu Buhari rest in peace. Let history judge him fairly, without opportunism or revisionism. The truest way to honour him is not through selective storytelling, or attempting to exhibit new-found love, but by upholding the values he embodied: simplicity, integrity, humility, and service to Nigeria with all he had.

May Allah grant him eternal rest.

Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai
Cairo, Egypt
17th December, 2025

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Opinion

Ogun 2027: Kings Have Spoken, Yayi Belongs, Let the Campaign Begin

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By Kunle Somorin

For nearly half a century, Ogun State has stood as a federation of Yoruba subgroups – Egba, Ijebu, Remo and Yewa. Yet one fact remains: since 1976, Yewa has never produced a governor. Equity – affirmed by the Nigerian Constitution and Yoruba custom – demands that no part of a polity be permanently excluded from its highest offices. The late Awujale of Ijebuland, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, foresaw this imbalance and urged that Yewa should produce the next governor of Ogun State. His prognosis carries truth to its destination. Democracy without fairness descends into exclusion by another name.

Against this backdrop, Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola (Yayi) emerges not as a mere aspirant but as a corrective to historical imbalance – a moral and democratic necessity. Attempts to weaponise genealogy – casting him as an outsider – have now met their answer. Yoruba wisdom cautions: Àlejò kì í mọ ìtàn ilé – a stranger cannot know the full story of the house. That story has been affirmed by those who keep it, and by the institutions that preserve lineage and belonging. As a Yoruba saying reminds us, ìrò lè rìn pẹ́, òtítọ́ ní í dé l’ẹ́yìn – falsehood may travel far, but truth arrives all the same.

In Yewaland, Oba Kehinde Olugbenle, the Olu of Ilaro and paramount ruler, publicly affirmed Adeola as a son of Yewa. Indeed, Adeola holds the traditional title of Aremo (prime son) of Yewaland, underscoring a lineage rooted in place and custom. The maternal seal followed. At Kemta Day the previous Sunday, Adeola declared: “Ilu iya mi ni mo wa yi. Emi omo Abibat Olasumbo, omo Akinola Baba Pupa from Kemta Odutolu.” The Alake and paramount ruler of Egbaland, Oba Adedotun Aremu Gbadebo, then added a defining pronouncement: “Kemta ti fun wa ni Governor!” In Yoruba cosmology, kings are custodians of heritage; their declarations carry authority. Agbà kì í wà l’ọjà, kí orí ọmọdé tuntun wó – elders do not stand by while a child’s head is misshapen. To question Adeola’s indigeneity now is, effectively, to challenge the crowns.

Constitutionally, a governorship candidate must be an indigene. Nigerian courts often consider attestations by traditional rulers when questions of lineage arise, recognising that in matters of ancestry, custodians of custom provide important context. With these royal affirmations, the central question – indigeneship – can reasonably be regarded as resolved. Eligibility is clear. Whether Yewa or Egba, count Senator Adeola a bona fide candidate. A kì í fi ẹ̀tẹ̀ sílẹ̀ pa lápálápá – one does not abandon leprosy to treat ringworm. The debate must now shift from ancestry to governance.

On that score, Adeola’s record is measurable and visible across all three senatorial districts of Ogun State. He has facilitated over 270 infrastructure projects across Ogun West alone; empowered 15,000 market men and women with cash grants; trained thousands in entrepreneurship; and supported over 5,000 students through a Scholarship and Bursary Board. He helped reopen the Ikenne–Ilishan road, a corridor associated with the Awolowo era, long overdue for rehabilitation, and donated 102 transformers serving 435 communities. In Sagamu, youths point to empowerment schemes; in Ifo, traders speak of solar-lit markets; in Abeokuta, students recall scholarships; in Yewa, elders reference roads linking their villages. These are not promises; they are monuments. The works that touch daily life are the truest testimonials across the three senatorial districts.

Politically, the Egba Lokan sentiment has broadened into a wider call for justice, grounded in the ethos of balance and inclusion. This call aligns with the current profile of the Chairman of the Senate Committee on Appropriations, a son of Yewa with an Egba mother. High Chief Bode Mustapha, the Osi of Egbaland, has publicly commended Adeola’s service and described him as highly qualified among the field of contenders in terms of public service records. One voter captured governance’s essence in practical terms: the road he built reduced her car repair costs. Adeola’s dual heritage – paternally Yewa, maternally Egba – is a bridge, not a burden. Tí kì í ṣe ti bàbá ẹni, ó lè ṣe ti ìyá ẹni – what is not of one’s father may be of one’s mother. For advocates of the Egba Lokan agenda, this is a conundrum that requires wisdom. Agbájọ ọwọ́ la fi n s’ọ̀yà; ọwọ́ kan kì í gb’ẹrù d’órí – it takes joined hands to lift a load. In a state sometimes strained by sub-ethnic rivalry, such a bridge can steady the polity.

Legitimacy, philosophers remind us, is earned. Aristotle wrote: “The good ruler is not he who is born to rule, but he who rules well.” Yoruba thought echoes this in omolúàbí – honour, responsibility and service. Ìwà l’ẹwà – character is beauty. Adeola’s record is his manifesto; his projects are his pledges in brick and mortar, in kilowatts and scholarships. The question of origins is closed by law and custom. The campaign must now be fought on competence, character and outcomes.

History also counsels balance. Since 1976, Ogun’s leadership has passed from Olabisi Onabanjo (Ijebu), through periods of military rule, to Olusegun Osoba (Egba), Gbenga Daniel (Remo), Ibikunle Amosun (Egba) and now Dapo Abiodun (Remo). Yewa’s omission is glaring. The spirit of federal character – understood as an ethic of inclusion and fair representation – reminds us that cohesion is strengthened when all components see themselves in leadership. When law, custom and conscience converge, the argument is unassailable: justice demands that Yewa should have its turn.

Service-delivery indicators reinforce the case. In numerous town halls and community meetings, stakeholders point to reopened roads, restored power, improved market lighting, bursaries and training programmes that have equipped young people to start small enterprises. These are lived realities, not abstractions. As policy moves from spreadsheet to street, citizens measure leadership by the bridges they cross, the lights that stay on and the opportunities that open. The test of governance is not rhetoric but results – how many lives are tangibly improved through would‑be leaders’ interventions.

It is only fair to acknowledge that Yewa/Awori sons and daughters have every right to aspire to the governorship of Ogun State, even as I acknowledge Yayi’s edge. I do not consider any aspirant a footnote. Each is a chapter in this long‑drawn struggle that has marginalised people of Yewa/Awori origin. Over the years, names such as Gboyega Isiaka, Abiodun Akinlade, Noimot Salako-Oyedele, Biyi Otegbeye and others have surfaced – each carrying the hopes of their people. Many observers argue that the seat has eluded Yewa not for lack of talent or ambition, but for want of unity and a common front. Fragmentation, multiple candidacies and internal rivalries have, at times, diluted the collective claim. The lesson is clear: a house divided against itself cannot stand. The right to contend is sacrosanct, but it is best exercised with caution, dignity and a commitment to the larger cause of Yewa’s long‑awaited turn.

If Senator Adeola has been deemed worthy to sit in the hallowed chambers of the National Assembly, where he has distinguished himself with tangible service and verifiable delivery, then it follows by both logic and justice that he is equally qualified to occupy the Governor’s Office at Oke Mosan. The Constitution does not prescribe a lesser standard for the Senate than for the governorship; indeed, both demand competence, integrity and commitment to the people. Having facilitated infrastructure, empowered communities, and touched thousands of lives through scholarships and social programmes, he has already demonstrated the capacity to translate vision into dividends of democracy. To deny him the gubernatorial ticket after such a record would be to contradict both law and custom, and to deprive Ogun State of a tested hand whose service has spoken louder than rhetoric.

Within this context, the emergence of Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola should be seen not as a threat but as an opportunity. If he is qualified to be a senator and has delivered verifiable dividends of democracy – roads, scholarships, empowerment and infrastructure – what principle would justify denying him a fair contest for the gubernatorial ticket? The crowns have spoken, the Constitution is satisfied and his record is manifest. What remains is for all aspirants to embrace consensus where possible, coalition where necessary and civility at all times. Campaigns should elevate issues, not inflame identities; they should test plans, not impugn persons. A race anchored on programmes, capacity and probity will serve Ogun better than one framed by whispers of ancestry.

The road to 2027 will be defined by three questions that every contender must answer plainly. First, what is your plan to accelerate inclusive growth across Ogun’s three senatorial districts – industrial corridors, agribusiness value chains, urban renewal and rural connectivity alike? Second, how will you deliver reliable power, water, primary healthcare and basic education to communities that have waited too long? Third, what is your approach to youth employment – skills, finance and markets – so that entrepreneurship is not a slogan but a pathway? On these questions, Adeola’s portfolio of projects provides an opening bid. Others should place their records alongside his and let the people compare, line by line.

Good politics is, at heart, good governance. It listens, learns and builds. It makes room for difference without turning difference into division. It honours tradition without becoming captive to nostalgia. It remembers that in a republic, leadership is stewardship: those who seek the people’s mandate must show the people’s returns. As the saying goes, ohun tí a bá fi ọwọ́ ṣe, kì í bà ẹnìkan lórí – the work of one’s hands vindicates. In a competitive field, the voters will look for what is concrete and measurable.

The argument, then, is complete. Indigeneity has been addressed in law and affirmed by custom. The historical omission of Yewa has been acknowledged by monarchs and widely recognised in public discourse. The service record in question is tangible and verifiable. The Constitution demands fairness; Yoruba tradition demands balance; democracy demands justice. All three converge on a simple conclusion: it is Yewa’s turn. And if the race is to be run on competence, delivery and character, Adeola enters it with a record that can be examined without fear or favour.

For now, the crowns have spoken. History calls. Let the campaign begin. In that campaign, one name stands – not as a slogan, but as a standard; not as a whisper, but as a monument; not as a claimant, but as a custodian. Yayi.

  • Somorin, former Chief Press Secretary to Governor Dapo Abiodun, writes from Crescent University, Abeokuta.
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Opinion

Has the South-East Traded Kanu and Obi for Political Access? By Mohammed Bello Doka

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When Nnamdi Kanu was handed a life sentence, expectations were clear and historic. Across Nigeria, many anticipated a decisive political reaction from the South-East: emergency meetings, coordinated resistance, forceful statements from governors, and a re-assertion of the region’s long-held grievance narrative.

What followed instead was something far more revealing — a loud, deliberate silence.

No collective pushback by South-East governors.
No political reprisal.
No price imposed on the centre.

And in that silence lies a deeper story — one that goes beyond Nnamdi Kanu alone.

For the first time in Nigeria’s political history, all five South-East governors are aligned — directly or indirectly — with President Bola Tinubu and his re-election project. This is not speculation. Public statements and political signaling from the zone confirm that the governors have closed ranks around Abuja. Some openly endorse Tinubu; others maintain strategic silence while cooperating fully with the centre. Either way, the outcome is the same: regional power has moved away from confrontation to accommodation.

This alignment explains much more than the silence after Kanu’s sentence. It also explains the quiet abandonment of Peter Obi’s presidential ambition by the same elite class that once benefited from his momentum.

For years, the South-East sustained a dual political narrative:

Nnamdi Kanu represented resistance — a symbolic struggle against marginalisation.
Peter Obi represented reform — a constitutional path back to relevance at the centre.

Today, both pillars have been set aside.

Unlike previous moments in history when South-East elites distanced themselves from regional causes out of weakness or isolation, this time is different. This retreat did not happen in defeat. It happened from a position of leverage:

The region had unprecedented national sympathy after 2023.
It commanded a powerful youth-driven political movement.
It had emotional capital across Nigeria and the diaspora.
Yet, despite this strength, the elite chose survival.

South-East governors — the true controllers of the political system — have clearly decided that confrontation carries higher costs than alignment. Federal access, security cooperation, budgetary relevance, and political protection now outweigh symbolic struggles. In plain terms, Kanu became a political risk, Obi an electoral uncertainty.

This raises unavoidable rhetorical questions.

If the South-East remains as marginalised as long argued, why was Kanu’s life sentence not treated as a regional emergency?
If injustice still defines the regional condition, why has no political consequence followed?
Or has political access softened the meaning of marginalisation itself?

Even more unsettling is what this silence suggests about the future.

Will there be consequences from the people?
Governors may control the machinery, but history shows that South-East grassroots sentiment does not always move in sync with elite calculations. Suppressed anger, when ignored, rarely disappears — it mutates.

Has the South-East finally been subdued?
Or is this only a strategic pause — a recalibration before another political rupture?

And perhaps the most dangerous question of all:
What becomes of the Biafra agitation in a post-elite world?

If the political class no longer carries the banner — and the state believes resistance has been neutralised — the struggle may not end. It may simply lose its intermediaries and become harder to predict, harder to control, and more radical in form.

For now, the facts are clear.
South-East elites have chosen power over protest.
Access over agitation.
Survival over symbolism.

Whether the people follow — or resist — that choice will define the region’s political future far more than any endorsement ever could.

And until then, the silence after Kanu’s sentence remains the loudest statement the South-East political class has ever made.

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