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Schooling in Nigeria a scam?

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By Olabisi Deji-Folutile

Unfortunately, the reality is that Nigeria cannot achieve its full potential until it begins to invest in its human capital.

School na scam! I hear this phrase a lot of times these days, especially from Nigerian youths. Ask them what they mean, they will tell you that the whole hype about education being the foundation for a productive and profitable future is all lies – that all the talks about schooling being the gate pass to a life of comfort are all made up.

As far as they are concerned, Nigerian schools are teaching them things they may never need or use in life. Unfortunately, society keeps telling them that the road to success in life lies in school, when they can actually see that most of their peers doing well early in life are school dropouts. And the ones that society idolises don’t even have degrees. That is confusing!

One of them told me recently that going to school is a waste of time. To him, people spend so many years in school and still come out to do things that do not really require any form of academic rigour to handle. He cited examples of graduates ending up as fashion designers, photographers, event planners, etc. That’s share waste of time, isn’t it? These ones could have invested their energy in these vocations rather than waste their time studying what is not really relevant to their lives.

Well, that may be true. Many youths ‘doing well’ in Nigeria today are dropouts. A lot of them are into music. A lot of them got into the limelight through reality shows and they seem to be doing well for themselves.

Meanwhile, the number of graduates doing menial jobs is mounting every day. Just this past month, the story of a female graduate of the University of Calabar, who left her teaching job to ride a tricycle, popularly known as Keke NAPEP went viral on social media. According to her, she took up a teaching job after she graduated but, because the pay was meagre, she decided to venture into driving a commercial tricycle, which she said, brings her far more financial returns than her teaching job.

Another lady, Unyime Asuquo, a graduate of English Language, is also riding keke to earn a living because she has not been able to secure a job since graduation. If after leaving a university, all you come back to do is ride keke, why go to school in the first instance? No one needs a degree to learn how to ride keke, so why waste time and energy in a higher institution just to become a keke driver? How do you convince people like these that education is not a scam?

I know people talk a lot about the correlation between academic success and success after school. They claim academic feats rarely translate into success in life. They cite examples of first-class graduates working for third-class degree holders and wealthy stark illiterates employing brilliant professors and teachers. All of this seems to further justify the phrase that school is a scam. After all, if the narrative of schooling guaranteeing a great future is true, professors should be the richest people on earth and first-class graduates should probably be among those controlling the world’s wealth.

I may not have empirical data to back this up, but I have observed an increase in the number of Nigerian youths dropping out of higher institutions. I have also noticed that these youths aren’t really bothered about not finishing school. The ones I know are not idle either. They are all working – some as social media managers, web designers, SEO experts. These are skills they learn on their own in most cases. They even earn more money than graduates and they seem at par or even better than their graduate colleagues in terms of eloquence, industriousness, and relevance.

Are these enough reasons to conclude that schooling is a total waste of time? Definitely not! Rather, I would say what we need is a functional educational system. It is now apparent that Nigeria’s current educational policy is neither satisfying the yearnings of its teeming youths nor delivering the needs of the labour market. From personal experience at recruiting for jobs, I can tell you for free that many people who parade themselves today as graduates are unemployable. This does not mean that these youths aren’t smart; they are not just groomed for the labour market.

First, we miss it as a society when we think that every child should go to higher institutions. That is a grave mistake. There was a time when Nigeria had functional technical schools where students could learn vocational studies and specialise in whatever area of interest they were good at. Then there was carpentry, welding, building, hairdressing, catering, etc. These colleges were equipped to provide these vocational courses. Had my youth friend been aware of this, he would have known that you don’t have to go to university to become a fashion designer or event planner.

As a matter of fact, the main objective of the 6-3-3-4 system of education, championed by a renowned Nigerian educationist, scholar, and former minister of education, the late Prof Babs Fafunwa, was to produce self-reliant graduates with better labour market skills and earning potential.

The 6-3-3-4 system of education, introduced in 1982, according to experts, was designed to inject functionality into the Nigerian school system, by producing graduates who would be able to make use of their hands, head, and heart. It was designed to produce the expected technician class needed in Nigerian society.

It had a provision for technical schools. The idea is that every child would have six years of primary school, three years of junior secondary school, and then proceed to a technical school or senior secondary school depending on their interest and ability. As early as Junior Secondary School 3, the students proceeding to these technical colleges would have done so. They don’t have to waste their time by finishing senior secondary school or sitting the UTME because they really don’t need that stress.

Technical colleges prepare the students for specific trades or careers. They could spend 2-4 years there depending on their programme of choice. And they are awarded certificates at the end of their study. These colleges had workshops. They were not the typical classroom settings. The students had the opportunity of experiencing what they were expected to see in the labour market. In other words, the colleges offered practical lessons. These schools teach students life skills that cannot be taught in the traditional classroom setting.

In the developed countries, these technical schools are almost the complete opposite of a university. Rather than receiving a broad education, they prepare their students for a particular job of interest. Whereas, universities are for people interested in research or a general pursuit of knowledge.

The 6-3-3-4 policy initially seemed laudable; unfortunately, it didn’t take into consideration the fact that at the tender age of 13, some children may not really know what they want to specialise in. Besides vocational courses are stigmatised in this part of the world and those who go for them are largely regarded by society as being crude, unpolished, and dull.

Perhaps, it would have been better if the pupils had been allowed to finish senior secondary school before going for the vocational courses. So, it was replaced with the 9-3-4 system of education which merged the six years of primary education and the first three years of the JSS education. That muddled everything up. We ended up neither being here nor there.

Be as it may, the technical colleges are almost all dead now. That integral part of our education is gone and this is one of the reasons why the young ones are convinced that schooling is a scam. This is one aspect of the problem.

The other leg of it is the use of obsolete curriculums in many higher institutions. Many of these institutions have not reviewed their curriculums in years. The result is that they produce graduates that cannot use their hands, head, and heart. The world is changing but the curriculums have remained static. To be relevant, schools have to upgrade their curriculum to be in tandem with the needs of today’s world.

There is also a problem with the way our higher institutions structure their programmes. There are some course combinations that are not allowed here. This restricts the students and prevents them from expressing themselves. The schooling system should be reviewed to make room for more goal-oriented courses. Institutions can encourage students to have majors and minors. You can major in Computer Science for instance and have a minor degree in history or music. This will ensure diversity and help students to discover their purpose.

Besides, Nigeria has a funny way of getting people admitted to university. Everybody must have a credit in English and Mathematics. I often wonder, the mathematical formula that someone studying English would need or the lexicon that a maths student would need to solve mathematical problems. We just put unnecessary stumbling blocks in students’ way. Some students spend extra five years at home looking for maths and English to gain admission into Nigeria’s higher institutions. This is another problem. Imagine going through such a hell and coming out to ride a tricycle.

For me, school is not a scam. Rather, the dysfunctional education system that we have in this part of the world is the scam. Education remains a key driver of societal growth and progress. However, it would be a mistake to think that we go to school to obtain certificates and that the certificates should be a meal ticket. Proper schooling should help to develop one’s critical, logical problem-solving skills. Collins English Dictionary (2009) describes education “as a process of imparting or acquiring general knowledge, developing the powers of reasoning and judgement, and generally of preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life.”

You don’t have to go to a university to learn these skills. Some of the highest paying careers in the US include dental hygienist, Air Traffic Controller, Margin Department Supervisor, Construction Manager, Automobile Service Station Manager, Cardiovascular Technologist, Elevator Mechanic, and Power Utility Technician. They are all learned in trade schools or technical colleges and not in universities. Some Nigerians all in a bid to obtain foreign degrees often end up attending these schools abroad meanwhile, back home, our employers discriminate against polytechnic graduates.

With the IT revolution in today’s world, people in charge of our education should be thinking of how to establish centres where youths can be taught how to code, develop websites, design and implement software solutions. That is how to make education and learning practical and relevant.

I know that Nigeria’s situation can frustrate many people. There is a deliberate move by our leaders not to focus on the education sector. Governor Nasir El-Rufai of Kaduna State has told us that politicians shy away from investing in education and health because such investments are generational as it takes 30 years for the results to show.

Since politicians only have a four-year term in office with a maximum of eight years if returned for another term, he said they often ignore these sectors and focus on road constructions, building of secretariats which to them can easily be paraded as achievements.

Perhaps, the other point the governor forgot to mention is that politicians make their money from kickbacks on such projects which make them attractive than investing in human resources.

Unfortunately, the reality is that Nigeria cannot achieve its full potential until it begins to invest in its human capital. Bill Gates made this valid point sometime ago when he advised the country to build human resources rather than bridges and roads. As good as these infrastructures are, they become useless if done at the expense of providing quality and practical education to the citizenry.

A Yoruba proverb says a child that is not trained well will sell off his parents’ house. In other words, if a father builds a house at the expense of his child’s education, that child will end up selling the house built. If Nigeria continues to build infrastructure and devalues education in the process, its uneducated and half-baked graduates will destroy the infrastructures and the country will be back to square one. A word is enough for the wise!

Culled from the Sahara Reporters

Lifestyle

Kaduna Governor Commissions Nigeria’s First 100-Building Prefabricated Housing Estate

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Kaduna, Nigeria – November 6, 2025 — In a major milestone for Nigeria’s housing sector, the Governor of Kaduna State has commissioned a 100-unit mass housing estate developed by Family Homes and executed by Karmod Nigeria, marking the first-ever large-scale prefabricated housing project in the country.

Completed in under six months, the innovative project demonstrates the power of modern prefabricated construction to deliver high-quality, affordable homes at record speed — a sharp contrast to traditional building methods that often take years.

Each of the 100 units in the estate is designed for a lifespan exceeding 50 years with routine maintenance. The development features tarred access roads, efficient drainage systems, clean water supply, and steady electricity, ensuring a modern and comfortable living environment for residents.

According to Family Homes, the project represents a new era in Nigeria’s mass housing delivery, proving that cutting-edge technology can accelerate the provision of sustainable and cost-effective homes for Nigerians.

“With prefabricated technology, we can drastically reduce construction time while maintaining top-quality standards,” said a spokesperson for Family Homes. “This project is a clear demonstration of what’s possible when innovation meets commitment to solving Nigeria’s housing deficit.”

Reinforcing this commitment, Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna State emphasized the alignment between the initiative and the state’s broader vision for affordable housing.

“The Family Homes Funds Social Housing Project aligns with our administration’s commitment to the provision of affordable houses for Kaduna State citizens. Access to safe, affordable and secure housing is the foundation of human dignity. We have been partnering with local and international investors to frontally address our housing deficit,” he said.

Also speaking at the event, Mr. Ademola Adebise, Chairman of Family Homes Funds Limited, noted that the project embodies inclusivity and social progress.

“The Social Housing Project also reflects our shared vision of inclusive growth, where affordable housing becomes a foundation for economic participation and improved quality of life.”

Karmod Nigeria, the technical partner behind the project, utilized its extensive expertise in prefabricated technology to localize the process, employing local artisans and materials to enhance community participation and job creation.

Industry experts have described the Kaduna project as a blueprint for future housing initiatives nationwide, capable of addressing the country’s housing shortfall more efficiently and sustainably.

With this pioneering development, Kaduna State takes a leading role in introducing modern housing technologies that promise to reshape Nigeria’s urban landscape.

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Books

The Pioneer’s Burden: Building the First Private Network in a Vacuum of Power

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  • Book Title: The Making of Bourdex Telecom
  • Author: David Ogba Onuoha Bourdex
  • Publishers: Bourdex
  • Reviewer: Emeaba Emeaba
  • Pages: 127

In the history of Nigerian entrepreneurship, stories of audacity often begin with frustration. A man waits hours in a dimly lit government office to place a single overseas call, his ambitions held hostage by bureaucracy. From that moment of exasperation, an empire begins. Such is the animating pulse of The Making of Bourdex Telecom, David Ogba Onuoha Bourdex’s sweeping autobiographical account of one man’s effort to connect the disconnected and to rewrite the telecommunications map of Eastern Nigeria.

At once memoir, corporate history, and national parable, the book reconstructs the emergence of Bourdex Telecommunications Limited—the first indigenous private telecom provider in Nigeria’s South-East and South-South regions—against a backdrop of inefficiency, corruption, and infrastructural neglect. Its author, a businessman turned visionary, narrates not merely how a company was built but how a new horizon of possibility was forced open in a society long accustomed to closed doors.

Bourdex begins with a stark diagnosis of pre-deregulation Nigeria: a nation of over 120 million people served by fewer than a million telephone lines. Through a mix of statistical precision and personal recollection, he paints a portrait of communication as privilege, not right—of entire regions condemned to silence by state monopoly. His storytelling thrives in such contrasts: the entrepreneur sleeping upright in Lagos’s NET building to place an international call; the Italian businessman in Milan conducting deals with two sleek mobile phones. That juxtaposition—between deprivation and effortless connectivity—serves as the book’s moral axis.

From these moments of contrast, Bourdex constructs the founding myth of his enterprise. What began as an irritation became a revelation, then a crusade. “I saw a people left behind,” he writes, “a region cut off while others dialed into the future.” His insistence on framing technology as a means of liberation rather than profit underscores the moral ambition that threads through the book. The Making of Bourdex Telecom reads not like a manual of business success but like an ethical manifesto: to build not simply for gain, but for dignity.

As the chapters unfold, Bourdex’s narrative oscillates between vivid personal storytelling and granular technical detail. He recounts his early business dealings in the 1980s and ’90s, the bureaucratic mazes of NITEL, and the daring pursuit of a telecommunications license under General Sani Abacha’s military government. There is a cinematic quality to his recollections—the tense midnight meetings in Abuja, the coded alliances with military officers, the improbable friendships that turned policy into possibility.

These sections recall Chinua Achebe’s The Trouble with Nigeria in tone and intention: both works diagnose the systemic failures of governance but find redemption in individual initiative. Yet Bourdex’s narrative differs in form. Where Achebe offered moral critique, Bourdex offers demonstration—an anatomy of perseverance in motion. He documents the letters, negotiations, and international correspondences with Harris Canada, showing how an indigenous company emerged through sheer force of will and global collaboration.

Such passages risk overwhelming the reader with acronyms, specifications, and telecom jargon—R2 signaling, SS7 interconnection, E1 circuits—but they also lend the book an authenticity rare in corporate memoirs. What might have been opaque technicalities become, under Bourdex’s hand, instruments of drama. The machinery of communication becomes metaphor: wires and waves as extensions of faith and tenacity.

To situate The Making of Bourdex Telecom within Nigeria’s socio-political history is to confront the paradox of private enterprise under public decay. The book chronicles the twilight of NITEL’s monopoly, the hesitant dawn of deregulation, and the emergence of entrepreneurial actors who filled the void left by government paralysis. In this sense, Bourdex’s story parallels that of other indigenous pioneers—figures such as Mike Adenuga and Jim Ovia—whose ventures in telecommunications and banking transformed the national economy from the late 1990s onward.

Yet Bourdex’s tone is less triumphant than reflective. He does not romanticize deregulation; he portrays it as both opportunity and ordeal. The government’s inertia, the labyrinthine licensing process, and the outright extortion by state agencies form the darker undertones of his tale. His clash with NITEL’s leadership—recounted with controlled indignation—stands as one of the book’s most gripping sequences. When a senior official demanded an illegal payment of ₦20.8 million for interconnection rights, Bourdex’s defiant reply, “You are not God,” rang out like an act of civil disobedience. In such moments, the narrative transcends the genre of business autobiography and enters the moral theatre of national reform. The entrepreneur becomes citizen-prophet, challenging a corrupt establishment with the rhetoric of justice and self-belief. That blending of economic narrative with civic conscience is perhaps the book’s most compelling feature.

Stylistically, The Making of Bourdex Telecom occupies an intriguing space between oral history and polished memoir. The prose is direct, rhythmic, and often sermonic, reflecting its author’s background as both businessman and public speaker. Anecdotes unfold with the cadences of storytelling; sentences sometimes pulse with the energy of spoken word: “Amateurs built the Ark. Professionals built the Titanic.” The repetition of such aphorisms imbues the work with a sense of conviction, though occasionally at the expense of subtlety.

Where the book excels is in its evocation of atmosphere—the dusty highways between Aba and Lagos, the sterile corridors of power in Abuja, the crisp air of Calgary where the author first glimpsed technological modernity. These scenes transform what could have been a linear corporate chronicle into a textured work of memory.

Still, the narrative structure is not without flaws. The absence of an external editor’s restraint is occasionally felt in the pacing; digressions into technical exposition or moral reflection sometimes interrupt narrative flow. Readers accustomed to the concise storytelling of international business memoirs—Phil Knight’s Shoe Dog or Elon Musk’s authorized biography—may find the prose dense in places. Yet such density mirrors the complexity of the terrain Bourdex navigated. His sentences, like his towers, are built from layers of persistence.

Beyond its entrepreneurial chronicle, the book doubles as social history—a record of Eastern Nigeria’s encounter with modernization. The chapters on “The FUTO Boys,” a cadre of young engineers recruited from the Federal University of Technology, Owerri, offer a microcosm of the new Nigerian professional class emerging in the late 1990s: educated, idealistic, and determined to prove that technical expertise could thrive outside the state. Their improvisations—installing antennas by candlelight, building networks amid power outages—embody the collective grit that sustained Bourdex’s vision.

The narrative’s cumulative effect is generational. Through the story of one company, we glimpse a society in transition—from analogue isolation to digital awakening. The book captures that liminal moment when the sound of a dial tone became a symbol of freedom.

Running through The Making of Bourdex Telecom is a persistent theology of success. Bourdex attributes every turn in his journey to divine orchestration: friendships “placed by the Invisible Hand,” setbacks reinterpreted as “divine redirections.” Such language, while characteristic of Nigerian entrepreneurial spirituality, acquires here an almost literary force. It recasts corporate history as providential narrative, where the invisible infrastructure of grace mirrors the visible architecture of towers and transmitters.

For some readers, this piety may feel excessive; yet it provides the emotional coherence of the book. The author’s faith is not ornamental—it is constitutive. Without it, the story of Bourdex Telecom would read as mere ambition. With it, it becomes vocation.

The foreword by Abia State Governor Alex Otti and the preface by former Anambra Governor Peter Obi frame the book as both inspiration and instruction. They read Bourdex’s career as parable: the triumph of private initiative over public inertia. Yet their presence also situates the work within Nigeria’s broader discourse on nation-building. The Making of Bourdex Telecom is not only the autobiography of an entrepreneur; it is a treatise on indigenous agency—on what happens when Africans cease to wait for imported solutions and begin to engineer their own.

In this respect, the book extends its influence beyond its immediate industry. Its lessons—about courage, timing, friendship, and faith—extend to any field where innovation must contend with adversity.

Judged as a work of literature, The Making of Bourdex Telecom is direct and sincere. Its prose favors clarity over ornament, and its authenticity gives the story a compelling sense of truth. Bourdex writes not to embellish, but to bear witness—to a time, a struggle, and a conviction that technology could serve humanity. The result is a hybrid work: part documentary, part sermon, part memoir of enterprise.

As a contribution to Nigerian business literature, it deserves serious attention. Few firsthand accounts capture with such detail the messy birth of private telecommunications in the 1990s—a revolution that reshaped the country’s economic and social fabric. In its pages, we hear both the crackle of the first connected call and the larger resonance of a people finding their voice.

Bourdex’s central message endures: progress begins when frustration becomes purpose. His journey from the backrooms of NITEL to the boardrooms of international telecoms is not merely personal triumph; it is a chapter in Nigeria’s unfinished story of modernization.

In the end, The Making of Bourdex Telecom stands as more than the history of a company. It is an ode to enterprise as nation-building, and to the stubborn optimism of those who refuse to let silence define them.

See the book on Amazon: >>>>>

_________

♦ Dr. Emeaba, the author of “A Dictionary of Literature,” writes dime novels in the style of the Onitsha Market Literature sub-genre.

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Houston

Houston and Owerri Community Mourn the Passing of Beloved Icon, Lawrence Mike Obinna Anozie

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Houston was thrown into mourning on September 19, 2025, following the sudden passing of businessman and community advocate Lawrence Mike Obinna Anozie, who peacefully joined his ancestors. Immediate family member in Houston, Nick Anozie, confirmed his untimely death and expressed gratitude for the outpouring of love and condolences from both the Houston and Owerri communities.

Lawrence was born to Chief Alexander and Lolo Ether Anozie of Owerri in Imo State, Nigeria, and will be dearly remembered by family members, friends, and the entire Houston community.

An accomplished accountant, the late Lawrence incorporated and successfully managed three major companies: Universal Insurance Company, LLC, Universal Mortgage LLC, and Universal Financial Services. Through these enterprises, he not only built a thriving business career but also created opportunities for countless individuals to achieve financial stability. His contributions to entrepreneurship and community development will remain a lasting legacy.

According to the family, arrangements for his final funeral rites are in progress and will be announced in due course.

Lawrence will forever be remembered as a loving and compassionate man who dedicated much of his life to uplifting others. He helped countless young Nigerians and African Americans overcome economic challenges by providing mentorship, financial guidance, and career opportunities. His generosity touched the lives of many who otherwise might not have found their footing. A devout Catholic, he was unwavering in his faith and never missed Mass, drawing strength and inspiration from his church community. To those who knew him, Lawrence was not only a successful businessman but also a pillar of kindness, humility, and faith whose legacy of service and compassion will continue to inspire generations.

For more information, please contact Nick Anozie – 832-891-2213

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