Rekindling hope amid the ruins
By Shu’aibu Usman Leman
There are moments in a nation’s history when leadership shines through the thick fog of despair to offer a glimmer of hope. Governor Babagana Umara Zulum of Borno State stands as a living example of such transformative leadership. In a state once synonymous with violence and displacement, he has steadily changed the narrative—proving that even in the ruins of insurgency, renewal is possible with vision, courage, and integrity.
Against unimaginable odds, Zulum’s administration has rebuilt what many had written off as lost. His efforts in the education sector, in particular, deserve national attention and emulation. At a time when schools across much of the North are closing in fear, Borno is witnessing the rebirth of classrooms once silenced by war.
Through a deliberate, well-coordinated programme, the state has built 104 model mega primary and secondary schools, many of which are now serving hundreds of thousands of children orphaned by insurgency. These schools, fitted with e-learning tools, and reliable power supply, represent not just infrastructure, but symbols of resilience and hope.
Beyond new construction, Zulum’s government has rehabilitated hundreds of other existing schools. Teachers’ quarters, including several units of well-furnished two-bedroom flats, have been constructed to attract and retain staff in rural and semi-urban areas. It is a holistic approach that understands that teachers, too, need dignity and stability to perform their calling.
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His commitment extends beyond traditional schooling. By restoring technical and science-based institutions like the Government Technical Colleges, the administration is deliberately investing in the state’s productive future. It is preparing young people not just for certificates, but for self-reliance, innovation, and relevance in a fast-changing world.
In essence, what Governor Zulum has done is more than rebuild schools. He has restored faith in the power of governance to transform despair into purpose. His leadership demonstrates that progress is not a miracle; it is the predictable outcome of planning, sincerity, and sustained political will.
This is the direction other Northern governors must urgently follow, for the wider picture across the region is heartbreakingly grim. A recent Daily Trust report of October 2, 2025, revealed that at least 188 public schools have been shut down in Northern Nigeria, with Katsina and Benue among the worst affected. Behind those figures lie tens of thousands of children whose futures are being quietly erased.
What we face is not simply an educational problem. It is a national emergency of the highest order—a slow-motion collapse of hope and opportunity for an entire generation. Each shuttered classroom represents the death of potential and the betrayal of the nation’s most sacred duty, to educate its children.
Insecurity has transformed the classrooms into battlegrounds. Armed groups—bandits, Boko Haram, ISWAP, and Ansaru—have deliberately targeted schools, seeing in them the seeds of a future they wish to destroy. Some have been torched; others now serve as military outposts or shelters for internally displaced families. The very idea of learning has been driven into exile.
The consequences of this collapse are far-reaching. Nigeria already holds the dismal record of one of the world’s largest populations of out-of-school children. The worsening insecurity in the North is turning this crisis into an existential threat. Each day that a child remains out of school, the country drifts closer to a future defined by ignorance, poverty, and radicalisation.
A child denied education today becomes a youth without skills tomorrow—and an adult without hope the day after. Poverty then becomes permanent, and violence becomes cyclical. This is how nations unravel—not suddenly, but slowly, through the quiet failure to nurture minds and protect dreams.
Security experts have warned repeatedly that education is the first line of defence against extremism. When we fail to educate, we empower those who profit from ignorance. The uneducated youth become easy prey for extremists who offer not learning, but belonging; not books, but bullets.
Some states have experimented with radio lessons, remote learning, or mobile classrooms. These efforts deserve applause, but they remain band-aid solutions. You cannot replace the discipline, mentorship, and socialisation of a physical classroom with a radio broadcast. Technology can assist education, but it cannot replace human contact—especially in conflict zones where infrastructure is already broken.
What the North needs now is not just more schools, but safe schools. The immediate priority must be to reclaim and secure the learning spaces we already have. Each school must be declared a Federal Safe Zone, protected by dedicated security units specially trained to safeguard students and teachers.
These units—perhaps drawn from the Civil Defence Corps, police, and local vigilantes—must have the equipment, logistics, and mandate to act swiftly when threats emerge. Their protection should extend to the routes children take to and from school. No child should risk his or her life for the right to learn.
Beyond security, rebuilding trust is paramount. Parents who have lost children to abductions or violence will not easily send others back to class. Confidence must therefore be restored through school feeding programmes, cash incentives, free uniforms, and visible government presence. Teachers must be paid promptly, supported emotionally, and motivated through training and hazard allowances.
Children who have lost years to conflict require accelerated learning programmes tailored to help them catch up. Without this, thousands of adolescents will be permanently locked out of formal education—forming what development experts now call a “lost generation.”
There are lessons from abroad, like in Pakistan’s Swat Valley, once ravaged by Taliban attacks, education returned only after strong military protection was paired with community participation. In contrast, Afghanistan’s prolonged instability left millions of children uneducated—creating a population unable to sustain peace. The choice before Nigeria is stark, learn from success or repeat tragedy.
Our neighbours, Niger and Mali, are living warnings. In their rural border areas, schools remain closed under extremist threat, and communities are sinking deeper into poverty. If Nigeria does not act now, it risks descending into the same spiral—but on a scale far more devastating.
The message is clear, that leadership matters. Governor Zulum has proven that transformation begins with willpower and ends with results. The North can rise again if other governors follow that path—integrating security, education, and community trust into a coherent development agenda.
Nigeria’s long-term survival depends on how it treats its children. Education is not a luxury; it is the nation’s strongest weapon against instability. Every classroom reopened is a fortress of peace. Every educated child is a shield against ignorance and extremism.
We must not resign to despair. The chalk must return to the teacher’s hand. The book must return to the pupil’s desk. And the classroom must once again become a sanctuary of hope, not a theatre of fear.
The time to act is now—decisively, collectively, and unreservedly. For every year we wait, the darkness deepens, and the cost of recovery multiplies. If we fail to save our schools, we will lose not only our children but the very soul of the North itself.
