TALKING WITH PEOPLE - February Edition

THIS COURSE THAT I AM STUDYING

I am often cautious of my use of the definite article “the”. It removes ambiguity and pinpoints the main thing. As in “The winner is…” “The truth is…”

Even though it never ends a sentence, it is quite conclusive. It is bold and daring. It is with this sense of regard for the definite article “the” that I say “Higher Education is becoming THE problem in Nigeria”. Who agrees? 

You would if you bring to mind the far-reaching consequences of its failure. Though, around the world, there have been debates about the effectiveness of the education system in general. Sir Ken Robinson in a presentation tagged “School kills Creativity”, asserted that the education system is designed to create University Professors out of all school attendants. However, improvements are noticeable in the education system of many countries across the globe. Education has provided the platform in such countries as the United States, China, South Korea, for technological innovations that have translated into economic growth, expansion and development.  Courses in the Universities of many developed countries are in harmony with the obtainable in the world of works. 

Not so in my dear country. I graduated with a Bachelors of Science in Economics, able to beat my chest and boldly say that a large chunk of my classmates could not interpret the Nigerian Budget- a very economic document.  We could all define a Budget and list the various types. But give us a real budget and we would have fallen amongst the lay men. Recently, I had to assist a third year student of a University to write a complaint letter to the Head of her department. The previous letter she had written was written in such incomprehensible English or should I say it was written in a language similar to English. The H.O.D’s secretary sent her away to rewrite it.  I had to write the letter for her after painstakingly asking her what the subject of her complaint was.  It was an obviously labourious activity for her to communicate the problem to me verbally, in English. But I could not speak her native language. This left me wondering, how did she make it into the University? How has she been able to survive three years? In a few years, she would be said to have been found worth in character and in learning, and would go on to amaze employers. 

In this second edition of Talking with People, I went on to speak with University Students.

where the frustration begins…

Frustration is just the word. For many Students in Nigerian Universities, their years of study are nothing more than periods of disguised frustrations. It all begins with securing admission into the University. According to statistics from the National Universities Commission, Nigerian Universities have the capacity to admit about 150,000 freshmen each year when well over a million candidates apply.

The problem is obvious. We don’t have the capacity to admit every candidate into a higher institution.  Like every scare commodity, admission into Universities in Nigeria is rationed and hoarded. Some schools even employ federal character in selecting candidates. It has also provided an avenue for employees of Universities to make money by charging illegal fees to ‘help’ candidates with admission slots. It has bred favouritism. I have heard of such things as the Vice-Chancellor’s admission list, Professor so and so’s admission list; admission exercises sometimes turn out to be clashes of titans within an institution.  In this process, many unqualified candidates slip into Universities. Admission becomes less about your academic performance and more about who you know or how much you can pay.

So it is not strange to apply to study Law and be offered English Language, or Medicine and be offered Plant Science; not because you are not qualified for the course that you applied for but rather because the new course is all your inside person could get. Untold frustration begins here.

Martha is a 300 level student of Sociology in one of the State Universities in Nigeria.

TWP: Why do you want to be a graduate?

Martha: Due to the kind of home I come from, this is the only opportunity I have to educate myself. If I stay at home I will end up the way my parents ended up. I want to go higher than they did, that is why I want to be a graduate, get a degree and get something good for myself.

TWP: What year did you complete your secondary education?

Martha: 2009

TWP: What year did you gain admission into the University?

Martha: 2010

TWP: Tell us briefly about your pre-admission story?

Martha: I first applied to Amadu Bello University, Zaria. It was difficult to get the admission though I passed the JAMB and I wrote the School’s aptitude test. My scores were okay and I was surprised I did not get the admission. I also applied to the University of Jos but I was advised not to pursue that school due to poor security there. I applied to this School. This is my State and I got the admission. It was not really a struggle.

TWP: What challenges did you face in the process of applying for admission?

Martha: I felt I had no one to give my credentials to who could assist me in securing admission.

TWP: What do you think being a graduate means to your Sponsors?

Martha: It means a lot to them because it has always been the desire of my parents to do whatever they can to sponsor their children to whatever level they can. Being a graduate would bring great joy to my parents. I am the first born and so I would be the first graduate in the family. And from my clan I would be the first female graduate.

John is a 300 level student of Political science in one of the State Universities in Nigeria.

TWP: Why do you want to be a graduate?

John: There are so many reasons. Being a graduate of political science would help me analyze politics.

TWP: What year did you complete your secondary education?

John: 2008

TWP: What year did you gain admission into the University?

John: 2010

TWP: Tell us briefly about the admission process, was it difficult?

John:  I wrote JAMB three consecutive times and though I made the required score of above 200, I could not gain admission. There were a lot of difficulties and even at my third try it was by God’s grace that I got the admission. Admission in Nigeria is difficult. You can get it only if you have somebody who can stand for you or when God helps you.

TWP: How did you feel during this period?

John: I felt sad. I felt so embarrassed and isolated because I was thinking that we the poor ones had been ignored and so our rights sometimes are being trampled upon. In fact, there is no equality in Nigeria when it comes to areas like this because even people who did not have the requirements were being granted admission but others who had the necessary requirements where being ignored.

TWP: Did you suffer insults from people during the period while you were at home applying for admission?

John: Yeah, yeah. I received a lot of insults because some people thought that I repeatedly could not gain admission because I was incapable of doing so.

TWP: Where you pressurized by family members?

John: No, my parents did not pressurize me. Though, my mother advised me to apply to a polytechnic or a college of education. She felt I did not necessarily have to attend a university; any other tertiary institution would have been fine to her.

To be Continued...

Your Folly : A Short Story

You landed him a dirty slap and jumped out of bed. The floor to which you fell was cold, but not nearly as your heart to Idowu. He was toast. Then you realized the slapping took place in a dream. It was 3:30 in the morning. The room was cold and silent but for the squeaky fan, Ebere’s snores, and your angry heart. You arose from the ground wishing you did not wake up just yet. You wished you broke Idowu’s head after the slap. Light from the electric bulb dangling from the ceiling would disrupt Ebere’s sleep so you reached for your phone. Its light would have to do, you thought. You were wrong, as you stepped on a slippery substance and went straight down, bruising your elbow on your way. For a second, you felt stupid, and then a thought hinted that your fall was a bad omen. You rose carefully and reached for the light switch. Ebere would have to pardon you. As the lights came on, your eyes caught sight of the book a classmate forgot in your room when he visited, two days before. It was boldly titled “Forgive and Forget”. You shoved it under your pillow. Ebere did not move. You looked enquiringly on the ground for the stuff that caused your fall. It was a banana peel you did not dispose last night. The banana you munched angrily moments before you slept.

You took gentle steps to a nearby chair and sat on it. You recounted yesterday’s incidence and the fire within you burned. You imagined how you would confront Idowu and when he would talk back; the slap would be made a reality on his face.  That was where you stopped. For some unknown reason, you thought the slap would shut him up and set him straight forever. You never imagined he could be stronger.

Realizing you had a long journey ahead; you arose and walked to the bathroom of your school room. You paused at the door, remembering it was 3:30am. Even if you spent an hour in the bath, you would still be too early. So, you walked back to your seat, still red-eyed angry. Ebere turned but that was all. For a moment, you wished he woke up and tried to stop you for the last time from embarking on the journey. You knew for certain that you would not stop yourself. Idowu had crossed the line. Your ego had to be redeemed. You arose and went back to bed. 5:00am at last. You arose and at a glance noticed that Ebere was not on his bed. There was the sound of flushing toilet and seconds later, Ebere’s frame appeared at the bathroom’s door. You avoided eye contact. Ebere said nothing and went back to bed.

At 6:33 am, you were at the motor park. You were lightly packed with nothing but a change of clothing in a small bag, just in case you had to spend the night in Lagos. You planned to teach Idowu his lesson and return to Benin the same day, even if you would have to travel by night. It was a six hour journey.  The bus you boarded was a Toyota that had seen better days. You were made to sit beside an older man in the front seat.  As the vehicle dragged along, you watched the driver shift the gear. It was all rusty metal and tattered leather.  Your eyes flamed in anger. How could Idowu say such? Distance had given him effrontery. You would prove otherwise, you thought. You would not allow familiarity turn to insult.  You switched off your mobile phone and rehearsed the slap.

You opened your eyes and felt light headed. You could not see the moving trees of interstate roads. The rusty gear was not in sight. You thought to look around but your neck was stiff and held down tightly. You could see white ceiling boards. The air reeked of disinfectant. You felt no pain; you felt no part of your body.  You drifted away.

You awoke to voices. A light tremor ran through your body and you let out a moan. A woman in white immediately appeared over you, smiling. She asked how you felt; she spoke kind words and said you would be fine. There was another person in the room, adjusting a drip feed that stood beside you.  In words that were barely audible, you enquired about your location, you expressed your ignorance. She explained that you survived an auto crash on Benin-Ore road and was in the hospital.  She said a mobile phone was found on you and they had called home. Home? That was where you where headed, what happened? The last you could remember was a rusty gear and… yes, screaming people.  Your mind was in anarchy. Thought struggled with thought, imaginations raged. It felt like a long dream. You floated off again.

You were not sure how long you had been strapped to the bed. Your folly stung deep. When a doctor asked if you had any family members or friends who lived in Benin, you said you had none. She was puzzled, since the Identity card found in your wallet indicated that you were a student of the University of Benin. She asked again, stating clearly that you were at the University Of Benin Teaching Hospital.  You maintained your response.  You could not bear what Ebere would say or scarier, not say if he saw you strapped to a hospital bed, swaddled in bandages. He pleaded for you to calm down that night; he said you should pardon Idowu’s words as those from an ignorant younger brother. He grew quiet when you said his tribe was known to lack respect and so he was not worthy to give advice on the matter. He said no more till you left for Lagos. You presumed he was angry, but as usually, you were angrier.  Years later, Ebere would joke that you almost got yourself killed in the bid to slap someone. He would use it to warn you about anger until it would become a cliché. 

Idowu’s crime now seemed so light. You wondered why you were so angry. You still could not move your neck, but in place of the white ceiling, you saw your folly in 3D images. Shame and guilt worked shifts to clear the anarchy in your mind. You wondered what you were thinking when you left school in Benin to slap your brother in Lagos over a telephone argument. In self defence, you blamed Idowu for everything. If he had spoken respectfully, the unfortunate incidence would not have occurred. You did the right thing.  It was a corrective measure, and it was a move to drive the point of your seniority home, deep in Idowu’s skull. It was the right thing to do. Or was it? Anger and pride tried to wrestle guilt and shame. 

When you heard your mother say “Oluwa O” with a hint of tears and fear in her voice, from the general direction of the ward’s entrance, guilt and shame prevailed. In a few seconds, Idowu and your mother where hovering over you. A nurse stood close by.  You offered a weak smile and greeted them both. You immediately wanted to cry. The nurse began to assure your mother that you would be fine. She said a few more things and took her leave.

“How is your body” Your mother asked. Idowu said nothing. He wore a genuine smile of encouragement and maintained eye contact.  He ferreted around your entire body and examined the bandages like he was a doctor. Why on earth did you want to slap such a caring fellow? It was somehow obvious that they wanted to hear the story. What happened? Where were you going? And other details surrounding the accident, but you maintained silence. You hoped they will postpone such questions till you had come up with a believable fabrication.  Your mother began to curse government officials for not repairing Benin-Ore road. She continued with a history of how the road had been deteriorating, year after year and how contractors and public officers had made away with the billions on Naira allocated yearly to the road’s construction. She said she was assured that the creator would judge. You recognized instantly that the hospital staff had briefed her on the location of the accident. How much more had they told her? Idowu found two plastic chairs at a corner in the ward and they sat close to your bed, your mother to your right and Idowu to your left. You sensed that your silence bothered them.  Your mother kept asking how you felt, and then she began the tale from how they received the call about your accident and you knew she would go on detail after detail till she reached the present moment. You felt relieved by the diversion and even managed to laugh and make few comments as she spoke.  Idowu spoke too, correcting any error in your mother’s tale. Soon, you were all laughing and talking. It was in the midst of a short pause in the conversation that Idowu asked “Why were you coming to Lagos?”

TALKING WITH PEOPLE

AJUWAYA: AS THEY ANSWER THE CLARION CALL

You know them. You call them Corpers. You probably were once a Corper or hope to be. What you might not know or remember is that Youth Corps Members are not on a post-graduation fun fair or adventure. They are answering a Clarion Call, a call to action. Bear this in mind when you find them in your neighbourhood, with faces that betray their ignorance of the area. When you hail them: “Corper sion!” do it with meaning behind your words.

In present day Nigeria, servant leaders with a sense of mission have been the clamour. We have to find them. If not amongst the leaders of today, then among those of tomorrow. A vicious cycle of bad leadership would be the case if present and future leaders are glaringly aimless and irresponsive to the plights of the nation.  The National Youth Service Corps is a smart place to go searching for tomorrow’s leaders.

However, a bothersome thought lingers in my mind. The law of Karma. The law of harvest. Sow yam and reap yam. A goat cannot beget an antelope. For years now, the Nigerian government has best been described as inept, not because the men and women who have occupied various government offices are not intelligent or do not possess other necessary capabilities that would ensure a productive and progressive administration of the Nigerian state, but rather because selflessness has never been on the list of virtues that they possess. Character and capacity have not met. Service is yet to be a reason for contesting an election or accepting a government appointment in Nigeria.  They have and seem to still be born out of a desire to accumulate wealth and power.  Here comes my fear: would we be deluding ourselves by anticipating that somehow the next generation has refused to learn from their predecessors, or is the law of karma our doom? In this maiden edition of Talking with People, I have decided it is unwise to believe that what you do not know cannot harm you.  And so I went on to talk with some Corps members. Do they know what is at stake? Can they deliver? Have they somehow, from wherever, gotten the heart and desire to serve? What factors could impede them?

 

Miss Elizabeth James is a Corps Member Serving in Ondo State.

TWP: Do you think about Nigeria on a regular day?                            

ELIZABETH: No I don't

TWP: For a country with so many problems shouldn’t you?

ELIZABETH: I should

TWP: Why don’t u?

ELIZABETH: I think of it’s problems but I can't really dwell on such without accompanying solutions that I can proffer.

TWP: A Clarion Call by way of definition is a call to action. The first line of the NYSC anthem says “Youths obey the Clarion Call”.  In evaluating yourself and perhaps your fellow Corp Members do you identify a consciousness that you are being called to action?

ELIZABETH:  No. It is what they've made the acronym or would I say entity to be. NYSC as it's called to most people is a waste of 11 months. I’m not for the idea anyway. My point is it is a call to action, yes...what action? When everyone is allawee expectant? I think NYSC has lost it's essence. We're not walking the talk, the talk in this case being the precious lines of the anthem.

TWP: How would you define the term “Service”?

ELIZABETH: Service coined from serve. To be subject to, to render/devote time, resources et cetera

TWP: Don’t you think living a life of service would impede living a glamorous life?

ELIZABETH: It wouldn’t impede, in fact they are inter-related. If you have a glamorous life, financially, you could serve by helping your community, which is community development service, in the way you can, for their betterment. When you give, you’d definitely get in return.

TWP: Would you say NYSC is really about service?

ELIZABETH: It is about service, Of course.

TWP: But you said everyone is allawee (monthly allowance) expectant

ELIZABETH: (1) It is voluntary, although people say it is compulsory. They did not force me to collect my call-up letter in the first place. I could have stayed in my house. (2) It is personal. Some make it a point of duty to teach, serve their fatherland. It is service. It is for the government then to me it is service. We're more or less pre-civil service.

TWP: But you cannot be employed without the NYSC certificate

ELIZABETH: My dear corruption is so much in the Nigerian system that one can get a job without the National Youth Service Certificate.

TWP: So the mere fact that a person responds to the call-up letter is a clear indication of service to his/her fatherland?

ELIZABETH: Yes, kind of. You've accepted the terms and conditions or criteria of what it means to be an Ajuwaya. Accepting the letter equals accepting responsibility.

TWP: Selflessness is a virtue that has eluded past and present Nigerian leaders. Looking at corps members can this virtue be identified in them?

ELIZABETH: Yes. Very few of them though. Where I’m serving presently, you see the zeal in them. Should I conclude that because we're still new and this might wane or fizzle out? No I shouldn’t.

TWP: So we have a reason to hope for a better tomorrow of selfless leaders?

ELIZABETH: Yes we have a reason. At this point I make reference to my good friend, Uzoma Ikechukwu who believes in our young generation taking over.

the talk and the walk

In a mixed economic system like Nigeria practices, the task of economic development and progress falls on both the government and the private sector. Both parties have roles to play to ensure that the nation progresses economically and otherwise. No party has ever denied this. The question has remained whether the inputs of both parties reflect a consciousness of their responsibilities.

The National Youth Service Corps was established in 1973 in a bid to reconcile the nation, an action that became imperative after the Nigerian Civil war.

It’s mission statement reads “To mobilize and groom graduate youths for the promotion of National Unity, sustainable development, self reliance and prepare them for the challenges of leadership”. In driving this mission, the NYSC programme begins for every graduate youth with the reception of a Call-up letter. The letter would contain the specific state amongst the 36 states of the Federation that the receiver has been posted to. Usually, a person is posted to a state other than and far from his or her state of origin.  The idea is for youths to be acquainted with the cultures and practices of other ethnic groups in order to foster national unity. However, there are reports that the postings can be influenced by prospective Corps members who know the right NYSC official.  

The service year begins with an orientation exercise that lasts for about three weeks. During the period of the orientation exercise, Corps members are camped in the NYSC orientation camp located in their states of deployment. Orientation activities include lectures on a wide range of national subjects, paramilitary activities, physical training exercises, skill acquisition programmes, amongst others. At the end of the orientation exercise, Corps members are deployed to what is called a “Place of Primary Assignment”.  A recent policy of the government ensures that in posting Corps members, emphasis is placed on rural posting in the areas of agriculture, health, education, and infrastructure. Corps members are also expected to engage in community development programmes in their host communities.  

A Corps Member serving in Lagos State who preferred his identity withheld shared this with me:

TWP: How would you describe the orientation exercise? 
D: It's hype was out of this world. It was good because for the first time in my life, I was amidst so many young enthusiastic professionals. And it was terrible because the facilities were like those of a concentration camp.

TWP: Did you learn a new skill on the skill acquisition platform during the orientation period?

D: It was a commendable idea but I didn't learn any due to lack of interest.

TWP: How has the community you were posted to for your Primary Assignment received you?

D: I am very grateful, I was posted to an elite private school and I was well received.

TWP: Any favours, segregation or hostility as a result of your being a Corps Member?

D: Favour? Yes, because everyone wants to help me. Thanks be to God, no hostility or segregation thus far.

TWP: Aside your work place, on the streets, any favours or hostility?

D: Yes. The uniform makes you appear like a newcomer in Lagos. Once, in a bus, two ladies asked me where I was going and offered me direction without my asking.

TWP: Do you think people perceive corps members as saviours? As people who have come with solutions?

D: Nah, far from it. I think we are seen as "poor" innocent children who are made to work hard for peanut.

TWP: Do you think that is what the government has in mind for NYSC?

D: Not exactly. I think it is a policy each government sees as a ritual for graduates. They are indifferent about it.

TWP: Some Corps members complain that the NYSC kit is made of sub-standard materials. Would you add your voice to this?

D: Yeah...considering a large sum of money is invested into it.

the Challenges

I think it is absurd to answer a call to action and then be surprised that you are faced with challenges. First, a challenge probably led to your being called upon to act. So from transportation to their state of posting, the orientation exercise, to settling down in their places of primary assignment, Corpers as they are fondly called find reasons to worry, fear or get dismayed.  A most recent cause of worry has been the safety of Corps members considering security treats in the country.  

Mr. Thaddeus Agaji was originally posted to Borno State but applied to be reposted to Nasarawa State due to the unsettled nature of security in the former state.

TWP: What challenges have you faced so far as a Corps member?

THADDEUS: I have faced a lot of challenges. Processing my relocation was difficult. I was rejected by many schools within Nasarawa state before I was finally accepted at the State University.

TWP: Have you faced any transportation challenges?

THADDEUS: Yes I have. I have spent a lot of money on transport fare.

TWP: How about accommodation?

THADDEUS: Accommodation too is very, very difficult.

TWP: Any provisions by the government?

THADDEUS: No provisions. We are to rent our houses by ourselves and to rent a house is not easy.

TWP: Is the allowance you are paid enough to cover your expenses?

THADDEUS: No it is not enough.

they dream and believe

For most Corpers, life has just begun in a sense. They are fresh from tertiary institutions, full of dreams and aspirations as they enter into the world of works. The Clarion call itself is to them a confirmation of progress, another step up the ladder. They are no longer to be counted amongst illiterate people in a country where such abound. They seem to believe a lot is possible. Hopefully, a lot would be possible. 

TWP: Your post-service year plans?

THADDEUS: After my NYSC I hope to establish an animal farm to make a living. I want to be self employed.

ELIZABETH: I would write more professional examinations and probably get a white or rainbow collar job (laughs)