Feature/OPED
Nigeria’s Olodo Uprising: An Assault on Critical Thinking
By Prince Charles Dickson, PhD
A sheep was passing and saw a lion crying inside a cage, trapped and helpless. The lion begged the sheep to rescue him, promising not to kill or eat it. The sheep refused at first, knowing fully well that a lion does not become a vegetarian because of captivity. But after much persuasion, emotional blackmail, and the sheep’s own gullibility, it opened the cage.
Now the lion was very hungry, having stayed in the cage for days without food. It quickly pounced on the sheep and was about to kill and eat it, but the sheep reminded him of his promise.
They were still arguing when other animals came passing. They sought to know what had happened. Both the lion and the sheep narrated their sides of the story, but because of fear, convenience, and a desperate need to gain favour in the lion’s eyes, all the animals took sides with the lion, except the tortoise, who claimed not to understand the whole scenario.
The tortoise asked the lion to show them where exactly he was before the sheep rescued him. The lion pointed at the cage.
The tortoise asked again, “Were you inside or outside when the sheep arrived?”
The lion replied, “I was inside.”
The tortoise then said, “Okay, enter and let us see how difficult it could be inside, because I am not getting the whole scenario.”
The lion entered, and immediately, the tortoise locked the cage. The lion was trapped again.
That story is not just folklore. It is a national diagnosis.
Nigeria today is full of trapped lions, gullible sheep, frightened animals, and very few tortoises. We have many people with opinions, but few with discernment. Many with certificates, but few with comprehension. Many with titles, but few with thought. Many who can quote policy, scripture, law, and ideology, but cannot ask the simple question that prevents disaster: “Wait first, how did we get here?”
That question is the beginning of critical thinking. Sadly, it is becoming an endangered species.
The easiest and most attractive national pastime remains buck-passing, especially with the bunch of leaders we have, some of whom can hardly peel a banana or wash an already white handkerchief. Not many of us want to take responsibility for anything, from personal life to family life, from community life to national life. The blame is always on the system, as if the system descended from the sky and imposed itself on innocent citizens.
We do not need to create demons out of our leaders because, in too many instances, they have behaved like ready-made specimens of public demons. So, we hang our sins on them, sometimes appropriately, sometimes lazily. Unfortunately, their behaviour has made it easy for the critics to descend on them. They shout loudly, lie casually, perform empathy only when cameras are present, and govern as though the people are background noise in their private banquet.
But there is a deeper tragedy. The lion is not our only problem. The sheep, too, must be examined. The other animals must be questioned. Even the silence of the forest must stand trial.
This is where the Olodo Syndrome enters.
In Nigerian street language, “Olodo” is often used to describe a dull person, someone slow to understand, someone who fails where basic reasoning should have saved them. But in this essay, Olodo is not merely the person who did not go to school. No. Nigeria has produced a more sophisticated creature: the educated olodo. The certificated illiterate. The graduate who cannot reason beyond slogans. The public officer who mistakes grammar for intelligence. The citizen who forwards nonsense with confidence. The analyst who mistakes noise for insight. The leader who confuses movement with progress. The voter who sells tomorrow for rice today, then spends four years complaining that the pot is empty.
Olodo, therefore, is not the absence of schooling. It is the failure of judgment.
It is what happens when a nation rewards mediocrity and punishes thought. It is what happens when people who ask serious questions are labelled troublesome, while those who clap for madness are called loyal. It is what happens when dumb, crazy things move the needle, while wisdom is treated like an old man coughing in the corner. It is what happens when unintelligent people do not merely exist, but are celebrated, promoted, defended, and installed as gatekeepers over those who still dare to think.
This is Nigeria’s Olodo Uprising.
It is an uprising not of the poor against the rich, nor of the uneducated against the educated. It is an uprising of shallow thinking against depth. An assault on memory, logic, accountability, and consequence. It is the national habit of refusing to connect action to outcome. We open the cage, release the lion, and then begin a prayer meeting when the lion remembers its appetite.
We talk, write, and discuss the Nigerian myth with a sense of fatalism. “This is Nigeria,” we say, as if that phrase is both an explanation and an excuse. If everyone thought as much about justice and fairness, life would be better. I am a critic, yes, but I am also a critic’s critic. I remain an unrepentant believer that one of the ways to keep the government on its toes is to keep harping on its flaws so that it can improve. But criticism without self-examination becomes entertainment. It becomes pepper soup politics, the kind we enjoy at drinking joints, suya spots, WhatsApp groups, and television studios where every table has a parliament and every loud voice is mistaken for a constitution.
Often, I say I believe the things I write are important for our nation, as they are for other nations. But when it appears to me that Nigerians, especially those in authority, do not react to these issues as people in other lands do, I repeat them in new essays to remind old readers and recruit new ones to participate in the continuing dialogue.
Because repetition, sometimes, is not a lack of creativity. It is the burden of memory in a country addicted to forgetting.
Sadly, this is Nigeria, where nothing works, and no one cares. When it works, it is often because someone’s interest is about to be served or is already being served, not because the people’s interest has suddenly become sacred. We talk about our institutions despairingly. Our leaders do not watch network news except when their faces will appear at their sons’ or daughters’ weddings, birthdays, burials, thanksgiving services, or self-sponsored ceremonies of public praise. They do not need newspapers anymore because too many pages are already full of their lies, paid adverts, and noisy banters dressed as governance.
A country that destroys thinking will eventually be governed by instinct.
That is why the Olodo Syndrome is dangerous. It not only makes people ignorant. It makes them confidently ignorant. It gives stupidity a microphone and asks wisdom to apply for permission to speak. It converts public debate into shouting contests. It turns leadership recruitment into ethnic arithmetic, religious panic, stomach infrastructure, and emotional blackmail. It makes citizens defend their oppressors because the oppressor speaks their language, attends their church, worships in their mosque, comes from their zone, or once gave them transport money.
This is how the other animals sided with the lion.
Not because the lion was right. They knew he was wrong. But fear is a powerful editor of truth. Hunger is a wicked lawyer. Proximity to power is a dangerous intoxicant. In Nigeria, many people do not support injustice because they are confused. They support it because they are calculating. They are asking themselves, “What if the lion remembers me tomorrow? What if I need a favour? What if I condemn him now and he becomes minister, governor, chairman, commissioner, vice chancellor, senator, president?”
So, they betray the sheep.
Government bashing remains a national pastime, and every drinking joint and suya spot has a sitting parliament with an expert on every issue. But we forget that no matter the input, if the politicians and actors on our national scene have questionable lives both at personal and domestic levels, nothing will change. The best government policy cannot change the individual when the policies themselves are formulated on a bad foundation by people with warped thinking.
A corrupt mind cannot midwife a clean system.
When a witch proclaims her presence, and an invalid does not make away, he must have money for sacrifices at home. Nigeria has been warned too many times. We have seen the witch. We have heard the announcement. Yet we remain seated, arguing about who invited her, who offended her, which village she came from, and whether her witchcraft is constitutionally recognised.
This is not merely a leadership failure. It is civic laziness. It is moral cowardice. It is intellectual surrender.
The tortoise in the story represents the rare citizen who does not join the chorus. The one who pauses the noise. The one who asks for sequence, evidence, context, motive, and consequence. The tortoise is not the loudest animal. It is not the strongest. It does not roar. It does not bleat. It thinks.
That is what Nigeria needs now: more tortoises.
Not slow people, but thoughtful people. Not cowards hiding under shells, but citizens who understand that speed without thought is national self-harm. We need people who can ask leaders: Where were you before power? What did you promise? What have you done? Who benefits? Who pays? What happens tomorrow? We need teachers who teach children to question, not merely to cram. We need voters who examine character before currency. We need religious leaders who produce conscience, not crowds. We need journalists who investigate, not decorate. We need institutions that reward competence over loyalty, substance over noise, and courage over convenience.
Because the lion will always be hungry again.
That is the part Nigeria refuses to learn. Appeasing bad leadership does not end its appetite. Excusing mediocrity does not transform it into excellence. Rewarding foolishness does not make it wise. If we allow the lion to eat the sheep today because we are afraid, hungry, tribal, religiously sentimental, or politically invested, we have not solved the hunger problem. We have only postponed our own turn.
In amazement, the other animals asked the tortoise, “why” and the tortoise replied. “If we allow him to eat the sheep today, he will still go hungry tomorrow, and we don’t know what will be eaten tomorrow—May Nigeria win.
Feature/OPED
Three Interdependent Pillars Reshaping African Financial Infrastructure
By Winston Osuchukwu
Africa’s financial infrastructure is entering a defining phase. Digital adoption continues to accelerate, financial inclusion is deepening, and institutions across the ecosystem are investing in connected, data-driven services. According to the World Bank’s Global Findex Database, account ownership across Sub-Saharan Africa has expanded significantly over the past decade, while mobile money continues to process hundreds of billions of dollars annually. Sustained investment in Africa’s fintech ecosystem reflects the same growing confidence in the continent’s financial future.
As the ecosystem matures, success will depend less on isolated innovation and more on how institutions connect their capabilities. The next phase of financial infrastructure is being shaped by three interdependent pillars: connected ecosystems that widen the data available on each customer, data intelligence that turns that scattered data into a single coherent picture, and intelligent decision-making that turns insight into measurable outcomes.
Connected Ecosystems Create the Foundation for Intelligence
No single institution has a complete view of the financial ecosystem. Banks, fintechs, payment providers, telecommunications companies, regulators, and other participants each contribute different pieces of the picture. As these organisations become more connected through interoperable payment systems, shared infrastructure, and collaborative partnerships, financial services become more accessible and seamless for individuals and businesses alike.
Connectivity alone, however, is not enough. A more connected ecosystem also creates exponentially more data, and unless that information can be integrated and interpreted consistently, greater connectivity simply produces greater complexity. The value of collaboration therefore depends on the ability to transform fragmented information into a coherent picture.
Data Intelligence Creates Shared Understanding
Once data flows across connected ecosystems, the next challenge is making sense of it. Financial institutions need more than access to information; they need the ability to unify diverse data sources, identify meaningful patterns, and generate insights that accurately reflect customer behaviour, operational performance, and emerging risks.
Data intelligence provides this common understanding. It enables institutions to move beyond isolated datasets and develop a trusted, enterprise-wide view that supports regulatory compliance, operational efficiency, and customer-centric innovation. Yet even the clearest insight has limited value if it remains descriptive. Understanding what is happening is only useful when institutions can confidently decide what to do next.
Intelligent Decisions Drive Real Outcomes
This is where artificial intelligence, predictive analytics, and machine learning become transformative. Built on a foundation of connected ecosystems and high-quality data intelligence, these technologies enable organisations to make faster, more consistent decisions across lending, fraud detection, compliance, customer engagement, and strategic planning.
Rather than replacing human expertise, intelligent decision-making augments it by helping institutions anticipate change, respond proactively, and allocate resources more effectively. When decisions are powered by reliable data and supported by a connected financial ecosystem, organisations become more resilient, customers enjoy better experiences, and the entire financial value chain operates more efficiently.
Africa’s financial future will not be shaped by technology or data in isolation. Progress requires that these capabilities work together. Connected ecosystems generate the information. Data intelligence transforms that information into “features” – the meaningful attributes of a customer’s behaviour that a model can learn from. Intelligent decision-making algorithms then convert those “features” into action. Together, they form the foundation of a financial infrastructure that is more inclusive, resilient, and capable of supporting sustainable economic growth.
At Mathesis Analytics, we turn information into action – helping financial institutions transform complex and frequently unstructured data into meaningful insights they can act on – helping financial institutions make sense of complex, fragmented data and lend confidently to the people and businesses driving Africa’s economy.
Winston Osuchukwu is the Founder and CEO of Mathesis Analytics Inc.
Feature/OPED
Heritage Bank and Dangerous Politics of Corporate Survival in Nigeria
By Blaise Udunze
The Heritage Bank’s banking license was revoked, and it was ordered into liquidation on June 3, 2024. This remains one of the most controversial and widely debated events in Nigeria’s financial sector.
The lingering concerns, even though official reasons have been given as regulatory breaches, inadequate capitalisation, and persistent financial distress, many people remain unconvinced or believe there are broader issues that deserve closer scrutiny. Surprisingly, to concerned Nigerians, this marks the first time a Nigerian bank has been allowed to fail in over a decade. Despite the passage of time, one question refuses to disappear. Mind you, this is not a rhetorical question: Does the failure of a bank in Nigeria reflect only the institution’s weaknesses or should it also raise questions about the effectiveness of regulatory oversight and the influence of broader systemic or political factors?
Again, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) actually may have explained that its decision to revoke Heritage Bank’s licence was based on the institution’s persistent financial weakness, its inability to meet prudential requirements and the absence of a credible path to recovery. Yes, and undisputedly, those reasons fall squarely within the regulator’s statutory mandate to protect depositors and safeguard financial system stability.
Understandably, the legal basis for the action was clearly stated; even at that, the truth is that the decision has continued to provoke debate because of the broader question of regulatory consistency. If prudential weakness alone determines whether a bank survives, why have seemingly comparable institutions been treated differently?
This question deserves examination not through conspiracy theories or unsubstantiated allegations but through the lens of institutional accountability, governance and the relationship between politics and business in Nigeria.
The Heritage Bank story presents a contradiction. No doubt, one would not be wrong to say that the Nigerian banking industry is one of the most tightly regulated sectors of the economy. This is because the banks operated and still function under continuous supervision by the CBN. Also, the Nigeria Deposit Insurance Corporation (NDIC) is well known to exist primarily to protect depositors and ensure financial system stability. Routine examinations, prudential guidelines, capital adequacy monitoring, liquidity ratios, stress tests and early intervention mechanisms are designed precisely to prevent sudden institutional collapse.
One critical question that comes to mind is, if these safeguards function effectively, why should a licensed commercial bank deteriorate to the point of liquidation? That question extends beyond Heritage Bank. It touches the credibility of Nigeria’s financial architecture itself.
The truth be told, no regulator anywhere in the world can guarantee that every bank will survive. This is because over time, history has shown that banks can fail due to poor corporate governance, insider abuses, weak risk management, fraud, macroeconomic shocks or prolonged insolvency. Nigeria is no exception.
However, regulators are expected to detect distress early, enforce corrective actions and minimise losses to depositors and the economy. That is the essence of prudential regulation.
Consequently, whenever a licensed bank ultimately collapses, scrutiny naturally shifts beyond management failures to regulatory effectiveness. Did supervisors identify warning signs early enough? Were intervention tools deployed in time? Were recovery options exhausted before liquidation became inevitable? Could alternative resolutions have preserved confidence while protecting depositors?
The Heritage Bank case naturally fuels these questions because Nigeria’s regulatory history demonstrates that liquidation is not the only available resolution mechanism. Different institutions have, at different times, received different supervisory responses.
Throughout former CBN governor Godwin Emefiele’s leadership, several banks, including Skye Bank (later Polaris Bank), Keystone Bank, Union Bank, and Heritage Bank, faced severe financial challenges but were bailed out by the central bank instead of being allowed to fail. These banks continued operations until they were eventually sold off, with one currently distressed bank still operating despite negative shareholders’ funds.
For instance, Unity Bank was not widely regarded as financially stronger than Heritage Bank on several traditional indicators. Its 2023 audited financial statements reflected a negative capital adequacy ratio of -76.14 per cent, accumulated losses, and the external auditors drew attention to a material uncertainty regarding the bank’s ability to continue as a going concern. Despite these severe weaknesses, the regulatory response was not an immediate licence revocation. Instead, the CBN facilitated a merger with Providus Bank as a resolution strategy and approved a pivotal financial bailout package, reportedly worth N700 billion.
Likewise, First Bank of Nigeria is not left out of this trend; owing to its systemic importance and larger market presence, the institution later faced regulatory capital pressure following the withdrawal of regulatory forbearance in 2025. Another concern is that rather than withdrawing its licence, the regulator permitted the bank to remain operational under a recapitalisation programme supported through supervisory measures.
These examples do not necessarily suggest that the banks were identical in their financial positions, nor do they prove that Heritage Bank deserved the same outcome. Each institution presents unique circumstances, regulatory assessments and systemic implications. Nevertheless, on common ground, they raise a legitimate policy question. What specific factors determine when the regulator opts for recapitalisation, merger, restructuring or liquidation? One fact the regulators should know and take into cognisance is that greater transparency around these decisions would strengthen public confidence in the consistency and predictability of financial regulation, as this remains sacrosanct.
Of course, the case of Heritage Bank’s liquidation has generated a broader conversation because of Nigeria’s history, where business fortunes have sometimes intersected with political transitions, elite rivalries and shifting centres of influence, which is more troubling.
The common truth is that across decades of experience, Nigerian businesses have occasionally found themselves flourishing under one political environment only to struggle under another. Consistently, this has always been a trend that changes in government have often altered regulatory priorities, access to public sector business and investor confidence. While correlation does not establish causation, the perception that politics influences commercial outcomes remains deeply entrenched. This perception becomes even more significant when examining businesses that occupy strategic sectors.
Banks are strategic institutions. Telecommunications companies are strategic institutions. Energy companies are strategic institutions.
Government actions affecting such businesses inevitably attract public scrutiny because their operations extend far beyond shareholders to millions of citizens.
One may be moved to ask what the direct connection is. The controversy surrounding MultiChoice Nigeria offers another example of how commercial disputes can quickly assume political dimensions in public discourse. The direct connection may remain a puzzle to so many.
A thorough search revealed that over recent years, especially around the time the Heritage Bank licence was revoked, it was clear that MultiChoice faced regulatory sanctions, tax disputes, consumer protection battles, pricing controversies and legal confrontations with Nigerian authorities. Come to think of it, at different points, observers speculated that sustained pressure on the company reflected broader political or economic interests rather than purely regulatory concerns.
It is important to distinguish speculation from verified fact. Nigerian authorities consistently maintained that their actions against MultiChoice were based on compliance with tax, competition and consumer protection laws. MultiChoice similarly defended its commercial decisions through legal channels.
Well, at this point, Adewunmi Ogunsanya, a Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN), has direct ties to both organisations through his executive leadership and corporate board appointments. Is it a mere coincidence that his connection to both entities became a major financial focal point following the liquidation of Heritage Bank?
Let it be known that, despite all, the public conversation often framed the disputes as evidence of an underlying power struggle between government institutions and a dominant private enterprise, and this may remain undisputed.
Whether accurate or not, such perceptions matter because markets respond not only to facts but also to confidence. Confidence is the currency upon which banking survives.
Unlike manufacturing companies that own factories or oil firms with physical reserves, banks fundamentally operate on trust. Depositors leave their money because they believe regulators will ensure the institution remains safe.
One indisputable fact is that the moment confidence evaporates, even a fundamentally solvent bank can face severe liquidity pressure, which has occurred in the past.
This is why central banks across the world routinely rescue distressed institutions, not necessarily because every management deserves saving, but because preserving confidence is often more valuable than punishing failure.
Nigeria demonstrated this principle during the 2009 banking crisis through recapitalisation, management changes, the establishment of AMCON and structured resolution mechanisms rather than the outright closure of several distressed institutions. That experience confirmed that regulators possess a range of tools beyond licence revocation.
The Heritage Bank case therefore naturally invites debate over why liquidation emerged as the chosen option.
Could recapitalisation have remained feasible? Could acquisition have produced better outcomes? Could bridge-bank arrangements have preserved value? Could additional restructuring have protected jobs and investor confidence?
These are questions policymakers should openly address, not simply to revisit the past but to strengthen future crisis management. The implications extend beyond one institution.
Foreign investors closely observe how governments and regulators manage corporate distress. Let it be known that predictability is one of the strongest attractions for investment. When investors perceive that outcomes depend primarily on transparent rules, confidence grows.
When they perceive uncertainty, whether arising from inconsistent regulation, political transitions or muddy decision-making, they demand higher risk premiums or redirect capital elsewhere.
Nigeria cannot afford either perception. The country’s ambition to become Africa’s leading investment destination and to build a $1 trillion economy requires regulatory consistency that transcends political cycles.
Businesses must believe that success or failure depends principally on compliance, competitiveness and sound governance, not changing political winds.
This is equally important for regulators themselves. Institutions such as the CBN and NDIC derive legitimacy from public confidence. This is to say that absolute confidence increases when regulatory decisions are accompanied by clear, detailed and transparent explanations that address public concerns effectively, which would not give room for doubt.
Where communication gaps exist, the simple truth is that speculation inevitably fills the vacuum. And worse still, in today’s digital environment, silence often becomes fertile ground for misinformation. Transparency therefore serves not merely public relations purposes but financial stability itself.
The Heritage Bank episode also exposes another challenge confronting Nigeria’s economy, as this can be tied to the growing fusion of politics and perception.
Even where regulatory decisions are technically justified, public trust weakens if citizens increasingly interpret every major corporate action through political lenses. That should concern policymakers.
An economy where investors suspect political motivations behind regulatory outcomes ultimately discourages entrepreneurship, weakens market confidence and slows economic growth.
The solution is not to avoid difficult regulatory decisions. Poorly managed institutions should still face appropriate sanctions. More importantly, financial discipline remains indispensable.
It must be ensured that whilst this is done, enforcement consistently demonstrates fairness, proportionality and procedural transparency. Equally, corporate leaders must recognise that sustainable institutions cannot depend on political proximity.
History repeatedly shows that businesses built primarily on access rather than competitiveness become vulnerable whenever political landscapes change. Strong institutions survive governments because they are anchored in sound governance rather than political patronage.
Perhaps the greatest lesson from Heritage Bank is not merely whether politics influenced events, something that remains unproven in the public domain, but whether Nigeria’s institutional framework has become sufficiently trusted that such questions no longer dominate public discourse.
That is the real challenge. A mature regulatory environment should inspire confidence that decisions arise from objective evidence rather than perceived political calculations.
Until that confidence is universally shared, every major corporate failure will continue generating political interpretations regardless of the underlying facts.
Nigeria’s economic future depends not only on stronger banks but also on stronger institutions. The CBN, NDIC and every financial regulator carry responsibilities extending beyond enforcing compliance. They must also preserve public confidence through transparency, consistency and accountability.
Heritage Bank should therefore become more than another chapter in Nigeria’s banking history. It should become an opportunity for honest national reflection.
Not on how to rescue failing banks indefinitely, but on how to build regulatory systems so credible, so predictable, and so independent that no bank failure, however justified, will immediately trigger suspicions of hidden political battles.
For investors, depositors and ordinary Nigerians alike, that confidence may ultimately prove more valuable than any financial bailout.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
Feature/OPED
Reimagining Kaduna Through the Promise of Education
By Sani Abdulrazak, PhD
The late Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto and Premier of Northern Nigeria, envisioned that the true measure of a society’s progress lay not just in the roads it built, the markets it opened or the wealth it accumulated, but in the education of its people.
A philosophy it was, born from the conviction that the most enduring obelisk any generation can leave behind is not one hewn in stones, but one etched into the minds of its children. Decades later, that timeless belief still resonates across Northern Nigeria, a reminder that every investment in education is, unquestionably, an investment in today and tomorrow.
Truth is, failure to educate a child is synonymous with condemning the next generation; it is amplifying an already debilitating multidimensional poverty, it is fuelling the flames of insecurity. Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna state shares this belief, and three years later under his watch, the state’s education sector tells a promising story that gives every resident of the state reason to hope…to believe.
A school is indeed more than bricks and mortar; it is a place where the future is quietly assembled. Sadly, countless classrooms across Kaduna reflected neglect rather than hope. Governor Uba Sani’s administration chose to change that narrative. Within three years, 736 new classrooms have been constructed and 2,326 renovated, while 30,742 pupils’ desks and 3,704 teachers’ tables and chairs have been supplied.
The government also completed 62 new secondary schools, with another 50 under construction. Through the School Access Project, between 102 and 104 additional schools are being established so that no child travels more than one kilometre to access education. Furthermore, six science secondary schools that had remained abandoned for over a decade have been completed and reopened by the present administration. Today, they provide quality science education to over 2,000 students.
Rising tuition fees by the previous administration had placed higher education beyond the reach of many families in Kaduna and beyond. The administration responded with a 50 per cent reduction in tuition fees across Kaduna State-owned tertiary institutions, including Kaduna State University and Nuhu Bamalli Polytechnic, reportedly increasing enrolment by over 200%. Kaduna State Government also paid approximately ₦407.94 million, equivalent to 247,235.84 United States dollars, to settle outstanding tuition for Kaduna-sponsored students studying abroad, while investing over ₦1 billion in scholarships, student loans and educational support programmes.
It is indeed true that education is only as strong as its custodians, the teachers. Recognising this, the administration recruited 10,000 teachers and trained more than 33,000 education personnel in modern teaching methods and digital learning. These investments are already yielding results, with students obtaining five credits and above in WAEC, NECO and NABTEB examinations increasing from 54 per cent to 67 per cent.
Nothing illustrates the measure of progress of this administration’s investment in education better than the decline in out-of-school children. Through expanded school access, improved infrastructure, tuition support and enhanced security, the number reportedly fell from about 580,000 to approximately 182,000, giving hundreds of thousands of children another chance at education.
Believing that education must ready young people for employment and enterprise, Kaduna State Government established three Institutes of Vocational Training and Skills Development in Soba, Rigachikun and Samaru Kataf, offering practical skills in ICT, renewable energy, mechatronics, welding, plumbing, fashion design, carpentry and automotive technology. The administration has also advanced inclusion through the nearly completed Special School for Gifted Children and the expansion of the Tsangaya Bilingual Schools Project with specialised teacher training.
Binding these educational reforms together is sustained investment. Between 2024 and 2026, Kaduna consistently allocated between 25 and 26.14 per cent of its annual budget to education, making it the state’s highest-funded sector. More than a budgetary decision, it is a declaration that Kaduna’s future will be built not only with roads and buildings, but with educated minds.
There is an African proverb that says, “The child who is carried on the back today may carry the nation on his shoulders tomorrow.” Make of that what you will, but only education will give the child the shoulders to do so. Generational chapters and eras are defined by battles won or lost, sometimes by monuments raised or conceived.
However, the most discerning write their legacy upon the minds via education, for no monument endures longer than an educated generation. Who’d better write us this chapter than the proverbial Lannister of our time, Governor Uba Sani? A leader elected because the people of Kaduna State knew he would be a reformist, and now he is shifting the tectonic plates of education…of governance in the state.
Even though a lot of work remains unfinished, the road ahead is anything but smooth. What is beyond doubt is the direction the state is heading towards. Should these reforms endure under the SUSTAIN Agenda, Kaduna may one day look back on Uba Sani’s first three years not merely as an era of educational reforms, but as the moment when the state chose to invest in the one sphere that time cannot diminish: the education of its people.


