Aminu’s journey from a rural village in Katsina to the busy NNPC bus stop in Kubwa reflects the systemic crisis of Nigeria’s out-of-school children, where traditional religious education often exists in total isolation from the formal state system.
Nine-year-old Aminu, originally from Kankiya in Katsina State, is a visible symbol of the “Almajiri” system—a traditional Islamic educational model that currently sees millions of children roaming Nigerian cities. Dressed in oversized, tattered clothes and carrying a plastic alms plate, Aminu spends his days begging for food and cash at the NNPC bus stop in Kubwa, Abuja. Like many of his peers from Sokoto, Kano, and Bauchi, he was sent away by his parents to memorize the Quran under a “Mallam.” Despite his precarious living conditions, Aminu identifies himself with pride, though he admits his father strictly forbids Western-style schooling, labeling it “haram” (forbidden). His story is mirrored by Ibrahim, a 29-year-old motorcyclist in Bwari, who recalls being handed over to a teacher at age five, trading a childhood of farming and family for a life of itinerant begging and study across Northern Nigeria.
The situation in 2026 remains a critical humanitarian and security concern. Recent data suggests that the lack of formal education and social protection makes these children highly vulnerable to recruitment by extremist groups—a fear Aminu himself cited as a reason for fleeing toward the capital. This prompted the Federal Government to recently launch the National Policy on the Enhancement of Almajiri Education in February 2026. This new framework aims to integrate “Tsangaya” (traditional) schools into the formal education system, providing vocational training and basic literacy without abandoning Quranic studies. However, as Aminu’s case illustrates, deep-seated cultural resistance and the sheer scale of rural poverty continue to hamper these efforts.
While some states like Kano have led the way by allocating over 30% of their 2026 budgets to education, many others still struggle to meet the UNESCO benchmark. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar recently decried this “educational neglect,” describing it as a tragic irony that the North, once a center of scholarship, has become a “home of out-of-school children.” For boys like Aminu, who can no longer remember the last time he saw his parents in Funtua, the gap between government policy and the reality of the street remains vast. Until the root causes of family failure and regional insecurity are addressed, the sight of children begging for alms during the Ramadan fast will remain a haunting feature of Nigeria’s urban landscape.
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