FOR decades, Northern Nigeria has been caught in a cycle of silence regarding the Almajiri system—a practice that was, in its historical inception, a noble pursuit of Quranic knowledge, but has, in the modern era, morphed into a mechanism of structural disenfranchisement.
As the nation grapples with an existential crisis of insecurity, Governor Abdullahi A. Sule of Nasarawa State has stepped into the fray with a bold, uncompromising vision. His demand for a permanent federal legislative ban on the Almajiri system is not merely a policy pivot; it is a desperate, necessary intervention to dismantle the primary recruiting ground for terror and secure the future of the Nigerian child.
*The Architect of a New Northern Consensus*
Governor Abdullahi A. Sule has emerged as the most resonant voice in this movement because he speaks with the authority of both a technocrat and a patriot. Recognizing that the 18.3 million out-of-school children in Nigeria—of which nearly 15 million reside in the North—represent a ticking time bomb, Sule has refused to accept the status quo. Where others see a sensitive cultural tradition, Governor Sule sees a lethal vulnerability.
His arguments are rooted in a sober, unflinching assessment of our security landscape: the majority of minors captured in the grip of banditry, kidnapping, and violent extremism are the products of this very system. By identifying the Almajiri pipeline as the “single largest structural contributor” to the North’s insecurity, Governor Sule has forced the conversation into the only venue where it can be resolved: the National Assembly.
His call is not for a local skirmish, but for a national legislative war on the conditions that produce such human catastrophe. He recognizes that every day the Almajiri system persists, we are essentially subsidizing the next generation of our own undoing.
*The Global Blueprint: From Abandonment to Agency*
Critics of the Governor’s call often hide behind the shield of “tradition.” However, a look across the Muslim world proves that tradition and modernization are not enemies. Nations like Indonesia, Malaysia, and Egypt have successfully navigated this transition, transforming archaic, community-reliant models into state-regulated systems of excellence.
In Indonesia, the Pesantren system was once as informal as our Tsangaya. Yet, through the 1975 Three-Minister Decree and subsequent legislative reforms, the Indonesian state successfully integrated these schools into the national framework. They did not ban the teaching of the Quran; they mandated the inclusion of mathematics, science, and vocational training. By creating a dual-track system, they transformed students from beggars into skilled workers. They utilized Waqf (endowment) models to ensure schools had sustainable funding, preventing the need for children to beg.
In Malaysia, the Pondok schools are now pillars of the state, receiving government support, standardized certification, and clear pathways to employment. The Malaysian government provides direct teacher training and curriculum support to ensure religious educators are equipped to teach both theology and modern skills.
These countries understood a fundamental truth that Governor Sule is now championing: the state’s primary duty is to ensure every child has the agency to participate in the economy. When a child is taught only to beg, they are being robbed of their humanity. When they are taught to build, write, and innovate, they are being given a shield against the lures of terror.
*The Socioeconomic Cost of Silence*
The failure to integrate these children is not just a moral catastrophe; it is an economic drag of staggering proportions. Nasarawa State, under Governor Sule’s leadership, has prioritized industrialization and human capital development. Yet, the governor has rightly pointed out that industrial growth cannot be sustained when a massive segment of the youth population is trapped in a pre-industrial survival mode.
When we calculate the cost of neglect, we must consider the lost productivity, the strain on law enforcement, and the devastating impact of insecurity on local markets. An uneducated, displaced child is a citizen in name only.
By failing to provide these children with a path to formal education, we are effectively writing off millions of potential engineers, technicians, and entrepreneurs. Governor Sule’s technical background—as a certified welder and engineer—gives him a unique perspective; he knows that a country thrives when its hands are busy with productive labour, not when its children are forced to beg for their daily bread on street corners.
*The Role of the Sultanate and the Legislative Roadmap*
The fight against terror in Nigeria is doomed to fail if we continue to ignore the nursery that feeds it. The Sultan of Sokoto, the Northern Emirs, and the honourable members of the National Assembly face a defining moment. This is a call to stand in unison with Governor Abdullahi A. Sule, not out of political convenience, but out of a shared moral obligation.
For this audacious policy to succeed, it requires a clear, actionable legislative roadmap that includes federal mandate for enrollment. The National Assembly must pass a law making basic education compulsory for every child, regardless of their enrollment in religious schools. Added to that, is the harmonized certification. Any religious school operating must be required to adopt a standardized, state-certified curriculum that includes core subjects. The National Board for Arabic and Islamic Studies (NBAIS) must be empowered to enforce these standards.
For this reform and transition to take a firm foothold, incentivizing the Mallams is crucial. We must stop treating the Mallams as adversaries. The government must provide stipends and training for teachers who transition their Tsangaya schools into integrated learning centers, effectively turning them into partners in national development.
Lastly, is the vocational integration. Schools should be equipped with vocational workshops—training children in skills ranging from agriculture and electrical work to information technology. This approach honors the religious mission of these schools while stripping away the exploitative, beggar-based structure that has made the Almajiri system a target for recruitment by bandits.
*A Legacy of Courage*
History will judge our leaders not by how they maintained the peace of the graveyard, but by how they dismantled the architectures of our ruin. Governor Abdullahi A. Sule has staked his political capital on the most difficult, most vital issue of our generation. If the National Assembly heeds his call, if the traditional leadership unites behind this legislative crusade, we will be remembered as the generation that stopped the bleeding.
We are, as a nation, at the precipice. We have the data, we have the successful models from our African and global neighbors, and we have the leadership of men like Governor Sule, who are willing to face the fire to protect our future. The Almajiri system is not an identity we must cling to; it is a tragedy we must outgrow. The time for legislation is now. The time to save our children—and thereby save our country—is today.
Governor Sule has set the agenda. The question is: will we join him, or will we watch as the fire consumes what remains of our prosperity? The choice is clear, the path is illuminated by the hard truths of history, and the time for action is overdue. It is time to replace a system of begging with a system of building. It is time to honour the sanctity of the child over the inertia of the status quo.
The Governor’s call is a call to greatness—a demand that Northern Nigeria finally takes its place as a region of learning, skill, and enduring stability. The Almajiri system must end, so that the Nigerian child can finally conquer the world.
Erasmus Ikhide this piece via: ikhideluckyerasmus@gmail.com