Tag: #truth

  • School Nah Scam”: Who’s Really to Blame?

    School Nah Scam”: Who’s Really to Blame?


    While doing my laundry and reflecting quietly, the popular Nigerian slang “School na Scam” crossed my mind. It made me pause and think deeply. So, I decided to put my thoughts into writing to address the growing misconception that education no longer holds value in today’s society.

    In Nigeria today, “school na scam” has become a common expression, especially among the youth. It reflects a growing sense of disillusionment with the educational system, a belief that going to school no longer guarantees success or financial stability. While many point fingers at the government or the system, a closer look reveals that the educated elites may also be contributing to this mindset, knowingly or unknowingly.

    Education, at its core, is supposed to be a tool for empowerment, opening doors to better opportunities, informed decision-making, and national development. Yet, ironically, many of those who have had the privilege of education are the same ones reinforcing the idea that it no longer holds value. How? By celebrating their success without acknowledging the role education played in shaping them or worse, by distancing themselves from the struggles of the uneducated.

    Instead of serving as mentors, role models, or advocates for learning, some of these elites flaunt their achievements in ways that suggest it was hustle, not education, that got them where they are. They show off wealth, cars, and connections, but say little about the discipline, exposure, and critical thinking skills that formal education instilled in them. In doing so, they unknowingly reinforce the belief that school is not the way to success.

    Even in public discourse, how often do we see educated figures using their platforms to promote the value of schooling to the underprivileged? Rarely. The focus is often on the results; money, fame, or influence, not the journey of learning that helped shape their mindset and sharpen their skills.

    It’s not enough to just “make it” and leave others to figure it out. The real responsibility of the educated elite is to bridge the gap by investing in mentorship, sharing authentic stories of how education changed their lives, and supporting systems that make quality education accessible to all. They must become visible ambassadors of learning, not just living proof of its benefits.
    Until we change this narrative, until the educated begin to make education attractive, relatable, and aspirational to the uneducated, the saying “school na scam” will continue to echo in our society.

    So the question is: If education shaped your path, why hide its light from those still in the dark?

    It’s time to speak up, mentor, and invest in the minds around us. Let’s redefine success and restore the value of learning in our communities.

  • STUCK

    It was another busy morning in the village of Ilujinle, children and women had their calabash with them as they journey along the path that led to the only stream in the village. Farmers had their hoes and cutlases with them as they set out to their various farms to prepare their land for the coming planting season. Emaka as usual had his bottle of locally brewed gin under his arm as he swore at the villagers.


    Deborah watched these scenes every morning, it’s always the same everyday she said to herself as she looked up at the beautiful morning sun then she wished that she refused to remain in the village when her aunt urged her to come with her to the city.
    “This whole place is a nightmare “, she remembered her aunt words.
    “You will get a good life in the city”, her aunt had promised
    “You might even get a rich man to marry you, you won’t have to worry about a thing”
    She had such high hopes for her life in the city but all her hopes were dashed.
    Six in the morning and the traffic was already near it’s climax. Cars were honking here and there and the city was already alive.
    It was another day and Deborah had to worry about meeting another man who would treat her as though she was nothing but a piece of object to be used and abused.
    She had just woken up from her two-hour sleep since she got back from the hotel where she met her last client.
    Luckily for her Chief Festus wasn’t the rough kind of man. She never gets pained that she had to offer herself to Chief Festus and he pays well too. Madam Ceci also knew that.
    The bang that came on her door next told her everything she needed to know. Madam Ceci was where for her own share of the loot Deborah brought home. It was as though everyone wanted a piece of her.
    “Debbie!”, she screamed her name so loud that even the dead could hear and turn in their graves.
    “No tell me say you still dey sleep”, she asked in Nigeria pidgin English.
    “I’m not asleep. I’m just trying to find a dress to wear”
    “Na soso big big grammar you dey always speak. Open this door before I break am down oo”
    “Calm down!”
    “Na me you dey tell say make I calm down. Na because say Chief Festus don like you na”
    Deborah opened the door and Madam Ceci forced her way through the door as though she was being chased by an army of hired assassin.
    Madam Ceci found a way to the nearest thing closest to a seat that she could find. She had such an obese figure that from banging on Deborah’s door to rushing into the room, she had to gasp for breath and find a place to quickly catch her breath.
    Deborah couldn’t help herself but chuckle at the sight of it.
    “Wetin dey make you laugh?” Madam Ceci asked as though she didn’t know.
    “Nothing” Deborah answered admist a stiffled laughter.
    Madam hissed, still trying to catch her breath
    “Where my money?”
    It was the audacity that irritated Deborah. Everyone felt that you owed them something. Money that you didn’t work for but still expected a share of it.
    Deborah went ahead to give her ‘her cut’
    “This thing small oo”
    “That’s what you get because I didn’t get enough from Chief this time around “
    “Na lie you dey lie”, madam Ceci protested but she knew she wasn’t getting more than that from her what she had already gotten.
    “Ten thousand naira is small for this jobless woman. She should be lucky I still give her that much” Deborah thought to herself as she slammed the door after her.
    She was fuming with anger and she secretly wanted to find someone vent all her worries on. A tear rushed to her eyes but she quickly pushed it back l. She didn’t know why she did that but she did it any way
    “Mama, going to Lagos will be the answers to our prayers”, she had told her mother when Aunty Bimbo had encouraged her to join her in Lagos.
    “You dont have to go to Lagos before you become successful”, Her mother had argued.
    “I doubt if anyone can make it in this village of ours”
    “I don’t think this is what your father would have wanted for you”
    “My father would have wanted me to be very successful and do what is lawfully needful to become successful”
    “I still don’t think you should go.”
    “Mama, please. I beg you. There is nothing that would make me happier than going to Lagos right now and besides once I start earning, I will take care of you “
    “It is not just about the money, Deborah”
    “What is it then?”, Deborah quizzed.
    “I don’t trust Bimbo. She has always had a way of finding illegitimate ways of making money. I can’t guarantee that she will let you make money in honest ways”
    “Mama, you just want me to stay here with you”
    She had left- without her mother’s knowledge. She snuck out if the house very early that morning to the park. Aunty Bimbo had given her the directions to her house in Lagos.
    Aunty Bimbo who she later knew to be called Madam B turned out to be the most despicable person she had ever met. It seemed to Deborah that Madam B had forgotten that they were related in any way and treated her in the most dehumanizing way possible. She made her sleep with more than ten men everyday. Starved her and locked her up for days if she dared protested.
    Eventually, Deborah accepted prostitution as a profession and a way of life. It wasn’t until Madam B died of a totally unknown cause that she started putting the pieces of her life together.
    She found Madam Ceci on one of her several escapedes around town. Madam Ceci wasn’t as evil as Madam B was. It was easier to be free with Madam Ceci than it was with Madam B. She planned to make more money and leave Madam Ceci’s brothel as soon as she made enough money. But five years down the line and she hasn’t made enough money. From paying rent to Madam Ceci to sending money to her ailing mother and her struggling siblings. The needs were just unending.
    “Come back home” Her mother had urged her once on phone.
    “I can’t. I am working”
    “What is that job you are doing?”
    “I’m working hard. Don’t bother yourself with the details, Mama.”
    Her mum was well aware that whatever job it was that her daughter was doing, she wasn’t going to like it so she never bothered to ask anymore.
    Deborah knew that despite the fact that she told herself that she was still in the business of prostitution because she needs more money, the real reason is that she can’t see herself doing something else. The only thing she knows how to do and the only job she knows how to feed herself with is this prostitution. Her only goal was to leave the shackles of brothel managers like Madam Ceci and become independent and do what she wants to do on her own terms.
    “I’m in this for life and I know it ” Deborah said to herself as she got herself ready for another day as a woman in the street.

  • My Fears, My Drive

    The reason I force myself to read, the reason I can’t stop improving, the reason I’m so bent on getting better, the reason I want to be rich is because of fear.

    I fear that in the future, I might end up being broke, I fear that I might end up as nothing, I fear that If I do not do the right things now, I might end up regretting it.

    Sometimes I remember the popular quote which says, “In old age, we will regret what we didn’t do more than those things we did.”

    My fears have been my big push for along time, I don’t know where these phobias are coming from but I have a lot of them. Do you know I have a fear of being mediocre? I hate it and I don’t want to be mediocre! Sometimes when I find myself knowing nothing about somethings, I cry inside and I go all the way out to learn.

    Instead of letting your fear cripple you, let it push you to be better! Let it be your driving force! I fear that I might be poor, that’s why I strive to become better and rich. I fear that I might be mediocre, that’s why I seek so much knowledge.




    Try it! Fail at it! Try it! Do it again! At least, you are trying to b better, you would have learned a thing or two. You will be better than a mediocre.

    More like, It’s better to fail at doing something than not doing it at all. What even does failure mean? Not doing anything or learning from a path that does not work?
    Trying things out and exploring your options?


    Sometimes, I feel like it’s because the world does not encourage people to try something and fail at it the first time, that’s why young people do not want to try anything at all, perhaps, if they don’t do anything worthwhile, they won’t be held responsible for failing.

    But today, I encourage you to become better, I encourage you to read that book, eat that food, save that cash, improve that skill set, learn that thing and fail. You’ll always be better than someone afraid to try.

  • Woman

    Woman

    Where do we come from
    Ain’t from God and woman?

    God had given her so much power
    But failed to see it or do we see and
    ignored her power

    Perhaps! she herself did not,
    Know the power within her?

    If the first woman was so strong
    To turn the world upside down

    Then all these women in the world
    Today should be able to turn the world
    Right again

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