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I had a good laugh
when I read the reports of ‘surprise’ that many youth corps members did
not know how to operate the laptops being used with the Direct Data
Capture machines for the voter’s registration exercise. I say that I
laughed, but I was laughing with despair, not with happiness.

For the past 10
years, at least, academics, students, parents, educators, and employers
have raised concerns, expressed alarm, and lamented the state of
education in our country.

In our secondary
schools, classes are over crowded, with about 100 pupils per teacher in
the worst cases, rendering whatever teaching that takes place almost
completely ineffective. Some classrooms are labeled laboratories but
have no Bunsen burners or other basic Science equipment.

I am glad to report
that in recent years, the situation has improved a lot. But not too
long ago, in many of our colleges of higher education, some graduates
of Computer Science were experts in programming but did not have access
to functioning computers in their faculties. They learnt the theory and
had to pick up the practical themselves after graduation.

I recently listened
to a re-intepretation of Bobby Benson’s famous song, ‘Taxi Driver’,
performed during the Ajumogobia Foundation Concert in December by Ibiai
Ajumogobia and Nimi Akinkugbe. The sheet music for the pianos and all
the other classical and African musical instruments was composed by a
professor of Music in Ife. The composition was a virtuoso piece of
music combining high-life, jazz, and classical genres in harmonious
accord.

That this kind of
overwhelming talent and skillful expertise could exist in our public
university system that has suffered such resource neglect with old and
faulty equipment and poorly stocked libraries is a marvel; and our
dogged graduates are a marvel too.

The youth corpers
should be congratulated for having learned within a week how to operate
the machines and get the job done in the face of infrastructure
challenges such as incorrect software, insufficient power from the
batteries, from the grid, or from standby generators; and inordinate
pressure managing large numbers of impatient and irate voters who queue
up mostly in outdoor locations to register. The fault does not lie with
them.

Let me go back to
my laughter. I laughed because it really seems as though our fellow
citizens in positions of power, influence, or in the civil service do
not have a realistic idea of what the prevailing conditions of life are
for the people they serve. If that is the case, then it makes sense
that they would not have planned adequately for the logistics of the
exercise.

In opting to close
all schools down so that public schools could be used as centres for
the registration exercise, perhaps the Ministry of Education is unaware
that the bulk of educational institutions are private not public.

Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that in Lagos the ratio is approximately 80% private to 20% public.

In closing down all
schools, they have interrupted the education of 80% of our school-age
children in the so-called ‘interest’ of the 20% in public schools who
would be affected.

To respond to some
of the accusations of ‘elitism’ that I have been reading in the press
about the drive to keep the private schools open. 80% means that
students from every and all economic groups are educated in private
schools. The children of street sweepers, cleaners, drivers,
messengers, and domestic staff also attend private schools.

They also want
their children to be taught in classrooms without holes in the roof,
and to be seated on chairs and not on the floor. Since they have to pay
‘unofficial fees’ for their children’s education in our ‘free’ public
schools, they choose to pay official fees in private schools and have
some measure of comfort, care, and a guarantee that teachers will turn
up to teach provided for their children. Get the facts right! Open your
eyes and look around, ask questions.

I am not saying that all public schools are like that, but too many to be comfortable are.

Yes, we have
graduates who enter the National Youth Service Corps. Yes, almost all
of them have a facebook page and one of the popular internet email
accounts. No, most of them do not have a computer at home, have never
plugged in a computer, let alone turned it on, or used multimedia
software other than to upload their electronic passport photographs.
They use computer in internet cafes where they are already switched on
and all you have to do is click on the appropriate icon on the desktop
screen.

Yet, these are a
bunch of very smart, very ambitious young people who are hungry to
learn and to be exposed to the many experiences that a working life can
offer them.

I salute them and
their parents for their mere participation in this major exercise in
democracy that brings them in close contact with their fellow citizens
everywhere in Nigeria, that exposes them to the wide range of
professions, cultures and backgrounds in the neighbourhoods they serve.

I salute their
courage in the face of general insecurity in our country, and the added
risk of political thuggery. I envy them the experience of real
down-home Nigerian care and hospitality.

The neighbourhood
old folks who express concern for their welfare and protect them from
the ‘area boys and girls’. The mamas and babas who bring them cool
drinks, snacks and food unasked for, and unrewarded. The good souls who
keep them company and share the local gossip with them, who keep their
belongings safe while they are otherwise occupied. The homes,
businesses, and umbrellas that are offered to them when it rains or the
sun gets too hot. The laughter, the jokes, the camaraderie, the
arguments, the posing, the fronting – such a diverse and enriching
experience that they will never forget as long as they live.

May they live long, and may this registration exercise, these
elections, and the next administration be better off due to their
participation. Let’s give them all the support and encouragement that
we can.