Nigeria: School Dropouts Face Hardship and Abuse

David Arome in Nigeria

Freelance Journalist

Wednesday, 23 October, 2024

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What Nafisa Umar finds most upsetting about her job selling snacks on the streets of Minna, in Nigeria’s northern Niger State, is the insulting language she hears from customers.

“The major danger of street hawking is abuse and insults – particularly from young men,” Nafisa said. “Some of them refuse to pay their debts when I ask; they insult me or even throw money at me.”

Nafisa, who is now 18, dropped out of school to support her family after her father died when she was eight. Selling wara, a local tofu-like delicacy, she walks around for up to five hours a day, in temperatures that rise well above 30c in the summer months.

Each week, she purchases around ₦18000 (11 US dollars) worth of stock on credit, combining ground soya beans with water to make the wara herself.

“The profit is not constant; it varies between ₦3000 (1.8 dollars) and ₦4500 (2.7 dollars) weekly. It’s not enough to cater for my own personal needs, let alone my brothers and sisters,” said Nafisa, who is one of ten siblings. 

Child street hawkers are a common sight in Nigeria, which with 18.3 million out-of-school boys and girls tops the global chart for dropouts, according to a 2024 UNICEF report. In Niger State, 42.8 per cent of children are out of school, the highest rate in the north-central region.

Many of these children turn to hawking goods in streets and marketplaces, often travelling between towns to do so. Popular items include disposable water sachets, groundnuts, bread, soft drinks, roasted corn and wara.

Afraid to Speak Out

Aside from the damage caused by missing out on education, hawking also brings the risks of sexually assault, as several studies have confirmed.

“Boys are more likely to be exposed to physical violence, while girls are vulnerable to gender-based exploitation,” said Ibrahim Musa, a teacher in one of Chanchaga’s community schools.

Incidents often go unreported, Musa adds, because children are afraid of speaking out – and of losing their livelihoods.

A complex mix of factors push children to drop out of school in Nigeria, but poverty is a key driver.

“After the death of my husband, it became hard to keep my children in school because I was unable to afford the cost of their education,” said Nafisa’s mother Saadatu Mohammed.

Nigeria’s state schools don’t charge fees, but uniforms, books, and exam fees all require money. Saadatu, who earns around ₦2000 (1.2 dollars) renting out her food grinding machine to others in the community, says that it costs about ₦15,000 (nine dollars) per term for a child to attend school. With ten children, she said, she simply cannot afford it.

Only three of her children are in school at present, thanks to a sponsorship programme by an NGO, the Rose of Sharon Foundation. Three others have been married off, while the rest help earn money by trading and hawking.

Nafisa’s first job after dropping out was at a food stall, but she left because the owner mistreated her.

“The food seller often called me stupid, foolish, and hopeless; he said, ‘your mates are in school; and you are here doing nothing,’” she said. “I could not bear it any longer, so I left and started hawking.”

Saadatu is painfully aware that her children are suffering.

“I worry for my children who are out of school,” she said. “They all have great dreams – of becoming doctors, engineers or pilots – but achieving these dreams requires education.”

Ibrahim Mohammed, 14, was also forced into street hawking after the death of his father, shortly after he completed year six of primary school. He sells peanuts, buying 20 mudus (measures) each week on credit, at the rate of ₦700 (40 cents) per mudu. As is common, the supplier takes the bulk of the profits, allowing Ibrahim to keep a small commission. In other cases, children work directly for their families.

“Street hawking can be so challenging; hawking throughout the day, coupled with customers buying on credit, leaves me with little money to take home,” Ibrahim said.

His mother Hajarah explains that Ibrahim’s previous school charged ₦12,000 (7.3 dollars) per term excluding books and uniform, and that after her husband died she could not keep up with the cost. All five of her children had to drop out.

Now, the family’s income from hawking, combined with Hajarah’s own work making and selling bedsheets, is barely enough to cover living costs.

“Some days there is nothing for us to eat,” she said.

In spite of the hardship, Ibrahim remains hopeful of returning to school one day to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor.

Israel Chukwuma, headteacher of Ab Tech International School in Chanchaga, said that in an effort to reverse the alarming rate of local dropouts, they introduced scholarships for children who lose a parent. Families facing financial difficulties are offered discounts and their children given extra food at school.

Nevertheless, Chukwuma adds, this is not enough to stop some children dropping out.

“The effects of school dropout are enormous, ranging from illiteracy, criminality, and poverty and a huge burden to society in the long run,” he said. Phone snatching has become a particular issue in Chanchaga, according to Chukwuma, who argues that Nigeria’s government should do more to compel parents to send children to school.

One in Three

Although education is recognised by the UN as a fundamental human right, UNICEF estimates that one in three Nigerian children are not in school. That includes 10.2 million children at primary level and 8.1 million at junior secondary school.

Beyond poverty or the death of a parent, a range of other factors are at play, although these vary from region to region. In northern Nigeria, child marriage, conflicts, insurgency and the nomadic lifestyle of some communities are significant barriers to education. By contrast, in the south of the country, dropping out is more prevalent among boys due to a preference for trade apprenticeships over formal education.

Parents nationwide lament the poor state of school infrastructure, lacking basic amenities like chairs, tables, proper roofing and adequate staffing.

“Out-of-school children are found everywhere [in Nigeria],” said Abdulmalik Abduljalil Adinoyi, north central coordinator for the Rose of Sharon Foundation. 

The government has established legal frameworks, such as the Child Rights Act of 2003, which sets the minimum employment age at 14, and the Universal Basic Education (UBE) Act of 2004, which mandates free, compulsory schooling for children up to the age of 15.

The UBE Act dedicates two per cent of Nigeria’s central pot for state spending to a fund established to ensure access to education - but this has been plagued by poor implementation and corruption.

In theory, children are banned hazardous work that interferes with education, including street hawking. But enforcement is weak due to economic pressures, inadequate oversight and entrenched sociocultural norms. The result is that educational neglect and child labour persist.  

Some states in Nigeria, including Niger State, have legislated for free and compulsory education at primary level as a result of the UBE Act. However, implementation is a problem.

Once children have left school, encouraging them to return can present additional difficulties. Adinoyi said that parents can be resistant to integrating children back into the classroom.

“As some children have gone beyond the primary level, bringing them down may look demoralising and frustrating for the child," he continued. “We still have to follow up with the children supported by our educational programme to ensure they stay in school, learn and take all their assignments.”

Adinoyi stressed the need for more sustainable, impact-driven programmes aimed at improving Nigeria’s education system and integrating children back into school, adding, “The role of government goes beyond establishing policies, to enforcing them.”