These twin obsessions go back to my first year in grammar school (Yes, Grammar
School! If you attended "Community Schools" I feel very sorry for
you). I was charged with cleaning the two "water system" toilets next
to the chapel as my daily "Morning Function" in Class One. The
toilets were the exclusive preserve of the Rector/Principal and members of the
Knights of St. Mulumba who held their meetings in the school chapel every
month. It was the cleanest and the quietest part of the school.
Even if "Ojukwu Bucket/Ogbunigwe," the Biafran mass-killer bomb, was
exploding in my intestines, thanks to the dinner ration of half-cooked beans, I
somehow managed to hold my ground until I off-loaded the unexploded ordinance
the next morning after mass, at 6:30 a.m. The risk of fouling up the
chapel in the midst of the faithful lining up for the Holy Eucharist was
nothing compared to stepping onto the mountain of other students' business left
helplessly at the entrance to the pit latrines because the administration
probably didn't think light was necessary at night in the outhouse. Sometimes I
sought refuge in the clean flush toilets to escape the tyrannical hazing by
Class Two students and the Via Dolorosa-type punishment from Alan
Satan, the Labor Prefect.
On Saturdays I and two other students would coat every stone on the road
leading to the school, The Main Avenue, with "whitewash"
paint. The stones were lined up in such a straight line parallel to the equally
awe-inspiring straight-lined whistling pines leading up to the stairs to the
chapel. Every first-time visitor to the school had the feeling that God must be
watching their every step in those hallowed grounds. Kicking at, let alone
knocking down, a single stone earned you a date with the hard-to-cut elephant
grass while other students took their siesta. Not even the Virgin Mother, whose
statue stared immaculately and watched with so much maternal affection, could
save you from this instant sanction. The school is after all, the Immaculate
Conception Seminary, Ahieke, Umuahia in present-day Abia State of Nigeria.
So, during that my most pliable and formative year, I developed a deep
appreciation for, and imbibed the culture of, clean toilets and a well-kept
entrance as a veritable statement of who you are and how seriously other people
should take you. Sometimes I wonder how cute it would be to have a Minister for
Toilet Affairs in Nigeria!
I had a brush with unkempt toilets again at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (1979-1983) on those occasions when the taps didn't run at Zik's Flats (you're not really a Lion if you never lived in Zik's Flats as a freshman!) and at Alvan Ikoku Hall ("Franco") where I lived for three years. There were stories at the time of students at the Enugu Campus of the university sitting atop toilet bowls over-flowing with the putrid stuff while chatting with their "Learned Friends," the law students, I mean. It's hard to drill bore holes in Enugu because you encounter coal at every attempt!
It was therefore no surprise that the first thing I looked
for in the last two years whenever I participated in program accreditation
visits to Nigerian universities on behalf of the National Universities
Commission (NUC) was toilet facilities. Less than 10 percent of the overall
accreditation assessment is for Physical facilities--classrooms and lecture
theaters, office space, laboratories/workshops, computer labs, common areas
(e.g., Student Union/"Commons"), toilet facilities for staff and
students in the academic blocks. Hotels, cafeteria, laundry, etc. are generally
not part of the program accreditation; they’re supposed to have been verified
before the granting of operating licenses.
One of the private universities we assessed in Abuja had decent flush toilet
facilities on every floor open to students at all times in the academic blocks.
Another private university in the southwest had non-flushable urinals and a few
locked toilets that students could use in the academic (as opposed to
residential) areas. Three government-owned (one federal, two state)
universities had toilets for faculty but none for students. The bush behind the
office blocks served as "natural" toilets--easier for the boys, but
we didn't get clear answers how the female students coped. You got the
impression that message of the WHO/MDG radio jingles about hand-washing hadn't
reached these tertiary institutions. Female students in one private university
in the south-south bitterly decried the “Shot Put” exercise they engaged in
daily despite the N600,000 to N800,000 they paid as school fees. Once the
electricity generating plant (which is turned on at 8 p.m.) is turned off at 12
midnight, you simply did your business in a plastic bag, tied it up, and flung
the damn thing as far away as possible into the nearby bush behind the hostel.
With the exception of the private university in Abuja, none of the others had a "Commons" area where students could sit, chat, or otherwise be regular young people while waiting for the next class. While newspaper stands and "Free Readers Association" members could be seen in the public universities, they were not allowed on the grounds of any of the private campuses. Not really much to do to “kill time.”
The classrooms in the public universities were shocking and an eyesore. In one state university the louvers in the "classrooms" had all fallen off and the asbestos ceiling boards were threatening to land on any head that approached. The wooden board on many of the desks had been ripped off, exposing jagged and sharp iron edges that happily feasted on those "fresh" blood. The shocking part of what we saw in one state varsity was the scores of black plastic bags (why do they call them "leather" bags?) that littered many of the classrooms where PhD holders taught future leaders, while "Cleaners" loitered around protected by their Labor aristocracy. In one cartography and geology lab, my team could not help but angrily ask how many buckets of water was required to wash off the half-inch thick dust on the floor and on the cartography boards. Ironically, they had several new and expensive equipment, and a rich variety of rare rock collections sitting in the lab.
The entrance to all but the private university in Abuja were no cleaner than the road to the mortuary in the hospital in my home town--over-grown with weed, water-filled pot-holes, red muddy earth; a sea of billboards (some begging for fresh coat of paint) that competed for space along the road, signaling the chaos one would encounter inside. Many buildings, often including the Vice Chancellor's offices/central administration buildings, looked like familiar sights in a war zone. In one state university in the south-east, elephant grass, some as tall as five feet, had overgrown the foot paths that crisscrossed a campus we were told seems to be producing better breeds of snakes than educated men and women ready to play their role as responsible citizens. Can we expect true "citizens" to come out of these jungles?
ASUU may, indeed, be right in that their cause seems to be unassailable. Many commentators have noted the deteriorating condition of the physical plant in many Nigerian universities as far back as the 1970s. I've also confirmed it in this write-up. What I can't understand is why the empirical account of the level of rot like the one I've given here should persist, granted that the universities are not well-funded. Is it all a question of lack of funding? ASUU as a union watches--and often partakes--in the stealing of funds for maintenance of existing facilities. Their union may be able to arm-twist the government but they seem incapable of—or even unwilling to—challenge the even more dangerous non-academic staff unions that have stopped many a crusading VCs in their tracks.
No wonder few smart graduates nowadays see any attraction in staying behind as future lecturers. Most of the assistant lecturers are not ashamed to tell you that "I'm just teaching," meaning they'd leave the moment something better comes up. Many of those that stay haven't known anything better, and so shouldn't be expected to give what they don't have. Does anyone know what percentage of the current crop of ASUU officials obtained their doctorates outside Nigeria? Come to think of it: How much does a tin of “white-wash” paint cost? How much does it cost to buy tile cleaning materials in the market? How much does the university spend on newly-inaugurated Governing Council members, to hold one Convocation/graduation ceremony, or to celebrate the VC’s 50th birthday that everyone knows is five years too late? And, how many toilets could we build with the money spent on these “Owa Mbe” events?
In this environment, I'm not sure a N1 billion in
infrastructure would make a difference without dealing with the most serious
problem: ingrained anti-human culture of, and an attitude that condones and
partakes in, corruption. No matter how you cut it, ASUU has its work cut out
for it. The union must adjust and lead the democratization of Nigeria’s
authoritarian and corrupt university culture or it would be swept out by the
impending hurricane.
Nigeria is relatively a rich, I mean richly endowed country. Is money Nigeria’s problem? It does not seem to be as much as budgetary discipline and efficiency are. Nigeria is a country that virtually digs money out of dry and wet ground. If Nigerians truly believe that money is Nigeria’s problem, they would have collectively taken concrete actions to reduce wastefulness of much needed opportunities and resources. Things do not work better in more advanced and the more prosperous/successful countries because the countries have more money. They do because the countries are more adept and committed to faithfulness to national goals and objectives evident in feasible and resourceful planning, and fervent execution of agreed plans and evaluation of plan’s outcomes. After an exhaustive review of patterns and trends observed of Nigeria’s federal and state governments’ decisions and actions over the years, there seems to be few real economic, political, and social development fundamentals that have more than lip service consistently and constructively paid to them. One example will suffice. Self-reliance is a near universal goal of national development and growth? What/where is the evidence that this is the case in Nigeria?
developing education infrastructure as it presently seems to be in Nigeria, one does not need a fertile imagination to be sure of what will happen sooner than later.
Employment as a university teacher is a job for the teacher before it is a service to the community, or even a vocation as some might choose to argue. That it seems to me is what is not always fully recognized in this conversation. Is it not to state the obvious that citizen-politicians in government, take good material account and care of themselves for little or no productive work with public funds at a high cost to the country? Why should not other citizens up on till a time a majority of the country, reaches a consensus on the public interest’s primacy over private interest, and the government is seen to act as such. There are many who would argue that if government has an unlimited budget for elected politician and their cronies, it should also have an unlimited budget for all other citizen clusters who may actually have greater and more urgent needs. That seems fair does it not? That all should not be mad at same time is not to say that the mad should stay mad.
oa
Come to pass sooner than later.From: usaafric...@googlegroups.com [mailto:usaafric...@googlegroups.com] On Behalf Of Okey Iheduru
Sent: Monday, October 07, 2013 12:39 AM
To: usaafric...@googlegroups.com
Subject: USA Africa Dialogue Series - ASUU's Problem Is NOT Money; It's the Culture and Attitude, Stupid!
I'm obsessed with toilets ("water system" type) and the main entrance to school or college campuses (for those that have one). I fight with my family over toilets all the time. Partly because of this, one of my brothers didn't speak to me for almost five years! I can't help it. I find innermost peace in the clean toilet; it's my safe haven. At the other extreme, my mind also tells me that no teaching/learning institution can claim to be good if its main avenue or entrance to the school is unkempt or unattractive/unappealing.
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You state the obvious FJK. President Jonathan was himself a university teacher not too long ago. He might have been an ASUU member. He has direct and personal knowledge and experience of the damage that Nigeria’s educational system does and continues to do to especially young Nigerians, and the embarrassment that has transformed to shame that the system has become. Is he as president, doing the best that he can do to halt the decline before he reverses it?
One is usually less likely to secure and seek to maximize the value of an asset if they have little or no equity in it? I recall that a few years ago, a beer salesman in Denver, Colorado, was widely reported to have been fired by his employer because he was seen in a bar, consuming beer brewed by his employer’s competitor. His supervisor was reported to have said that the employee by his action, was making a favorable product quality and value statement for the competition. If only Nigeria’s governments would learn from this beverage company.
There is a serious, growing, and deleterious trust deficit in public governance in Nigeria which does not augur well for Nigeria, in both the short and long term. It is time government takes fuller responsibility for the ASUU and other challenges. Why should government need reminding to do what it should know to do and may have publicly promised to do? If government was more mindful of and faithful to her duties, ASUU and other labor associations would be less likely to undertake industrial action. It is the ASUU crisis at the present time. Soon it will be resident doctors, energy industry workers, transport workers, and the list and cycle goes on. Why it is Nigeria’s choice is to recycle crises is beyond me.
oa