By Nasiru Manga
Anytime Nigeria’s myriad problems and challenges are raised in a discussion which also involves how to turn around the country’s fortune, it more often than not leads to a fascinating argument among intellectuals as to which is more important between establishing a solid institution which produces successive good leadership or having a leadership of strong men to engender strong institutions. In that instant, I find myself vacillating between the two opinions. I find both of them valid and very difficult to be disputed. It’s a case of a chick and an egg dilemma regarding which must have existed first, the chick which laid the egg or the egg from which the chick was hatched.
Reasoning with either of the points, I reflected on my teenage experience in secondary school more than two decades ago. I then relate the arguments with the leadership of five or six successive principals in my secondary school, Government Arabic College, Gombe. How these principals managed the school was a practical example of the validity of the two arguments depending on the side one takes.
One of the principals, in particular, stood out. He is Malam Saidu Jibrin Kwami. His exemplary leadership during his stint as the school’s principal afforded me the feeling of what good leadership can do, even in a small school environment. Before him, his predecessors couldn’t make any difference. The principal who succeeded him couldn’t equally build on his achievements. It’s also proof that without a vital institution, a strong leader’s efforts come to nought if he leaves the stage and succeeds by a weakling. For my readers to deeply appreciate why Malam Saidu Jibrin Kwami’s exemplary leadership towered above the rest of the principals, let me take you down memory lane of what was obtainable in the school.
The system was, and until we left the boarding secondary school in 2002, the principal, in addition to the daily management of the school, was in charge of students feeding. I didn’t know whether the funds for the feeding were released to the principal directly from the state ministry of education or the ministry provided the school with all foodstuffs. It released some funds to the principal for the daily running of the school and buying groceries. But I did know that the school store was getting restocked regularly.
The three square meals day in and day out consisted of mostly pap with sometimes two pieces of ƙosai served as breakfast. The pap had no sugar, and perhaps, due to how it was prepared, it had a sedative effect on students during school hours. Black tea with rumpled tiny bread was served as breakfast once a week. The lunch and supper were either tuwo made from processed maize, mostly half-done, called gabza by students or eba made from gari, served alternately for lunch and supper. The soup for the gabza or eba, mostly miyar kuka, was prepared with little to no spices and bereft of any accompanying protein in the form of meat. Rice which one couldn’t tell whether it was a jollof rice or simply white rice without soup, was served on Thursdays. The meat was served only once in a blue moon.
It is needless to say that the rations were not enough for students. Worse of it, many students used to end up not having their rations as what was given to the cooks to prepare was barely enough to go around. The service was, therefore, on a first-come-first-served basis, excluding senior students who needed not join queues. If one missed his share, that was all, and he would be told “ka bi Yerima“, an expression meaning “you have missed, there is nothing for you.” It was said that the cliché “ka bi Yerima” has its historical origin in one of the Gombe princes who sought and lost his father’s throne to then Emir of Gombe, Alhaji Shehu Abubakar. So “ka bi Yerima” means one followed in the footsteps of the prince, a loser. Ask me not about its authenticity.
To be fair to the principals of my secondary school, the situation was almost the same in all boarding public secondary schools, at least in Gombe and Bauchi states, around that time and even some years before that, as confirmed by those who attended the boarding schools before us. There were, of course, slight differences here and there occasioned by changes of different school administrators depending on their level of prudence and management of resources.
One incident I can’t forget during my first year was a riot in the school. The then-principal was unbelievably niggardly. Students’ rations which were, to start with, too little, only enough to feed a three-year-old baby, became so frequently inadequate to go around. Kun bi Yerima became the order of the day as more and more students started missing their rations at the dining hall. This was exacerbated by the fact that it was towards the end of a term when the foodstuffs brought from home by students and some money given to them by their parents to complement the school feeding programme had finished, thereby forcing many to rely on the food provided by the school which was not enough. There was also a shortage of water in the school.
So, one morning, some senior students from SS 2 and 3 woke up and said they had had enough. They took to the school’s streets chanting slogans that the principal should go and that he was a thief. After gathering, they headed to the school’s staff houses, where the principal lived. They started pelting stones at his house. He escaped by a whisker, and the school got shut down for a few weeks.
Upon resumption, we met a new principal and were informed that about seven (7) students, leaders of the protest, were expelled from the school. But still, there was no significant improvement in school feeding or academics. We only had three to four subjects maximum, out of the nine subjects we were supposed to have daily. The only exception was when we had teaching practice students from the Federal College of Education. And during that time, permanent teachers virtually abdicated their responsibilities, leaving everything to the student-teachers. Another two principals we had afterwards couldn’t effect any change. Their priorities were neither students’ academic nor their nutritional well-being.
Then came the revolutionary principal, Malam Saidu Jibrin Kwami. We were in SS 3, about five years after that principal against whom students revolted, and the fourth in the succession of principals since we enrolled in JSS 1.
The first thing he undertook was an improvement in our academics. He frowned at some teachers habits of sitting and chit-chatting in staff rooms without attending classes. He declared that he wouldn’t condone their flagrant negligence of duty. He insisted that every teacher must not miss his lesson twice weekly without a genuine reason. We then started having completed nine lessons on an unprecedented day.
How did he achieve that? He gave all class monitors notebooks to use as registers where each teacher would write their name and append their signatures at the end of their period. At the end of the class every day, the class monitors would queue up at his office, where he checked the register of each class to see if there was an absentee teacher. He also told us in the assembly that we should report any teacher we observed wasting away their period of 30 minutes or 45 minutes blabbering instead of teaching.
Malam Jibrin Kwami also introduced extra evening classes (which we called prep) daily, save weekends. Before him, there was not much importance attached to it by his predecessors. Only junior students used to attend it, and it wasn’t daily. But during his time, he supervised the evening classes himself; and he would personally go around hostels to chase out stubborn senior students who would rather stay put in the hostels while the prep was ongoing. If he sighted a student loitering about, he would shout from afar, “Who is that gardi?” He also ensured that all the classrooms and all the streets from students’ dormitories leading to the classes were fully lit so that students wouldn’t complain of darkness. There were no Discos then, and NEPA was genuinely faithful. How he achieved that, beat me.
You may be wondering what happened to our food, right? Suffice it to say that during his short period as the school’s principal, we also saw what our parents enjoyed in public schools in the ‘70s and ‘80s. He told us that he also finished in the same school in 1982, and it was unfortunate that things had deteriorated to that level.
Most days of the week, our breakfast became tea (not just black tea, but with milk) and bread as against pap. And we started feeling the taste of sugar in our pap too. White rice and stew, tuwo and eba started competing as our lunch and supper, with rice winning most times. Pieces of meat suddenly appeared in our daily meals, and the soup started having condiments.
One day, he summoned us as the school’s prefects, informed us that we would notice a change in our meal the next day, and urged us to survey and feed him about the change. He told us the meat price was high, so he decided to alternate the meat with fish. So he wanted us to sample students’ general opinions on the fish substitute as he knew some people didn’t like fish. Such a thoughtful leader!
Unfortunately, as they say, good things hardly last; his tenure as a principal was short-lived. No sooner had we started enjoying his good leadership than he got elevated and appointed as the secretary of our state’s pilgrim board. The school was literally thrown into mourning upon hearing the news.
The man who succeeded him couldn’t properly step into his shoes. Things started deteriorating very fast. Before you know it, we were back to square one. This is the case of having a strong man without a strong institution. And the strong institution doesn’t exist in a vacuum; it has to be built by strong men.
Nasiru Manga can be reached via nasmang@gmail.com.
May Allah continue to bless him and his family.