By Ila Garba
I’ve never seen the inside of an IDP camp—not the ones in Borno, and certainly not those in Ukraine. Nonetheless, I get the feeling that they don’t have running water. If they do, then, at least in this regard, an IDP camp is better than the student halls of Ahmadu Bello University’s Institute of Administration, Kongo.
I joined this institution in 2019 to pursue a law degree. Mournfully, my jubilation at wrapping up my program is cut short by the dawning realization that I may leave Kongo worse than I met it. The standard here is progressively falling and rapidly deteriorating. Kongo is on its knees and needs to be rescued urgently.
The institute houses two faculties (Law and Administration), a clinic, student halls, and other structures. Coupled with the hardships of being an average Nigerian, Kongo hostel occupants often patrol the school as early as midnight—not as members of a security unit but as bucket-carrying students in desperate search of water.
Until recently, occupants relied on the benevolence of the rainy season. During that time, the wells were generous. But everything changed for the worse with the seasonal shift.
Now, students have to cover several “Kongo-meters” before reaching water—if they even do. Life in previous years was intolerable and unbearable, but nothing compares to the last three years. The situation has gotten so dire that students now resemble hungry lions on the hunt—not for buffaloes, but for water to cook or clean.
With the holy month of Ramadan just beginning, occupants are filled with trepidation over a recurring ordeal they find difficult to adapt to. They fear yet another Ramadan spent in smelly bodies, unflushed toilets, unwashed clothes, unclean dishes, and late iftars.
To be fair to the university’s management, they are “trying their best.” Previously, water tankers would bring water routinely as needed. That is now history. Even as the wells have dried up, the water tankers show up only once in a blue moon. For a university that prides itself as the largest in sub-Saharan Africa, this is, to say the least, hapless and piteous. Ironically, I laugh at the realization that a Department of Water Resources Engineering exists in this institution.
The reality is that we may have stable water in the near future—or we may grow old waiting. Only the management can answer that. I sincerely hope the Student Representative Council, with its so-called “visionary leadership,” will step up to ask the right questions.
What’s even more frustrating is that students are still dealing with a 300% increase in both registration and accommodation fees. Given this, any reasonable person would agree that providing sufficient water should no longer be rocket science. However, the university’s management, judging by its attitude, doesn’t seem to consider the lack of sufficient water in Kongo a problem worth solving. I blame the students for expecting better.
To wrap up, my candid advice to occupants is to register their complaints with God. Clearly, getting water here has been reduced to nothing but hope and prayer. Perhaps, a renowned global water project like Water.org or Charity: Water will be sent to our rescue.
Ila Garba writes from Kongo Campus, ABU Zaria.
