Ahmadu Bello University

By Dr Kabir Asgar

Nobody disputes that students in a university environment need to participate in sports, recreation, cultural activities, social interaction, and entrepreneurship. In fact, our great Ahmadu Bello University (ABU), Zaria, itself presents holistic student development as part of its mission.

This relatively new yet popular ABU-SRC Cultural Carnival has now become a regular fixture on the calendar for every Second Semester at ABU Zaria. Looking at its popularity, the attention it’s getting from all stakeholders, and the distraction it creates, I cannot help but ask: could the timing, scale and intensity of this event be one of the factors that compete with students’ academic concentration and, perhaps, contribute in some measure to the challenges we sometimes observe in undergraduate examination performance?

Let’s think about the amount of energy, time and resources students put into their weeks-long intensive preparations for the carnival, as well as the money spent on costumes, transportation, rehearsals, entertainment and other logistics. For many students, the excitement surrounding the event inevitably competes for their attention with lectures, laboratory work, assignments, projects, and examination preparation.

I am not arguing that the university should have no cultural or recreational activities. Never. I’m aware that the training of these students and the development of their mental and industrial skills extend beyond the classroom, and that cultural activities can have legitimate educational and social value. My concern is rather about proportion, timing, end results, and priorities.

To the best of my knowledge, no assessment is conducted to investigate the academic impact of this carnival and/or other related extracurricular activities on the participating students; therefore, there is no reliable data to base a judgement on. Yet, there is a need to ask questions such as: Does its timing interfere with students’ academic responsibilities? How much time and money do students invest in the event? Who are the person(s) financing the carnival, and what return(s) do they aspire to? And, most importantly, do the educational and developmental values of the event justify its scale and its place in the academic calendar?

There is also the moral and religious dimension, which I deliberately leave aside for the moment: the nature of some of the displays, immodest dressing, unrestricted interaction between male and female students, the conduct of the rehearsals, the chaotic nature of the event and the kind of entertainment sometimes associated with such events should all be subjected to our religious and moral values.

Even if we temporarily put all those concerns aside, one fundamental question remains: What kind of university do we want ABU Zaria to be, and what should occupy the greatest share of our students’ time, attention and energy? Perhaps this is not a call to abolish the carnival, but rather a call for the university to pause, reflect, and objectively evaluate its academic, financial, social, and moral implications.

May Allah continue to guide us to the right path, amin.

By Bilyamin Abdulmumin, PhD

With my viva voce a few days ago, the sojourn that began five years ago has ended. Although the coursework started late, around May 2019, it was successfully navigated through that year.

Postgraduate students often think coursework should be eliminated. They wonder how a PhD student could be sitting in a four-corner wall in the name of lectures, arguing that PhD candidates should dive straight into research. However, after completing the coursework, none of us agreed with that sentiment.

One notable sacrifice that potential postgraduate students should be prepared to make is financial freedom. Study not only limits one income but also eats deep into the fabric of the little one on the hand—it is an attack from a double front. So, it only takes individual ambition to succumb to that.

One common question from those considering enrolment but still undecided is, “How long will it take to finish a postgraduate program?” My quick response to them is to enrol as soon as possible because time will pass regardless. 

In Nigeria, pursuing a PhD is a journey where you likely only know the starting point, facing a path fraught with unforeseeable circumstances; the end sight can’t be rightly assured. While I read posts that some lucky individuals graduate in about three years, others aren’t as fortunate and may take seven years or more. So, I believe graduating in five years is an average.

The first major hurdle of my five-year PhD journey emerged at the beginning of 2020. Immediately after the year clocked, the COVID-19 pandemic struck the globe. The world came to a standstill as countries implemented stringent measures to combat the virus. In Nigeria, after the first confirmed case was announced in late February, we swiftly followed suit; wearing facemasks, using hand sanitisers, and maintaining strict social distancing became the order of the day. 

Despite the initial disruptions, as the pandemic began to wane, my supervisor and I would forge on, adapting precautionary measures. The lockdowns would be a blessing in disguise as they provided valuable time for my supervisory team and me to finalise our research topic and draft a comprehensive literature review manuscript.

Another significant hurdle arose with the ASUU strike. As early as February 2022, the agitation for the government to implement the 2009 agreement mounted. It began as warnings but escalated into an indefinite strike lasting eight months. Like the COVID-19 pandemic, the strike ultimately became a diamond in the rough. It afforded me more interactions with my advisors and crucially facilitated a collaboration with the Centre for Resources Recovery in Sweden, known for its extensive work in my research area. Leveraging the online meeting platforms adopted during the pandemic, such as Zoom, expedited our collaboration.

Another serious hurdle I encountered was frequent power outages. Just as I was about to enter the lab after completing all preparations, ABU experienced a series of power disruptions; their light would be cut due to failure to pay the bills—an issue I had never expected. This cultural shock paled in comparison when I later heard that even Aso Rock faced threats of power cuts. The inconsistency of electricity, compounded by national grid collapses and ABU light cuts made the initial stages of setting the research in motion unforgettable.

A five-year journey demanding a high level of commitment, teamwork, tight schedules, and stringent deadlines, in addition to the inherent conflicting perspectives in group work, inevitably led to clashes—sometimes titanic ones. However, what mattered most was understanding each other’s viewpoints and even finding humour in the aftermath. You have an added advantage for those who are naturally diplomatic, persuasive, and humorous: you will come to handle such pressures far more easily.

One of the major successes of my PhD journey was the significant contribution to knowledge pioneering an innovative method: the development of mesoporous support for heterogeneous fermentation for the first time. This achievement has culminated in forthcoming publications in high-impact (or not-so) journals, the filing of a patent, and facilitated international collaborations.

No matter how daunting the task may seem, it can’t be insurmountable, provided there is consistent effort (even a bit), patience, and perseverance.

Bilyamin Abdulmumin, PhD, is a public affairs commentator and science writer. He can be reached via bilal4riid13@gmail.com.