Opinion

After Incentives, What Next?

Published

5 years ago

February 5, 2021

With the recent range of incentives for teachers in the civil service by the federal government vis-à-vis special salary scale for basic and secondary school teachers; increase of mandatory service year from 35 years to 40 years; low-cost houses for teachers in the rural areas; special allowance for teachers in the rural areas; peculiar allowance for science teachers; automatic admission into public schools and free tuition for biological children of teachers and automatic employment for Education graduates, there is no doubt that teachers will be motivated and encouraged to put in their best in the discharge of their duties.
However, the commendable incentives may not produce the desired result in our pupils and students if nothing is done about the entire education system in the country. A recent report has it that Singapore has abolished school examination rankings. By this, a child’s report card will no longer be showing the position he took in class. The report card will, henceforth, not indicate class and level mean; minimum and maximum marks; pass/fail for end-of-year result; mean subject grades; overall total marks; L1R5 (English plus five relevant subjects), L1R4, EMB3 (English, Maths, best three subjects) and EMB1 for lower secondary levels.
According to the Ministry of Education, the essence of banning exam ranking is to teach the children that learning is not a competition but a self-discipline they need to master for life.
The report book should, however, still contain some form of yardstick and information to allow students to judge their relative performance, and evaluate their strengths and weaknesses.
Juxtapose this with what obtains in Nigeria and you will wonder what we are doing. Ours is a country where everybody wants to take the first position, where it seems education is a serious competition about who comes top in exams without necessarily knowing the subjects taught. It is not strange to hear stories of teachers, especially those in private schools, supplying answers to students during examinations so as to ensure they all pass with good grades. By this, their parents will be happy that their children are doing well and that the school is the best. What about schools that give first and other top positions to as many as five persons? Or the ones that make sure that the children of the rich are given good positions even when they do not merit it just to retain their parents’ patronage?
It’s true that countries have peculiarities in monitoring standards and performance in their school system and so Nigeria may not be obligated to copy what obtains in Singapore or any other country but what system are we really operating in our country and is it yielding the best result? Is it a system that teaches and encourages the use of foreign languages but prohibits the use of local languages? A system that promotes the learning of foreign cultures while the beautiful diverse cultures of the country are relegated to the background? Today, in some private schools, children pay up to N30, 000.00 per term to learn ballet dance. What efforts are made to teach the Nigerian dances?
Before and after Independence, the nation had the 6-5-2-3 system of education, which means six years in primary school, five years in secondary school, two years in higher school, and three years in the university. In the mid-1980s, it was abolished on the excuse that it was meant to serve the interest of the colonial masters and that it did not encourage science and technology, self-development and entrepreneurship.
Subsequently, the 6-3-3-4 system was introduced in the mid-80s by the then Minister of Education, Professor Babatunde Fafunwa. We were told that the system would bring functionality in the system by producing graduates that make use of their heads, hearts and hands. We all know how badly this system has been implemented. Years after the introduction, there were reports of abandoned crates and containers of workshop tools and implements and containers at the seaports. These were tools and equipment meant for children who may not be suited or equipped to go beyond JS3. Most of these tools and equipment were reportedly stolen by the suppliers and contractors with the eventual connivance of those in authority. So the junior secondary school students are being taught subjects like introductory technology, home economics and the likes without seeing or touching any tool for 3 years.
The resultant effect of the failure of this system is that many schools now adopt whatever system that appeals to them. In some primary schools, the last class is primary five, while some end in primary six. Some use the British/Nigerian curriculum, while others go for Nigeria/Canadian curriculum. The fact is that there is no uniformity of the education system. Schools spring up every day without proper supervision to ensure adequate quality of their content and effective delivery. The issue of the poor quality of teachers, lack of regular teachers’ training and corruption in the system and poor funding of the education sector is another ball game.
So the Nigerian education system needs urgent and comprehensive overhaul both from the policy direction and in the area of standard. The introduction of the 6-3-3-4 system over 20 years ago was the last major tweak in our education system and one thinks there is a need to take a critical look at what obtains in our schools and have a system change since the current one has obviously failed.
It is also my opinion that just as Singapore has done, we should de-emphasise examination but rather concentrate on imparting knowledge on the children in the most fun and interesting way. This will definitely yield better results than constantly subjecting them to series of tests and exams.

By: Calista Ezeaku

Opinion

The Girl Who Didn’t Dance

Published

4 days ago

November 19, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”

This piece is, primarily, the story of the girl who refused to dance during my first public performance as a pop musician. The event was the birthday party of Okechukwu Ogbowu at the residence of Chief Moses Nma Ogbowu at Omoku in February 1968. Secondarily, it is the story of a group of Ogba/Egbema youths who the chiefs considered rebellious and should, therefore, be watched very carefully. These two anecdotes are woven together by the story of my foray into music as a career in my youth. In 1958, I went on holidays to the home of my uncle Eze JNA Nwachuku at Ahoada. There, I heard a very strange music that tickled my preteen fancy to the point I started singing it using words I made up; I was eight. Back to Alinso Okeanu (Beach) after the holidays, the kids in the cosmopolitan community were wowed by my air and swag while singing the very strange song.

Years later, I learned the real words of the jazz classic “Hit the Road Jack” by Ray Charles. At fifteen, I was arraigned before a juvenile court in Omoku for singing a love song that contained the word “kiss” to the princess of Ogbaland at Ahia Orie market square; though discharged and acquitted, I was bound over to be of good behavior for six months. At sixteen, I got de-robed from the choir of St. Michael’s Church, Omoku for buying a guitar and audaciously changing my name from Enoch. At seventeen, I had my debut at Okechukwu’s birthday party where the girl, who is the primary focus of this piece, did not dance. During the party. I performed three songs: (1) “All My Loving” by The Beatles, which was the song that took me to the juvenile court, (2) “Midnight Hour” by Wilson “Wicked” Pickett and (3) “Please Don’t Tease” by Cliff Richard.

These songs are laden with amorous innuendos and have the words “kiss” and “love”, which were considered sacrilegious in those days. The veiled explicitness of Wicked Pickett’s lyricism didn’t help matters either; it added to the excitement, which became more palpable and the connection between crowd and artiste grew more profound, when Innocent Masi (now Dr. IA Masi mni) placed a five shillings note on my forehead. Everyone at the party virtually summersaulted on the dance floor, which was the interior balcony of Ogbowu’s house, the most beautiful house in Omoku then. The next day, the chiefs held an emergency meeting at the home of Chief S.O. Masi who was Commissioner of Onitsha Province during the First Republic; that province is now Anambra State. The single item on the agenda was the worrisome activities of the youths.

At the end of the meeting, a chief, whose name and the first book of the Gospels would tango smoothly to the rhythms and rhymes of poetry, threatened to shoot me if he ever saw me near his house with my jita. I perfectly understood his predicament; he had many pretty daughters. Poor fellow, unbeknownst to him, I was yet to know the difference between the birds and the bees. The next evening, Monday Wokocha (late Professor Addison), Gary Omo-Odi and I dared the chief in a daredevil episode that belongs in another narrative. He shot…in the air. That day, my parents seized my guitar and grounded me. Subsequently, my uncle Nwachuku whisked me off to Port Harcourt. Back to the party; yes, everyone at the party virtually summersaulted except a girl from Obite who didn’t step on the dance floor. She was slim, beautiful and quite tall for girls (even for boys) of that era; so, she stood very elegant.

Beyond the call-response greetings that characterize the socio-culture of the people of Ogba and Egbema, she was almost taciturn; she was shy and rarely spoke except when spoken to. However, she had a smile that lit up the environment as it contrasted with her ebony skin that glowed with the radiance of youth. I think Kamala Harris placed an order for that specific smile from the warehouse of the Divine on her way to this dimension. The girl who didn’t dance was Ngozi Elemele; daughter of Chief Samuel Elemele, a devout Christian, business man and highly patriotic Ogba man from Obite. Ngozi’s refusal (or was it inability?) to dance made us tease her that she has “two left legs” hence she couldn’t move them to the pulsating and compulsive rhythm of pop music. She just kept on smiling and that was an impregnable armor against our social arrows.

That calmness under relentless peer pressure earned her the moniker “Nwanjinwa” (Girl Nextdoor) amongst us; it contrasted with “Okoronwangbogbo”(prodigal son), which the vicar at St. Michael’s tagged me as he de-robed me from the choir. Those were the heady days of our lives. In 2024, a social commentator subjected the youths of Ogba/Egbema of that era to a critique. He observed that, irrespective of their youthful exuberance with a dose of mischief, that generation of Ogba/Egbema youths effectively took advantage of the ample educational opportunities provided by government immediately after the civil war. Also, he noted that that party produced four medical doctors, two lawyers, one architect, two general managers of parastatals, two chairmen of local government, three permanent secretaries, one head of service, three professors, and a deputy governor.

Concluding the analysis, the critic held that while many in the group held more than one position in the categorization, Ngozi Elemele, the girl who didn’t dance, held more top level public positions than the rest. She was Permanent Secretary, Commissioner, became Professor and is now Deputy Governor. Today, the Obite girl who didn’t dance at the party in 1968 is gracefully and elegantly waltzing at the center stage of Rivers State politics as Her Excellency, Prof Mrs. Ngozi Nma Odu DSSRS, the Deputy Governor of Rivers State. Her excellent performance in public office is a product of decades of fierce focus on the future, dedication and devotion to duty, resolute resilience, humility and simplicity; years spent climbing the arduous ladder of mainstream bureaucracy from Grade Level 08 to the apex of the pyramid, serving as Commissioner and thereafter venturing into the intellectually challenging trajectory of academics and also peaking at the apex of professorship and, eventually, clenching the coveted position of Deputy Governor of Rivers State.

Naturally, I was very delighted and humbled by the honor and privilege of being chairman of the occasion where Akabuka Community honored Her Excellency with a grand reception on October 25, 2025. It was very gratifying that her boss, His Excellency Sir Siminalaye Fubara GSSRS, supportively graced the occasion as Special Guest of Honor, a reflection of humility and simplicity in high profile office, which is uncommon in our society. Who says focus, determination, drive and hard work do not pay? They did then; they do now and they always will. Are the youths of today listening? “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matthew 11:15).

Akparikolamo!!!

By: Jason Osai

Opinion

Tradition or idolatry? The Debate Over Nhe-Ajoku

Published

2 weeks ago

November 10, 2025

The Tide

Quote:“But when it becomes cloaked in mystery and secrecy, it risks breeding fear and abuse.

In the heart of Ikwerre land, nestled among the green stretches of Rivers State, lies Omerelu a community steeped in heritage and rhythm. Here, the people gather every two years for the Nhe-Ajoku, the bi-annual New Yam Festival that marks the harvest season, the renewal of gratitude, and the reaffirmation of kinship with the land. Debate It is a time when the yam, known as “the king of crops,” takes centre stage. The festival begins in joy and ends in solemnity, as the community offers thanks to the Almighty for sustenance and peace. At the climax of the celebration comes Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku, a sacred dirge performed only by the initiated. By long-held custom, it forbids the Igbo people from witnessing it irrespective of how long they have lived among them (Omerelu people) . The dirge, performed in secrecy and deep reverence, closes both the spiritual and physical chapters of the festival.

Yet, as the years pass, questions are rising within Omerelu: what still lies at the heart of this ceremony? Has the spirit of thanksgiving been overshadowed by practices that no longer serve the wellbeing of our people? The call to abandon idle worship that is, the worship of lifeless objects or empty rituals grows louder. For many, the time has come to separate what uplifts the community from what diminishes it. Tradition, when rightly kept, preserves identity. But when it becomes cloaked in mystery and secrecy, it risks breeding fear and abuse. The dirge that once bound the people in reverence now occasionally divides them by secrecy. To the devout Christian, the festival’s spiritual dimension raises moral questions. Can thanksgiving to God be mixed with homage to carved symbols or ancestral forces? Must reverence be expressed through objects rather than through the heart?

Within Omerelu Community , elders recall that the first purpose of Nhe-Ajoku was gratitude not idol worship. It was to honour hard work, the soil, and divine providence, not to erect shrines to shadows. But today, the week that should bring peace and brotherhood sometimes ends in conflict, theft, and fear. Livestock disappear. Goats and fowls vanish in the night. Some justify it as ritual entitlement; others call it ‘fast finger’. This is where the red flag must rise. A festival of peace cannot thrive in the smoke of wrongdoing. If Nhe-Ajoku becomes an excuse for moral decay, it loses its sacredness. Let the people of Omerelu remember: a tradition that harms its own people ceases to be culture it becomes bondage. It is not the festival itself that is at fault, but the way it is practised. When men hide behind masquerades to seize property, when youths interpret freedom as license, when the dirge becomes a cover for intimidation, the festival must be re-examined.

This conversation must happen without fear or sentiment. The Ikwerre person is proud, industrious, and deeply spiritual. We need not abandon our heritage to embrace truth. Rather, we must purify it, as gold is refined by fire. To understand where we stand, it helps to look back at FESTAC ’77 the Second World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture, held in Lagos in 1977. It was a grand showcase of African identity, heritage, and pride. For a moment, the black world united under one banner of culture and art. Yet, in hindsight, some critics raised warnings. They argued that Nigeria, in trying to celebrate culture, unconsciously revived old spiritual practices that blurred the line between art and idolatry. A respected cleric once said FESTAC ’77 “handed Nigeria over to idols,” claiming it marked the beginning of the country’s moral confusion.

Whether one agrees or not, it stands as a cautionary tale: culture without conscience can lead to chaos. So too in Omerelu, Nhe-Ajoku must not become a miniature FESTAC grand in display but hollow in purpose. The harvest must be about life, not lifeless worship. If a festival meant for peace turns into a spree of theft and intimidation, then the red flag flutters over the village square. Our elders must rise to correct this trend. Chiefs, youths, and women leaders must come together to reclaim the true essence of Nhe-Ajoku: thanksgiving, unity, and renewal. The dirge, Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku, should retain its dignity and secrecy for those qualified, but its purpose must be explained clearly to the younger generation. Secrecy without explanation breeds suspicion and rebellion. Instead of exclusion, let there be understanding. Festivals should strengthen bonds, not stretch divisions.

Omerelu must show that tradition and modern faith can coexist, that the people can celebrate harvest without bowing to idols, can sing ancestral songs without losing moral clarity, can dance without looting. We must also redefine the meaning of worship. Worship is not about objects but obedience; not about rituals but righteousness; not about noise but truth. The younger generation watches keenly. If we hand them confusion, they will discard our culture. But if we hand them purpose, they will preserve it proudly. Let every yam harvested remind us that blessings come through toil, not through spirits or symbols. Let the sound of the drum call us to unity, not to indulgence. The red flag has been raised not to condemn Omerelu, but to caution it. The line between reverence and ruin is thin; we must tread it carefully. If we reform Nhe-Ajoku today, we will hand to our children a festival worthy of pride.

If we ignore the signs, we risk turning celebration into regret. Let’s celebrate hard work again by ensuring that our yams are from our yams, not Hausa yams. Our chickens and goats should also come from our farms. I , being a bonafide offspring of Nhe-ajoku adherence, know too well that agric (poultry fowl) and Hausa goats were never anywhere near the ‘Ajoku Shrine’, but now, the reverse is the case. The implication? People are no longer interested.However, let this year, and every year henceforth, mark a new beginning: a Nhe-Ajoku of peace, honesty, and gratitude that honours our Creator. The yam is life, but life must be pure. Let the dirge speak truth again. Let the red flag remind us when culture forgets conscience, it ceases to be culture. And when the drums of Nkwa-Nhe-Ajoku sound again in Omerelu, may they beat not for idols, but for renewal, justice, and peace.

By: King Onunwor

Opinion

Fubara’s Strategic Masterstroke

Published

2 weeks ago

November 10, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”What sets this administration apart is not just the volume of projects but their strategic coherence. Each road, bridge, and seaport initiative forms part of an integrated economic master plan that places Rivers State at the heart of Nigeria’s maritime future”

In the evolving narrative of Rivers State’s infrastructural transformation, Governor Siminalayi Fubara is quietly but decisively carving out a new economic roadmap—one anchored on strategic connectivity, blue economy exploration, and sustainable development. His recent inspection of the 13.5-kilometre Oyorokoto Road in Andoni and the visionary Trans-Kalabari Road project underline a bold ambition: to reposition Rivers State as the economic gateway of the Niger Delta and a key player in Nigeria’s emerging maritime economy. The Oyorokoto Road, slated for completion and commissioning in March 2026, is not just a transport corridor. It is the spine of what promises to be a thriving coastal economy. Stretching from Andoni’s popular Oyorokoto Beach to the newly discovered Atlantic beachfront, the project embodies the governor’s vision of turning Rivers State’s natural endowments into engines of growth. The road’s design is strategic—it connects land to sea, trade to tourism, and communities to opportunity.

Governor Fubara’s decision to extend the road beyond the initial Oyorokoto Beach destination speaks volumes about his forward-thinking approach. Upon discovering an expansive Atlantic beachfront with immense tourism and marine potential, the governor ordered the extension of the project—transforming it into what he aptly called “the pathway to the blue economy.” This statement encapsulates a shift in governance philosophy: from mere infrastructure delivery to economic diversification and sustainability. The blue economy, which encompasses maritime transport, fisheries, coastal tourism, and renewable energy, offers Rivers State a new frontier for wealth creation. With Oyorokoto’s proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, deep-sea exploration, aquaculture, and ocean-based tourism can thrive. Governor Fubara’s plan to develop activities around the seafront—hospitality, logistics, and marine services—will not only attract investors but also create jobs for local communities long isolated by geography and neglect.

The significance of the Oyorokoto project also lies in its symbolism. It signals a shift from oil-dependent infrastructure to climate-conscious development. The governor’s insistence on conquering difficult terrains to connect Andoni’s coastal communities underscores his administration’s commitment to inclusion and balanced growth. For decades, these communities have watched from the margins as the mainland prospered. Now, they are being woven into the state’s economic fabric. But the true genius of Fubara’s strategy emerges when viewed alongside the Trans-Kalabari Road project, a monumental undertaking designed to link several island communities in the Kalabari axis to the mainland. The first phase, which terminates at Bakana, is already being celebrated as a historic project with transformative economic implications. Beyond mere connectivity, Bakana’s deep-sea potential positions it as a future hub for maritime trade, shipbuilding, and logistics—key pillars of the blue economy.

By aligning the Trans-Kalabari and Oyorokoto projects, Governor Fubara is weaving a coastal development network that will fundamentally alter the geography of commerce in Rivers State. Once completed, these roads will not only ease movement but open up access to virgin coastlines, attract tourism, and stimulate private investment. In essence, Fubara is building corridors of prosperity across the state’s most difficult terrains. The governor’s unannounced stop at the Kalaibiama-Epellema Road in Opobo/Nkoro Local Government Area further underscores his personal commitment to follow-through. His inspection of the piling work at the Epellema bridge site reveals a hands-on leader determined to ensure that no project lingers on paper. In a region where infrastructure is often hindered by terrain and politics, Fubara’s approach reflects courage and vision in equal measure.

What sets this administration apart is not just the volume of projects but their strategic coherence. Each road, bridge, and seaport initiative forms part of an integrated economic master plan that places Rivers State at the heart of Nigeria’s maritime future. The synergy between the Trans-Kalabari and Oyorokoto corridors will create a seamless coastal belt that can support tourism, fisheries, and inter-island commerce—stimulating both rural and urban economies. Governor Fubara’s economic strategy is also deeply political in the most constructive sense. By investing heavily in long-neglected coastal communities, he is rebuilding trust in government and expanding the social contract. He understands that prosperity must be inclusive, and that true development is not measured merely in kilometers of asphalt but in livelihoods transformed. Critics may view these projects as ambitious, but ambition is the currency of progress.

Fubara’s determination to beat the terrain and deliver projects on schedule is a lesson in leadership under constraint. In the face of financial and environmental challenges, he is proving that development can be both visionary and pragmatic. The broader implication of these infrastructural moves is clear: Rivers State is transitioning from an oil-dependent economy to a diversified, ocean-driven one. The integration of deep-sea potential at Bakana, tourism assets at Oyorokoto, and bridge connectivity at Epellema points toward a strategic blueprint that could redefine the Niger Delta’s development model. As March 2026 draws closer, the Oyorokoto Road will stand not merely as a physical link between Andoni’s communities and the Atlantic but as a symbol of a government that sees beyond the present. It will represent a bridge to new possibilities—economic, social, and environmental.

In the final analysis, Governor Siminalayi Fubara’s economic masterstroke lies in his ability to turn geography into destiny. By connecting land to sea and people to prosperity, he is charting a course that could make Rivers State not just the treasure base of the nation, but the anchor of Nigeria’s blue economy in the 21st century.

Ibim is a seasoned Journalist, political analyst and public affairs commentator.

By: Amieye-ofori Ibim