Dansarai’s roofless school: From learning to lawlessness, By Fatima Garba Bako

Indeed, the time for sympathy is over. What Dansarai and schools like it need now is decisive action — urgent, deliberate, and sustained. The children have waited long enough. We cannot afford to let another generation slip into darkness while we watch from a distance.

The first thing that greets you is the silence — an eerie, suffocating stillness, where the cheerful noise of children should fill the air.

Instead, the dry wind whistles through broken zinc sheets and crumbling walls, swaying what remains of a roofless structure that once dared to call itself a school.

This is Dansarai Primary School, tucked along Hadejia Road in Gezawa Local Government Area of Kano State — a haunting monument to neglect and a stark reminder of how far we have allowed our education system to decay.

A viral video recently brought this forgotten institution into the spotlight, exposing a reality too grim to ignore: classrooms stripped of roofs, broken furniture, missing windows, and young pupils squeezed into squalid, unsafe spaces.

But for the residents of Dansarai, that video was no revelation. It simply broadcast to the world the harsh reality they have endured — and the authorities have ignored — for years.

When I visited the school, the situation was even more heartbreaking than the images suggested.

Most of the classrooms are exposed to the elements, stripped not just of shelter but of dignity itself. With no roofs overhead, children face the scorching sun, relentless rains, and biting winds. The doors and windows are long gone, offering no defence against intruders, the weather, or despair.

The school lacks not only security but also the most basic amenities — no clean water, no functioning toilets, no sanitation. Unsurprisingly, students frequently fall ill. Parents speak of rashes, infections, and stomach ailments that have become routine.

“Sometimes, we just sit under trees when the sun becomes too much,” says 11-year-old Musa, a Primary Five pupil, clutching his threadbare schoolbag like a badge of courage. For Musa and his classmates, education is not just a pursuit — it is a daily battle against the odds.

Yet, perhaps more terrifying is what the school becomes after dark. When the last child leaves, Dansarai is no longer an institution of learning — it becomes a playground for criminal gangs known as ‘Yan Daba.

Residents say these miscreants have turned the abandoned premises into a den of lawlessness, engaging in drug peddling and other vices.

“By day, it’s for our children; by night, it’s for criminals,” one local resident lamented. “No fence, no guard, no protection. We live in fear.”

The absence of a perimeter fence is more than a security lapse — it is an open invitation to chaos. Even teachers tread cautiously.

“Sometimes, we arrive in the morning to find broken bottles, cigarette butts, and other suspicious items in the classrooms,” a teacher confided, requesting anonymity. “How do you expect a child to learn in such an environment?”

The school lacks not only security but also the most basic amenities — no clean water, no functioning toilets, no sanitation. Unsurprisingly, students frequently fall ill. Parents speak of rashes, infections, and stomach ailments that have become routine.

Dansarai’s tragedy is not unique — but it is urgent. Across Nigeria, thousands of public schools mirror its condition: abandoned, unsafe, and uninspiring… While politicians make grandiose speeches about investing in education, children like Musa sit in the dirt, holding onto slates and fragile strands of hope.

“This is not education. It is survival,” says Mallam Abubakar, a parent whose son attends the school. “We wanted a future for our children. But now, we fear this place will take that future away.”

Years of petitions, letters, and pleas to government authorities have yielded nothing. The community’s outcry has been met with deafening silence, mirroring the hollow, echoing classrooms their children endure every day.

Dansarai’s tragedy is not unique — but it is urgent. Across Nigeria, thousands of public schools mirror its condition: abandoned, unsafe, and uninspiring.

While politicians make grandiose speeches about investing in education, children like Musa sit in the dirt, holding onto slates and fragile strands of hope.

“If the classroom is the cradle of the nation’s future,” warns a local elder, “then our country is cradling a crisis.”

Indeed, the time for sympathy is over. What Dansarai and schools like it need now is decisive action — urgent, deliberate, and sustained. The children have waited long enough. We cannot afford to let another generation slip into darkness while we watch from a distance.

Fatima Garba Bako is a Mass Communication student at Maryam Abacha American University of Nigeria (MAAUN). She can be reached via [email protected].