In the heart of Agatu Local Government Area in Benue State, lies a fading structure called Adeka Primary School. Once a place of promise, it now stands with broken walls, missing windows, and a roof so tattered that sunlight and rain take turns teaching the children. Monit NG, a public accountability NGO in Nigeria, has exposed the development.
Each morning, little Aondofa, aged 9, walks barefoot for 3 kilometers to school. He arrives with hope—but enters a classroom where termites have eaten through desks, and children sit on bricks or on the bare ground. Their blackboard is cracked; sometimes, there’s no chalk. When it rains, classes are canceled—not by the teachers, but by the heavens pouring through the leaking roof.
Yet these children come. Hungry to learn. Wanting to be more. They recite alphabet songs with cracked voices, and do math with borrowed pencils. But how can they dream of tomorrow, when today has failed them so completely?
Their teachers try, but even their strength wears thin—juggling overcrowded classrooms, no teaching materials, and the pain of watching bright minds dim under poor conditions.
This is happening despite Benue State’s ₦33.85 billion education budget. Adeka’s children ask no questions about allocations or numbers—they just want a safe classroom, a desk, a chalkboard that works, and a reason to believe they matter.
But if this neglect continues, Benue State won’t just lose classrooms—it will lose doctors, teachers, engineers, and leaders who could have emerged from these dusty ruins. The ₦33.85 billion may be a figure on paper, but in Adeka, it has not translated into dignity.
When a government forgets its youngest minds, it mortgages its own future. Adeka’s children deserve more. Not next year. Not in another budget cycle. Now.
Pitiable