Peter Obi Calls Out JAMB Over 6:30am Exams; JAMB Replies

 

Long before sunrise, clusters of teenagers can be seen trudging through poorly lit streets, desperate to reach their exam centers by 6:00 AM. For many of these young Nigerians, aged just 15 to 17, this perilous journey is not a choice but a necessity — a requirement to sit for the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) exams that serve as their gateway to higher education. Yet, what should be a moment of hope is now laced with fear, danger, and tragedy.

Reports of students involved in accidents, incidents of abduction, and cases of young lives being lost are already emerging from across the country. The cost of a missed exam pales in comparison to the risks these teenagers now face: unsafe roads, criminal elements lurking in the dark, and the ever-present threat of harm before they even step into an exam hall.

The responsibility for this dangerous situation remains disturbingly unclear. When a 15-year-old disappears on the way to an exam, who is held accountable? Who answers when a family’s hope is extinguished because a child seeking education never returns home? These are questions that must be confronted with urgency, not shrugged away with bureaucratic silence.

Beyond the immediate tragedy lies a deeper, systemic crisis: Nigeria’s education infrastructure is woefully inadequate for its growing youth population. With just about 200 universities serving a nation of over 230 million people, the country stands at an alarming ratio of roughly one university for every one million citizens. This grim statistic starkly contrasts with global expectations and aspirations for educational access.

Global development standards, such as those from the UNESCO Institute for Statistics, suggest that any nation aspiring toward strong economic and social progress should target a Gross Enrollment Ratio (GER) in higher education of at least 40%. Nigeria’s GER lags far behind, currently sitting at a mere 12%, painting a damning picture of exclusion and limited opportunity.

Other populous nations offer a glaring contrast. Indonesia, with approximately 280 million people, boasts over 4,000 tertiary institutions, equating to roughly one university for every 70,000 people. With a GER exceeding 45% and more than 10 million students enrolled in tertiary education, Indonesia exemplifies how strategic investment in education fuels national growth and ensures that no teenager is forced into life-threatening conditions simply to take an exam.

The Indonesian model shows what is possible when a government prioritizes education. Universities are dispersed throughout the country, ensuring safer, easier access to education and a democratization of opportunity that Nigeria’s youth can only dream of today.

Had Nigeria mirrored even half of Indonesia’s commitment — roughly 2,000 universities instead of the existing 200 — the tragic spectacle of teenagers risking their lives in pre-dawn darkness would not exist. Instead, education would be accessible, exams would be reasonably scheduled, and opportunities would be abundant, not an exception for the privileged few.

Education must be seen not as a privilege or an afterthought but as the fundamental investment that any serious nation makes toward its own future. It is education that produces innovation, drives sustainable development, and strengthens the fabric of society. Neglecting it, therefore, is not just short-sighted — it is national sabotage.

It is an open contradiction for a government to proclaim commitment to development while simultaneously starving its youth of education. Development cannot thrive where knowledge is inaccessible, and a nation cannot truly claim to value its citizens while exposing its children to death traps disguised as exam schedules.

To rebuild trust with its youth and to avoid further tragedies, Nigeria must take bold, deliberate steps to expand its education system massively. Universities and exam centers must be multiplied, decentralized, and properly resourced. Accessibility should be a basic guarantee, not a perilous gamble.

Teenagers yearning for education deserve far better than early-morning treks through hostile terrain. They deserve an education system that welcomes them safely, nurtures their dreams, and empowers them to build a new Nigeria — a Nigeria where opportunity is not rationed but expanded, where hope is not crushed underfoot by systemic neglect.

Nigeria stands at a crossroads: continue down the path of apathy and needless tragedy, or rise to meet the challenge with investment, foresight, and compassion. The future demands that the nation choose wisely, because the price of continued failure will be measured in young lives lost and potential wasted.

A better Nigeria is not just desirable — it is necessary, and it is possible. But it begins with valuing education enough to protect those who seek it, not endanger them. 

*excerpts by Peter Obi