Koran scholar boys at risk of Boko Haram recruitment

The government estimates about 9 million Almajiris – a word derived from Arabic, meaning “immigrants”– live in the region. But the boys, some as young as four, live in utter poverty and suffer from exploitation. They have to beg for a living or do menial labour for unfair wages, and give a cut of their food or earnings to the boarding schools where they live.

Living a long way from their families, who they often only see once a year, they are vulnerable to abuse, indoctrination and recruitment by criminals and armed groups, including the Islamist terrorist group Boko Haram, experts say. “There is no doubt about it. Boko Haram is recruiting Almajiris for the insurgency,” says Shehu Sani, a human rights activist who was in April elected a senator in northern Kaduna State.

“The founder of Boko Haram (Ustad Mohammed Yusuf, who died in 2009), current leader Abubakar Shekau and most top leaders were all Almajiris as children,” says Sani, a Boko Haram expert, who was instrumental in assisting the government of outgoing President Goodluck Jonathan to negotiate with the terrorist group. “A lot of the clerics that teach in Almajiri schools are extremists,” Sani says. “They easily influence children who are far from parental care.”

Surajo Sagir, a skinny 12-year-old, became an Almajiri five years ago, when his parents sent him from their home in Zaria, Kaduna state, to the city of Kano, 150 kilometres further north. Every morning, Surajo gets up at 5am to pray and learn to recite the Koran in Arabic, a language he doesn’t understand. The Almajiris don’t learn to read and write. Learning the Koran by heart is the only subject taught at the schools. “If we misbehave, the teachers hit us with a sisal whip,” the shy boy, dressed in old black jeans and T-shirt says. After an early morning prayer session, Surajo goes begging. For the rest of the day, prayers and begging interchange at two-hour intervals, right until the boys go to sleep at 10pm.

Surajo shares a 12-square-metre room with 15 others. There is one small window that doesn’t open. The floor is a dirty mix of cement and sand. At night, the children sleep like sardines in a can. 

Most schools have one toilet for 100 or more pupils and no clean, running water. 

All an Almajiri owns is a plastic bag with a spare set of clothing, a plastic cup and a begging bowl. Some lucky ones have a towel. Begging is tough, Surajo explains. “It’s not always easy to get food. If I don’t get enough to eat, I just have to be patient,” he says. “Most days I am hungry.” At the end of the day, Surajo feels tired and his feet hurt. He misses his parents, who he has seen only three times in the last five years. 

“The Almajiris have to fend for themselves but they are far too young to do so,” laments Baraka Bashir, a volunteer at the Almajiri Foundation in Kano, a charity set up to assist the children with food, clothing and soap. 

“They are very vulnerable to exploitation and recruitment,” Bashir adds. Many run away because they are unhappy, and end up as street children. But the clerics of the Almajiri schools defend the system. “It’s a good way to grow up. It teaches children values, how not to depend on anyone,” says Sumaila Mohammed, 55, a teacher at the Makaranta Mallam Lawan school in Kano, who was himself an Almajiri as a boy. 

One of Mohammed’s pupils, Sabiu Musa, has been an Almajiri for 10 years. When he first arrived at the school, Sabiu used to beg. Now, at the age of 20, he survives from odd jobs like washing clothes. He earns about 250 Naira per day (Bt40). A fifth of his income goes to his teacher, he says. Sabiu says he doesn’t regret going to Islamic school, but after he graduates – the day he is able recite the entire Koran – he wants to attend an ordinary school. 

“These days, if you don’t have western education you cannot achieve anything in life,” the young man explains. “I want to feel that I belong to society.”