OVER the weekend, I stumbled upon a troubling video circulating on the streets of the Obasanjo internet, posted by Dan Bello. It got me thinking: what exactly is wrong with leadership in the North? I know our leaders have never been particularly famous for putting us first, but even by our very low standards, this felt bad.
Is it envy or sheer wickedness? Ok, let’s just call it arrogance of power. Meanwhile, they can pay millions for theirs to attend fashion school, coding academies, software skills and other lucrative skills, but what’s meant to help the poor what should have been a ladder for struggling youths is instead left to rot in silence.
Oh, I have been venting without clearly stating the problem.
The Aliko Dangote Ultra-modern Skills Acquisition Center was created to equip young people with practical skills for employment and entrepreneurship. Built by the Kano State Government and named after Nigerian billionaire Aliko Dangote, the project cost about ₦5–₦5.5 billion to build and was equipped with modern machines imported from Europe.
It was designed to train hundreds, possibly thousands of youngsters across more than twenty technical departments so that they could become experts, not job seekers. It was also designed as one of the largest and most modern vocational training centres in West Africa. The centre collaborates with organizations such as UNESCO on technical and vocational education programs.
The training at the centre is well-structured, combining classroom instruction with practical, hands-on experience through industrial training (SIWES). In its initial intake, the centre admitted hundreds of trainees from all 44 local government areas in Kano State, necessitating the use of a coaster bus to transport students within the state. While admission is primarily reserved for Kano indigenes, it is also open to applicants from other states, which is why the centre provides hostel facilities.
The vision is very clear: it is to reduce unemployment, empower youths and build a skilled workforce for Kano and other northern states. It aims to provide practical technical skills instead of only academic education, help create skilled manpower for industries and small businesses in Nigeria, and support government efforts to turn the youth population into a productive workforce instead of an unemployment risk.
But today, we are seeing the familiar Nigerian problem: infrastructure without continuity. The vision appears to have stalled. Due to prolonged delays in salary payments to staff, the centre has reportedly struggled to function, leaving workshops idle and millions of naira worth of equipment sitting unused and gathering dust. What was meant to be a hub of productivity and opportunity now risks becoming another example of how ambitious public projects can falter when proper management, funding and continuity are neglected.
When projects worth billions become dormant while new multi-billion projects like flyovers continue to spring up, the real question is not about buildings but priorities and sustainability. I have nothing against flyovers. But I have said repeatedly that infrastructure cannot substitute for the basics. What good is a flyover in a society battling hunger, insecurity, unemployment and a failing education system?
A skills centre like this is not just a structure; it is supposed to be a factory for human capital. When it stops functioning, the real loss is not the machines or equipment gathering dust, it is the thousands of young lives that could have been transformed through those skills.
Nigeria does not lack talented people. What we keep lacking is maintenance, sustainability of vision, and accountability for what has already been developed.
What I have gradually come to realize is a painful truth: many of our Northern leaders do not appear interested in raising a generation that is educated, skilled and independent. Because an enlightened and self-reliant youth cannot easily be controlled. But a struggling one, kept in need and uncertainty, can be swayed with small handouts, a few bags of rice, a little cash when election season arrives. That is how dignity is traded for survival. It is a troubling cycle, and frankly, it should be a source of deep shame for those entrusted with leadership.
If admissions into this centre occur twice a year, with training lasting six months, its potential impact is remarkable. Now imagine 20 departments admitting 50 students each. By the end of the year, the centre would have graduated 2,000 students. And that is just a modest estimate; the actual number could be even greater.
From the information I gathered, the training is supposed to last six months, yet many students end up staying for as long as a year. That alone suggests a troubling lack of seriousness in the management of the programme. Those extra six months could have allowed another batch of young people to gain admission and begin their own training.
Then there is the issue of admissions. I was told that access to the programme sometimes comes through public office holders. In other words, even a skills centre meant to uplift the poor becomes another campaign tool. Perhaps that is why, even when the centre was active, admission was extremely difficult for those without the right political connections.
A functional skills acquisition centre like this has the power to transform lives, communities and the future of the North. By equipping young people with practical, marketable skills, it enables them to become self-employed, start small businesses and reduce dependence on government handouts. Beyond earning a livelihood for themselves, these graduates can create opportunities for others, employing apprentices and contributing to the local economy. Over time, such a centre could help tackle unemployment, strengthen communities and produce a generation of skilled individuals ready to give back to society and drive meaningful development.
Many graduates will go on to receive grants, while others will return to their communities to share what they have learned at the local level. Some may even become the next generation of teachers at the centre, passing knowledge to future trainees. With a conservative estimate of 2,000 graduates a year, roughly 1,800 of them could become productive contributors to the state and nation, a powerful return on an investment that, if properly managed, could reshape the North’s economic and social landscape.
How can we stand by and let this fall into ruin? Doesn’t it pain you, deep down, to see opportunities meant for our children and grandchildren wasted? What about the younger generation, whose future hangs in the balance? Something must be done. This centre cannot be allowed to die. It must be revived, properly managed, and allowed to fulfil its promise of empowering the North’s youth.
Voice just cleared its throat.
- Kabara is a writer and public commentator. Her syndicated column, Voice, appears in News Point Nigeria newspaper on Monday. She can be reached at hafceekay01@gmail.com.