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On a typical evening, the classroom may be a smart-phone screen rather than a mosque, madrasa or community hall. From their homes and offices, Nigerian Islamic teachers are logging on to teach Qur’an recitation, explain Islamic teachings and answer questions from students who may be hundreds of kilometres away. For many of these educators, the internet started simply as another way to share knowledge. But as their audiences grew, so did the opportunities.

At a time when migration is separating Nigerian families from the communities where they grew up, a new classroom is quietly emerging on the screens of smart-phones and computers.

There are no wooden benches, chalkboards or rows of children sitting before a scholar. Instead, there is a laptop or phone, a headset, an internet connection, and often, a child thousands of kilometres away waiting for a familiar Nigerian voice to begin a Qur’anic lesson.

From Lagos and other parts of Nigeria, Islamic teachers are increasingly crossing geographical boundaries without boarding an aircraft. Through various digital platforms, they teach Qur’anic recitation, memorisation, Arabic, Hadith and Islamic studies to children and adults in the United Kingdom, United States, Canada, the Netherlands, Germany, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and other countries.

For many Nigerian Muslim families abroad, the arrangement is more than convenient, as it is a way of preserving a religious identity and childhood experience that migration has made more difficult to reproduce.

For the teachers, it is also changing the meaning of the traditional madrasa (school).

Abdulmuhaymin Olalekan, founder of an Islamic education platform providing Qur’anic, Arabic and Islamic learning to students in Nigeria and abroad, noted that he never set out to become an Islamic teacher, much less as a scholar.

Olalekan said his initial motivation was simply to acquire knowledge. He learnt Arabic, memorised portions of the Qur’an and studied under reputable teachers and scholars. Teaching came later, almost by accident when the COVID-19 lockdown created an opportunity to reach Muslims who were confined to their homes.

During the lockdown in 2020, Sheikh Abdul Hafeez Abdul Ghaniyah Abutu approached him with a simple question: ‘People are at home, so how can Islamic learning continue?’

That conversation eventually resulted in the commencement of teaching in 2021. The classes were initially physical before the online component was introduced between 202 and 2023 to reach people who couldn’t attend in person.

What happened next was not necessarily planned.

‘Nigerians in the diaspora began finding us organically. They told others, and the circle expanded,’ Olalekan explained.

He noted that soon, non-Nigerians also began to enroll. Rather than deliberately taking his school abroad, Olalekan said, ‘The demand took us abroad.’

His first international student was a female Sudanese living in Saudi Arabia who was interested in Qur’anic recitation and continuing her memorisation.

For Olalekan, the encounter was both surprising and humbling as the school hadn’t advertised its services in Saudi Arabia, yet a student thousands of kilometres away had found her way to a Nigerian teacher.

The experience demonstrated what the internet had changed: a teacher no longer needed to be physically present in a community to become part of its learning life.

Today, his organisation has roughly 30 to 40 online students, with international learners predominantly in the United Kingdom, United States and Canada, as well as students in Germany and Saudi Arabia. The school teaches children from six to adults in their forties.

‘Why we are ‘looking back home’

For Nigerian Muslim parents living abroad, the search for Islamic education is often tied to the fear that migration could gradually weaken the religious and cultural foundations they grew up with.

For Popoola Ismail from UK, he says, ‘Alhamdulilah, we decided to engage Ustaz Ibrahim Olalere from Nigeria to teach our children because we we want them to appreciate the beauty of Islam from our cultural point of view. Secondly, we hope that our children will benefit from his wealth of experience in nurturing young children.

Nr Hassan Aliyu from Netherlands notes that they are conscious of the school of thought around their children. ‘We go with Islamic teachers that align with our school of thought which I want my children to follow.Most of the school of thoughts for teachers here is completely different. The cultural differences contribute to how we see Islam,’ he says.

Olalekanon, a teacher the other hand notes that some parents deliberately sought Nigerian teachers because they would want their children to experience the intensive Qur’anic learning they received in Nigeria while growing up.

He said that in some communities abroad, access to a mosque or Islamic teacher could require considerable travel.

He recalled a parent living in a remote part of Canada who said reaching a mosque could require a 15 to 30-minute drive, a sharp contrast from what is applicable back home in Nigeria, where a mosque or Qur’anic teacher is located within a walking distance within communities.

For diaspora families, therefore, the online madrasa removes geographical barriers that might otherwise make consistent Islamic education difficult.

The same experience is echoed by Ustaz Ibrahim Olalere, a director of another online-based madrasa. Like Abdulmuhaymin, his journey also began during the COVID-19 era. When schools were shut, his initial response was simple: Send voice notes of lessons to parents through WhatsApp so that learning could continue for their children.

Subsequently, when some parents travelled abroad, they wanted their children’s Islamic education to continue.

Olalere, who already operated a physical weekend madrasa, began contacting families whose children had left Nigeria. He noted that the response was encouraging.

For the parents, it provided continuity. For the teachers, it became another avenue to fulfill what they regarded as their responsibility to teach Muslim children and also earn through another source of income.

Olalere currently has 20 students in his online school and has expanded the teaching team to include male and female tutors.

His students include learners in the United Kingdom and the Netherlands, where he said access to Islamic education was limited.

Classroom without borders

Aremu Abdullah Olanrewaji represents another strand of this emerging model. He has spent at least a decade teaching in an Arabic school. He currently works as a front-end developer while also teaching Arabic and Islamic studies online and on weekends.

His interest in teaching was influenced by his uncle, a head teacher who also headed an Arabic school.

But his international online teaching started from an even simpler development: children he had previously taught in Nigeria moved to Canada and their parents contacted him to continue their lessons.

Before the Canadian students, he recalled teaching children in the United Arab Emirates. The transition from physical to online teaching was relatively easy in terms of technology. Children abroad were already familiar with digital learning platforms, particularly after the COVID-19 era.

The greater challenge was keeping their attention. Unlike a physical classroom where a teacher immediately notices what a child is doing, an online learner can be seated in front of the screen but not paying attention.

Aremu instinctively uses interactive methods. He uses Zoom, Google Meet and sometimes WhatsApp, including Zoom’s interactive board and writing tools to allow children read, write and participate during lessons.

For younger learners, the approach is deliberately visual and interactive.

He said teaching children online could sometimes be more demanding than teaching them physically because the teacher has to teach and monitor attention at the same time.

His current international students include children in Canada and the United States, although some teaching has been delegated to others as the number of students grows.

He notes that he personally handles lessons involving explanation, Islamic understanding and questions, particularly where children are inquisitive and want to understand how Islam relates to their environment.

When culture enters the virtual classroom

Distance, however, is not the only border these teachers must cross; the cultural border is also there.

Aremu said Nigerian children who were born abroad understood their teachers easily because of their Nigerian background; however, children born and raised in Western countries sometimes present a different challenge as their accents, expressions and expectations can differ, thereby leaving the teacher to adapt.

He noted that the experience taught him to become more attentive to children’s emotions and concerns. Some children abroad are more vocal about their feelings and more willing to question what they are being taught.

The result, he said, had also influenced how he teaches Nigerian children.

Olalere similarly stressed the need to preserve African values while teaching children abroad.

For many of the families, the teacher is not simply transmitting Islamic knowledge, he is helping parents preserve a connection between faith, culture and upbringing.

That cultural role becomes particularly important for teenagers.

Some parents ask teachers to help their children remain morally grounded while navigating environments that may have different social norms from those in Nigeria.

Aremu said parents sometimes asked him to counsel their children on how to remain upright without becoming hostile towards the people around them.

According to him, the balance is important: Children should retain their values while learning to live respectfully within their societies.

From Qur’an lessons to counselling

The relationship between teacher and student doesn’t always end when the lesson does. For some, especially teenagers, the online Ustaz becomes a trusted adult outside their immediate family.

Olalere said parents sometimes involved him when their children experienced behavioural or emotional difficulties, noting that teenagers also confide in him.

Some have told him things they were reluctant to tell their parents, asking him not to disclose what they had shared.

As a teacher and counsellor, he said he would try to understand the problem and work towards a solution while maintaining the necessary boundaries.

For Olalekan, students and parents also sometimes seek guidance on matters extending beyond the immediate curriculum, including behavioural problems, concentration difficulties, inheritance and marriage-related questions.

He stressed that teachers must recognise their limitations.

Where an issue requires deeper expertise, he consults relevant works or refers students to scholars and specialists.

‘Being a religious teacher shouldn’t mean pretending to have an answer to everything,’ he warned.

As online Islamic education expands, another question becomes increasingly important: How can parents know that their children are actually learning?

For Olalekan, attendance alone is not enough. He uses structured curricula for Qur’an and Arabic, with students given measurable learning objectives.

The platform also developed Qurraa, an application focused on Qur’an memorisation and revision. It allows learners to recite, receive corrections, and enables parents to monitor aspects of their children’s progress.

Olalekan said the objective was to move beyond simply asking whether a child attended class to asking what the child actually learnt.

Olalere also uses structured assessment. His online madrasa follows the Nigerian curriculum for Islamic Studies, while the Qur’an itself forms the basis of Qur’anic instruction. Hadith and Islamic stories are also incorporated.

At the end of each month, students undergo evaluation. Some tests are written, with students submitting photographs of their scripts for marking and correction.

Students of similar levels can also be grouped, even when they live in different cities or countries.

For Aremu, his model is more personal. He described his teaching not as a formal institute but as private, individual encounters with families and their children. He may organise tests or competitions, but his emphasis remains on the relationship between teacher, child and family.

The virtual classroom also brings questions that may never have emerged in the traditional Nigerian madrasa.

Olalere recalled a female student in the UK asking why a wife should need permission from her husband before going out and why household responsibilities such as cooking should fall on women.

The question surprised him because of the cultural context in which he had taught.

But instead of dismissing the question, he postponed the detailed discussion until the next class, using it as an opportunity to explain his understanding of Islamic teachings concerning women and family responsibilities.

The episode illustrates one of the realities of borderless Islamic education: Teachers are increasingly teaching students whose cultural reference points may be very different from their own.

Olalekan said teachers must also be prepared to acknowledge the limits of their knowledge.

Questions requiring detailed scholarly interpretation may need consultation with classical and contemporary sources or referral to specialists.

The price of crossing borders

Although the teachers are motivated by religious responsibility, online Islamic education is not free. There are internet bills, devices, software, electricity, teaching time and administrative cost.

Olalekan’s online school charges between N30,000 and N60,000 monthly per student, depending on class frequency and duration.

He argued that for online one-on-one education, tutors must be compensated and technological infrastructure maintained.

Olalere’s model charges students monthly rather than per hour, with reported fees range between N70,000 and N100,000 depending on the programme and hours involved.

He identified data, time and effort as some of the major costs.

The teacher may have to sacrifice another income-generating activity to maintain regular classes.

For Aremu, the arrangement has evolved. He said he initially taught because he loved teaching and was not motivated by money. As the value of his time increased, he began charging some students, at one point about N5,000 per hour.

But because his students are largely referrals from families he had taught previously, his arrangement remains flexible rather than operating under a fixed institutional fee structure.

Another interviewee whose transcript is labelled ‘Islamic by faysal’ offers a different perspective on the economics of online Islamic teaching. The transcript identifies him as Aisa Bonadry Nsukudu, a law and Sharia graduate who also works in a law firm. He says his online teaching journey dates back to 2014 and began primarily as an effort to impart knowledge.

His early model was built around WhatsApp groups, including a project called ‘One Word Every Day,’ where participants learnt Arabic words and other Islamic material.

Initially, he was reluctant to charge for teaching.

His concern was partly spiritual: he did not want money to become the motivation for his da’wah.

Over time, however, he came to distinguish between charging for knowledge and charging for the teacher’s time.

He eventually adopted a time-based approach, arguing that students were not paying for the value of the knowledge itself but the teacher’s time and effort.

For international students, he recalled fees in the range of $50 to $70 per month in one model, compared with lower fees for Nigerian students.

He currently has 10 international students in the United States, United Kingdom and Canada, alongside Nigerian students.

His experience suggests that online Islamic education is gradually moving from informal volunteer teaching towards a professional service.

But the transition is not without tension. For some teachers, monetising religious teaching raises questions about intention. For others, charging is simply necessary to ensure that the teacher’s time is respected and the service remains sustainable.

For Nigerian teachers serving students abroad, the clock itself can become an obstacle.

Aremu recalled periods when he had classes at midnight or at one or two in the morning because of the time difference between Nigeria and North America.

Although he has reduced the number of such classes, international teaching still requires flexibility.

For the teacher, a class that is convenient for a child in Canada or the United States may fall deep into the Nigerian night.

That means the seemingly simple act of teaching a child online can require the Nigerian teacher to rearrange work, family life and sleep.

Olalekan also said the sustainability of online Islamic education depended on recognising that one teacher cannot endlessly accumulate students.

There is a practical limit to how many learners a tutor can effectively teach, particularly where the model is intensive and one-on-one.

As schools grow, they need more tutors, supervisors, administrative systems and quality-control mechanisms.

Internet: The bridge and the barrier

The same technology that makes borderless teaching possible can also threaten it.

Poor internet connection and the cost of data remain major problems.

Olalere said there had been situations where poor internet from the Nigerian side forced classes to be postponed.

Students in Nigeria can also struggle to afford data or lack reliable internet access, particularly those living away from campuses or in locations with weak connectivity.

There was also a period when children abroad had to share their parents’ devices, making it difficult to attend classes when parents were at work.

Parents were encouraged to provide dedicated devices, although that introduced another problem: Children could use the gadgets for activities unrelated to learning.

Consequently, the teachers had to become educators and technologists at the same time.

Protecting children behind the screen

The movement of Islamic education online also raises questions about child protection.

Olalekan said Ebaad considered safeguarding part of its teaching structure.

Tutor assignments take gender considerations into account, particularly for older students, while parents remain involved in monitoring their children’s learning.

The school also seeks feedback from parents and students about tutors and classes.

In addition, Ebaad generally does not record its current one-on-one classes, reducing the amount of sensitive interaction stored digitally.

Olalere said recorded classes required parental permission and should not be shared outside the agreed circle involving the student, teacher and parents.

These measures are particularly important because the virtual madrasa removes some of the physical oversight that exists in traditional classrooms.

Parents, therefore, remain a crucial part of the learning and safeguarding structure.

Problem of credibility

The expansion of online Islamic teaching has also created a new dilemma: anyone with an internet connection can present himself or herself as an Islamic teacher.

Olalekan believes Nigeria needs stronger standards and accountability for online Islamic education.

He said Nigeria had knowledgeable Qur’an memorizers, Arabic speakers and scholars, but asked important questions: Who should be allowed to establish an online Islamic school? What qualifications should tutors possess? What safeguarding systems should exist? What curriculum and infrastructure should be required?

He acknowledges that regulation would be complicated because Muslims in Nigeria belong to different schools of thought and traditions.

He said any system must avoid becoming a tool for sectarian exclusion. Nevertheless, some form of credible standards and accountability could strengthen public confidence in online Islamic education.

Olalere similarly supports accreditation, arguing that many online teachers operate without a clear curriculum or lesson plan.

He said an accreditation system could provide teachers with standard curricula, teaching methods and lesson plans, while reassuring parents that their children have learning materials appropriate to their age and level.

Between TikTok, Islam and structured learning

There is another challenge that comes with teaching religion online: misinformation. The internet has democratised access to Islamic lectures, sermons and religious opinions, but it has also made it easier for inaccurate interpretations to spread.

Olalekan said Islamic education was not immune to the misinformation problem affecting other fields. His advice is for learners to build their knowledge on sound foundations, particularly the Qur’an and Sunnah, and to understand that differences in interpretation exist within Islamic scholarship.

According to him, one danger is the ‘single-story’ problem encountering one interpretation online and assuming it represents the only scholarly position.

For him, proper foundations enable students to navigate differences more intelligently.

This distinction also matters because online Islamic education should not automatically be equated with Islamic scholarship.

Olalekan is careful about terminology. Most online learners are studying Qur’an recitation, memorisation, Arabic and the fundamentals of Islam, but he said deep scholarship required more rigorous and sustained study.

Technology has increased access, but access alone does not necessarily equal scholarship.

When the screen goes blank

Perhaps the clearest test of the value of these virtual classrooms is to imagine the internet disappearing. Olalekan said students abroad would lose access to structured learning, mentorship, and in some cases, the particular quality or style of Islamic education they had deliberately sought from Nigeria. Yet he sees the possibility of a positive lesson.

If dozens of Muslims in the same community are individually connecting to Nigerian teachers online, those same families could potentially come together and bring a qualified teacher physically into their community.

Technology, he argued, should complement, not erase the traditional system of learning directly from knowledgeable teachers.

That traditional principle of receiving knowledge directly from teachers is known as talaqqi.

Beyond the screen

The stories of these teachers reveal a larger transformation taking place quietly within Nigerian Muslim communities.

Migration once meant leaving familiar mosques behind, Qur’anic teachers and traditional learning environments. Today, migration can mean carrying those relationships across borders.

A child in Canada can sit before a Nigerian teacher in Lagos. A student in the United Kingdom can ask questions about Islam from a teacher thousands of kilometres away. A family in the Netherlands can ensure that a child continues learning Qur’an and Tajweed.

From cutting household budgets and tapping cooperative savings to taking extra jobs and moving children to cheaper schools, families across the country are struggling to meet rising education costs

For many Nigerian parents, the return to school after the long vacation is no longer simply a period of excitement as children prepare to reunite with classmates and resume learning.

It has become a season of anxiety, calculations and difficult financial decisions.

Across the country, parents are grappling with rising school fees and the increasing cost of textbooks, uniforms, shoes, bags, lunch boxes and other requirements for resumption.

Some parents are already transferring their children to public schools as private education becomes increasingly unaffordable.

In Benue, some families are considering moving their children to schools closer to home to cut transportation costs, while in Kano, parents are reducing household spending and contemplating transfers to cheaper schools.

In Lagos, parents are contending not only with higher school fees but also sharp increases in the prices of everyday school items.

But beneath the different coping strategies is a common concern: how to give children the education their parents believe they deserve without being pushed further into financial hardship.

‘It’s not easy, but they have to go to school’

In Abuja, Bassey Madefree, a father of four, said the rising cost of education had placed additional pressure on his family.

His youngest child is about to begin school, while his other children are also preparing to resume.

Madefree said the school had increased its fees, forcing him to spread payments over several months.

‘I have four kids. The last one is just about to start school. The current school has increased the fees, but before I even got the new fees, I had paid some money and I will pay the rest in instalments over the next two months,’ he said.

Despite the financial pressure, he said his children were excited about returning to school.

‘Now, I’m preparing to buy their school needs. It’s not easy, but they have to go to school. That’s the sacrifice we have to make for them to get educated,’ he said.

For Abraham Ada, another parent in Abuja, the cost of starting a new session has become so burdensome that it feels like enrolling his children in school all over again.

‘I can say that this new term is like re-enrolling your kids in school. The fees are double. The other things the kids need must be provided. I also have to buy new books for them,’ he said.

Yet, Ada said parents could not afford to abandon their children’s education.

‘It’s not easy, but we have to educate our children just like our parents did for us. It’s the only legacy we can give them,’ he said.

Single-income families under pressure

Samuel Mary, a single mother of two, said the beginning of the academic year was always a difficult period because of the expenses that came with resumption.

‘First term is usually not easy for us, especially single mothers, because school fees are on the high side, including books and other items needed for resumption,’ she said.

Mary is facing additional expenses this year because both children are changing schools.

‘For me, it’s really hard because my children are changing schools. The boy is going to SS1, while the girl is going to JS1,’ she said.

For Mrs Adetunji, a teacher and mother, preparations for the new school year began months ago.

She said she had also been forced to consider another source of income to supplement her salary.

‘I have to source for another small business to do for income. I started buying my kids’ back-to-school items since April because my firstborn is going to secondary school while the baby is going to Primary 2,’ she said.

Olakunle Ojo, another parent, said he had saved towards his children’s school fees but had to fall back on cooperative savings after the school increased its charges.

‘I had been saving for school fees before I got the increase from the school. At that point, I had to fall back on my cooperative savings to complete the payments,’ he said.

Ojo, however, said he understood the position of school proprietors.

‘I understand the increase from the school because they have to meet up with their own challenges in school,’ he said.

Bayelsa: Parents move children to public schools

In Bayelsa State, the rising cost of private education has already forced some families to make a difficult choice between affordability and preference.

Some parents in Yenagoa have withdrawn their children from private nursery schools and enrolled them in public primary schools, while some pupils who attended private secondary schools last term have also moved to government schools.

A parent in the Biogbolo area of Yenagoa, Francis Ewo, said repeated increases in fees eventually made the private school his children attended unaffordable.

According to him, the school had increased its fees by about 10 percent every term until the latest increase became difficult for him to sustain.

He subsequently withdrew his children and enrolled them in public schools.

‘I will not kill myself with fees I can’t afford comfortably in the private school for my children,’ Ewo said.

He said his decision was also informed by his belief that children could still receive quality education in public schools.

‘During our days, we attended government school. There were not many nursery or private schools, and we still became what God wanted us to become,’ he said.

‘I desire the best of education for my children, and I believe they can get that in the public schools. After all, public schools even have more qualified teachers. My salary as a civil servant cannot afford the kind of fees they are demanding in private schools,’ he added.

But not every parent is comfortable with the idea of moving children to public schools.

Mrs Tamara Thankgod said she was struggling to cope with private school fees but remained reluctant to withdraw her children because of concerns about overcrowding in public schools.

‘I believe children deserve the best education and a good learning environment. My problem is that public schools are crowded. The population is too much, and that is why I’m not always comfortable with my children in public schools,’ she said.

She appealed to private school owners to reconsider frequent fee increases and additional charges.

‘The situation of increasing fees every term should stop. All other sundry fees should stop. If not, people may not send their children to private schools again,’ she said.

Schools blame rising cost of operation

Private school operators, however, insist that they are also victims of the economic pressures confronting households.

A proprietor of a private nursery school in Yenagoa, who declined to be named, said increases in school fees had become necessary because the cost of running schools had risen sharply.

‘This increment is not for us; it’s for the good of the children. They need a conducive environment to learn. They need constant power while in school to run fans for ventilation,’ he said.

He said the school had to depend on generators because of inadequate electricity supply in the area.

‘How much is the price of fuel now? To run the generator,’ he asked.

According to him, the cost of teachers’ salaries, teaching materials and other operational expenses had also increased.

‘We pay teachers and other staff every month. We buy teaching materials, which are all costly now. You can’t compare their prices to what we used to buy a few years ago,’ he said.

‘These are the things that cause an increase in fees. It is not done to discourage parents; it is the economic situation in Nigeria that caused it.’

In an attempt to ease the burden on parents, the school has stopped making textbook purchases through the school compulsory.

‘We even stopped selling textbooks in the school to help parents cope with the situation. Parents can now buy textbooks outside the school for their children. It’s not compulsory here anymore,’ he said.

The school, he added, provides textbooks in its library for pupils whose parents cannot afford to buy them.

Kano families cut household spending

In Kano, the pressure is taking a different form as families prepare for schools to resume.

Several private schools have increased fees, citing inflation and rising operational costs.

Malam Ibrahim Bawa, a civil servant with four children in school, said his family had been forced to reduce household expenditure to meet the new school charges.

‘We have reduced our food budget and postponed some family needs just to ensure the children return to school,’ he said.

Bawa said he was also considering transferring one of his children from a private school to a public school to reduce the financial burden.

For Aminu Rabiu, a petty trader, even paying the increased fees has become a major challenge.

‘I sell vegetables in the market, and business has been slow. The school fees have gone up, and I don’t know how to pay. I may have to borrow from friends or relatives,’ he said.

Although the cost has become difficult to bear, Rabiu said he was reluctant to transfer his children to public schools because of concerns about the quality of education.

Another parent, Musa Maijama’a, a commercial driver, said he was determined to keep his children in their current school despite the increase.

‘Education is the only inheritance I can give them. I will work extra hours to raise the money,’ he said.

The experiences of the parents reflect the difficult choices families are being forced to make as education costs rise faster than many household incomes.

Benue parents count transport costs

In Benue State, particularly Makurdi, transportation costs have become another major factor influencing parents’ school choices.

Some parents are considering withdrawing their children from schools far from their homes and enrolling them in nearby institutions to reduce transport expenses.

Parents told our correspondent that increased transport fares, school bus charges and school fees had combined to make resumption increasingly expensive.

Some pupils and students are already trekking to school, while some parents are looking for schools within walking distance of their homes.

George Elijah said the new school term had heightened his financial anxiety.

‘The economic situation is biting higher. We have been notified of an increase in the school fees. I’m worried,’ he said.

Monica Ediga, who has three children in secondary schools, said she was considering transferring them because of the rising cost of transportation and school fees.

‘Some schools have stopped the bus service while others have hiked their transportation. But most parents like me are now mulling the idea of withdrawing our children to schools closer to home.

‘My children will be able to trek to their new school close to the house. I’m really considering the hike in transportation and school fees,’ she said.

For Attah Ede, the latest increase has significantly altered his family’s education budget.

He said the fees for his four children had risen from N225,600 previously to N387,400 this term.

Ede said the increase had become too expensive for his family, adding that some schools were giving parents limited time to settle their bills or risk having their children denied access to classes.

He described the situation as ‘hopeless and helpless’ and called for government intervention to cushion the impact of rising education and transportation costs on families.

Niger: Rising school costs squeeze parents

In Niger State, rising operational costs have pushed some private schools to increase tuition and other charges, while parents are also struggling with higher textbook and feeding expenses.

A parent whose children attend El-Bethel Academy, Minna, said fees for nursery pupils had increased from N18,500 to N21,500, while textbook prices had also risen.

A private school proprietor said schools were facing increased costs from licensing, ground rent, fuel, printing materials and other expenses.

‘Every year you must renew your licence fees. This year it cost N900,000. This does not include ground rent, which charge is based on the type of school you operate. For instance, if you operate only nursery and primary schools, the charge differs from those who have secondary schools.

‘Cost of fuel is another challenge. It cost more now to even conduct examinations because of rising cost of printing materials. So, any school that does not increase school fees is making a big sacrifice,’ he said.

However, not all schools in the state have increased tuition fees.

Mohammed Hassan Sonmaji, a parent, said his children’s school had retained its fees but that the rising prices of textbooks and food had still left families struggling to cope.

‘Prices of things have continued to increase while salary remains the same,’ he said, explaining that he was struggling to adjust his household spending to his income.

The situation, he said, had made it increasingly difficult for parents to meet education expenses alongside other essential household needs.

Kaduna parents turn to public schools

In Kaduna, rising school fees, textbook costs and other expenses are also forcing families to reconsider their choice of schools.

A resident of Kaduna metropolis, Babangida Muhammad Agaie, said the back-to-school period had become increasingly difficult because parents had to contend with school fees, uniforms, books and other expenses at a time of rising living costs.

He said some schools had increased their fees for the new term, further worsening the financial pressure on parents.

According to him, while some parents had managed to keep their children in their current schools, others had been forced to move them to public schools because they could no longer afford private school fees.

‘As for me, my children are still where they are, but there are other parents who are removing their children and enrolling them in public schools.

‘This is because of the economic situation. Even though you cannot blame school management for increasing their fees because they also employ teachers whom they have to pay salaries.

‘But parents are the ones at the receiving end. This is why we are not finding things easy when it comes to educating our children. This is just the truth, but we have no option but to try to educate the children,’ he said.

For Bello Idris, a provision shop owner along Character Road, Tudun Wada, the immediate challenge is meeting the combined cost of school fees and books.

‘The situation is really worrying us, honestly, because at the moment I am facing serious challenges regarding school fees and the cost of books.

‘Even the owner of the school my children attend has agreed to allow me to pay the school fees and the cost of books in instalments, but I have not been able to pay anything yet.

‘We have not even started talking about the other items needed for their return to school. But despite these challenges, we have to make efforts to educate the children because education is the only legacy one can give to them,’ he said.

Idris said he would prefer public schools if they could provide education comparable to private institutions.

‘If the public schools are up to standard, I see no reason why I should send my children to private schools under this economic hardship. But since we don’t have a choice, we just have to enrol them in private schools.

‘If not, I would be happy to enrol them in public schools,’ he said.

Meanwhile, a civil servant, Usman Abubakar, said school expenses had become a major concern among workers, many of whom had already exhausted their August salaries.

‘Most of my colleagues’ central discussion is this issue because most of us have already spent our salaries, which means we don’t have money to pay school fees, buy uniforms or books for our children.

‘So, for me, I have decided to pay for the books, pending my next salary, when I will settle the school fees.

‘Already, some of my colleagues have no choice but to borrow from financial institutions because they don’t have money to settle their children’s fees.

‘We are not finding it easy as civil servants in Kaduna because we have already collected our salaries,’ he said.

Lagos parents battle cost of essentials

In Lagos, parents are facing increases in school fees alongside sharp rises in the prices of basic items required for their children’s return to school.

Gabriel Chibuzor, a parent, said his child’s school fees had increased by about seven per cent compared with the previous session, attributing the adjustment to the prevailing economic situation.

‘The amount we paid last season is quite different to this season because of the economy. The increments of the school fees is just like, let me say 7% of the last season but we are trying to work towards it because we understand how it is because all the teachers are also parents too and they need to take something home and they did a parents meeting and we just tried to conclude with them so we accepted to pay.

‘We just pray to God to bless us so we parents can move forward to give our children better education,’ he said.

However, Chibuzor said the rising prices of school bags, lunch boxes and food flasks had created additional pressure.

He said he had been unable to purchase a lunch box and food flask after discovering that their prices were beyond his budget.

‘I went to the market to buy a bag for my child because the last time I bought it it was different but this time, it increased but I didn’t have options, so I had to buy it. But the only major thing that is bothering my mind and baffling me is that the lunch box and food flask are very costly because when I went to the market and the price I thought I will meet it, I didn’t meet it, but I can’t afford it so I had to go back home to work on my assignment because it’s very costly,’ he said.

He said he had managed to purchase the necessary stationery but planned to buy the remaining items later.

‘The stationery, I have gotten everything. The only challenge is the food flask and lunch box but I’ve told the person that I will need to work towards it so maybe next week, I’ll get it,’ he said.

Another parent, Saheed Bakari, said his children’s school fees had risen by between 10 and 15 per cent, while the cost of school materials had also increased.

‘The school fees have increased in the school. Let me say from 10 to 15 percent. I haven’t gone to the market to get them but I already checked the prices online and it has increased. Like the school sandals, before it was N10,000 but now it’s N15,000 and the cost of the exercise books and test books have increased,’ he said.

Segun Olajide said his children’s school fees had increased by about 20 per cent, although he said he was prepared for the new session.

‘I am perfectly prepared for it. The school fees have increased like 20 percent,’ he said.

Olajide added that his children’s school provided books and other learning materials as part of the fees paid.

‘Once we pay their school fees, the book and other items are among them,’ he said.

For Mrs Akpan, the increase was even more significant, with her children’s school fees rising by 100 per cent.

‘I am preparing because the school already gave us a new bill when they closed last term and an increase had been effected. It is 100 percent. For the stationeries I usually buy them in bulk so they still have them,’ she said.

The price of keeping children in school

Across the seven states covered by our correspondents, the details vary, but the pressure on families is remarkably similar.

Parents are cutting food budgets, drawing on cooperative savings, starting side businesses, working longer hours, borrowing money and moving children to cheaper or closer schools.

Some are paying school fees in instalments. Others are prioritising books and uniforms while postponing the purchase of items they cannot immediately afford.

For families with more than one child, the burden is even heavier, particularly when children are entering new classes or changing schools and require new books, uniforms and other materials.

The choices being made by parents reveal how rising education costs are reshaping household finances.

For some, private education is becoming a luxury they can no longer comfortably afford. For others, public schools remain an uncomfortable alternative because of concerns about overcrowding, infrastructure and learning conditions.

The increasing cost of transportation is also becoming a major consideration, particularly for families whose children attend schools far from home.

Meanwhile, private school proprietors argue that they are themselves under pressure from rising salaries, fuel, electricity, teaching materials, rent, licensing and other operating expenses.

That leaves parents and school operators caught in the same economic squeeze, with each side struggling to absorb costs that have continued to rise.

Yet, despite the pressure, few parents are willing to give up on their children’s education.

They continue to make sacrifices because they see schooling not merely as another household expense, but as an investment in their children’s future.

‘It’s been 12 years, and I’m still hopeful my children will return home.’ These were the words of Sa’adiya Abubakar, whose three children were taken by insurgents when they attacked their village in 2014. Just like her, many parents in her situation hold on to hope that one day their children would return home. For years, these parents have lived with a question no parent should ever have to ask: where is my child?

The insurgency took their children away, but didn’t take away the memories and trauma they experience daily from not knowing where their children are, or if they are alive. Year after year, they waited, searched, and held on to hope, marking anniversaries and keeping belongings that carry the presence of those who many say may never come back home after they were captured.

In a chat with Weekend Trust, parents and relatives tell their stories of unending pain: of the day their children and loved ones disappeared, the trauma years after, and the hope that, one day, they would reunite with them again.

For many residents in Nigeria’s North-East, the heavy boom of artillery may have faded, and the frontline shifted, but a silent, psychological war rages on inside their homes.

Last Sunday, families across Borno, Adamawa and Yobe states gathered to commemorate the International Day of the Disappeared.

While the global event brought renewed attention to the missing, for the thousands gathered, it was another day of confronting a decade-old nightmare: the agonising uncertainty of loved ones who vanished during the peak of the Boko Haram insurgency.

According to recent data from the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), more than 17,000 people are currently registered as missing in Nigeria.

Over 90 per cent of these disappearances are tied to the armed conflict in the North-East, alongside banditry and mass kidnappings in the North-West and North-Central.

Of this figure, Borno State alone accounts for approximately 9,000 cases, followed by Adamawa with 3,000, and Yobe with 2,500.

Behind these staggering statistics are deeply personal stories of parents, siblings, and children trapped in limbo, neither able to grieve a confirmed death nor embrace a joyful return.

In Adamawa State, families who spoke to Weekend Trust recounted harrowing transition from peaceful village lives to the harsh realities of displacement.

For Mrs Alheri Papka Abuju, the nightmare began in August 2014 when Boko Haram insurgents attacked Kuda village in the Gulak district of Madagali Local Government Area. In the dark chaos of the raid, her 35-year-old brother, Mathew Papka, disappeared. And for over 10 years, he hasn’t been seen or heard from.

‘The fateful day that these bad elements stormed our village, it all started like a film show because they were wielding different dangerous weapons, forcing us to run in confusion,’ Abuju recalled.

She appealed to the authorities to help search for her brother.

Sa’adiya Abubakar, a resident in a suburb of Girei Local Government Area, expressed shock over the tragic fate that befell her community and took away four of her loved ones.

Recalling the fateful day in 2014 when Boko Haram insurgents struck their hometown, she said the attack began with sporadic shooting in nearby villages before theirs was overrun within minutes.

She recounted how he lost four of her loved ones – her 30-year-old sister and her three children, Musa (12), Dauda (10) and Nana (8) at Sabongari Hymbula, lamenting that for 12 years now, they have remained missing.

‘If you add 14 years to their ages, they have become adults elsewhere,’ she noted.

Beyond the vacuum left by their absence, Abubakar lamented the societal stigma attached to their displacement, saying people in their host community look down on them.

For over a decade after the darkest days of insurgency, haunting accounts from Abdulrahaman Bukar Gwoza and Saleh Barkido Madagali shed more light on the brutal tactics used by Boko Haram during their territorial expansion in August 2014.

Their harrowing stories bear striking similarities. Both men recounted how the terrorist group utilised a calculated combination of psychological deception, religious rhetoric and brute force to recruit and take young men away from their communities.

The fall of Gwoza

For Abdulrahaman Bukar Gwoza, the nightmare began on August 8, 2014 when insurgents approached residents in their farmlands before moving into the town under the guise of preaching.

They targeted male youths, urging them not to flee their homes but to cooperate and join them as foot soldiers for a radical religious ideology. However, when local elders advised the youth to sneak away, the true and violent nature of the insurgents was swiftly revealed.

Realising that their recruitment drive was failing, the terrorists began hunting down those who discouraged the youth from joining them.

Among the victims was Gwoza’s elder brother, who he recalled was ‘slaughtered like a chicken’ in front of his grieving family.

To escape the carnage, Gwoza and his surviving family members embarked on a perilous journey through Liman-Kara, Madagali and Uba Askira before finally finding refuge in Yola.

The escape, however, came at a devastating cost. Gwoza said his aunt lost five children during the chaos. Also, her 17-year-old daughter, Zainab Mohammed and two of her friends have remained in the custody of the insurgents after refusing forced marriages to their captors in the bush.

However, a glimmer of hope recently emerged through a relative named Fatima, who managed to escape when military troops raided an insurgents’ stronghold in the Sambisa forest.

Fatima reported that the remaining captives were still alive, albeit held under heavy surveillance.

A similar tragedy befell the community of Wagachawa ward in Madagali, where Saleh Barkido Madagali witnessed the terrorists arrive on August 28, 2014.

According to Barkido Madagali, the insurgents initially adopted a friendly demeanor, claiming they were not enemies of the local populace but adversaries of the federal forces.

They utilised monetary inducements and persuasive preaching to lure Muslims in the community into adopting their ideology.

However, that didn’t last. On a fateful Saturday, the insurgents rounded up neighbouring villages, including Mildu, Shuwa, Kamale and Madagali towns, giving residents a grim ultimatum: forced indoctrination or death.

Madagali’s family was deeply fractured by that invasion. Four of his relatives-Abubakar Buba (30), Suleiman Barkido (46), Mamudu Barkido (32), and Asiya Aminu (20), remain unaccounted for, believed to be languishing in militant captivity.

‘We learnt that they are still alive,’ Barkido said, holding onto hope for their eventual release.

Joshua Audu, the Adamawa State secretary of the Families of the Disappeared also recalled the harrowing events of September 5, 2014 when insurgents violently uprooted him from his thriving poultry farm in Mildu village.

Recalling how the sudden and violent onslaught shattered his livelihood and tore his family apart, Audu said, ‘Amid the chaos and tension, my wife’s younger brother and his assistant, Peter Ali, were captured by the attackers.’

Taken away during the raid, he has remained missing ever since, leaving the family in a painful state of uncertainty.

Across the state, numerous families share the same haunting grief, caught between hope and despair as they search for relatives who disappeared during the height of the insurgency.

Those interviewed by our reporter described a harrowing cycle of dashed hope. In several cases, families were told that their missing loved ones had been spotted in distant locations, including neighbouring towns and across the border in the Republic of Cameroon.

Driven by desperation, many relatives undertook perilous journeys to verify these rumours, only to find no trace of truth to the claims. These dead-ends have compounded the psychological toll on families, who are left with neither closure nor confirmation of their loved ones’ fates.

Compounding tragedies in Borno

In Borno State, the quest for missing relatives has often been compounded by secondary tragedies, stripping families of even their physical memories.

For Kashim Mohammed, the chairman of Families of Missing Persons in Borno State, the pain of losing his 30-year-old half-sister, Falmata, is as raw as it was 14 years ago.

Falmata went missing while migrating towards Port-Harcourt to escape the relentless violence in Maiduguri. Just as the family found a glimmer of hope through an informant who claimed to have seen her across the border, the informant died, cutting off their only lead.

To compound Mohammed’s grief, the devastating September 11, 2024 flood that struck Maiduguri washed away a metal box containing Falmata’s childhood pictures. Left with no photographs, Mohammed relies entirely on memory.

‘I recall that when I was in school, she sold her television set, gave me the whole money and encouraged me to continue with my education. She was the firstborn of my stepmother. I will never forget this,’ Mohammed said, his voice heavy with emotion.

For others, the psychological toll manifested physically. Ba Modu Ali lost his 13-year-old daughter, Adama, when she was snatched by insurgents on motorcycles over a decade ago. The heartbreak was intense. Ali said he literally cried until he lost his sight.

‘Now, I can barely even see my own hand, but the pain is still very fresh in my heart,’ he said.

Hajiya Yakura Abatcha lost three children: Habu, Abba, and Aisha during the violent sack of Baga town 12 years ago as families fled by boat towards Chad.

She narrated how trauma pushed her to the brink of a mental health crisis.

‘A few weeks later, I lost my senses and barely remembered or recognised anything,’ Yakura recalled.

Today, Yakura’s routine is simple, yet heartbreaking: ‘I only supplicate to God to reunite me with my children or forgive them if they are dead.’

Yobe families bear heavy burden of uncertainty

In Yobe State, the passage of time has done little to ease the pains of the families of missing persons.

For some, the search for husbands, wives, brothers and sisters has spanned more than a decade, leaving shattered households, and orphaned children.

For these families, the hardest part isn’t just the absence but the absolute uncertainty of not knowing if their loved ones are dead or alive, where they are, or if they would ever walk through the door again.

Malama Fatima Mustapha’s life was disrupted 13 years ago when her brother, Bukar Mustapha, disappeared following a Boko Haram attack on the weekly market in Buni Gari, Gujba Local Government Area.

Since then, she has not seen or heard from him. And his disappearance triggered a cascade of tragedies for the family.

Shortly after the incident, both their father and stepmother passed away. In 2016, Fatima suffered another devastating blow when her husband, a member of the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF), was killed in a firefight between security forces and insurgents.

Now, Fatima shoulders the responsibility of providing for both her own children and her missing brother’s children, while grappling with the complete loss of the family’s livelihood.

‘If he was here he would have replaced them, but since he is not around, I have to step into his position. If he is anywhere close, please let him come back home,’ Fatima said, holding back tears.

The story is similar in Damaturu, where Musa Garba Bularafa still searches for his eldest sister. She vanished in January 2021 after insurgents attacked their family home in Bularafa, Gulani Local Government Area, leaving two young children behind.

The news proved fatal for their father, whose blood pressure spiked dangerously upon hearing of his daughter’s disappearance, leading to his death.

‘Her disappearance affected everybody in our house and changed the course of our family’s life,’ Musa said, noting that he has taken in her children as he continues his desperate search.

For Bana Modu, a 47-year-old woman from Damaturu, hope has kept her single for over a decade despite multiple proposals. Her husband vanished more than 10 years ago, leaving her to raise four children alone, amidst crushing food inflation and poverty.

Compounding her trauma, two of her children were killed during the insurgency, and she could not even see their bodies.

‘I was 35 years old then, but now, I am 47. Although I am still young, I refused to remarry because I am optimistic that he will come back,’ Bana said, weeping.

A collective call for support, answers

The Yobe State chairman of Families of the Missing, Ali Idris, said those who vanished were far more than mere statistics. He said, ‘Every missing person is a father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, husband, wife, friend or loved one.’

According to Idris, for many of them, not knowing what happened to their loved ones is a burden they carry every day.

Beyond the emotional torment, Idris highlighted the severe legal, administrative, and economic challenges left in the wake of disappearances, such as difficulties accessing documentation and basic livelihoods.

He called for a coordinated, multi-sectoral approach involving the government, security agencies and humanitarian organisations to not only clarify the fate of the missing and support the left-behind families, but also to prioritise prevention.

Despite the profound sorrow, Idris offered a final word of encouragement to those walking the same painful path: ‘Do not lose hope. We understand the pain that comes with uncertainty – the sleepless nights, the questions, the memories and moments when hope becomes difficult to sustain.’

As the sun sets over the North-East, thousands of families continue to dial disconnected phone numbers, hold onto fading photographs, and wait for answers that may never come-trapped in a war without an end date.

Amid their ongoing pain, families of the disappeared expressed profound gratitude to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). They praised the humanitarian organisation for providing continuous counsel and multifaceted assistance, which they described as a vital source of inspiration and hope.

Reflecting on the unresolved plight of their families and numerous other citizens, the survivors called for the establishment of a dedicated government parastatal or a full-fledged ministry specifically mandated to handle issues concerning missing persons across the country, ensuring that victims of the insurgency are neither forgotten nor left to search alone.

How a mother lost 6 kids after 74-kilometer trek

The Special Adviser to the President on Health, Dr Salma Ibrahim Anas, who spoke on the crisis facing displaced families during the National Dialogue on Psychological Impact of Conflicts on Children, recounted the agonising journey of a mother who fled the violence in Bama, Borno State with her seven children, embarking on a grueling 74-kilometer trek to safety.

‘By the time she finally reached the relative safety of the Dalori Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp, she had only one child left-with no knowledge of whether the other six were still alive or dead,’ Dr Anas said.

This heart-wrenching narrative, the presidential aide noted, is a symbol of a much broader, systemic crisis. Beyond the thousands of individuals officially listed as missing or unaccounted for, countless children remain alive but entirely severed from their families and support systems, wandering the landscape of displacement alone.

Dr Anas drew urgent attention to the plight of a generation born in Borno State since 2011. Having known nothing but conflict, displacement and instability, these children have endured compounding and profound trauma that she warns requires immediate, systematic intervention.

Without targeted psychological and social healing, the crisis threatens to echo far beyond the immediate humanitarian emergency.

‘I mean the psychosocial impact and what this child would carry to the next generation, in terms of behaviour, action, even nurturing, as well as their contribution to societal development,’ Dr Anas warned, underscoring the risk of trauma cascading into future generations of Nigerians.

Health and humanitarian experts who were engaged in the dialogue called for redoubled efforts to trace unaccompanied minors, reunite fractured families and deploy massive, long-term mental health resources to the region to break the cycle of generational suffering, highlighted by the Bama mother’s tragic journey

Aligning discussions with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s ‘Renewed Hope Agenda,’ Dr Anas stressed that no country could progress without prioritising the health, protection and development of women and children.

According to her, Nigeria currently bears the highest number of out-of-school children globally, calling for evidence-based policies rather than speculation to dismantle the barriers affecting young lives.

Echoing these concerns, a former Minister of State for Education, Yusuf Tanko Sununu, shared the example of the psychological damage inflicted on the younger generation.

He referenced a widely circulated video of a child orphaned by Boko Haram who vowed to take up weapons to seek revenge after watching his father killed and his mother slaughtered in his presence.

Sununu stressed that such traumatised children desperately need urgent psychosocial support.

He warned that children who lack care ultimately lack compassion, creating a dangerous cycle of future instability.

Nigeria’s quest for continental football glory will begin this weekend with an unusual challenge facing the country’s four representatives: they will be chasing African success playing home matches away from their traditional homes.

Enugu Rangers, Rivers United, Shooting Stars, and El-Kanemi Warriors earned Nigeria’s places in the 2026/27 CAF inter-club competitions, but none will enjoy the full advantage of playing their continental matches in their regular league stadiums.

Instead, the clubs have been forced to adopt alternative venues after the Confederation of African Football’s accreditation requirements exposed a familiar weakness in Nigerian football, which is the shortage of stadiums capable of hosting international club competitions.

For the four clubs, the challenge is therefore bigger than overcoming opponents from the Republic of Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Tunisia. They must also adapt to unfamiliar surroundings, different travel arrangements, and reduced home support as they attempt to carry Nigeria’s flag across Africa.

Enugu Rangers, the Nigeria Premier Football League defending champions, lead Nigeria’s Champions League campaign. The ‘Flying Antelopes’ will face Benin Republic champions AS Sobemap in the first preliminary round, with the first leg scheduled for Sunday, September 6.

But instead of the historic Nnamdi Azikiwe Stadium, popularly known as ‘The Cathedral’, Rangers will stage their home fixture at the MKO Abiola Sports Complex in Abeokuta, Ogun State.

The Enugu stadium is undergoing renovation as part of efforts to bring it up to CAF standards, leaving Rangers without their traditional fortress for their return to Africa’s premier club competition.

The situation illustrates the peculiar circumstances surrounding Nigeria’s continental campaign. Rangers qualified to represent the country as champions, but they will begin their continental journey without the geographical and emotional advantage associated with their home ground.

Chairman Amobi Ezeaku, however, believes the club can overcome the disruption.

‘We will come out and push until the end in our clash against AS Sobemap of Porto-Novo on Sunday,’ Ezeaku said.

He pointed to Rangers’ opening-day NPFL draw against Katsina United, where the Enugu side scored a late equalizer, as evidence of the mentality he expects from the team.

‘The evidence of our strong mentality was in our league opener against Katsina United, where we got the goal in the last minutes,’ he added.

Coach Fidelis Ilechukwu also dismissed concerns over the league setback, insisting his players remain capable of responding strongly.

He said, ‘I won’t blame my players for the draw because they are the best and we will give them the confidence to try again.’

For Rangers, the objective is clear: secure a first-leg advantage before travelling to Porto-Novo for the return fixture. The winner will advance to the second preliminary round, where they will meet the winner of the ASN Nigelec versus MC Alger tie.

Rangers are not alone in the Champions League in having to abandon home comforts.

NPFL runners-up Rivers United will face FC San Pedro of Côte d’Ivoire, but their Adokiye Amiesimaka Stadium in Port Harcourt was ruled unfit for CAF competition.

The Port Harcourt club will consequently host its continental matches at the Godswill Akpabio International Stadium in Uyo, Akwa Ibom State.

The ‘Nest of Champions’ provides the required infrastructure, but the move means Rivers United will have to create a home advantage in a city outside their traditional base.

That could prove significant in a competition where home performances often determine whether clubs survive two-legged preliminary-round ties.

While Rangers and Rivers United seek Champions League progress, Shooting Stars will carry Nigeria’s hopes in the CAF Confederation Cup.

The Ibadan-based club secured continental football after an impressive domestic campaign but will also be deprived of its traditional home.

The N5.5bn remodelled Lekan Salami Stadium in Adamasingba, Ibadan, synonymous with the history and identity of the ‘Oluyole Warriors,’ was not included among the Nigerian venues approved by CAF for continental competition.

Consequently, Shooting Stars will play their home matches at the MKO Abiola Stadium in Abeokuta.

Their first assignment is particularly demanding as ‘The Oluyole Warriors’ have been drawn against Tunisian powerhouse CS Sfaxien, with the first leg scheduled for September 5 before the return fixture in Tunisia on September 13.

The club’s management has stressed that the problem is not unique to Shooting Stars.

‘Only three stadiums were approved nationwide by CAF. Only those three stadiums are accredited to host matches for the competition, so we had to choose from the available options,’ the management explained.

The statement lays bare the infrastructure problem confronting Nigerian football.

Four clubs have qualified for continental competition, yet the country has only a handful of venues meeting CAF’s standards. Instead of celebrating qualification by hosting African opponents in their traditional cities, clubs are having to relocate.

The situation also raises questions about the relationship between stadium infrastructure and Nigeria’s ambition to regain its influence in African club football.

El-Kanemi Warriors provides another example.

The Maiduguri club earned its continental ticket by winning the President Federation Cup, defeating Ikorodu City in the final. But its El-Kanemi Mini Stadium cannot host CAF matches, forcing the Warriors to move their continental home games to Remo Stars Stadium in Ikenne.

For a club representing Maiduguri, the relocation represents more than a change of venue. It removes the familiarity of playing before supporters in its home environment and replaces it with a neutral setting hundreds of kilometers away.

Yet the four clubs cannot afford to allow their ‘homeless’ status to become an excuse.

Nigeria’s continental record has declined considerably recently, with domestic clubs struggling to consistently reach the latter stages of CAF competitions. The 2026/27 campaign therefore represents an opportunity for Rangers, Rivers United, Shooting Stars, and El-Kanemi to restore some pride to Nigerian club football.

Rangers must negotiate AS Sobemap before potentially confronting stronger opposition in the next round. Rivers United face an Ivorian challenge in FC San Pedro, while Shooting Stars have arguably drawn one of the more experienced names in CS Sfaxien.

El-Kanemi, meanwhile, will seek to translate their Federation Cup triumph into continental competitiveness as the immediate challenge is to turn borrowed stadiums into temporary fortresses.

For Rangers, that means Abeokuta must feel like Enugu. For Rivers United, Uyo must provide the atmosphere of Port Harcourt. Shooting Stars must persuade supporters to make the trip to Abeokuta, while El-Kanemi must build a continental identity in Ikenne.

The clubs may be ‘homeless’ in the literal sense, but they cannot afford to be psychologically homeless.

Ezeaku has already appealed to Rangers supporters to rally behind the team despite the change of venue.

‘There is light at the end of the tunnel for us. We hope more fans will come out. This is Rangers representing the country,’ he said.

That message extends beyond Rangers.

The four clubs are not merely competing for individual trophies. Their performances will influence Nigeria’s standing, reputation, and future representation in African club competitions.

For now, the road to continental glory begins without the comfort of home.

Nigeria’s clubs will have to prove that while CAF may determine where they play, it cannot determine how they compete.

Their resilience and determination will be put to the test as they navigate the challenges ahead. Each match will serve as an opportunity to showcase their skills and commitment, ultimately aiming to elevate Nigeria’s status in the realm of African football.