By Chris Nyamtu
* Mother’s and children at a mining site/Photo: Chris Nyamtu
In Nasarawa State, a disturbing trend is unfolding. As the solid minerals sector is expanding, so too does the number of underaged children dropping out of school and heading into hazardous mining pits.
Stakeholders are sounding the alarm, warning that the rise in child mining is crippling school enrolment and putting the future of thousands of children at risk, especially in communities built around mining.
The trend paints a worrying picture of lost potential and harsh realities behind the glitter of tin and other precious stones, revealing a crisis that threatens not just education but the very future of a generation.
The solid minerals sector is a cornerstone of Nasarawa State Governor Abdullahi Sule’s economic agenda. Foreign and local investors have set up mining operations across many of the state’s 13 local government areas, turning once-quiet communities into hubs of artisanal mining.
Across the state, children as young as 10 years old are trading schoolbooks for shovels. In rural communities across Nasarawa Eggon Local Government Area, it is now common to see young boys and girls spending long hours in remote mining sites, digging for tin and other minerals. Regulation is minimal, and the lure of quick money is strong.
In one such community, 13-year-old Ashezi, was seen waist-deep in a pit she had been digging for days. She left school in primary four to mine tin. “I don’t regret it,” she said, proudly. “I make more money here than I would in school.”
Mohammed Jibrin, another child miner, echoed the sentiment. “School won’t give me what mining is giving me now. I dropped out of school in JSS three. I make between N20,000 and N25,000 from mining everyday,” he declared.
Empty Classrooms, Silent Halls
Across mining communities, schools paint a grim picture. Classrooms are empty, and teachers idle, waiting for students who may never return.
At Alogani North Primary School, Head Teacher Mr. Alanana Abimiku expressed deep concern. “This is strange. Children are no longer coming to school; they prefer to go mining for tin and other stones. Teachers show up every day, but the classrooms are empty. It’s a crisis,” he said.
At RCM Primary School, Mrs. Felicia Haruna, visibly distraught, shared a troubling pattern. “Even when the girls pass by the school on their way to mining sites, they refuse to come in. Many of them are under 14. Teenage pregnancy and early marriage are now common. Drug abuse is also rising.”
From Ehmu Alizaga to Gidan Waya, enrolment figures continue to fall. Teachers like Mallam Shuaibu Iliya and Mr. Ali Aklo called for urgent intervention, warning of the long-term consequences of leaving children uneducated and unprotected.
Beyond the erosion of education, mining sites have become hotspots for exploitation.
The Education Secretary of Nasarawa Eggon Local Government, Mr. Ewuga Ali Baba, and the State Chairman of the Miners Association of Nigeria, Mallam Yusuf Dalhatu, both highlighted disturbing cases of child abuse.
“In one site I visited,” Yusuf recounted, “a young girl ran out of a tent naked, followed by a boy, also naked. It was a clear case of sexual abuse. These sites are not safe for children.”
The Aren Eggon, Justice Ahmed Ubangari Alaku (rtd), a respected traditional ruler, voiced serious concern.
“We’ve held community meetings and engaged local leaders, but the problem persists. There must be strict enforcement of child protection laws. Children should not have access to mining areas. Their place is in school.”
State authorities appear to be taking notice.
The Commissioner for Environment and Natural Resources, Princess Margaret Elayo, pledged tougher oversight.
“It is unacceptable for any child to be denied education because of mining. We will collaborate with communities, civil society, and NGOs to protect children’s rights and bring them back to school,” she stated.
As Nasarawa State charges ahead in its quest to harness mineral wealth, the question lingers: at what cost?
For children like Ashezi and Mohammed, each strike of the pickaxe brings in a little more money, but chips away at a future that could have been built in a classroom, not a mine.
Without decisive action, the state’s riches may come at the irreversible price of its children’s education, safety, and dreams.
