PROF ISHIAQ AKINTOLA: Why I revolted against school authorities

Professor Ishiaq Akintola of Religious Department, Lagos State University (LASU), is the the president of Muslim Right Con­cern (MURIC).

He passed through the school of hard knocks to arrive where he is today. Having lost his mother at a tender age, the scorching sun of life descended on him, but he was not deterred, and trudged on.

He left Nigeria for overseas for further studies, where he passed through un­bearable difficulties, and to overcome the challenge, he engaged in menial jobs.

He spoke to LAWRENCE ENYOGHASU and CHIZOBA IKENWA on his life, his organisation and he revolted against school authority while in secondary school.

How was your grouping like?

Growing up was tough. I lost my mother at the age of three. It was not a joke at all, as things were all that tough. We were only two that she left behind. My sister and I, were left with the bur­den of growing up without a mother. We missed the care and attention of our mother. It was really tough, but Allah was merciful and saw us through.

What about your father?

My father was a real man. He was responsible, caring and intelligent. He did his best for us. He trained us to be hard working, not to chase after material things and never to leave our religion. He discouraged fighting and that is why till date, I don’t like the sight of seeing two people fighting. I dislike the sight of blood. With this, I have gained fame in my area.Whenever I hear any noise in the area, I always rush to the place to settle the quarrel, most times when I intervene, the parties involved will stop fighting. That is what I am used to.

You said growing up was tough, how did you go to school?

I studied the Quran from childhood around six years of age. By seven, I was already reciting the Quran to members of the public. They had to put me on a table to read the Quran because I was small then. There was a time I was told that my voice was like that of a bell, I could be heard anywhere. They put me on table anytime I am reciting the Quran because the people wanted to see me. Then I proceeded to another Ara­bic school in Ibadan. There, life was not easy, every student had to fend for him­self, and it there I learnt surviving skills. In the course of four or five years, I was able to cross to the University of Ibadan for one year Arabic course certificate. In the Arabic school, I was revolutionary in thought. It has always been in my blood to look at the human rights angle in eve­rything. Sometimes, some of the teachers said that I was too revolutionary. It was so much that I was close to become an outcast. There was a day the school au­thority sent me packing. I was sent out early in the morning, but by break time, all the students in the school packed their books and left the school. By the time the teachers came to the class after the break there was no student in the school. The school principal had to send someone to my hideout, on arrival, the teacher was about to be lynched but I stopped them.

He spoke to me and relayed the prin­cipals’ message. I followed him back to school and the principal accepted me. To­day, when I look back at what I did, I am grateful I did what I did. I didn’t revolt against the school not because I hated the school, but because the state of the stu­dents was nothing to write home about. After that the principal told me to go and urge the students to return class. From that day things changed for us.

There was a day the radical students became useful to the school, it was a day masquerade coming from the neighbour­hood entered the school premises. The mas­querade entered the school with some thugs who had cutlasses in their hands. While the teachers ran away with some students, some of my group came out to face the thugs and masquerade squarely. We dealt with them before the police arrived. When the police­men came and needed a student who could make a statement in the police station, the principal quickly sent for me.

From there, I went to Cairo to study translation of Arabic in English and French. It spent four years. Life in Cairo was hor­rible as there was no opportunity for me to do part time jobs unlike in Saudi Arabia, Ku­wait or Libya. Because of this, we always travelled out to other countries to get vaca­tion jobs. When I was in Germany, I was washing plates and watering their flowers to make ends meet. We did rough jobs in those days, the feeling has not yet changed, there is no work I can’t do here in my country. I re­member a vacation when I went to Libya, I carried blocks to survive; to get small money for the next school calendar in Cairo. There was a day I was laying in the public park opposite a hotel, then a police officer woke me up. I thought I was doomed, they said I should follow them. After I had showed them all my credentials, my heart sunk as I thought I would see my father’s land the next morning. They dropped me in front of a building

that looked much like a five star hotel. The description in front of the building was youth centre, which was so luxurious and magnificent. They took me inside and in­structed the receptionist to attend to me. I was taken care of like a visitor lodging in a hotel. That was the beginning of my enjoy­ment in Libya.

Can you share your Cairo experi­ence?

One memorable day in Cairo, it was the first day of April , as it is the norms, we Nigerians say it is a Fool’s Day and play all sorts of pranks. So, I decided to do the same. I looked out of my window and shouted, Fire! Fire!! Fire!!! The whole campus went haywire and people started running for their lives and before I knew it, a fire vehicle came. Seeing those people on their feet brought me certain measure of enjoyment. For about two or three hours later I heard a knock on my door. The Egyptians secret po­lice traced me, I didn’t know how they knew. They took me to the campus director’s office. I kept arguing that I would sue them, quoting my country’s laws that I have the right to make jokes.

A very elderly Nigerian who was also a student there, Alhaji Abdul Azeez, on hearing what happened came to the director’s office. They needed someone to testify that what I said was part of our culture in Nigeria. Luckily for me, he confirmed that I was right as long as I did the joke before noon. They were shocked. It was on the strength of his tes­timony I was allowed to continue schooling.

You seem to be a Human rights activist, who is your role model in this direction?

Gani Fawehinmi, Beko Ransome-Kuti, I would have gone for Fela, but I do not like his dress sense on and off the stage but I enjoyed his lyrics and the way he speaks out. I was a member of Campaign for Democracy (CD). In those days, I was also a member of the group. And I learnt a lot from Beko, I would say he trained me. The Quran is another piece that inspires me till date. The holy book is against in­justice therefore I hate all form of injustices.

Can you compare the youth of your time and the present?

Then, the youths were purposeful. We believed that we have to work hard. There were the bad ones, but were not much. We had competition to make success. The classroom was a battle field to win the war at the end of the term, and you have to pay full attention in class and study after school religiously.

At home, our parents were like gods to us, and we dare not raise our voices to them, but today, things have fallen apart and the centre cannot hold, 70 percent of today’s youths have gone haywire. The society is to blame starting from the parents to the system, which includes the politi­cians, specifically the leaders, who are visionless. Today, children don’t fear their parents not to talk of respecting their teachers. In those days, there was nothing like cultism, we didn’t go to school with weapons. For example, I was referred as revolutionary, but I never went violent with any teacher or pupil, it was a matter of principle.

The misunderstanding I referred to before had to do with changing the dates of our holidays arbitrarily. They wanted the students to remain behind during a holiday, so that they could use them for personal interest. Then we would now go on holiday three weeks later when other school students would have resumed. We stood our ground that they should suspend their projects until we came back from break. It was a project that was going to fetch the teachers money and not the students. We were articulate, but not violence, painfully same thing can’t be said of the youths of this day. They have misplaced priority.

As human right activist and lecturer, what is your view on the education sector?

The educational system is in total rot. Some secondary schools today have no door or window among other things. This is happening because of bad staffing and lack of pre­paredness of the government. There is no qualitative educa­tion, no suitable environment to learn. The worst of it all is that government is deceiving the public by creating model schools. The fact, the school called, ‘model school’ is an anathema. If there is going to be anything called, ‘model’, let it be along the line; all schools should be involved. We know the truth about the model school. We all know that it is the children of the have and not the less privileged. If you go to laboratory of some secondary schools, you will think you are under the carpenters shed. The universities have been reduced to glorified secondary schools. Our students only read to pass exams and nothing more. If you try to refer a student to his or her last class, then be ready to cover your face in shame. We had enjoyed the best of this country. That is not debatable.

In one sentence, can you describe MURIC?

MURIC is a right group with organisational dialogue not violence. We condemn the shedding of blood and all forms of violence because we believe that God is love and Allah itself is love, if you don’t love your neighbour there is no point practicing any religion at all.

As a Muslim, what is your stand on women changing their names after marriage?

My wife’s name is Alhaja Aminat Omobalanle. I don’t count my children, but I have children whom I am proud of. I wanted my wife to bear her father’s name but she wanted to bear my father’s name. I believe she does not owe my fa­ther anything; he was not the one that trained her in school, I didn’t meet her until she graduated from school. I don’t have any right to impose my father’s name on her, which is in tandem with Islam. A Musilm has a right to bear her father’s name, but if she wants, she might change it after.