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Not This Nigeria

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Not the Nigeria We Studied For
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Not This Nigeria, A fresh graduate spent years chasing a dream he once thought was guaranteed: lectures, sleepless nights, and a full year in the National Youth Service Corps in Sokoto State. He graduated with a first-class degree in Sociology, confident that effort would meet opportunity. Today, he sells phone accessories on a Lagos street corner, chased daily by the task force on street trading, his degree folded quietly in a plastic bag a silent witness to a country that failed to deliver the future he was promised.

He is far from alone. Across Nigeria, thousands of graduates watch their dreams collide with a labour market that cannot absorb them. Degrees that once promised doors now open nothing but frustration, shame, and disillusionment.

Not the Nigeria We Studied For

graduate

Take Samuel, a 27-year-old economics graduate. After completing NYSC in 2022, he submitted over a hundred job applications. None resulted in employment most seeking work experience no one would give him. Today, he drives a ride-hailing car he got on hire purchase.

This crisis is not merely statistical. Nigeria produces over Five hundred thousand (500,000) graduates each year, yet the labour market absorbs only a fraction. Oversupply meets a shrinking private sector, sporadic government recruitment masked with high handedness and nipotism, an education system bedeviled by unproductive strikes and slow to adapt. Courses that once promised careers now leave graduates ill-prepared for the few opportunities available.

The human cost is profound. Young graduates report anxiety, depression, and social withdrawal. Invitations to weddings and family gatherings become sources of shame. Parents ask, “Any job yet?” a question that lands like accusation. Some graduates speak of avoiding friends entirely, hiding the humiliation of effort unrecognized.

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Desperation fuels ingenuity, but with limitations. Some attempt to reskill or start small businesses without capital. Others consider leaving the country entirely, joining the growing exodus of educated youth seeking opportunity abroad. Each day without a job chips away at hope, eroding the belief that merit or effort will eventually pay off.

Experts point to structural failures. Universities continue producing graduates faster than the economy can employ them. Curricula lag behind industry needs. Career guidance is scarce, and internships increasingly demand unpaid labour. The private sector, burdened with high costs for power, rent, and operations, cannot expand rapidly enough. Public sector recruitment remains sporadic and politicized, leaving millions to navigate an unforgiving job market on their own.

Yet beyond numbers and policy gaps, it is the emotional toll that resonates most. The quiet despair of graduates like Adaeze and Samuel reveals a society failing to harness its talent, leaving a generation wondering if effort still matters. Their stories are not of laziness or incompetence they are cautionary tales of a system unable to convert education into opportunity.

Some graduates still try. their dreams and countless ideas cling to the belief that the right door will open eventually. But as years pass, resilience is tested and cynicism grows. When effort seems futile, what incentive remains to pursue excellence?

Degrees, in theory, should unlock doors pathways to work, dignity, and contribution. In Nigeria today, for many graduates, they do not. Instead, they sit folded in drawers, framed on walls, or tucked in plastic bags silent witnesses to ambition unmet, potential squandered, and a country yet to figure out how to give its educated youth the future they deserve.

The tragedy is not that graduates are unemployed. The tragedy is that many have stopped believing employment is possible.

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