Their names were Abdulfatah Mohammed, 15. Yusuf Nuhu, 16. Buhari Iliyasu, 14. Ibrahim Muhammad, 22.
On Sunday night, August 16, 2026, all four died at Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital after falling critically ill following the consumption of fish suspected to have been contaminated.
The fish, according to reports, was found by one of the boys while doing domestic chores at a house in Kadage Sharifai, Ungogo Local Government Area, Kano State. He brought it out. They shared it. Four of them would not survive the night.
A fifth boy, Auwalu Surajo, 18, survived after tasting the fish and noticing that it did not taste normal. He stopped eating and is receiving medical treatment.
That detail a teenager relying on his own instincts to discover that the world had failed to protect him — is the detail that should not leave us.
What we know and what we don’t
The police had not issued an official statement at the time of reporting. The Tsangaya Media Network confirmed the deaths, but did not disclose what had contaminated the fish or provide details of any ongoing investigation.
Nobody should rush to conclusions about deliberate poisoning. Food contamination is common, its causes are multiple, and declaring foul play without evidence would be irresponsible.
But the question that matters here is not only what was in the fish.
It is also how four boys from Jigawa State came to be living far from their families in Kano, studying the Quran while performing domestic chores, and why a discarded fish found beneath a chair became something they were willing to eat.
That question has an answer. We have simply chosen not to ask it loudly enough.
This is not the first time
In June 2025, two other Almajirai died in Kano after drinking a substance they found beside a gutter on Kotu Street in Gwammaja. Abdullahi, 12, and Aminu, 14, had come from Dandume Local Government Area of Katsina State to study the Qur’an in Kano. They reportedly mistook the powder for milk, mixed it with water and drank it as tea.
Their teacher, Malam Nafiu, described what happened: someone had thrown the substance over a fence. The boys found it. Thinking it was food, they consumed it.
Two boys died from drinking something they mistook for milk. Their instinct hunger, the search for a meal led them to a substance that killed them.
That was 2025. This is 2026. Different boys. Different street. But the same vulnerability remains.
What the system actually looks like
I have written before about the Almajiri system and its origins in the pre-colonial Tsangaya tradition, its dismantling under British colonial rule, its post-independence neglect, and the federal government’s recent policy promising reforms that sound familiar because versions of them have been promised before.
What I want to focus on here is simpler.
These were not adults who chose their circumstances. Abdulfatah was 15. Buhari was 14. They were sent away from their families — from Jigawa to Kano — to live under the care of a mallam and memorise the Quran. What the system provides in too many cases is inadequate accommodation, food obtained through begging or domestic labour, limited access to healthcare, and supervision that may focus primarily on Quranic instruction rather than the child’s wider welfare.
A Yale School of Medicine scoping review found that research on Almajirai has documented significant health challenges, including infectious diseases, nutritional problems, occupational injuries and mental health concerns, while also highlighting gaps in research and interventions to improve their health. They beg for food. They perform chores in exchange for meals. They live in conditions that no Nigerian parent would willingly choose for their child if a better option existed.
In many places, this is what the system has become. It is a departure from the more structured model of Islamic learning that historically relied on family, community and institutional support. Today, some children are sent far from their families and become dependent on individual teachers, community support and, in some cases, begging or informal work to meet their basic needs. Where there are no effective safeguards or accountability mechanisms, children can become especially vulnerable to neglect, exploitation and harm.
The question Solomon Dalung asked
Former minister Solomon Dalung commented on the deaths this week, raising a broader question about whether the way the Almajiri system operates today exposes children to risks that families would not otherwise accept for their own children.
This is the right question. And the honest answer is: yes.
The contrast is not between Quranic education and formal schooling. It is between children who have reliable access to food, healthcare, supervision and protection, and children whose basic needs may depend on informal arrangements. For an Almajiri child, a meal found under a chair should never have to become a matter of survival.
This is not an argument against Quranic education. The Quran does not require a child to be hungry before he can learn it. Islam does not demand that a child sleep in inadequate conditions, perform domestic chores for his food, and live without medical care in the pursuit of knowledge. These are not features of Islamic education. They are features of a system that was once supported by the state and the community, had that support removed, and has been surviving on inadequate resources ever since.
The problem is not Quranic education itself. The problem is the conditions under which some children are expected to receive it.
A Humanist reading
From a Humanist perspective, a child’s right to safety, nutrition, healthcare, and protection does not depend on which school he attends or what tradition his family follows.
Abdulfatah Mohammed had that right. He was 15 years old. He was trying to learn something his family considered important. He deserved food that did not kill him. He deserved adults who were accountable for his welfare. He deserved a system that protected him before tragedy struck not simply official statements after four children had died.
This month, the Federal Government introduced a new National Policy for the Enhancement of Almajiri Education. The policy bans learning centres from sending children to beg or perform menial work, introduces vocational and digital education, and requires stronger registration, health and accountability standards.
The policy is ambitious. But Nigeria has tried Almajiri reforms before. In 2025, the Federal Government moved to recover 157 model Almajiri schools built under former President Goodluck Jonathan after years of abandonment. �
The question is therefore not whether the new policy sounds good. It is whether the government will enforce it after the headlines disappear.
What August 16 tells us is that the gap between policy and reality is not abstract. It is four teenagers in Kano who found food and trusted it and died.
What needs to change
The accountability structures for children in the Almajiri system must be formalised and enforced — not promised in policy documents and ignored in practice.
Every learning centre that takes children into its care should be registered, subject to regular inspection, and required to meet clear standards for child welfare. Those responsible for the children should be accountable not only for Quranic instruction, but also for food, health, safety and access to help when something goes wrong.
Families who send their children to residential learning centers should be given clear information about the conditions of those centers, including arrangements for food, healthcare, safety and supervision. Where those standards are not met, families should have access to safer educational alternatives and mechanisms for reporting concerns.
And the state that has for decades acknowledged the challenges surrounding the Almajiri system, commissioned reports, introduced reform programmes and issued promises of change must now decide whether it will implement those commitments or allow another generation of children to bear the consequences of inaction.
Four boys died in Kano on August 16. Their deaths should not be investigated in isolation. They should also force a wider examination of the conditions in which vulnerable children are living, studying and depending on adults for their basic needs.
Auwalu Surajo survived because he noticed the fish tasted strange.
Children should not have to save their own lives because the systems designed to protect them have collapsed.
