Almajiri: The Time Has Come to Separate Faith from Tradition
By Mikail Isah Bin Hassan
For generations, the Almajiri system occupied a respected place in the history of Islamic education in Northern Nigeria. In its original form, it was designed to provide children with religious instruction, moral guidance, discipline, and literacy in the Qur’an. Teachers traveled with their students from one community to another, imparting knowledge and values while relying on support from local communities, farming activities, and other productive means of sustenance.
Contrary to popular assumptions, begging was not the defining feature of the traditional Almajiri system.
Over time, however, social and economic realities transformed the practice into something very different. What was once a respected educational tradition has, in many cases, become associated with child neglect, street begging, vulnerability, and poverty. This transformation demands honest reflection.
The first step toward meaningful reform is recognizing a simple truth: the contemporary Almajiri phenomenon is largely a cultural practice, not a religious obligation.
If sending children away from their homes to survive through begging were an essential part of Islam, we would find clear evidence of such a system during the time of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and among his companions. We do not. What we find instead is a faith that places immense responsibility on parents for the welfare of their children.
Islam teaches that parents are accountable for providing food, shelter, education, healthcare, protection, and moral upbringing for their children. These responsibilities are among the most sacred trusts entrusted to mothers and fathers.
Unfortunately, many children within the contemporary Almajiri system are deprived of these basic rights. They are sent far from home with little provision for their welfare. Many struggle to access adequate food, healthcare, and protection. While there are dedicated teachers who sacrifice greatly for their students, they are often left to shoulder responsibilities that properly belong to families and communities.
This is not merely an educational challenge. It is a humanitarian challenge.
It is also important to ask a difficult question: why is this practice largely absent from many other Muslim societies around the world?
Across the Muslim world—from Makkah and Madinah to countries in North Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia—Islamic education thrives without requiring children to survive through street begging. Religious learning and child welfare are pursued together, not treated as competing priorities.
Northern Nigeria can and should aspire to the same standard.
For too long, discussions about the Almajiri system have been clouded by emotion, politics, and defensiveness. Yet progress begins when communities are willing to examine their own shortcomings honestly. A tradition should not be protected simply because it is old. Every tradition must be measured against the values it claims to uphold.
The consequences of failing to reform the system extend beyond the children themselves. The image of Northern Nigeria has increasingly become associated with child begging and social deprivation. In many parts of the country, young boys travel hundreds of kilometers from their homes and survive through public charity. This reality affects how others perceive our communities and, more importantly, how our children perceive themselves.
No society can build dignity on a foundation of dependency.
The future of Northern Nigeria does not lie in preserving practices that undermine the potential of its children. It lies in investing in education, strengthening families, supporting teachers, and creating systems that protect the rights and dignity of every child.
Reforming the Almajiri system is not an attack on Islam. It is an effort to uphold Islam’s highest principles: compassion, responsibility, justice, knowledge, and human dignity.
The debate is not between religion and modernity. It is between preserving a system that no longer serves its original purpose and building one that prepares children for the opportunities and challenges of the twenty-first century.
The children of Northern Nigeria deserve more than survival. They deserve opportunity.
They deserve education without exploitation.
They deserve faith without deprivation.
And they deserve a future in which knowledge is not accompanied by hunger, neglect, or the loss of human dignity.
The time for reform is now.
Mikail Isah Bin Hassan
Nigerian developmental filmmaker and IVLP alumnus.