‘I was tortured and lost my hand’ – one student’s struggle to get an education in Nigeria

At 13, Ovey Friday’s life changed dramatically when his stepmother accused him of witchcraft. He was taken to a traditional shrine in Nasarawa, a central Nigerian state, and subjected to severe torture. By the time a neighbor alerted the police and he was rushed to the hospital, the harm was done. “The herbalist used charcoal, applied something to my hands, tied them with my legs, and covered me with a bedsheet,” he recalls, now 19. Doctors had to sedate him and perform surgery. Upon waking, he discovered his left hand had been amputated, while his right fingers were either removed or permanently scarred. “I cried and I cried,” he tells the BBC.

In the years that followed, strangers on the streets gazed at him with curiosity or taunted him. “I wish they knew me as I was when I was born,” he says. Despite the trauma, Friday’s resolve to pursue education remained unshaken. However, his path faced a new hurdle two years ago when he attempted to take Nigeria’s university entrance exam, administered by the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (Jamb). The biometric system could not register his scarred thumb or the prints of his other two fingers. Fortunately, his guardian and disability rights advocates persuaded officials to accept his toe print as an alternative.

A Harrowing Beginning

Friday is now studying English and literary studies at a university in Nasarawa, a state bordering Abuja. He is the first in his family to enroll in higher education. “Not everyone has someone to push for them,” he notes. “Some people will just stop trying,” he adds.

Barriers to Education

Scarlett Eduoku, a radio presenter in Kano, faces similar challenges. She lost her left eye at 18 months and struggles with facial recognition in identity verification apps. This caused difficulties when she tried to upgrade her Sim card from 3G to 5G, as remote scanning wasn’t possible. Instead, she had to travel to her phone provider’s headquarters in Kano’s city center.

According to Ayuba Burki-Gufwan, executive secretary of the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD), about 35 million Nigerians—roughly 15% of the population—live with disabilities. A 2019 law banned discrimination against disabled individuals and mandated access to public services. While the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities was established, progress has been slow, Burki-Gufwan tells the BBC. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a step,” he remains hopeful.

Advancements and Challenges

Some improvements have been made. Jamb waived examination fees for disabled candidates and set up specialized centers for diverse needs. The Federal University of Lafia in Nasarawa also reduced fees by up to 75% for students with disabilities. “All of a sudden, the university saw a surge in enrollment,” Burki-Gufwan explains.

Chukwuemeka Chimdiebere, a Lagos-based special educator, emphasizes the need for more systemic change. “Inclusion is not a favor. It is a responsibility,” he says. Accessibility, he argues, extends beyond ramps. It requires sign-language interpreters, tactile learning materials, trained educators, and digital tools tailored to all users. “Many disabled individuals are not limited by their condition,” he adds. “They are limited by systems that were never designed for them.”

Abiose Falade, 48, an author in Ibadan, uses a wheelchair and views disability as an inherent part of life. “It can happen to you earlier, it can happen to you later. Sometimes it’s permanent, sometimes temporary,” she says. Falade felt different until she entered school at 10. “I was introduced to the world and its intricacies,” she explains. “Persons with disabilities were not exactly part of what the world wanted.” She still feels this way: “There’s a list of places I can go and a list I can’t. When I want…”