By Dare Ojepe
In a country where identity often arrives before ability, it is no small thing when a public policy chooses to listen differently. Nigeria, with its many tongues and temperaments, has long struggled with the burden of translation of names into networks, of accents into access, of origins into opportunity. Too often, the gates of progress have opened not to merit but to familiarity. Yet, quietly and without fanfare, the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND) is attempting something both simple and radical: it refuses to ask which village you come from before asking what future you seek.
This is not a poetic exaggeration. It is a structural statement. For decades, the Nigerian youth has learned sometimes painfully that education support often comes with invisible footnotes. Who you know matters. Where you are from matters. How well you can navigate informal corridors matters. In this landscape, talent without connection becomes stranded, ambition without exposure becomes muted, and potential waits endlessly for interpretation. NELFUND enters this fraught terrain not as a miracle worker but as a system designed to remove unnecessary filters between effort and opportunity.
The most striking thing about NELFUND is not the money; it is the method. It does not speak Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, or any of our proud dialects. It speaks something rarer in our public life: equal access. The application process does not pause to admire surnames or interrogate ethnic origin. It does not ask who sent you or who can vouch for you behind closed doors. It asks one central, democratic question: are you a Nigerian youth seeking education and willing to take responsibility for your future?
That question alone is a quiet revolution.
In a nation where public intervention is often confused with charity, NELFUND insists on dignity. This is not a handout dressed in benevolence; it is a loan anchored in trust. It assumes that young Nigerians, when given a fair starting point, will rise not as dependents but as partners in national development. It replaces the politics of pity with the economics of possibility. And in doing so, it subtly reshapes the psychology of education, from entitlement to investment.
Critics, of course, will ask whether equal opportunity truly exists in a deeply unequal society. It is a fair question. Equal opportunity does not mean equal outcome, and NELFUND makes no such promise. What it offers instead is something more honest: the same starting gate. It does not guarantee arrival; it clears the road. The race remains demanding, but at least the rules are visible, and the whistle is blown for all at the same time.
There is also something profoundly national about the design. A student in Jalingo fills the same form as one in Surulere. A young woman in Aba submits the same details as a young man in Ogbomosho. No middlemen hover. No informal toll gates appear. The digital window does not recognise accents or skin tone; it responds only to data. In a country accustomed to whispered processes and selective hearing, this plainness feels almost radical.
Yet, the deeper significance of NELFUND lies beyond administration. It sends a message, subtle but firm; that belonging is not conditional. That you do not need to sound like power to access support. That your background is not a disqualification. In a polity where identity has often been weaponised, this policy offers a counter-narrative: you are Nigerian enough to be considered, full stop.
This matters for the youth, not just materially but psychologically. When systems are perceived as fair, effort increases. When rules are clear, cynicism weakens. When access is not mediated by tribe or proximity to influence, ambition begins to look inward rather than sideways. The question shifts from “who can help me?” to “how can I prepare myself?” That shift, multiplied across millions, is how nations quietly change course.
Of course, no policy should be shielded from scrutiny. Transparency must remain non-negotiable. Loan recovery mechanisms must be humane but firm. Financial literacy must accompany access, lest opportunity becomes burden. NELFUND must continually prove that its promise of neutrality is not just aspirational but operational. Vigilance, not applause, is the civic duty of citizens.
Still, it is important to acknowledge progress when it appears, especially in modest clothing. In a country of many languages, it is refreshing to encounter a policy that speaks fairness fluently. NELFUND may not solve all the structural problems of Nigerian education, but it addresses a foundational one: the exclusion that begins before learning even starts.
When support no dey ask which village you been come from, hope becomes less complicated. And sometimes, that is exactly where national renewal begins.
*Ojepe is the Senior Special Assistant to the President on Youth Engagement