The Price Children Pay for Mineral Wealth
Mining, health, and the children Northern Nigeria is leaving behind
By Hyeladzira James Mshelia | Ag. CEO, Connected Development [CODE]
There is something particularly cruel about a crisis that starts underground and ends in a classroom or, more accurately, in the absence of one. In the mineral-rich states across northern Nigeria, from Zamfara to Bauchi, Plateau to Nasarawa, the extractive economy is doing what decades of underfunding and bad policy never quite managed to finish: it is pulling children out of school for good. This is not a far-off or theoretical problem. It is happening in backyards, in family compounds, in communities where the soil holds both a family’s last hope and a child’s undoing.
In Bauchi State’s mining communities, children as young as ten abandon classrooms for mining sites, toiling alongside adults extracting sand and breaking rocks under the scorching sun, hoping to scrape together enough for their families to survive. Bauchi had approximately 1.37 million out-of-school children in 2022, a staggering figure made worse by the fact that mining communities concentrate the worst of these numbers.
A family member of mine working in Jos, Plateau State, in the mining industry describes what he sees regularly across the Middle Belt. “It’s not so much a forced situation,” he said to me. “More of a family business, the kids helping their parents.” But support, in this case, is something sobering: children small enough to go down tight mine shafts that adults cannot enter.
Many of these families were farmers not long ago. However, banditry drove them off their land with nowhere to return to; the mine became the farm, and the children came with them. In Nasarawa State, for instance, a community of over five thousand people had just fifty children attending school on a regular school day, such a shame!
The gendered aspects of this pattern merit particular attention, because when mothers join the mining workforce, girls are often withdrawn from school to perform domestic duties. And in some communities, adolescent girls are more vulnerable to exploitation and early marriage. On the other hand, boys are often directly recruited into artisanal mining as cheap labour. Both are a different kind of dispossession and both are almost completely invisible to policy.
The physical toll of mining on children is not separate from the education crisis, infact it is inseparable from it. Environmental degradation from mining activities leads to respiratory illnesses and waterborne diseases that directly affect school attendance and learning outcomes. A child coughing through the night does not sit upright in a classroom the next morning, more so, a child with stunted neurological development cannot be expected to sit an examination.
On government intervention, my source in Jos is blunt: “The law is one thing. Enforcement is another.” Existing frameworks for regulating artisanal mining exist on paper, but in remote communities where mining happens sporadically and out of sight, effective government presence remains to be seen.
Nowhere is this truth more devastatingly illustrated than in Zamfara State, where the world witnessed what has since been described as the worst outbreak of lead poisoning in recorded history. In 2010, hundreds of children in and around Bagega village in northern Nigeria began to fall seriously ill. They suffered seizures, blindness, and in many cases, never recovered. A Médecins Sans Frontières investigation later traced the cause to informal gold mining activities where gold-bearing ore was mixed with lead. The low-tech extraction methods released toxic lead dust into the air, which miners unknowingly carried into their homes on clothing and skin, exposing entire families.
Testing of children under five in the affected communities showed that over 90% had blood lead levels far above emergency intervention thresholds. More than 400 children are estimated to have died as a result of the outbreak. Lead poisoning in early childhood causes irreversible harm. It damages the brain and nervous system, disrupting cognitive development, learning ability, and long-term health. Many of the children who survived were left with lifelong impairments that affected how they learn, grow, and function.
The Bagega crisis revealed what happens when environmental damage, weak regulation, and poverty collide: children bear the greatest burden, not just in lives lost, but in futures permanently altered.
It also became a turning point for Connected Development. By early 2013, national attention had begun to shift elsewhere, but promised remediation funds were still not reaching Bagega, despite federal approval. In response, CODE started the #SaveBagega campaign, leveraging open data, social media, and civic engagement to refocus national attention on the crisis. The campaign brought forward community evidence, elevated the voices of affected families, and helped re-ignite urgency around government commitments and the release of the $5.3 million needed for remediation. It reached more than a million people and contributed to government action, including the release of funds for environmental cleanup and basic social infrastructure in affected communities.
CODE continued to follow up through field monitoring to ensure the work was actually done. Cleanup had been completed by mid-2014, and more than 1,000 children had been screened and entered into treatment programs. This experience inspired the establishment of Follow The Money, a citizen-led accountability movement tracking public funds and service delivery across Africa. It’s a simple, but powerful lesson at the core of the report: when accountability breaks down, people pay the price, and it’s always better to prevent than to respond.
What Does This Demand of Us?
Bagega was no isolated event. Children as young as six years old are still being reported to work in hazardous mining conditions across states including Nasarawa, Kebbi and Plateau. The crisis is ongoing, diffuse and chronically underfunded, partly because mining communities are at the confluence of every crisis Nigeria has failed to fix: insecurity, unemployment, poor infrastructure for education and absent social protection.
If mining revenues were equitably distributed in infrastructure, in education funding and in local development then many families would not have to rely on child labour in the mines. But accountability is the bedrock of fair distribution, and it requires the kind of community-led tracking that Follow The Money was designed to provide.
What #SaveBagega proved is that data used with courage and community can move a government that might otherwise turn a blind eye. The question today is whether we are ready to bring that same energy not only to clean-up but to prevention: to the school infrastructure, social protection, and governance frameworks that mean the next Bagega never happens at all.
Hyeladzira James Mshelia
Ag. Chief Executive, Connected Development [CODE]
Connected Development (CODE) runs Follow The Money, Nigeria’s leading citizen-led accountability initiative, tracking government spending in underserved communities across Africa.