In the heart of northeastern Nigeria, where the shadows of Boko Haram’s violence stretch long and deep, a new crisis is unfolding—one that threatens the futures of thousands of children already scarred by conflict. The abrupt withdrawal of U.S. aid, following the dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) by the Trump administration earlier this year, has left vital education programs in tatters, forcing schools to turn away the very children they were established to protect.
Israel Peter knows this pain intimately. At just six years old, he and his family fled their village after Boko Haram extremists attacked, upending his childhood and dreams. Eight years have passed since that harrowing night, but Peter still hasn’t returned to school. In 2025, his hopes were dashed again when a nonprofit school dedicated to victims of Boko Haram rejected his application, citing the sudden loss of U.S. funding. "Now my future will not be great," Peter told the Associated Press, his voice trembling as he described how he now spends his days helping on his father’s small farm, unable to afford school fees.
The school in question, run by the Future Prowess Islamic Foundation, has been a rare beacon of hope in Borno state—the epicenter of a 16-year conflict that has killed over 35,000 people and displaced 2.6 million across Nigeria, Cameroon, Niger, and Chad. Founded in 2007, the school initially served orphans but expanded its mission as the conflict’s toll mounted, eventually benefiting more than 3,000 children. But the loss of U.S. funding has forced the school to let go of 700 of its 2,200 students and 20 teachers in 2025, with no new enrollments and further cuts looming, according to school officials.
USAID’s reach in Nigeria had been vast. Between 2023 and 2024, the agency disbursed $1.5 billion to support projects ranging from healthcare and education to social welfare. In 2025 alone, $602.95 million was earmarked for Nigeria, with an overwhelming 89.27% allocated to health programs, including $368 million for HIV/AIDS under the Global Health Program. But more than 80% of USAID’s programs were scrapped in March 2025, and the remainder were absorbed by the U.S. State Department on July 1, 2025, leaving a gaping hole in the support system for millions.
The decision to dismantle USAID sparked global criticism. In a virtual conference with agency workers, former U.S. Presidents Barack Obama and George W. Bush voiced their dismay, joined by U2’s Bono. Bush praised the agency’s staff, saying, "You’ve showed the great strength of America through your work — and that is your good heart." Obama lamented the move, stressing that it undermines America’s global leadership in humanitarian work.
For families in Borno state, the impact is immediate and devastating. Nigeria already has the highest number of out-of-school children in the world—over 10 million, according to UNICEF. Despite this, government education funding remains between 4% and 7% of the federal budget, far below UNESCO’s recommended 15% to 20%. In the northeast, where conflict has destroyed infrastructure and survival is a daily struggle, the situation is even more dire. Although primary education is officially free, parents still pay fees ranging from 5,000 to 15,000 naira (about $3.27 to $9.80)—a month’s earnings for many in one of the world’s poorest countries.
The consequences of these funding cuts are painfully visible. AP photos released in August 2025 show empty classrooms and displaced children wandering through dusty compounds, their futures increasingly uncertain. Some of those who applied to the Future Prowess school are former Boko Haram members who defected and renounced violence. The school’s founder, Zannah Mustapha, worries that without educational opportunities, these children might be drawn back into the extremist fold. "With what is happening, they don’t have to be recruited; they are only going to go back to the hinterland to start fighting," Mustapha told the Associated Press.
Security experts echo these concerns. Malik Samuel, a Nigerian researcher at Good Governance Africa, warned that the situation "can only play into the hands of jihadists, known to exploit issues like this to their advantage." In a region with few alternatives, the Future Prowess school had offered a rare chance for children to build new lives. Yusuf Mustapha, a graduate whose parents were killed by Boko Haram, is now a final-year computer science student at a university in southwest Nigeria. "If I did not go to this school, I don’t know how my life would have been because I did not have anybody to sponsor my education, even the food I was eating," the 21-year-old recalled.
The human stories behind the statistics are heartbreaking. Ramatu Usman, another student dropped by the school this year just before her high school exams, had hoped to become a doctor. Now she spends her days knitting caps for sale. Her mother, Hajara Musa, weeps daily for her daughter’s lost opportunity and has struggled in vain to raise funds for her return to school. "A quality school is very important, especially in this (dangerous) environment," she said. "Those who don’t go to school, their lives are miserable."
While the Borno state commissioner, Lawan Clark, told the AP that the impact of the U.S. funding retreat isn’t significant on education, arguing that donors mainly help students learn within existing structures, families like Peter’s tell a different story. For them, and for thousands of others, the loss of free education means the difference between hope and despair, between building a future and being left behind.
Other funders, like Britain, have also scaled back their support, citing domestic financial pressures. The vacuum left by these withdrawals is stark. Millions in Nigeria’s northeast have long depended on aid groups and foreign partners for survival. Now, with funding evaporating, the risk is that children—already traumatized by violence—will be left with no option but to return to the very forces that tore their lives apart.
Stakeholders across Nigeria are calling for urgent reforms. Oladotun Hassan, president of the Yoruba Council Worldwide, has advocated for a review of the country’s education system, suggesting changes to reduce the time required to earn qualifications and make learning more accessible. But such reforms will take time, and for children like Israel Peter, time is a luxury they cannot afford.
The collapse of U.S. aid is more than a policy shift; it’s a humanitarian emergency unfolding in slow motion. Each empty classroom and lost opportunity is a reminder that, in the world’s longest-running conflicts, education can be the difference between peace and perpetual violence. For the children of Borno state, the stakes could not be higher.