Dirty Drinks, Sick Pupils: Inside Mararaba’s Hidden School Food Safety Crisis
Koko Maxwella 
NASARAWA, Nigeria – When 12-year-old Mariam lifted a chilled cup of zobo to her lips that Wednesday morning, she expected nothing out of the ordinary. The drink—sweet, red, and popular among schoolchildren—was a familiar part of her break-time routine. But minutes later, what should have been a harmless refreshment spiralled into a frightening reaction. Koko Maxwella, writes.
“My mouth started burning,” she recalled, gently touching the spot where the irritation first appeared. “I hadn’t eaten anything that day. I drink zobo all the time. I don’t react to it. But that day, something was wrong. I know it came from what I bought.”
Her classmate, Seyi, remembers the panic that followed. “We chased the Zobo vendor out of the school compound two days after the incident,” she said. “We didn’t want other students to get sick. She doesn’t sell here anymore.”
What happened to Mariam is not an isolated case—it is the latest warning sign in a growing crisis of unsafe food and drinks sold in and around primary schools in Mararaba, a bustling, densely populated border town in Karu local government area of Nasarawa state. Parents, teachers, vendors and health workers say the risks are rising, yet regulation remains almost non-existent.
A System That Should Protect Children—But Doesn’t
According to students at Mariam’s school, vendors are meant to undergo health checks and have their food and drinks tested before receiving permission to sell. But those checks, many say, exist more on paper than in practice.
“Sometimes they come once in a term,” a teacher disclosed anonymously. “Other times, no one comes at all. Approval is given at the beginning, and that’s it.”
In Mararaba’s crowded school environments—where thousands of children mix daily—such gaps can create fertile ground for preventable illness. Parents often assume the food sold near schools is regulated. Vendors assume children are resilient. Authorities assume schools are coping. Children, meanwhile, are the ones facing the consequences.
Local health workers confirm that unsafe drinks—especially homemade beverages such as zobo, kunu and artificial juice mixtures—are among the most common causes of stomach infections they treat in children.
“One contaminated drink can lead to dozens of cases if the source isn’t checked immediately,” said a community health volunteer at a nearby clinic. “Most of these products are prepared without standard hygiene, stored for hours in the sun, or mixed with unclean water.”
Where Clean Water Is Scarce, Safety Becomes Optional
Mararaba’s school food environment is shaped by two persistent challenges: poor sanitation and inadequate water supply. Both make it harder for vendors to maintain hygiene, even when they want to.
At one public school, the taps have been dried for months. Students rely on a single container filled daily by a hired water carrier. Vendors fetch water from the same source to rinse utensils, mix drinks, and clean their tables.
“The water is not clean enough,” a JSS2 boy told me. “We report it, but nothing happens. Some of us stay the whole day without using the toilet because it’s too dirty.”
Several toilets in his school are either broken, locked, or emitting odours strong enough to drift into nearby classrooms. Teachers acknowledge the persistent decline.
“We do what we can to manage the environment,” one said, “but maintenance takes months because schools lack funding or have to wait for approval. The facilities are overstretched. It’s not something we can solve on our own.”
Girls Pay the Highest Price
For female pupils, poor sanitation has long-term consequences for attendance and dignity. Many adolescent girls skip school during their periods because there is no clean, private space to manage menstruation. UNESCO’s 2024 report highlighted this same pattern across many low-resource schools in Nigeria.
“When the toilets are dirty or there is no water, girls feel unsafe,” said a school counsellor in Maraba. “They would rather stay home than risk embarrassment.”
Clean water and decent toilets—basic needs for any learning environment—remain out of reach for many children in the town’s public schools.
Vendors Speak—And Reveal the Other Side
Food vendors themselves operate in a difficult balancing act: low profit margins, high demand, and very limited oversight.
A zobo seller near Abacha Road defended her work, insisting she tries to maintain hygiene. “I wash my bottles every evening,” she said. “But water is expensive, and the environment is not always clean. If we had a place to wash properly inside the school, things would be easier.”
Another vendor, who sells snacks and homemade drinks near a private school, admitted that many sellers operate without any training. “Nobody teaches us how to prepare things the right way. We just do what we know.”
Yet, across Mararaba, hundreds of such untrained vendors have daily access to children who buy based on taste, colour, and price—not hygiene.
Weak Inspection Systems, Strong Health Risks
Despite the growing risks, interviews with teachers, parents and health workers reveal the same recurring problem: inspection systems are weak, irregular, or completely missing.
Nasarawa State’s education and health authorities, when contacted, acknowledged that school inspections do occur but admitted that expanding populations and limited staffing create gaps.
“We are committed to improving school health,” an official said. “But we are dealing with resource constraints, and the number of schools keeps increasing.”
A Crisis with Preventable Solutions
Child-health advocates insist that the current situation—dangerous as it is—is fixable. Practical, low-cost measures can dramatically reduce food-borne infections among schoolchildren. These include mandatory training for all school vendors; regular water quality checks; weekly sanitation inspections; designated hygiene zones for vendors; community monitoring committees; and clear enforcement consequences for violators.
“Once sanitation improved, children stopped falling sick so often,” a headmistress said. “Learning became easier because the environment was no longer working against them.”
Mariam’s Warning—and Maraba’s Crossroads
Mariam eventually recovered from her reaction. But her experience is a cautionary tale for parents, schools, and authorities. A single contaminated drink exposed a system where children remain consistently vulnerable to harmful food, unsafe water, and hazardous sanitation conditions.
Poor school hygiene is not merely a comfort issue. It affects health, learning, attendance, and family finances. It is a child-protection issue—and a barrier to achieving both SDG 3 (Good Health) and SDG 4 (Quality Education).
For a fast-growing town like Mararaba, the path forward is clear: school hygiene must move from an afterthought to a top priority. Until every child can drink clean water, rely on safe food vendors, and learn in an environment that does not threaten their health, the work remains unfinished.
“No child should get sick from the place meant to build their future,” Mariam’s mother said simply. And she is right.
About the Author
Mirian Gom 
Otamere Gladness 
Edino Chubiyo Cornelius 
Oluwatobi Adu