The Alexander Brown Hall (ABH) is nobody’s home. It used to be, but not anymore. For Brownites (residents of ABH), the term “ABH is home” has now become a faint, almost ironic echo of something they once knew. And for good reason too. Now granted that when the University of Ibadan students call their various Halls of Residence home, they usually do not mean it in the full, literal sense of the word. A hall of residence is, after all, a temporary arrangement; a stopgap between the comforts of family life and the hard rigours of academic pursuits
Yet, even in its transient nature, a hall should still embody certain elements of home: safety, comfort, and an environment conducive to students’ productivity and growth. It should be a place where one can recharge after the intellectual exhaustion of a lecture hall or a hospital ward. ABH once fit that description, perhaps a very long time ago. Now, however, it’s a shade of its former self. A place where the basics—light, water, and liveability—are no longer guaranteed.
For over 80 days, the residents of ABH, known as Brownites, have been subjected to a complete blackout, a state of metaphorical and literal darkness that has profoundly affected every aspect of their lives. The absence of electricity has turned what used to be known by preclinical students as ‘the promised land’ into a hall “in a romantic relationship with darkness.” This brings about the question of whether the phrase “ABH is home” can ever hold meaning again.
Written in this article, the experiences of Brownites highlight the widening gap between what a hall of residence should be and what ABH has become. It is not merely the physical absence of light; it is the symbolic loss of everything that makes a place feel like a home. Safety, reliability, and comfort have given way to darkness, unpredictability, and discomfort. For Brownites, ABH is not home, not anymore, not by a long shot.
And this sentiment is loudly echoed in the voices of Brownites, who in a recent interview with the press articulated their frustrations with painful clarity. Their words depict a place that has fallen into disrepair and no longer provides support.
Life Inside ABH: A Deteriorating Reality
The ideal hall of residence is more than just a collection of rooms and common areas; it’s a place where students can recharge, focus, and thrive. In theory, it should provide the necessities: electricity, water, and cleanliness, while also cultivating a community that encourages academic and personal development. A hall should be a haven, providing peace and dependability in the often chaotic demands of university life. Well, it should be.
To be more realistic, you’d expect that ABH residents, still being students of UI, are entitled to such privileges despite living on another campus. Your average UI hall gets electricity and water; albeit in limited supply, it is still present. As Ololade, a 600L medical student, lamented, “We paid fees. The university should treat us with priority and not like second-class students.”
The current blackout in the hall has denied everyone such graces. As of now, most students have yet to return to ABH after the Christmas break. The combination of the current strike action by the MDCAN consultants, the persistent blackouts, the unreliable water supply, and the general deterioration of the hall have made resuming an unappealing prospect for many.
In a poll to assess the resumption of residents conducted on the ‘We are Brownites’ WhatsApp group on the 8th of January, about 55 percent of respondents were reported to have not resumed into the hall yet. A percentage that looks to be increasing as the conditions worsen. The reasons for resuming school or staying at home reflect the diverse realities of Brownites as they navigate the hall’s challenges. For most students in the Department of Physiotherapy, they’ve had no choice but to resume school as activities had started and they could not afford to stay away.
These stories show a larger truth: for many Brownites, the choice to stay is not a matter of preference but of necessity. David, a 400L physiotherapy student, explained that while the current strike action has allowed his MBBS and BDS counterparts to stay home, academic commitments leave him no choice but to endure the dire conditions.For him and many others, academic commitments outweigh the discomforts of living in the hall. Esther, in the 2K23 class, added, “The conditions are too poor for me to stay, but I have no other options.”
For students like Goodluck, a 500L medical student, leaving the hall was the only viable solution. “I can’t stay where there’s little to no supply of the most basic amenities. So yes, I looked for somewhere else to stay and come from time to time at my convenience,” he said. Similarly, one student remarked, “I have a place outside to stay. The jungle is not a place to be living.” These statements show the privilege of being able to afford alternatives, a privilege not everyone shares.
From academics to personal hygiene, nothing has been spared. Ololade shared his plight: “The heat is not small. The bedbugs that come with heat are deadly.” Students also report fear of returning due to bedbugs and the persistent lack of electricity. Similarly, Jasper highlighted the futility of maintaining academic focus under these conditions: “We waste the limited time and energy we have on charging devices and fetching water. It’s not fair on us.”
These conditions are a stark contrast to an ideal hall. Tunmise in 600L remarked, “It’s not good for students’ health. I just can’t cope with it.” His classmate, Gbadamosi, was more direct: “It’s unlivable.” For students like these, ABH no longer represents a place where they can thrive; instead, it has become an obstacle to their growth and well-being.
Respondents’ comments reflect the ripple effect of the absence of light, which affects everything from academics to mental health. “The hall has completely deteriorated,” one resident lamented. For students like Goodluck, the conditions have forced them to adapt in ways that detract from their primary focus: learning. “I resumed thinking I’d be able to sign some procedures and start my case write-up, but I can’t even do that. Plus, I can’t stay where there’s little to no supply of the most basic amenities,” he said. Instead, he spends much of his time travelling off-campus to charge his devices or find a place to work.
For some, the emotional toll of living in these conditions has been profound. Halleluyah (500 Level) shared, “I was seriously stressed last year… Seriously. I don’t want that this year. It even affected my health. I’m just regaining myself.” Tunmise also expressed the toll on mental well-being, stating, “It’s not good for students’ health. I just can’t cope with it.”
Others have grown resigned to their circumstances. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I gats resume,” Victor (2k22) said. This sense of resignation underscores the limitations students face, as they have little choice but to endure conditions that are far from conducive to growth or productivity. Yet, the struggle to adapt remains constant. Students responding to the press share stories of long commutes to charge their devices, studying under dim flashlights, and waking up drenched in sweat due to the stifling heat.
The privilege gap between those who can leave and those who cannot becomes even more apparent when considering the daily struggles of those who stay. Joy (400L, physiotherapy) described her situation, saying, “Life here is terrible, to say the least. Fetching water and charging my devices is a constant struggle, and it’s taking a toll on my physical and mental health.” For students like her, the challenges of living in ABH are magnified by the absence of alternatives, leaving them trapped in an environment that fails to support their well-being or productivity.
What Can Be Done?
This blackout highlights not just infrastructural decay but also a glaring indicator of a governance system that has failed to prioritize education and student welfare. To understand the scale of the issue, it is essential to examine the financial obligations and operational costs involved. Reports indicate that UCH is owing over 500 million naira for electricity, a debt that has crippled utility services in the hall. Furthermore, ABH residents reportedly pay sixty thousand naira for accommodation, which is comparable to other halls on the main campus, yet the living conditions starkly differ.
Students are left to question why the university has allowed such a vital hall to fall into such disrepair. This neglect has also revealed the administration’s lack of empathy for the student experience. Eunice (BDS 600L) expressed her frustration: “College management should address us and provide an effective solution as soon as possible. It’s really bad that they seem not to empathise with us.” Her words reflect a widespread sentiment among Brownites that their struggles are not just ignored but trivialized by those in power
The administration’s lack of responsiveness has forced students and hall executives to shoulder burdens that should not be theirs to bear. From initiating a solar project to fundraising for basic amenities, Brownites have had to take on responsibilities that highlight the systemic failures of the university. Goodluck questioned the lack of immediate solutions, asking, “What do we do to solve the current issue in the short term, at least before this project is completed?” His question underscores the urgency of addressing not just the symptoms but the root causes of ABH’s decline.
On the other hand, Jasper described it as “a fantastic and long-term project, to be honest… whatever we need to do to get this up and running is what we should chase at this point.” While the project offers hope, it also raises questions about sustainability and inclusivity. Joy pointed out the challenges, saying, “It is a good one, but it is a long-term intervention. The question is, How do we survive pending when the solar project is implemented?”
However, this cautious optimism is tempered by the frustrations of those who see no clear path forward. Anony (MBBS 500L) lamented, “I hate that it has to be student-run. We already learn most of what we do online, the main reason we came here. Now, we have to sort out this like this? Give me my degree already.”
For others, the focus remains on immediate interventions to alleviate the hall’s current struggles. Students like Esther (500L, MBBS) have called for quick action, urging the administration to “provide water and constant light daily.” Similarly, Betty (400l, MBBS) suggested addressing the debt owed to UCH to restore basic amenities: “Pay UCH’s debt to restore light and water. Slowly solve other issues.” These statements highlight a practical approach, meaning that while long-term solutions are essential, short-term relief is equally important.
The broader implications of ABH’s plight extend beyond the physical conditions of the hall. They reflect a failure to prioritise the well-being of students, a lack of strategic foresight, and a disconnect between the university’s leadership and its community. While students continue to endure, adapt, and advocate for change, the administration must confront its role in this crisis and take meaningful steps to restore ABH to its former status as the “promised land.”
As the situation persists, the question remains: What does this decline say about the university’s values? More importantly, what will it take to ensure that ABH and the students who call it home receive the attention and care they deserve? The Student Union has recently joined the call for change, sending an open letter to the federal government highlighting ABH’s dire conditions and urging urgent intervention.
To be frank, the plight of ABH residents has been lamented repeatedly, painstakingly chronicled by several press bodies; here, here, here, and here. Yet, despite these reports laying bare their struggles, little has changed. This tragic cycle of documentation and inaction reflects the neglect and silence of those who should care, leaving their suffering an unending narrative of despair.
The Student Union’s deadline will soon expire, and no action has been taken to address the dire conditions at ABH. It’s worrisome that despite the reports and appeals, the government and relevant authorities have remained silent, demonstrating a troubling indifference to the students’ suffering. As Brownites continue dealing with power outages, water shortages, and deteriorating living conditions, the university’s values remain a significant concern.
Ultimately, whether ABH can be restored depends on a coordinated effort from all stakeholders. The administration must take responsibility for addressing the hall’s structural issues and financial challenges. Hall executives need continued support in their initiatives, and students must remain vocal in advocating for change. As Elijah put it, “Although not a complete solution, any effort that makes living easier will make a big difference.”
