Ehindero and our open-cage slavery – Tribune Online

A traveller once passed through a bustling market where caged birds were sold. One cage stood out:  its door was wide open, yet the bird inside did not fly.

“Why does it stay?” the traveller asked.

The seller replied, “It was born here. It thinks this cage is the world.”

And so the bird remained, free, yet not free.

Nearby, other birds arrived daily, some trapped, some lured, some sold by those who knew no other trade. They sat there in their locked cages, none chirped in rejection of the grim fate. The market thrived because of habit, hunger, and silence induced by an illusion of light after the present darkness.

The above folktale, adapted from old cartoons, authors unknown, captures the moral centre of the 310-page ‘New Slavery: Human Trafficking, Education and National Security’, where, its author, Prof. Sola Ehindero, argues that modern trafficking persists “less through visible coercion than through deeply embedded structures of vulnerability, ignorance, and systemic failure.”

Ehindero, professor of Science Education and Curriculum Development, retired after 33 years at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife. He is a brother to a one-time Inspector General of Police, Mr Sunday Ehindero.

I knew him from a distance while I studied in that school about four decades ago. But two weeks ago, he sought me out. We spoke. Then, last week, he sent a copy of his latest book to me. I raced through some of the 12 chapters. From the glimpse I had of the pages, I beheld a very rigorous work. What readers have across his pages are a multidisciplinary interrogation of human trafficking as a contemporary form of slavery. I would say that the author has succeeded in framing human trafficking as a “new slavery”, one that has “evolved beyond chains into networks sustained by economic necessity, weak governance, and social complicity.”

In a linear, non complicated form, Ehindero ties historical slavery to modern exploitation. He then takes fast-paced steps to reframe trafficking as “an adaptive system that thrives within both informal economies and formal institutions where labour is underpaid, unregulated, or invisibly coerced.”

In the mind of every reader, the question persists: Why do authors write? I put this to Professor Ehindero: Why this book? His response was both measured and revealing. He argued that human trafficking remains a global crisis that is yet to be fully appreciated by many Nigerians, particularly at the level of government. While the establishment of NAPTIP by the Federal Government suggests some awareness, he maintained that the deeper implications and far-reaching consequences of human trafficking have not been sufficiently integrated into Nigeria’s national development plans.

I remembered the open cage case, and the bird market lore above. Then I asked him: Why do victims submit themselves to trafficking? Ehindero was careful to challenge the premise of the question. According to him, the evidence does not support the notion of willingness. Rather, empirical data show that most Nigerians, and Africans more broadly, do not knowingly consent to trafficking.

He introduced a compelling concept: “migra-llusion”—the illusion embedded in migration. It is this powerful lure, he explained, that drives many into the hands of traffickers. The promise of a better life abroad, often painted in glowing but deceptive terms, becomes a trap into which many unwittingly fall. More than poverty alone, he said this illusion “serves as the principal motivating force.”

While poverty is often cited as the root cause, Ehindero draws an important distinction between material poverty and what he terms intellectual poverty. The latter, he suggests, is even more dangerous.

“The inability to think critically, to distinguish between reality and illusion, between material deprivation and intellectual vulnerability, predisposes many Nigerians to fall victim to trafficking,” he explained.

On the connection between the Almajiri system and trafficking, Ehindero was equally direct. His findings indicate that out-of-school children, lacking basic education, are particularly susceptible to the illusions of migration. Traffickers, he said, deliberately target such vulnerable groups.

“They prey on children without education. In many cases, even family members or close relations act as intermediaries,” he noted. The betrayal, he added, is often intimate. Parents, trusting relatives or acquaintances, unknowingly place their children in harm’s way. “That is why out-of-school children and the Almajiri system in particular, have become fertile ground for traffickers,” he concluded.

So, education emerges as the book’s most forceful prescription. The author situates it as a transformative, inclusive system capable of disrupting cycles of exploitation. I also think Ehindero’s critique of Nigeria’s educational gaps, especially the marginalisation of vulnerable groups, is incisive, and his call for reform urgent and pragmatic.

In the book, I encountered “trafficology,” a word I had not seen before. What does it mean? The author explained that “trafficology is my creation.” He then outlines the forms of trafficking that fall under this new discipline: drug trafficking, arms trafficking, human trafficking, and livestock or animal trafficking.

These, he describes as “hidden crimes” that “generate more than 30 percent of global crime money.” They deserve focused scholarly attention, he argues, if the world is to make meaningful progress towards peace.

Ehindero easily exhibits his central thesis in the book, clearly and compellingly. The thesis is that if you take human trafficking as an isolated criminal act, you would be wrong; if you frame it as a systemic crisis rooted in structural inequalities, institutional fragility, and cultural contradictions, you will be right.

I showed the work to a friend; she believes its major strength lies in its structural lens. As she put it, “Rather than moralise, Ehindero diagnoses; he locates trafficking within governance deficits—poor education, economic dislocation, political instability, and weak enforcement systems.”

My friend thinks this style “shifts the discourse from sensational narratives to causal analysis, situating trafficking firmly within national security concerns.”

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Now, limitation. I see robust structural anaysis; I feel the urgency in the ‘voice’ of the author. But where is the human voice of survivors? I asked Ehindero and he told me that “there are a lot of ethical issues around getting the survivors to talk. Indeed, some take oaths to keep silent forever. But I am on another work that addresses this issue of hearing from the victims.” Fair enough.

When will the book be presented to the public? “Very soon,” the author told me. I strongly recommend it to government at all levels. Its content may be the solution we seek for our security ailments.

I would say the 310-page book is a timely and significant work. With it, Ehindero goes beyond describing a crisis; he reframes it and prescribes solutions. The language is simple but strong enough to compel us to see trafficking as a mirror reflecting the failures of our institutions, the gaps in our education, and the silences in our societies. I see a work that calls on us to go beyond rescuing the bird in the cage. It is a ‘MAMSER’ cry urging us to mobilise resources to dismantle the market that makes the cage inevitable.