society
OurLivesMatter: South Western Nigeria Now Vulnerable To Banditry, As People Live In Apprehension and Instability
#OurLivesMatter: South Western Nigeria Now Vulnerable To Banditry, As People Live In Apprehension and Instability
When Government sleeps, terror wakes. When Government fails, people suffer.
In the once peaceful towns of Southwestern Nigeria, fear now walks the streets freely. From the farmlands of Ondo to the villages of Osun and the highways of Kwara, gunfire and grief have become part of daily life. People now sleep with one eye open, praying that dawn will meet them alive. The hum of daily life has been replaced by the wail of grief and the silence of deserted farmlands.
This region, long known for its calm, culture, and commerce, is bleeding. Farmers no longer go to their fields. Traders close shops before dusk. Even schools struggle to stay open because parents are afraid to let their children out of sight. A cocoa farmer in Ondo, Adebayo, speaks with tears in his eyes. “I lost three workers to kidnappers,” he says quietly. “They asked for money I didn’t have. I left everything behind. Now I do menial work just to feed my family.”
His story echoes across the region. Every day, new victims are added to the growing list of those displaced, missing or killed. In some communities, villagers have fled entirely, seeking refuge with relatives or sleeping in churches. In Osun, widows gather in groups, sharing tales of pain. In Kwara, market women speak of journeys they no longer dare to take.
The tragedy in the Southwest is not only human but economic, with fear crippling trade and halting growth across the region. Small and medium-sized businesses struggle to survive while larger companies scale back operations or relocate entirely. In Ondo, a textile factory that employed over 200 workers shut down after repeated attacks on staff commuting from nearby villages. The losses forced dozens into unemployment, leaving families without income or security. Investor confidence has plummeted as local and foreign partners perceive the region as high-risk. The Nigerian stock market has reflected this unease, with banking, oil, and consumer goods sectors registering significant sell-offs, illustrating that insecurity is no longer a distant social problem but a tangible economic threat.
Farmers in Kwara and Osun are abandoning fertile lands after repeated raids. Tomatoes rot in trucks stranded on unsafe roads, and maize and yams spoil in storage because distribution networks cannot operate. Market traders recount how the cost of transporting goods has doubled, pushing prices of essential items like rice, beans, and pepper to levels ordinary families cannot afford. Inflation bites harder while income shrinks, forcing households into impossible decisions between food, medicine, and safety.
The disruption of commerce also hits long-term growth. Local entrepreneurs who once invested in expanding operations now hesitate, fearing losses and extortion. Foreign investors withdraw quietly, leaving jobless workers and empty factories. In Ibadan, a furniture company shut down its second branch after employees were attacked on the road, and in Ado-Ekiti, a small garment factory stopped production entirely due to insecurity-related disruptions. These are not isolated incidents; they reflect a regional pattern where insecurity has become a barrier to both opportunity and survival.
A roadside trader, Aishat, captures the reality in a few words. “We are living like refugees in our own land,” she says. “You can’t go to the farm, you can’t stay at home, you can’t even sell pepper in peace. The government has forgotten us.” Her pain is shared by millions who feel abandoned by a leadership more interested in photo opportunities than real protection.
Schools and health services are not spared. Parents in Osun now keep children home for fear of kidnappings. Clinics in rural areas operate with skeletal staff after nurses and doctors fled attacks or extortion attempts. Children miss lessons, farmers cannot attend training programs, and patients risk long journeys through dangerous roads to reach hospitals. These failures reveal how insecurity destabilizes every layer of society, from the economy to education and health.
Billions of naira are allocated every year for security, yet ordinary citizens sleep with one eye open. The same leaders who swore to defend the people now live behind barricades, guarded by convoys of armed men. The government’s failure is not just inaction; it is betrayal. It has allowed fear to become a permanent resident in people’s lives.
Communities are attempting to respond where government has failed. Vigilante groups and local security initiatives have emerged in some areas, but these are often under-resourced and operate under constant threat. In Ondo, villagers have organized nightly patrols after a series of kidnappings, but they admit that without official support, their efforts only offer temporary relief. This patchwork of protection highlights the absence of coherent policy and leadership at the state and federal levels.
The #OurLivesMatter campaign has emerged as a cry from the soul of a wounded region. It is not just another hashtag; it is the collective voice of those who refuse to die in silence. It calls on citizens, community leaders, and civil society to rise and demand accountability. Every Nigerian life counts, and the people will no longer accept excuses.
Southwestern Nigeria deserves better. Its people deserve safety, dignity, and peace. The time for government promises has passed. The people are demanding action, not speeches. Until those in power wake up to the pain on the streets, the cry will only grow louder. Because in the end, no government that fails to protect its people has the moral right to rule them.
society
When Order Clashes with Authority: The Stand-Off in Gaduwa
When Order Clashes with Authority: The Stand-Off in Gaduwa.
By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by SaharaWeeklyNG.com
A Navy Lieutenant’s Moment of Integrity Against Minister Wike’s Overreach.
On Tuesday, in the dusty environs of Gaduwa District, Abuja, an incident unfolded that speaks volumes about the fault lines in Nigeria’s power architecture; between political office, military command, land-use law and impunity. The confrontation between a naval officer and Nyesom Wike, the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), was more than a quarrel. It was a mirror held up to a system where uniforms and titles often overshadow legal accountability.
According to multiple reports, Wike arrived with his entourage and FCT field agents at a parcel of land designated Plot 1946. The plot is said to belong to retired Vice-Admiral Awwal Zubairu Gambo (ex–Chief of Naval Staff). The minister and his team were pressing for inspection and possible demolition of structures believed to be illegally developed in a buffer zone of the FCT master plan.
As the minister’s team attempted access, they were blocked by uniformed officers of the Nigerian Navy. A heated verbal encounter ensued between Wike and a naval officer (identified in one report as Lieutenant AM Yarima) who insisted they had “VALID DOCUMENTS” for the land; Wike scoffed, challenged the documents and refused to yield to the uniformed men’s presence.
At one juncture, Wike shouted: “You cannot use soldiers to intimidate government officials doing their job. This country cannot continue this way.”
The officer retorted, “I am an officer. I have integrity.” Wike’s response: “Shut up your mouth! Who does that? You are a big fool!” The officer maintained: “I am not a fool sir. I am acting on orders and I am a commissioned officer.”
What happened that day is ripe for analysis (not merely as a dramatic video on social media) but as an emblem of deeper structural dysfunction: land-grabbing, military impunity, politicised oversight and the erosion of rule of law.
Power, Uniform and the Rule of Law. First, let us be clear, the presence of uniformed naval officers in civilian land-use operations raises immediate questions. The military is not meant to operate as the muscle arm of land allocation or private development. When the minister demanded documentary proof of the officers’ claims, he was doing no more than insisting the law apply equally, regardless of rank. It is an axiom of good governance that “no one is above the law.”
A former UN expert on governance has written that “accountability becomes hollow if the symbols of power are exempt from legal scrutiny.” In other words: a uniform ought not to confer immunity. The officer’s invocation of “ORDERS” is the classic defence, but orders are meant to be lawful and legality cannot be assumed merely because someone holds a gun.
Wike, often combative by reputation, nonetheless tapped into a critical point: if law enforcement, urban management or land-allocation become hostage to uniformed intimidation, the public authority of civil offices is hollowed out. And when the armed forces are seen to be aligned implicitly with private interests (especially in land-rich Abuja) that signals a dangerous slide.
The Land Question: Abuja, Buffer Zones and the Master Plan. The purported land in question (Plot 1946 in Gaduwa) is described by reporting outlets as falling within a buffer zone designated by the Development and Control arm of the FCT Administration (FCTA) for non-development or restricted use.
If indeed part of a buffer zone, the claim of “LEGAL ACQUISITION” by the navy officer or the retired Chief of Naval Staff must be scrutinised thoroughly.
What we have here is the familiar Nigerian pattern: high-ranking officials or retired officers using title or influence to grab land, often in the name of “OFFICERS’ ACCOMMODATION” or similar. In many cases, civil regulators are ineffective or intimidated. The fact that the minister had to lead the push for field inspection signals systemic weakness.
The land sector in Nigeria has long been plagued by “symbiotic collusion between the state and the military/retired elites” in which the state grants belts of land, often without proper due process, to military insiders. That model undermines confidence in the system, invites rent-seeking and sharpens inequality: the uniformed class often enjoys privileges that citizens cannot access.
The Symbolism of the Confrontation. Why was this incident significant? Because it is a moment of symbolic clarity.
A naval officer refusing to stand down before a minister on a matter of land use is not merely insubordinate—it subverts the chain of accountability.
A minister demanding documentation and invoking “the government must function according to law” highlights the threat when state institutions become hostage to parallel structures of power.
The public nature of the exchange amplifies distrust. When citizens see uniforms deployed around private plots rather than national security, the social contract frays.
As governance scholar Joseph Stiglitz once observed: “When power is unchecked, it becomes the enemy of the people it is supposed to serve.” This stand-off played out like a microcosm of that truth.
The Broader Questions for Nigeria.
This incident begs some deeper questions:
Who serves whom? If a retired Chief of Naval Staff can claim land with officer-backed enforcement, where is the boundary between public office and private privilege?
What happens when the military is used for non-military tasks? Land allocation, demolition, buffer-zone patrols, all fall under civil regulation. Militarising them blurs lines of accountability.
What about the rule of law? Wike insisted: “You cannot use soldiers to intimidate government officials doing their job. This country cannot continue this way.”
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If the FCT minister himself is being challenged in the field, what hope does the ordinary citizen have when confronting land-grabs or property infractions?
What does this signal to investors and residents? Abuja’s brand appeal depends on predictable land-use planning and enforcement. When buffer zones are breached and enforcement used selectively, the market and public faith suffer.
A Call for Institutional Reform. This episode should serve as a clarion call for reform not merely verbal grandstanding.
Clear delineation of roles: The military should not be deployed to enforce land-use or act as private bodyguards for land holders. Civil authorities must handle EVICTION, DEMOLITION, INSPECTION.
Transparent land-allocation records: The FCT Administration must publish all allocations, buffer-zone designations and the status of each parcel. Citizens must have sight of documents said to exist.
Independent oversight of land tenure: A civilian-led tribunal with authority to adjudicate disputes between municipality and military/retired elites could help restore confidence.
Accountability for abuses of power: When an officer refuses to comply with a minister’s lawful instruction (supported by statute and regulation), there must be consequences. As scholars argue, “power without accountability is tyranny dressed in uniform.”
Culture of integrity in the armed forces: The naval officer insisted “I have integrity.” But integrity alone is insufficient when it is not tied to transparency of acquisition. As scholar Francis Fukuyama puts it: “Institutions matter more than individuals, because they insulate society from the whims of powerful men.”
Closing Reflections. On that dusty Tuesday in Gaduwa, we witnessed not simply a spat between minister and naval officer; but a crucible for principles: legality versus privilege, civil oversight versus military intimidation, public service versus private entitlement. That a naval lieutenant (or an officer of whatever rank) dared to stand his ground against the FCT minister underscores how entrenched the problem has become: power bypassing process, rank discounting regulation.
As the minister thundered: “Even if you are a lieutenant general or vice admiral, it means nothing. The government must function according to law.”
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That statement must not be reduced to rhetoric. It must become policy.
For Nigeria to mature as a state where citizens believe in the rule of law, where military service does not confer land-privilege, where ministers are not blocked by uniforms in the field, this incident must be more than viral footage. It must be a turning point.
The uniform is supposed to protect the nation (not encroach on public authority. The office-holder is supposed to enforce the law) not bend before muscle. The citizen is supposed to live in a system where justice is blind to rank. Let this episode serve as an uncomfortable but necessary mirror.
And let those watching ask: in a land where a Navy lieutenant can challenge a minister, who then safeguards the citizen from power imbalances? Until the institutions align, this will remain not a standout event, but an example of why governance in Nigeria still tilts toward the powerful rather than the just.
George Omagbemi Sylvester
SaharaWeeklyNG.com
society
Actress Halima Abubakar visits Hon Barau Jibrin, seeks support for vulnerable children
Actress Halima Abubakar visits Hon Barau Jibrin, seeks support for vulnerable children
Star actress and philanthropist, Halima Abubakar has paid a courtesy visit to the Deputy Senate President, Hon Barau Jibrin, seeking his support to assist vulnerable children and aged persons in the society.
Under the auspices of her Halima Abubakar Foundation, the actress has over the years given lifelines to hundreds of vulnerable children, people living with disabilities and aged persons.
During her visit to Hon Jibrin’s office this week, the UN Peace Ambassador harped on the need for continuous support for vulnerable children, particularly in the north where they’re faced with the challenges of cholera and other life-threatening diseases.
She said that having embarked on a solo campaign for some years, her foundation is now ready to partner with the government to tackle the scourge that had claimed the lives of many innocent children in the northern part of the country.
The Deputy Senate President, who received Halima in his office in the company of filmmaker and SSA Mustapha Naburus-ka, and several members of the House Committee, commended the actress for her enduring commitment to humanitarian causes.
He therefore pledged his support to the humanitarian gestures of Halima Abubakar Foundation to rescue the leaders of tomorrow from the claws of the epidemic.
While acknowledging Hon Jibrin’s developmental efforts, Halima who was born and raised in Kano State, promised to support the community where Deputy Speaker grew up from in Kano State.
”I look forward to seeing more of his contributions to the projects by making life easy and meaningful for the less privileged persons, and more importantly to show them love and strength through empowerment,” she concluded.
society
The Corridor of Cinders: Osi-Eruku-Égbé roads have degenerated into a death trap as bandits operate unhindered
The Corridor of Cinders: Osi-Eruku-Égbé roads have degenerated into a death trap as bandits operate unhindered.
The air along the Osi-Eruku-Égbé road no longer smells of laterite dust and harvested maize; it smells of fear and the acrid smoke of burnt hopes. The consistent insecurities here are not events; they are the new rhythm of life—a slow, agonizing disappearance of the people and the government meant to protect them.
In Eruku/Obbo/Égbé, the dawn is no longer greeted with the cheerful clatter of spoons, but with a paralyzing silence. Every eye in the village watches the road, waiting for a vehicle that won’t come, or for news that they dread. This terror has been in existence in the area for long but recently when the local vigilantes, the strong, young men who knew the bush trails better than the bandits, were suddenly removed.
The State Government, in a move universally condemned as suicidal, recalled them for “mandatory, intensive training in Ilorin.” This political maneuver, meant to sound strategic, served only to strip the road bare, leaving not a single replacement guard. The bandits, like vultures sensing the death of a herd, arrived within hours.
The Killing and kidnapping operations are surgical and swift. The roadside ditches now serve as macabre exhibition grounds. When a ransom is delayed, or a family cannot pay, the fate of the victim is often left as a chilling warning.
The killing is calculated: a message to the rest of the community that resistance is useless and government protection is non-existent.
The worst psychological wound is the official neglect.
Eruku City’s desperation peaked when a gang raided the farm and moved away farmers two days without any resistance.
The frantic calls to the Ekiti Local Government Chairman, the one who publicly boasted of raising a “second batch” of vigilantes, were met with an electronic wall. His phone was off. His office was locked. He has not set foot in Eruku or Any other community since the attack started days ago, his physical absence a crushing confirmation of their abandonment. The promised “second batch” turned out to be nothing but a cruel, empty rumour—a lie swallowed by the void he left behind.
“When you have no shield and the shepherd runs, what is left for the flock?”
The situation has moved beyond crime; it is a systematic dismantling of communal security and governance.
The Osi-Eruku-Égbé road is becoming a graveyard, and the residents know they are next.
At the ruined checkpoint, the people have delivered their last, most desperate decree:
Governor Abdulrahaman must immediately declare a State of Emergency in Ekiti Local Government, specifically the Eruku-Obbo district.
This is not a political request; it is a primal cry for survival. It demands the immediate deployment of security forces, the mobilization of any available local defense, and a full inquiry into why the vigilantes were removed without replacement. The declaration must stop the slaughter, acknowledge the horrific failure of local administration, and restore a sense of safety before the entire region is completely overrun and silenced forever.
The above is a wake up call and reminder to the government of its primary and constitutional obligation “ protecting the life and properties of the citizens “
©️ Concerned Citizen
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