Welcome to Thursday Chronicles, the one place where we refuse to pretend that everything is fine just because we’ve scrolled past the headlines. Today, we pause the comedy, reduce the trending hashtags, and ask one question: How many more Nigerians must die before the rest of us stop scrolling?
Benue State is in mourning. Again.
Over the past few days, Yelewata community in Guma Local Government Area was invaded by gunmen suspected to be herdsmen. According to Amnesty International, at least 100 people were brutally murdered. Survivors say it’s over 150. Entire families were wiped out. Some were shot in their sleep. Others were burned alive. Yes, alive.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, in a visit to Makurdi this week, condemned the attack and asked the one question on everyone’s mind:
“How come there have been no arrests?”
Sir, we’ve been asking that for years.
Let’s be clear: This is not a random outburst of violence. It is a pattern. A deadly, repetitive pattern that has turned Nigeria’s “Food Basket” into a graveyard. And while Benue is crying, the rest of the country is… tired, distracted, or pretending not to notice.
There is something dangerously casual about how we consume news of mass killings in Nigeria. If this were another country, the headlines would read like breaking global news. Here? It’s just another link you click, shake your head, and move on.
What makes this worse? The numbers don’t lie, but no one seems to be counting anymore.
- In May, over 60 people were killed in coordinated attacks across Gwer West and Guma LGAs.
- Over 6,000 people have reportedly died in the Benue herder-farmer conflict in the past few years.
- Hundreds of thousands have been displaced.
- And yet, how many actual arrests have been made? How many prosecutions? How many convictions?
Your guess is as good as ours.
Now let’s talk about farming, because this isn’t just about bullets, it’s about bread.
Benue feeds Nigeria. From rice to yam to tomatoes, you probably have something grown there in your kitchen right now. But you can’t plant when you’re running. You can’t harvest when you’re hiding. You can’t feed a nation if you’re burying your children.
Studies show that insecurity in agricultural communities reduces productivity by over 20%. Food prices rise. Hunger increases. And the cycle continues.
But who is listening?
Solutions? We have them. We’ve always had them. But the Nigerian tradition is to “condemn attacks” and then… wait for the next one.
Here’s what can be done (and should have been done ages ago):
- Actual arrests and prosecutions – Not “investigations.” Not “we’re on top of the situation.” We need names, faces, and jail time.
- Community-based security networks – Trained, empowered, and legally recognized local defence forces.
- Smart technology – Drones, alert systems, and real-time communication in rural communities.
- Policy reform – A grazing policy that protects both herders and farmers with clearly mapped boundaries, and consequences for violators.
- Rehabilitation and rebuilding – Trauma care, resettlement, and financial compensation for victims.
- Leadership with urgency – No more condolences without consequences.
Let’s be honest: Nigerians are resilient, but we should not have to be this resilient. We are not designed to normalize death. We shouldn’t be experts in grieving. We shouldn’t need “mass burial protocols.”
It’s not bravery. It’s survival. And that survival is breaking.
So what now?
Do we wait until the next massacre? Until Benue is just a memory on a dusty map? Or until someone famous is affected and suddenly the country “wakes up”?
Because if you’re thinking, “This doesn’t concern me,” remember: violence spreads. And one day, the story might be about your own village.
This is not just a Benue issue. This is a national failure. A test of leadership. A test of empathy. And a test of our collective humanity.
As you read this, someone in Benue is burying their child. Not because of a natural disaster. But because of failure—of systems, of justice, of leadership.
This has been Thursday Chronicles—where we don’t scroll past the hard truths. May our hearts stay soft enough to feel, and strong enough to act.
Until next week, stay aware, stay engaged, and don’t stop demanding better.
