• On Friday, June 13, suspected herders launched a late-night attack on the Yelewata and Daudu communities in the Guma Local Government Area (LGA) of Benue State. The attack reportedly left about 200 people dead and displaced over 6,000 more. 

    Speaking to Vanguard, Matthew Mnyan, a community leader from Yelewata,  described how the attackers overpowered local police and youth efforts. According to him, the assailants struck from two fronts — the eastern and western parts of Yelawata — making it difficult to hold them back. 

    “They killed our people, poured petrol on the stalls in the market and burnt them,” he explained. “In those stalls, we had people who moved from places like Branch Udei and people displaced from nearby villages, who slept in them because of the proximity of the Police and soldiers there. And we learnt no soldier came out to defend the people.”

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    Maurice Orwough, Chairman of Guma LGA, also confirmed the attack, stating that many had been killed, though he did not provide specific details.

    This was not an isolated incident. Before the Friday attack, there was also the June 1 attack in Naka, which claimed several lives; the attack on May 9 across four LGAs (Guma, Logo, Ukum, and Kwande), the April 17 attack in Ugondo, Tyuluv, and Gbagir communities that reportedly claimed over 56 lives. These are just a few examples from a long, tragic list. 

    As outrage continues to mount over these relentless, gruesome Benue attacks, one question has remained constant: What is driving the ongoing violence in Benue State?

    The history behind the never-ending Benue attacks

    The killings in Benue State did not start this year or last year.  They actually go back decades. In fact, some historians trace the conflict as far back as the colonial era. 

    At one time, farmers and herders had a cordial, even symbiotic, relationship. They exchanged resources and coexisted peacefully. But that balance was disrupted with the introduction of colonial policies, particularly around land ownership

    The most significant shift came with new laws that enabled colonial Europeans to privatise and claim large portions of land. As a result, indigenous communities were left with less land to farm or graze, fuelling tensions over increasingly scarce resources — a conflict that continues to this day. 

    Climate change

    Beyond the scarcity of resources, climate change has further worsened the situation. Large expanses of land in northern Nigeria have dried up due to the effects of desertification, further reducing available grazing land. As a result, more herders have been forced to migrate south in search of greener pastures, often into farming communities in the Middle Belt, where Benue is located.“Climate change is a new challenge that we didn’t experience 20 or 30 years ago; it’s really impacting us,” said Ibrahim Galma, Secretary of the Miyetti Allah Cattle Breeders Association (MACBAN),  in a 2024 interview with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).

    This movement has sparked tensions on both sides. Farmers accuse herders’ cattle of destroying their crops, while herders complain that cultivated farmland now blocks traditional grazing routes. The result has been a seemingly endless cycle of conflict.  

    In 2017, the Benue State government attempted to curb the violence by signing the Anti-Open Grazing Law, which bans open grazing and promotes ranching instead. But the law has been met with resistance from herders, who argue it unfairly targets them.

    Former President Muhammadu Buhari also promoted ranching as a long-term solution.. In 2019, his administration introduced the National Livestock Transformation Plan (NLTP), which aimed to encourage herders to adopt ranching. Though he secured a €400,000 (₦188.5 million) grant to pilot the scheme in select states, the plan ultimately struggled to take off. Its failure has been attributed to  “deficient political leadership, popular misperceptions about its purpose, budgetary constraints aggravated by the COVID-19 pandemic, a lack of personnel with the expertise to carry it out and widespread insecurity.”

    Easy access to small arms and weapons

    The availability of small arms and weapons has made the conflict between farmers and herders even more deadly. In the past, disputes over land or resources were often resolved through dialogue, mediation, or other traditional means. But with easier access to weapons, these disagreements now frequently escalate into violent clashes and retaliatory attacks that leave many dead, wounded and displaced. 

    Attah Jesse Attah-Olottah, Risk Operations and Intelligence Coordinator at Beacon Security and Intelligence Limited (BSIL), told Zikoko Citizen why these weapons are so easy to come by.

    “The proliferation of small arms and weapons is twofold — the internal and external avenues,” he said.  

    Internally, Attah-Olottah explained that the weapons find their way into the hands of farmers and herders through different non-state actors operating across the country. These include “the quiet militancy in the South-South, the Indigenous People Of Biafra (IPOB) and its militia network in the Southeast, as well as  rural bandits and ideological terrorists up North.”

    On the external front,  Nigeria’s weak border security has made arms smuggling even easier. Atta-Olottahn pointed to Nigeria’s neighbours — Cameroon, Chad, and Niger Republic — as major sources of illicit weapons, given their security issues.

    “Nigeria is situated in what is described as an ‘arch of violence’ or ‘arch of instability’,” he said. ”Every country around Nigeria is experiencing some level of instability,” he added, emphasising that this position, coupled with weak border security, encourages arms smuggling.

    What are the solutions to the violence?

    While some interventions have been introduced — such as Benue’s  Anti-Open Grazing Law and Buhari’s National Livestock Transformation Plan (NLTP) — Attah-Olottah believes these efforts have fallen short. According to him, the government has failed in its responsibility to protect all Nigerians, not just one group. 

    “Where laws are not really being put in place to find lasting solutions that would support all parties of the conflict, it further exacerbates tensions and causes great levels of division between both parties,” he said, explaining that the government needs to do more to find lasting solutions to the problem.

    But while Nigerians wait for these solutions, Attah-Olottah believes that the government can do more to protect the lives and property of citizens in at-risk communities.

    “The Nigerian custom, for example, has an aerial asset, which it uses for its operation. The Nigerian immigration can collaborate with customs to utilise its aerial assets, which by the way is very underutilised in terms of border control and monitoring the fringes of the Nigerian border to stop and detect the movement of illegal persons and influx of weapons in the country,” he said.

    He also outlined broader security measures like better detection, deterrence, early warning systems and early response strategies to prevent and manage attacks, among other solutions.

    In addition to all these, Attah-Olottah also thinks the government’s failure to identify perpetrators of specific attacks has seen it fail in its duty to ensure that justice is served to victims.

    “We need proper systems that allow for the identification of actors and for justice,” he said.

    He emphasised that justice isn’t just about having laws on paper; it requires a functioning, trustworthy judicial system. “What we currently have in the Nigerian judiciary has made many citizens lose faith in the justice system,” he added, explaining that the system often allows perpetrators of violence to “manoeuvre around the laws and find freedom,” even after they’ve been arrested and charged in court.

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  • For many of us, the plan is to work hard so that we can live a soft life after retirement. It seems the same goes for Governor Samuel Ortom of Benue State. 

    On April 11, 2023, he proposed a pension Bill to the state House of Assembly, a retirement package for Benue state’s ex-governors. However, Ortom’s “retirement plan” might eventually send Benue state into taking loans from Lapo. 

    Let’s break down the Bill

    The Bill titled, “A Bill for a Law to make Provisions for the Maintenance of Former Governors of Benue State and their Deputies and for Other Matters Connected Thereto” involves the following benefits:

    • Section 2(a)(i) makes provisions for the payment to all former governors a monthly “stipend”, which is equivalent to the “salary” of an incumbent governor.
    • Section 2(a)(ii) makes provisions for the payment to all former deputy governors, a “stipend” equivalent to the “salary” of an incumbent deputy governor. 
    • Section 2(b) ensures that a building of permanent residential accommodation in any town and state of their choice.
    • Section 2(c) and (h) provide the provisions of 4 new cars every four years for former governors and 2 new cars every four years for former deputy governors, which shall all be serviced and maintained at the expense of the state.
    • Section 2(d) and (e) provide 6 personal staff for former governors and 3 for former deputy governors, all to be paid by the state.
    • Section 2(f) provides 24-hour security surveillance and guarding for all former governors and deputy governors.
    • Section 2(g) provides free medical treatment for them, their wives and children below 18.
    • Section 3 provides that all benefits can be monetised.
    • And lastly, in Section 4, former governors provide the entitlement of 2 vacations abroad annually and 1 for deputy governors.

    Why is this Bill Outrageous? 

    If successfully passed into Law, former governors and deputy governors would be entitled to these benefits for life. Also, it’ll be backdated to cover these former lawmakers from as far back as 1999. 

    But to give you a clearer idea of how much this will cost, the monthly salary of a sitting governor is ₦11,540,896. If Sen. George Akume, former Benue State Governor (1999-2007), was to get his pension according to the proposed Bill, it would mean that he’d be entitled to 138,490,752 annually and about 2.2 billion Naira from the time since he left office. 

    Another reason why this Bill is proof that the air many Nigerian politicians breathe is most likely cocaine is the fact that since Ortom became Governor of Benue state eight years ago, pensioners haven’t received their gratuity. And Ortom’s retirement plan proposes that the benefits be charged to the state’s Consolidated Revenue Fund, meaning it would take priority over payment of gratuities, pensions and salaries.

    Earlier this year, many teachers in Benue state reported that they resorted to petty trading and farming as many were owed a backlog of 10-15 months’ salaries. During the recent Workers’ Day Celebration on May 1, 2023, Benue state workers complained once again about the salaries owed to them. Teachers are being owed 11 months’ salaries, local government workers 10 months and at the state level, about 8 months’ salaries. 

    However, despite the obvious reasons why this Bill should be thrown out by the State House of Assembly, it has passed its first reading.

    Reactions to the Bill

    The Incorporated Trustees of Bridges and Hands Foundation have filed a suit in Benue State High Court, challenging the pension Bill on how it’s unjustifiable given the state of civil servants and pensioners. The court will begin hearing on May 5, 2023

    The Benue State Chapter of the All Progressives Congress (APC) has also kicked against the pension Bill saying it was not only unfair given the situation of pensioners, but it would also increase the despair in the state. 

    The Governor-elect, Hyacinth Alia, has also raised alarms saying it’d serve only the outgoing governor and increase the state’s dependence on the Federation Account.

    Hopefully, Benue’s State House of Assembly sees the absurdity of this Bill and does the responsible thing by rejecting it. 

  • Life

    Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. 

    Today’s subject for #ZikokoWhatSheSaid is a 50-year-old mum of three living her life backwards. She talks about the ups and downs of having a police dad, navigating adulthood without a solid plan and the moment of epiphany that reset her life.

    What was it like growing up in the 80s?

    We moved around a lot when I was a child. My dad was an Assistant Commissioner of Police in Lagos, and his job made sure we moved to a new place every other year. Those trips were the most exciting thing about having a police dad. I knew we were always going to try someplace new — and loved it. 

    I was born in Lagos and lived in the officer’s quarters at the Police College in Ikeja. The first time we moved, I was nine. We went from Lagos to Makurdi in Benue State and moved between three towns in Benue: Makurdi, Ida and Otukpo. Eight years later, my father was redeployed and we settled down in Oji river in Enugu State, where we lived until my father retired from the police force and moved to Delta State. 

    What were the best parts of your road trips? 

    I miss the drive between towns. The fruity scent of my mum’s perfume in my dad’s Peugeot 504. The cool breeze as my dad drove through highways… 

    Didn’t you lose friends with all of this moving about?

    My parents were pretty strict. My dad in particular. He was very strict about minding his business, which meant ensuring his kids didn’t mingle with the neighbours or make friends. He made sure we didn’t wander outside the compound. Our lives looped around home, school and church. It didn’t help that our flat at the barracks had its own compound. That seclusion made it so boring — the kids at the communal side of the barracks seemed to have all the fun. We didn’t even have a TV to watch. It was so annoying. The only form of entertainment we had was standing by the window in the living room and watching the other kids run around, roll tyres and get dirty. 

    I made my first set of friends in secondary school, but I didn’t feel attached to those relationships. Leaving right in the middle of a school term was second nature to me — it never felt like I was losing anything. 

    You never snuck out of the house?

    Hm. Once bitten, twice shy. 

    Ghen ghen… Tell me about the once.

    My older brother snuck out one day after school while my sister and I looked on. He was having the time of his life that afternoon, rolling tyres, throwing sand around with the other kids and laughing. All that laughter disappeared when my dad rode his bicycle into the compound. We didn’t even have enough time to call him back into the house. It was my dad’s belt that brought him inside. When my mum returned from the market, he received another round of beating. Nobody had to tell us to never try it again after that.

    That’s harsh. 

    Yeah. Anyway, being stuck in the house got me obsessed with reading novels. I started saving any money I got to buy books. I also climbed a lot of trees. When we lived in Otukpo, our compound had been surrounded by tall mango trees, and we were allowed to play with them. It was fun racing my brother and sister to the top, and up there we were rewarded with cool breeze and juicy mangos. 

    Climbing trees made me feel daring, brave.

    Wild. Deciding on a Netflix show is where my bravery ends. 

    LOL.  I also remember things like hiding in the farm behind our house in Maiduguri to avoid going for a secondary school entrance exam that was miles away from home. My father threatened to not send me to school for the whole year, but I didn’t care. He eventually enrolled me at a school close to the house. My mother used to beat me for soaking my clothes in the bathroom for days and locking myself in the bathroom to avoid my chores. I was quite the coconut head.

    When was the first time you got to do what you wanted?

    Way way later. My adult life was pretty uneventful. When I got into uni, I wanted to experience new things in a new town. Sadly, as a broke Nigerian student, that dream had to take a back seat. I was also too shy and reserved. My mates were chilling with their razzlers.

    Razz what?

    LOL. That’s what we called the men chasing us back then — what you guys call toasters. I had my razzlers, but I was too reserved to go for any of their advances. I only hung out with one person — let’s call her Amanda — who would drag me to Aba to chill. After uni, the “fun” ended. 

    And what started?

    Job-hunting. I moved to Lagos to find a job. My friends were going into the banking sector, but I couldn’t see myself working as a banker.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted anyway. I got a job as a supervisor in a barbing saloon, but it still didn’t feel like the right place. I complained to my father and he advised me to work as a teacher since I had a degree in English — that wasn’t something I wanted either. Eventually, I asked my sister, who’d moved to the UK,  to start sending clothes I could sell to my friends in Lagos. I did that for a few years but got fed up with the hustle in Lagos and moved back to Port Harcourt. I started the search for a new job again and met the man I married in the process. The years went by, and I still couldn’t find a job. When we started having kids, I started the clothing business again to support my family. My life pretty much shut down, until I turned 47. 

    Tell me what went down.

    I had a moment of epiphany. I got married with three lovely kids, but I was always angry. I didn’t even realise how bad it was until the evening I was watching a series on Zee world and my eight year old daughter walked in to ask a question, and I snapped at her. She wasn’t being difficult; I was just transfering aggression. 

    I was angry at my status. It felt like one minute I was a 17-year-old getting admission into uniport, to study English, taking trips to Aba to visit my friend and enjoying life. Then suddenly, all that time — 33 years —  had gone by and nothing exciting happened in between. I didn’t own anything for myself and my friends who’d chosen banking had solid careers. That reality built some kind of resentment in me.  I wanted more, but it felt late at first. 

    At first?

    Yes. Things changed once I renewed my mind. It meant allowing myself to become the coconut-headed child I once was. It meant trusting God again on the plans he had for me, believing I wasn’t a failure just because time had gone by. The first step was to build something my fears wouldn’t let me believe I was good enough to do. I decided to open up a creche the next year.

    A creche?

    Yeah. Six years after graduating from uniport, my close friend Amanda opened a primary school in Abuja. The parents at her school kept requesting a creche section for their younger kids, but she wasn’t interested in expanding. She called me up a few times to take up the opportunity and set up my own place. I wasn’t ready. 

    I shoved the conversation away until after the incident with my daughter. I went to see her to talk through the emotions. Her advice was to get past the anger and try something new. She mentioned setting up the creche again, and it just felt right. 

    I set up the school in 2020, and it’s gradually grown. I started off with only two staff, and now I have five. New kids come in each year. 

    What does it take to run a creche?

    Continuously learning. You have to be open-minded and keep up with new trends to teach kids. The years they spend in creche are usually the most formative ones, so I’m very particular about exploring teaching strategies. 

    I started this school when I was 48 — a year after that moment of epiphany at 47. This year, I turned 50, and with each moment that passes, there’s something new to learn about teaching. Google had to be my best friend, and it was hard at first. I had to ask my own kids for help — you know that’s not an African mother’s forte. So learning to keep my school up to date has been the hardest thing. I have to be, how do you guys say it…

    Woke?

    Yes. “Woke.”

    LOL. Looking at how your parents trained you, I’m curious about how you’ve trained your kids.

    Haha. I used to be as strict as my parents, but it didn’t work with my kids. As they got older, they only became more rebellious and distant. At one point, I was called in by the principal because my son was suspended for stealing from the cafeteria. That was the moment I knew my father’s austere approach wasn’t going to work. I needed to find a balance. 

    At first, they didn’t trust me, but I kept trying. I let go of the stern boundaries and gave them room to socialise — our communication became more open. They could politely challenge me with ideas, and I was fine stepping back.  As time went by, they started talking to me about things I could only dream about before — crushes at school, places they wanted to see — and I loved every bit of it.

    That’s so sweet. What does a 50-year-old woman who manages a school look forward to in 2022?

    Travelling! Last December, I decided to go on a trip with my kids, sister and her kids to see my dad. He retired and moved to Delta State after serving in the police force for almost 32 years. We couldn’t afford a train ticket, so we decided to take a train from Abuja. My elder brother felt it was a careless decision. But I didn’t want to overthink it. 

    I drove to Lokoja and bought the train tickets at a station there. It was a slow ride, but I enjoyed the scenery. It took me back to those moments in the Peugeot 504 with my family again. There was no breeze from zooming down the highways, but I had the trees and the sun. 

    The next thing on my list is to go on a safari in Kenya. I want to know what the sun feels like around the world. It’s small small sha. I’m starting life backwards — it’s scary, but I love it.

    For more stories like this, check out our #WhatSheSaid and for more women like content, click here