RURAL NIGERIA AND GRIM CYCLE OF INSECURITY

Nigeria has entered another grim cycle -one that feels painfully familiar to communities that have become unwilling front-liners in a war they neither invited nor understand. In the last four days alone, at least 145 Nigerians have been abducted across Kebbi, Zamfara and Niger states. Twenty-five schoolgirls kidnapped before dawn in Kebbi. Three villagers killed and 64 others seized in Zamfara. Sixteen vigilantes murdered and 42 people abducted in Niger. The headlines are numbing, yet the stories beneath them are even more unsettling: a country whose rural heartlands are slowly being dissolved by fear, abandonment and the normalisation of criminal violence.

For many Nigerians, these incidents are not isolated tragedies. They are part of a vicious pattern stretching back years. In 2023, during the tense pre-election months, at least 792 Nigerians were abducted in only the first quarter, according to verified data. Today, as political parties warm up again for the 2027 contest, the shadows are lengthening once more. Insecurity rises, rhetoric rises, promises rise but communities continue to fall.

The Kebbi school attack is particularly symbolic. Once again, the targets were schoolgirls. Once again, a perimeter fence proved more ceremonial than protective. Once again, armed men walked into a public school as though strolling through an unguarded market. According to the police, the bandits arrived at about 4:00 a.m., firing into the air and overpowering the school’s security before escaping with 25 children. A staff member, Hassan Makuku, was killed. A guard was shot. And the students vanished into the vast, unregulated forests that now function as safe havens for armed groups.

The Federal Government has condemned the attack as governments always do calling it “reprehensible,” promising swift rescue, and directing security agencies to “locate, rescue and ensure justice.” The Minister of Defence described the incident as “totally unacceptable.” These statements are necessary, but they do little for the parents who now spend their days staring at empty bunks and silent uniforms.

Zamfara’s case is no less alarming. Entire families were carted away from Tsafe and Maru LGAs, with reports confirming three deaths and at least 64 abducted in one attack alone. Communities such as Zurmi, Shinkafi, Maradun, Maru and Bungudu have lived under this shadow for years. They pay levies. They negotiate to farm. They bury loved ones. They flee at night. Banditry in Zamfara has evolved into a parallel economy, one that thrives because the state’s presence has weakened and criminal syndicates now operate with cold confidence.

Niger State’s tragedy further complicates the picture. Sixteen vigilantes killed, and dozens kidnapped. These vigilantes are ordinary residents who step in where the state has failed with torches, dane guns and courage as their only armour. They are outmatched, outgunned and overstretched. Yet they stand in the gap because the alternative is abandonment.

What links Kebbi, Zamfara and Niger is not geography but the silence that follows after promises fade and attention shifts elsewhere. Rural Nigeria has become the theatre of a slow, grinding war of attrition. Schools, farms, highways and markets have become targets. Parents now enrol children in schools not by distance or quality, but by safety. Communities now make security decisions based on rumours, not signals from the government.

Reactions from political figures capture a growing national frustration. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar condemned the attacks as “a reminder of worsening insecurity,” pointing also to killings in Plateau, Benue and Kano. The PDP accused the Federal Government of “preferring politicisation to protection.” Security experts have raised deeper worries. Former CP Emmanuel Ojukwu warned that abductions often spike ahead of elections, becoming tools of disruption and intimidation. Another retired CP, Ladodo Rabiu, countered that insecurity has now become permanent not seasonal and politicians merely exploit it when convenient.

Both views reveal a brutal truth: Nigeria’s insecurity is no longer episodic; it is structural. It feeds on weak governance, fragile policing, porous borders, fragmented jurisdictions, and an overstretched military deployed incessantly for internal duties it was never designed to handle.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu, Abuja