As a nation, Nigeria is known for its resilience. Having survived Western colonisation, eight distinct military regimes, and consistent incompetence from our leaders, the country still pushes on with the hope that one day things will get better. Could that be what is killing us?
Between 13 and 15 May 2026, armed attackers raided schools in Nigeria, kidnapping 39 students and seven teachers in Oyo State, and abducting 42 very young children — some as young as two years old — in Borno State. Less than a week after, thousands of fathers and mothers gathered in Ijebu land, in a neighbouring state to one of the states of incidence, to celebrate in style and in culture. An onlooker might well wonder: what is worth celebrating?
At least 87 students and teachers are in captivity, with one teacher beheaded, and still this is not enough to make us pause and reflect soberly? The President made a press statement 12 days after the abduction, with promises that Nigerians have heard far too often. President Jonathan made promises in 2014 after the abduction of the Chibok girls, and those promises, 12 years later, remain unfulfilled.
The First Lady, on the other hand, gave a Children’s Day speech with no mention of the children in captivity. This is not the love and obedience of the law that the President invoked during his Eid address. This goes beyond tribalism and cynicism, as it is often framed when someone speaks about the ills of society. As a Nigerian, this news is deplorable, and ought to be spoken about. As a Yoruba person — although not from Ijebu — I see no reason for celebration. A culture that cannot stand up for its children is not worth celebrating. Part of culture is also mourning with others in times of sadness.
In times past, Yoruba warriors once rallied to successfully repel military expansion from other regions. Now we party in fancy sunshades and fine attire, unable to see how grave things have become. Leaders and celebrities who once spoke against the Chibok abductions are suddenly silent.
Famous author Chinua Achebe will say, “There Was a Country”. A not-yet-famous writer would rather say that there was a culture that once cared. There was a First Lady that once wept. There was a President that once spoke. There was an opposition party that once opposed. And while all these do not guarantee a safe return, they reflect our joint culture of communal concern. Our kids are in the forest. We cannot celebrate. Get your PVCs.
