The darkness descended with the roar of motorcycles, shattering the fragile peace of Papiri village. A father, known only as Theo, was jolted awake, not by a nightmare, but by the chilling reality of dozens of children being snatched from their beds. Gunmen had stormed St. Mary’s Catholic boarding school, and his son was among those seized.
Theo described a horrifying scene: children herded like livestock, forced onward by the relentless kicks and shouts of their captors. Fifty motorcycles formed a menacing convoy, each carrying a precious, terrified cargo. He felt utterly helpless, paralyzed by the fear of escalating the situation, knowing any intervention could endanger his son further.
He desperately contacted the police, but their arrival came too late. The school, once a sanctuary of learning, was left eerily silent, filled only with the remnants of disrupted lives. The Christian Association of Nigeria estimates 303 students and 12 staff were taken, though authorities dispute the number, claiming it’s significantly lower.
The governor of Niger state, Umar Bago, pointed fingers at the school itself, criticizing its continued operation despite previous threats. He dismissed the event as a “scare,” assuring a swift rescue, but his words offered little comfort to the anguished parents.
Outside the school gates, a vigil of despair began. Theo, along with other parents, camped in protest, feeling abandoned by a government seemingly indifferent to their plight. “They don’t seem to pay attention,” he lamented, “We feel like we are not part of the country.”
The raw pain of the missing children was palpable. One mother, her voice choked with emotion, pleaded for help, her son being her only child, her firstborn. Another parent, Lucas, clung to a small miracle – his youngest son escaped, running into his arms, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.
Papiri lies within a region increasingly plagued by kidnappings for ransom. Despite a ban on ransom payments, the practice persists, fueling the criminal gangs that operate with impunity. The vastness of Niger state – larger than Denmark and the Netherlands – and its dense forests provide ideal cover for these “bandits,” allowing them to move freely across borders.
This abduction was not an isolated incident. Just days before, schoolgirls were kidnapped in Kebbi state, and a church attack in Kwara state left worshippers dead and abducted. Nigeria is grappling with a spiraling security crisis, forcing the closure of boarding schools and triggering a mass exodus of students.
President Tinubu cut short his trip to the G20 summit to address the crisis, announcing the rescue of those taken in Kwara state. He vowed to secure the nation, but for parents like Theo, words ring hollow without tangible action. The fear remains, a constant ache in their hearts, as they wait for news of their children.
The situation is further complicated by external pressures, including warnings from international figures. Yet, the Nigerian government maintains that the violence transcends religious lines, targeting anyone who opposes the terrorists’ ideology. The reality on the ground, however, is a desperate struggle for safety and a growing sense of abandonment.
