How thousands are being slaughtered in Nigeria’s Food basket while the nation looked the other way
The crimson dawn over Benue State no longer promises hope, it mirrors the blood-soaked earth of Nigeria’s once-proud “Food Basket.” In the quiet villages where yams once grew tall and cassava farms stretched to the horizon, graves now multiply faster than harvests. Over 6,896 lives have been lost since May 2023, their dreams buried beneath the weight of government indifference and the thunder of AK-47s.
Only last week, the world watched in horror as Yelwata village became another graveyard. More than 100 innocent lives were snuffed out in a single night; men who had tilled the soil for decades, women who had sung lullabies to children who would never wake again, elders whose wisdom died with them in pools of their own blood. The attackers came with military precision, wielding weapons of war against farmers armed only with hoes and hope.
Eyewitnesses and local authorities point unmistakably to armed herdsmen, primarily Fulani militants, who have turned the Middle Belt into a killing field. Their coordinated attacks speak of organisation, of planning, of a systematic campaign not random violence. Over 2 million people souls now scattered like seeds on barren ground, seeking shelter in overcrowded camps where dignity dies slowly alongside hope.
The Silence of Those Who Should Speak
Governor Hyacinth Alia’s voice trembles with frustration as he reveals a truth that cuts deep: many of the killers are foreigners, slipping through Nigeria’s porous borders like death itself. Yet his words echo in the hollow chambers of federal indifference, where promises are made like morning mist—visible for a moment, then gone.
The Miyetti Allah Cattle Breeders Association of Nigeria (MACBAN) denies involvement, their leader Baba Othman Ngelzarma insisting, “Our people are not behind the Benue killings.” But villagers know what they’ve seen: organised militias, familiar with the terrain, executing coordinated ambushes that follow chilling patterns of precision and cruelty.
Constitutional Betrayal
The Nigerian Constitution, in Section 14(2)(b), enshrines a sacred duty: “the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government.” Yet, in Benue State, this promise has become a mockery written in blood.
The federal government’s response reads like a catalog of good intentions and failed execution. Joint task forces arrive like ambulances to a morgue—too late, too few, too poorly equipped. The National Livestock Transformation Plan remains what it has always been: words on paper while people die on the ground. Military operations sometimes kill more innocents than they protect, as history grimly records with 2001 Zaki-Biam incident that claimed over 200 civilian lives.
At the state level, the 2017 Anti-Open Grazing Law once hailed as a proactive policy, has become a lion without teeth. The Benue State Civil Guards, meant to protect communities, are equipped with prayers and sticks against enemies bearing automatic weapons. In the internally displaced persons camps, children grow up knowing only the taste of tears and the smell of despair, while their elders watch helplessly as their world crumbles.
Voices from the Ashes
On June 15, 2025, activist VeryDarkMan stood with protestors in Makurdi, their placards reading: “Government Has Failed Us.” These are not partisan chants—they are cries of a wounded people.
Daniel Pila, an outspoken voice for the displaced, laments the siege of 20 local government areas. His words are chilling: “This is ethnic cleansing dressed as a grazing dispute.”
President Bola Tinubu’s June 16 statement, describing the violence as “depressing” and ordering security agencies to act, landed like a feather on the scale of public anger. The people of Benue have heard such platitudes before—in 2018, 2019, 2020, and every year that death has visited their farms. Words without action are salt in open wounds.
The Way Forward
Even in this valley of death, hope refuses to die completely. The way forward, though steep and treacherous, remains visible to those willing to see:
Immediate Action: Deploy tactical special forces with the mandate to stay, not just visit. Equip them with drones, surveillance technology, and the political will to act decisively. The Benue State Civil Guards must be transformed from a symbolic gesture into a real force for protection.
Policy Implementation: The 2017 Anti-Open Grazing Law must grow teeth. create designated grazing routes, encourage herders to embrace ranching, and invest in climate-resilient agriculture that addresses the environmental roots of this conflict. Words on paper must become actions on the ground.
Healing Through Dialogue: Facilitate genuine conversations between farmers and herders, mediated by respected elders and religious leaders. The effect of ethnic and religious toxins can only be neutralised by the antidote of human understanding.
Justice and Accountability: Establish a federal investigative panel to investigate these attacks with the power to prosecute and the mandate to name names. Political sponsors of violence must face consequences, or impunity will continue to fertilise the soil with blood.
Humanitarian Dignity: The IDP camps are monuments to government failure. Transform them into centres of hope with adequate food, clean water, medical care, and education for children who deserve better than to grow up as refugees in their own country.
Each sunset in Benue paints the sky in shades of sorrow. Each sunrise risks beginning another day of mourning.
Will those in power act? Or will the killings continue, written off as statistics, shrugged away with statements?
The dead of Yelwata, and of Guma, Logo, Agatu, and Ukum, deserve justice. The living deserve protection. And Nigeria deserves leaders who remember that governance is not a performance, it is a covenant.
