2014 abductions to 2025 kidnappings: A nation in turmoil

BY SANI DANAUDI MOHAMMED

The headline haunts me, a reminder that our nation’s nightmare has stretched across a decade. In 2014, the world watched in horror as innocent Chibok girls vanished, their cries echoing through classrooms and homes, shattering any illusion of safety. That tragedy ignited outrage, yet the flames have grown, scorching our society. Today, in 2025, the dreadful pattern repeats, with kidnappings becoming a grim routine, leaving families clutching broken promises and a nation on the brink.

The pain of those lost children reverberates in northern villages, where fear has become a companion. Each morning, mothers clutch their children tighter, hoping the sun will bring safety, yet shadows of armed groups linger like a cloud. The government’s promises feel distant, as if written on paper torn by wind. In 2025, the nation watches as schools, sanctuaries of hope, turn into hunting grounds, and the cry for justice grows louder across the continent.

As we stand at this crossroads, the question remains: who will answer the cries of a nation that has endured much? The scars of 2014 and the kidnappings of 2025 are etched into our memory, demanding accountability and action. We must rise beyond blame, unite our voices, and rebuild trust between citizens and leaders. Only through compassion, resolve, and commitment can we hope to transform this turmoil into a future where no child fears night.

The fundamental question remains unanswered: who bears ultimate responsibility for the suffering of ordinary Nigerians? Citizens endure hardship while the state seems unable or unwilling to deliver security. Without clear accountability, the cycle of violence and despair persists, leaving little room for optimism. Yet, the resilience of affected communities offers a glimmer of hope, suggesting that national dialogue and decisive action could pave a path toward stability and a truly brighter future for the country.

In 2014, a surge of insurgent attacks battered Nigeria, striking citizens and state infrastructure and plunging the nation into its darkest moments. The abduction of the Chibok schoolgirls became a harrowing symbol of the crisis, fueling condemnation and turning the tragedy into a political flashpoint. Critics pointed at former President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, arguing his response was inadequate. This convergence of violence and blame set the stage for a decade of escalating nationwide insecurity.

Ten years later, the nation remains scarred, especially in the northern regions where violence continues unabated. Kidnapping for ransom has become a quotidian menace, targeting civilians, aid workers, and even schoolchildren. The frequency of such crimes has eroded community trust and crippled local economies, as families deplete savings to secure releases. This persistent insecurity has left many feeling abandoned, with the north bearing the brunt of a crisis that shows little sign of abating still.

The northern region suffers from the lowest literacy rates and the highest number of out‑of‑school children in the country. Armed groups, sometimes described as gorilla fighters, exploit these vulnerabilities, recruiting youths with promises of income and protection. The killing of a senior military general in Borno state after a successful operation went unanswered beyond media headlines, reinforcing a perception that some lives are valued less. This environment of impunity fuels further radicalisation and hampers efforts to rebuild educational infrastructure.

The international community has not turned a blind eye. Nigeria was recently listed as a Country of Particular Concern, underscoring the gravity of the security situation. In a troubling development, students from Kebbi, Niger, and Nasarawa were adopted in a three‑day cycle, seen by some as addressing the education deficit but criticised by others as superficial. The overlapping timelines highlight the scale of the crisis and the urgent need for coordinated intervention nationwide.

As insecurity deepens, uncertainty spreads across communities, and poverty tightens its grip on households that manage livelihoods. The constant threat of violence disrupts agricultural cycles, reduces market activity, and forces families into desperate coping strategies. Observers struggle to identify the primary target of this crisis: the citizens caught in the crossfire or the government institutions that appear unable to provide security. This ambiguity erodes confidence in authority and leaves many questioning where responsibility truly lies.

The northern region bleeds, each sunrise bringing tears to mothers and fathers who have lost hope. As a young man, I have withdrawn from social media, watching it devolve from a beacon of knowledge into a cesspool of hate, where ethnic, religious, and political venom spreads unchecked. This decay mirrors the fragmentation of our nation, eroding patriotism and dividing us along tribal lines. I feel the weight of a country that promised unity, crumbling under vitriol.

While the United States Congress deliberated, some Nigerians offered thoughtful insights on Trump’s claims, yet many of our fellow citizens chose to flood the timeline with insults and arguments. It pains me to see a nation that championed discourse reduced to a battleground of vitriol, where education is dismissed and hate amplified. The contrast is stark: abroad, leaders engage in debate, while at home, we amplify division, forgetting that our voices should uplift, not wound.

Kudos to Bashir Ahmad, aide to the late President Buhari, whose voice cut through the noise and challenged the narrative that the Kebbi kidnapped girls were Christian. He reminded us that these innocent souls are Nigerians, bound by humanity, not by the creed of their captors. In a nation fractured by bias, his stance was a beacon of unity, urging us to see beyond labels and demand the safe return of the child, regardless of faith.

Now another school has been assaulted, its corridors echoing with the cries of children snatched from prayer. The latest abduction, like those before, does not discriminate; the victims are Nigerians, children of every faith, whose crime is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our hearts break as we imagine their fear, and we plead for their safe release, united in prayer and resolve, lest this cycle of terror continues to scar our nation.

Our northern clerics have suddenly fallen silent, their once‑powerful sermons muffled by the relentless roar of gunfire. They may reappear only when election season summons them, trading moral authority for political capital. Each day, the bloodshed deepens, eroding the little reverence left for religious leaders, and the sacred aura of faith seems to dissolve into the endless pain that stains our land and leaves our children trembling in fear, longing for peace to return home.

The opposition has finally found its voice again, echoing promises of security that many hoped would have faded after 2015. They declare that the old tactics, which failed to protect our people, will not be repeated, and they pledge to confront the menace that knows no party, tribe, or creed. Yet words alone cannot mend the wounds carved by years of terror, and Nigerians remain sceptical, yearning for tangible action rather than recycled rhetoric today.

We must unite against the common enemy that is insecurity, a ruthless force that does not discriminate between abductors, soldiers, or civilians, and shows no preference for party or religious identity. It stalks our markets, schools, and homes, stealing futures and sowing fear across the North and the nation. Only by joining hands across ethnic, regional, and political lines can we hope to dismantle this menace and restore safety to every Nigerian heart once again.

As the blood of our children stains the soil, we cannot afford another moment of silence. Let us pray for the safe return of every kidnapped child, regardless of faith, and rise to demand accountability from those who claim to lead. The time for division has passed; the time for unity, courage, and action has arrived. Together, we will rescue Nigeria, restore hope to the North, and forge a future where peace reigns over terror.

The hour has arrived for us to wield unity like a shield against the darkness that stalks our streets. We can no longer watch mothers mourn while politicians argue; we must rise together, chanting prayers for the safe return of every kidnapped child, regardless of faith. Let our tears forge a river of resolve that washes away fear, and may the echo of our united voices drown the guns of hatred, restoring peace to Nigeria’s heart.

We must abandon the partisan lenses that have colored our vision and embrace a humanity that transcends party, tribe, and creed. Instead of chanting slogans, we can volunteer in schools, fund community watch groups, and demand transparent governance from every elected official. By turning our grief into action, we plant seeds of hope that can sprout across the savanna of our suffering, reminding the world that we are more than the sum of our divisions.

Ten years have slipped by since Goodluck Jonathan left the presidency, yet the blame game rages louder than ever. Every corner of our nation points fingers, accusing leaders, parties, and even ordinary citizens, as if assigning fault could stitch the wounds of our people. The truth, however, is that the rot lies deep within a broken system that we all sustain, a system that feeds on division while our children weep in silence every night.

It is heartbreaking to learn that schools in Katsina and Plateau have been forced to shut, a stark reminder that the North now bears leadership failures. In a region where education is scarce, closing classrooms deepens wounds and fuels despair. Instead of retreating, we must summon courage and collective resolve to confront the security nightmare that stalks our children, turning grief into action and restoring the promise of learning for every Nigerian child today.

From 2014 to 2015, Nigerians have continued to cry, when will our tears stop falling?

Danaudi writes from Bauchi via [email protected]