Insecurity in Okunland: The Danger We Saw But Ignored
By Stanley Ajileye
Many of us saw this coming. We warned. We cried out. But our voices were drowned by the drums of political convenience and the complacency of those who thought danger would never find our doorsteps. Today, the insecurity ravaging parts of Okunland — from Yagba to Bunu, Kabba, and beyond — did not start overnight. It was cultivated, watered, and allowed to grow into the monster now threatening our peace.
About six or seven years ago, under the guise of politics and loyalty to the presidency, the government of Kogi State allegedly facilitated the mass settlement of strange elements in the forests and communities of Okunland. These strangers were not integrated through natural coexistence or genuine trade — they were ferried in for political reasons: to inflate electoral numbers, manipulate outcomes, and create fictitious polling units deep in the woods of Yagba, Ijumu and Kabba-Bunu.
At that time, a few discerning voices warned that this political game of short-term advantage would one day turn into a nightmare. Sadly, those voices were dismissed as alarmists. Today, those same “political guests” have transformed into predatory bands of terror, unleashing pain and death upon our people.
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In Yagba land, these groups now wage an undeclared war — attacking farmers, kidnapping travellers, and laying siege to our communities. The political instrument of yesterday has become the carnivorous beast devouring its creators and their kin alike.
Bunu land has its own tale of infiltration. Around Agbadu, mercenaries reportedly ferried in from the forests of Niger State under the leadership of one Mohammed seamlessly assimilated into the community — even adopting the name Mohammed Agbadu. His identity documents now carry the name of the very community his people were brought to dominate. For anyone with a sense of foresight, that was no coincidence; it was a declaration of silent conquest.
Kabba, the cultural heartbeat of Okunland, now sits perilously on a keg of gunpowder. The infiltration there has been more subtle but equally dangerous. The strangers were not only received — they have been integrated, empowered, and even elevated. Many of them have become landlords, owning vast properties in Odolu-Kabba and its environs. The area now called “Zango” — stretching towards Asaya — is fast becoming a new settlement owned by Bororo herders and other migrant groups, as greedy indigenes sell ancestral lands for quick cash.
While some of our traditional leaders and community heads look away, perhaps out of ignorance or fear, they forget that history is not kind to those who sleep while danger gathers. A people that sell their land are not just selling soil — they are selling sovereignty.
Ijumu, to its credit, stands as a beacon of vigilance. The community, realizing the potential danger of unchecked settlement, acted decisively. From Iyara, they issued a firm relocation order to those unwanted visitors whose numbers were swelling like dry-season bushfire. Their proactive stance should be studied and emulated.
Okunland must now awaken. We can no longer afford the luxury of silence or complacency. The enemy is not at the gate — he is already within the walls.
It is time to establish a powerful, coordinated Okun Security and Vigilance Committee (OSVC) — a joint task force representing all five local governments: Kabba-Bunu, Ijumu, Yagba East, Yagba West, and Mopa-Muro. This committee must not be another political body, but a credible community-driven structure empowered to:
Map and monitor all settlements and forests across Okunland.
Collaborate with security agencies to preempt attacks and neutralize threats.
Enforce community land control policies that prevent indiscriminate sale of ancestral lands.
Mobilize local vigilantes and hunters into a unified defensive network.
Educate and alert our people on emerging security patterns and survival strategies.
If we fail to act now, we may soon become refugees in our own land — watching helplessly as history records our generation as the one that sold peace for politics and prosperity for peanuts.
Okunland is a proud land — of warriors, scholars, and patriots. Our ancestors fought to defend it; we cannot afford to surrender it to strangers or the consequences of our own silence.
Let every Okun son and daughter rise, for security is not the duty of government alone — it is the sacred responsibility of all who love the land of their birth.
