Kiriji On My Mind: A Time to Defend Our Communities
By Babafemi Ojudu
I read Prof. Moyo Okediji’s piece this morning, titled The Carelessness of the Southwest, published on his Facebook page. My immediate reaction was simple: this is brilliant, thoughtful, and a timely call to action.
Last Saturday, at Usi-Ekiti, where I received a special recognition award from the alumni of the great Notre Dame Grammar School, I told an audience of students, parents, teachers, and old boys and girls that the time had come for us to begin serious conversations about how to defend our communities.
Earlier in her remarks, the Principal of the school spoke with deep emotion about the climate of anxiety that now envelops the institution. She confessed that she prays fervently every day for the clock to strike 2:00 p.m. so that the students can leave the school premises and return safely to their homes.
Think about that.
A school principal should be preoccupied with academic excellence, discipline, character formation, and the future of her students—not with praying daily that her pupils survive another school day.
Fear now rules our land.
A child cannot learn effectively in an atmosphere of fear. A teacher cannot teach optimally when anxiety hangs over the classroom. By attacking schools and threatening communities, bandits are not merely targeting our present security; they are assaulting our future. They are attacking our children, our hopes, and our collective destiny.
This is why Prof. Okediji’s message deserves our attention. It is a challenge to all of us.
We must do something.
If, in the pre-colonial era, when there was no central government, our forebears could organize armies, mobilize resources, procure weapons, defend their towns, repel invaders, and protect their people during prolonged periods of conflict, surely we should be capable of doing more today.
The lesson is not that we should return to those times. Rather, it is that we must rediscover the virtues that sustained our ancestors: collective responsibility, community organization, vigilance, sacrifice, and a shared commitment to the common good.
We must begin to look within for solutions.
Government bears the primary responsibility for security, and we must continue to demand that it fulfils that obligation. But the painful reality is that many communities no longer have the luxury of waiting helplessly for rescue. We cannot remain barricaded in our homes, paralysed by fear, waiting for marauders to decide when and where to strike.
The time has come for lawful community action. Communities must strengthen vigilance structures, improve intelligence gathering, support legitimate security agencies, deepen cooperation among neighbours, and rebuild the communal bonds that once made our towns difficult to penetrate.
History teaches an enduring lesson: communities survive great threats not by surrendering to fear but by uniting around a common purpose.
Our ancestors did not leave us a legacy of helplessness. They left us a legacy of courage, resilience, and collective action.
A few days ago, I challenged a traditional chief who is a friend of mine.
“What are you people doing about these security challenges?” I asked.
“We have performed rituals and offered sacrifices to our ancestors,” he replied.
I told him respectfully that this was not enough.
This is not a time for symbolic gestures alone. It is a time for clear thinking, strategic planning, organization, and action. It is a time to put on our thinking caps, to summon the best of our traditions, and to combine them with modern methods of community protection.
Kiriji is on my mind—not because I long for war, but because I long for the spirit that made our people refuse surrender.
That spirit is needed again.
