‘Were Borno’s Children Not Nigerians?’: A Nation’s Unequal Tears
By Hadiza Malumfashi
Today I speak as a concerned Nigerian. I speak on behalf of other Nigerians who are tired of seeing innocent people become heartbreaking statistics. In the last few weeks, Nigeria has once again witnessed the ugly reality of insecurity. About 82 school children were abducted in Oyo and Borno state.
Families were torn into tears. Parents have been left praying and crying. Communities have been left broken and in fear. First, let me make this clear.
We strongly condemn these attacks. No children should ever have to fear going to school. No parent should have to wonder whether their child will return home alive. And we call on the federal government and all security agencies to intensify efforts and ensure the safety and immediate rescue of every victim. Every minute matters.
Every child matters. Every single life matters. But today, there’s a difficult conversation we must have. Not about kidnappers and terrorists, but about ourselves.
About Nigeria. About our conscience. Because something about our reaction to these tragedies should worry every single citizen. These were two incidents on the same day. Two groups of innocent victims.
Two communities thrown into mourning. Yet the national reaction has been dramatically different. For the victims in Oyo State, there has been widespread outrage, national attention, public sympathy, political solidarity.
The presidency dispatched a high-powered delegation to Oyo State led by the chief of staff and the national security advisor to identify with the victims and their families. The Senate president, the members of the House of Assembly publicly observed a minute of silence for the victims of Oyo tragedy. Voices across the country demanded action. And rightfully so.
This is exactly how a nation should respond when innocent citizens are attacked. But there comes the uncomfortable questions. What happened to the victims in Borno?
Where is the same urgency? Where is the same national outrage? Where is the same level of solidarity? Where is the same sympathetic show of concern? Where is the same collective grief?
Were the Borno children not Nigerians too? Did their parents not cry? Are they still not crying? Did their communities not suffer?
Did their lives not matter? And before anyone misunderstands me, this is not an attack on Oyo. The people of Oyo deserve every prayer, every concern, every government intervention, every essence or every expression of sympathy.
The issue is not about the attention that Oyo received. The issue is that Bruno appeared to receive far less. And that should concern us all. Because the value of a Nigerian life should never depend on geography. It should never depend on ethnicity.
It should never depend on religion. And it certainly should never depend on which region is affected. If you think I am here tonight to only blame President Bola Ahmed Tunubu, then you are mistaken. The president carries the ultimate constitutional responsibility for protecting every Nigerian citizen.
That responsibility cannot be delegated. And history will judge every administration by how well it protects human life. Today, I have questions for Northern establishments. I have questions for Northern political leaders. I have questions for the Northern elites.
I have questions for Northern influencers. I have questions for all of us. Because somewhere along the line, we normalized our own suffering. Somewhere along the line, we became comfortable with tragedy.
And somewhere along the line, we stopped caring. Mass kidnappings, village attacks, bandits invasions, terrorist assaults, entire communities displaced. And after a few days, life simply moves on as if nothing happened. As if these victims never existed. As if these deaths no longer deserve outrage.
Where is the voice of the North? Where is our outrage? Where is our collective anger?
Where is our conscience? Where is the vice president? Where are our governors? Where are the chiefs and the emirs? Where are these senators and representatives who claim to speak for our people?
Where are the traditional institutions? Where are civil society organizations? Where are the influential voices who dominate our political conversations every single day? Why do we mobilize so quickly for politics, but yet so slowly for human lives?
Why are we louder during elections than during kidnappings? Why do we issue stronger statements about power than about our own murdered, our own abducted citizens? Have we become so accustomed to suffering that it no longer moves us?
Have we become so used to insecurity that we no longer see the victims? Have we accepted violence as a normal part of Northern lives? Because if that is the case, then we have a serious moral crisis.
The painful truth is that no region can outsource the defense of its people. Government has responsibilities, but societies also have responsibilities. And when communities stop demanding accountability, accountability disappears. When people stop speaking up, leaders stop listening. When strategy becomes normal, change becomes impossible.
So today, this is our position. The children in Oyo matter. The children in Borno matter. The tears of the mother in Abaddon matters. The tears of a mother in Medjugorje matters.
A child kidnapped in the South deserves national outrage. A child kidnapped in the North deserves the exact same outrage. No Nigerian life is worth more than the other. No region should suffer in silence. And no society should become comfortable with the pain of its own people.
The federal government must act. Security agencies must act. But the nation must also rediscover its own voice. Because until we value our own lives enough to demand protection, others may continue to treat our suffering as routine.
And that is a tragedy that’s far bigger than politics.
The terrorists are the ones attacking our communities, but our collective indifference is what is clearly destroying our humanity.
Malumfashi is of the Political Advantage Platform (PAP)
