I remember the dust of the 90s; the type that arose when we jumped around, playing ‘ten-ten and suwe.’ We stayed out until the streetlights flickered or the moon showed its face, our only fear was being beaten by our mothers when we returned late. At this time, I could walk down the streets without my heart racing when a motorbike slowed down behind me, our fathers would go to the farm with just a radio and a hoe. They could stay until the sun went down, laughing as they trade yams. We did not know what bandits were, we did not know that one day, the very roads that connected our families would become traps. We did not know that the rich and dark soil in the Middle-Belt would one day turn red and grow sorrow instead of yams. Today, I look at those same streets and all I see is fear, the “Food basket of the Nation” is filled with tears and our roads are now where we face our greatest woes. If I may ask: What happened?

Sadly, this sorry state did not just happen overnight. It was not a sudden storm that blew away our peace. It was a slow, quiet and strategic theft. We did not notice when the stranger stopped being a guest and started being a ghost in the bushes. We did not realize until the laughter on the farms were being replaced by the silence of abandoned hoes which has now metamorphosed into broad day light kidnapping, killing and raiding of villages.

Very recent is the massacre that occurred in Mchia, Taraba state on Tuesday 10th February resulting in the death of ten villagers. During a peaceful protest by the priests and religious of the diocese they noted that: “Violence had intensified since September 2025, with widespread destruction and displacement. More than 100 persons have been killed so far, several others injured with varying degrees of injury. While over 200 communities and churches have been destroyed and the residents, numbering over 90,000 Catholics, displaced”.

Similarly, the nightmare has moved from the quiet farmsteads to our highways, and even at our doorsteps where we no longer trade yams but humans. At least 51 people were snatched in a single wave of raids across four villages. Even our children are not spared, just on February 8th, nine children were taken from the pews of St John’s Catholic Church. While they were fortunately rescued and freed on February 15, the joy of their homecoming is stained by a question every parent now asks: is anywhere truly safe?

In an age as this we wonder and we keep asking what have we done? Who have we wronged and ultimately what can we do? Should we fold our arms waiting for our government leaders? Most times, they fail us. Are we to abandon our soil and heritage to flee to another man’s land for succor? Majority cannot afford this, or, are we to result to violence, with the Church encouraging an ‘eye for an eye’ and movement with arms? No! destructive means cannot breed constructive ends.

Despite the fact that we cannot go back to being children playing ten-ten and suwe in the dust, but we can demand a Nigeria where our children do not have to play behind iron bars and our roads not being our woes. As individual and people of God, let us work together to promote oneness, peace, love, unity and authentic relationship. Where there is peace, God dwells. We also plead to our government to invest in community policing and agro-rangers so that we can reclaim our joy and stop asking what happened?