General News
Menace of Open Defecation: Nigeria’s Silent Sanitation Emergency
Consider this: Right inside the major car park on inner Marina on Lagos Island, stretching from directly opposite the UBA Headquarters Building to the Old Kingsway Building (just before Oando gas station), is a public toilet.
Five years ago, it had eight pit latrines and four urinaries. The stench oozing forth from inside is better left for the imagination. The methane effluvium from the pits is unmistakably hazardous as it stings the nose.
The handler sits by its entrance, in the midst of area boys and car wash attendants.
There is also, just by the entrance, a barber who plies his trade. From time to time, buckets of water are moved in to either wash the always very wet and dingy floor or flush human waste. It used to cost just N100 for a turn. Today, the same place looks tolerably passable to meet an immediate need to ease self. Yet, it is still not a place you want to spend more than a minute because of the stench. To do anything there – including bathing – costs N200.
Rain and faeces shouldn’t mix
When the rain falls in Lagos, it does not just bring water. It washes (human) wastes from drains, gutters, roadsides and open dumps into homes, markets and waterways.
Nigeria’s open defecation crisis is not just a sanitation problem; it is a public-health emergency, an environmental hazard and a stain on the country’s development image. In community after community, the absence of safe, affordable toilets pushes people to riverbanks, drains, bushes and vacant plots, with dangerous consequences that return when rain falls and floodwater carries human waste back into homes, streets and water sources.
A sobering scale
The scale is sobering. National monitoring, World Health Organization and UNICEF-linked reporting show that millions of Nigerians still practise open defecation, even as the country has repeatedly pledged to end it.
The burden is not evenly spread.
Some states and local government areas have made visible progress, while others remain trapped in a cycle of poor sanitation, weak enforcement, poverty and inadequate infrastructure.
Behind every percentage point are families who have no toilet, settlements where public facilities are absent or broken, and children exposed daily to diseases that should have been prevented decades ago.
In many Nigerian communities, the problem is easier to see after rainfall. Waste deposited in open places does not stay there. It is washed into gutters, creeks, ponds and low-lying streets, where it contaminates water sources and deepens the public-health risk.
In flood-prone areas, the danger is even more severe: residents wade through polluted water, children play in it, and households are forced to live in an environment where the line between drainage and disease has all but disappeared. What should be a basic human necessity has instead become one of the country’s most stubborn development failures.
Health experts have been warning
Health experts have long warned that open defecation fuels diarrhoea, cholera, typhoid, intestinal worms and other faecal-oral diseases. The impact is heaviest on children under five, whose immune systems are weaker and whose exposure to contaminated environments is often greater. The result is missed school days, avoidable medical expenses, lost productivity and, in too many cases, death.
Beyond the household level, communities pay a broader price through polluted waterways, degraded surroundings and the erosion of public confidence in the state’s ability to provide even the most basic services.
Not just behaviour but access
Yet the crisis is not merely about behaviour. It is also about access. A person cannot use what does not exist. Across much of Nigeria, public toilets are too few, badly maintained or located far from the people who need them. In some YET, consider this: Right inside the major car park on inner Marina on Lagos Island, stretching from directly opposite the UBA Headquarters Building to the Old Kingsway Building (just before Oando gas station), is a public toilet. Five years ago, it had eight pit latrines and four urinaries. The stench oozing forth from inside is better left for the imagination. The methane effluvium from the pits is unmistakably hazardous as it stings the nose. The handler sits by its entrance, in the midst of area boys and car wash attendants.
There is also, just by the entrance, a barber who plies his trade. From time to time, buckets of water are moved in to either wash the always very wet and dingy floor or flush human waste. It used to cost just N100 for a turn. Today, the same place looks tolerably passable to meet an immediate need to ease self. Yet, it is still not a place you want to spend more than a minute because of the stench. To do anything there – including bathing – costs N200 Rain and faeces shouldn’t mix When the rain falls in Lagos, it does not just bring water. It washes (human) wastes from drains, gutters, roadsides and open dumps into homes, markets and waterways.
Nigeria’s open defecation crisis is not just a sanitation problem; it is a public-health emergency, an environmental hazard and a stain on the country’s development image. In community after community, the absence of safe, affordable toilets pushes people to riverbanks, drains, bushes and vacant plots, with dangerous consequences that return when rain falls and floodwater carries human waste back into homes, streets and water sources. A sobering scale The scale is sobering. National monitoring, World Health Organization and UNICEFlinked reporting show that millions of Nigerians still practise open defecation, even as the country has repeatedly pledged to end it.
The burden is not evenly spread. Some states and local government areas have made visible progress, while others remain trapped in a cycle of poor sanitation, weak enforcement, poverty and inadequate infrastructure. Behind every percentage point are families who have no toilet, settlements where public facilities are absent or broken, and children exposed daily to diseases that should have been prevented decades ago. In many Nigerian communities, the problem is easier to see after rainfall. Waste deposited in open places does not stay there. It is washed into gutters, creeks, ponds and low-lying streets, where it contaminates water sources and deepens the public-health risk.
In flood-prone areas, the danger is even more severe: residents wade through polluted water, children play in it, and households are forced to live in an environment where the line between drainage and disease has all but disappeared. What should be a basic human necessity has instead become one of the country’s most stubborn development failures. Health experts have been warning Health experts have long warned that open defecation fuels diarrhoea, cholera, typhoid, intestinal worms and other faecal-oral diseases. The impact is heaviest on children under five, whose immune systems are weaker and whose exposure to contaminated environments is often greater. The result is missed school days, avoidable medical expenses, lost productivity and, in too many cases, death. Beyond the household level, communities pay a broader price through polluted waterways, degraded surroundings and the erosion of public confidence in the state’s ability to provide even the most basic services.
People behind the problem
Statistics matter, but stories make the crisis real. A market woman on Lagos Island, Mosunmola Alawiye, says she closes shop early on some nights because the nearest public toilet is unsafe after dark. She would rather hold it in than walk through a dark, dirty passage where anything can happen. In a riverine community in Bayelsa State, a mother of five, Stella Ndutimi, who has watched floodwater push human wastes into her house knows the fear that comes with every rainy season. The dirty water does not just stain the floor; it carries sickness into the home.
The human cost
The human cost is visible in the everyday language of the streets. An ‘area boy’ at Mile 2, Lagos, Sakiru Olubo, aka, Olusaki, describes the idea of paying to defecate as an insult. He asked: “How I go pay for shit?” The remark, though crude, captures a larger truth: sanitation policy cannot succeed if it ignores culture, dignity and purchasing power. People must be persuaded, supported and enabled, not merely blamed. When the poor are asked to pay for a service that the state has failed to provide adequately, the outcome is predictable.
State Governments
State governments, to their credit, are not entirely inactive. Several have joined the federal Clean Nigeria campaign, introduced sanitation drives, and participated in community-led efforts to declare local government areas open-defecation-free.
In parts of the North, some states have made notable progress through a mix of community mobilisation, local enforcement and toilet construction. Elsewhere, sanitation officers, health educators and traditional institutions have been used to push awareness and compliance.
Uneven progress
But progress remains uneven. Too many state actions are episodic, tied to campaigns, visits or official deadlines, rather than sustained by long-term funding and maintenance. Some toilets are built and abandoned. Others are commissioned with fanfare and then rendered unusable by poor water supply, broken doors, lack of security or absence of caretakers.
Verification exercises are useful, but verification without maintenance quickly becomes paperwork.
The real test is whether families can use a clean, safe public toilet every day, in the morning, at night, in the dry season and in the flood season.
Sustainable interventions
If Nigeria is serious about stopping open defecation, the response must be broader than slogans and raids. First, there must be massive investment in public toilets, especially in markets, motor parks, informal settlements, riverine communities and densely populated urban areas. These facilities must be designed for real use: accessible, well-lit, gender-sensitive, child-friendly and maintained with water, soap and waste disposal systems. A toilet that is unsafe after dark or dirty during the day is no toilet at all.
Second, the financing model must be realistic. User-fee systems may help sustain maintenance, but they cannot be the only model in a country where poverty is widespread. Public toilets in poor communities should be subsidised. Light public toilets properly.
Safety is sanitation.
A toilet that is dark, hidden or dangerous at night is effectively unusable.
Cross-subsidy arrangements can be used, where busier commercial areas help fund toilets in low-income neighbourhoods.
Local governments can also partner with private operators, cooperatives, community associations and philanthropists, provided there is strict oversight and transparency.
Third, there must be stronger advocacy and reorientation. Open defecation is not merely “bad behaviour”; it is often a response to lack of options. Public campaigns should therefore focus on health, dignity and responsibility, while also confronting harmful attitudes that normalise filth and environmental neglect. Schools, religious leaders, market unions, transport workers, youth groups and traditional rulers should be part of the campaign.
Behaviour change works best when communities see that government is doing its own part.
In addition, law enforcement must be firm but fair. Sanitation by-laws should be implemented, but punishment without alternatives will only deepen resentment.
Fines can work only where safe and affordable toilets exist. In some cases, community service may be a more effective response than cash penalties. What matters is consistency and credibility. A law that is never enforced is no law at all; a law that targets the poor without providing facilities is a bad policy.
Furthermore, Nigeria must treat street lighting as part of sanitation infrastructure. This may sound unusual, but it is practical. Many people fear to use toilets in the darkest part of town, the cover of darkness, toilets are far away, dark or unsafe. Lighting around public facilities, footpaths, markets and neighbourhoods will improve access, reduce fear and make toilet use more feasible after dark. Sanitation policy should not ignore how safety intersects with dignity.
Finally, Nigeria needs more honest conversations about dignity. To defecate is human. To defecate in the open because the system has failed is not a moral weakness of the poor; it is a policy failure of the state.
The country cannot hope to end open defecation by 2030 without treating sanitation as a basic right, not a luxury. That means toilets in the right places, at the right price, managed properly and supported by public trust.
The call to action is simple but urgent: build more toilets, fix the ones that exist, dislodge access for the poor, enforce the law responsibly, and keep the conversation alive with sanitation becoming a standard of citizenship rather than a privilege of class.
Nigeria has talked about ending open defecation for years. What remains is the harder task of turning promises into pipes, plans into practice, and shame into change.
What works elsewhere
There are signs that change is possible. Some local governments and communities that have been declared open-defecation-free succeeded not because they had perfect budgets, but because they combined community mobilisation, traditional and religious figures, and practical toilet access.
That matters because it shows the solution is not only technical. It is social. When people believe the system is real, safe and dignified, they use it.
The Clean Nigeria campaign has also helped keep the issue visible, reminding people it is not enough to erect toilets; the real test is whether households, schools, markets and motor parks can actually use clean public toilets every day.
What citizens can do
The public should not be left out of the solution. Citizens can report broken public toilets and overflowing waste points to their local government.
Market associations and business owners can sponsor toilets and help maintain them. Government must budget for maintenance, not only commissioning.
These are simple actions, but together they can shift the culture from neglect to responsibility.
A cleaner future
By 2030, no Nigerian should have to wade through waste to get to school. No trader should have to close shop early because the nearest toilet is unsafe.
That future will not happen by accident. It starts this year with practical choices: build toilets where people are, support access in poor communities, and treat sanitation as a basic human need, not an afterthought.
Source: Vanguard
General News
How Sokoto Communities Have Disappeared Ovet Night,
Animashaun Salman traveled into the heart of Danchadi District in Sokoto State to document the stories behind the statistics, revealing how banditry is not only claiming lives but emptying entire communities and turning once-thriving villages into ghost settlements in the state.
More than 30 villages have fallen silent.
Where children once played, markets bustled and farmers prepared for another planting season, empty homes now stand as grim reminders of lives interrupted. Across Danchadi District in Bodinga Local Government Area of Sokoto State, over 30 villages have been deserted after coordinated bandit attacks forced thousands of residents to flee, leaving behind generations of memories, livelihoods and hope.
For many families, the journey to safety began with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Homes were abandoned, livestock—their life savings—were rustled, farms were left untended, and loved ones became separated in the chaos. Some survivors are still searching for missing relatives, while others are returning to communities stripped bare, not because they feel safe, but because they have nowhere else to go.
Homes that once echoed with children’s laughter now stand deserted. Farms lie untended at the height of the rainy season, while thousands of residents have fled with little more than the clothes on their backs after heavily armed bandits launched coordinated attacks on Danchadi District in Bodinga Local Government Area of Sokoto State.
The raids left at least eight people dead, more than 1,000 livestock stolen and entire communities emptied, triggering one of Sokoto’s worst episodes of mass displacement this year.
Beyond the casualty figures lies a far deeper tragedy. The attacks have shattered farming communities, wiped out livelihoods built over generations and exposed the fragile security architecture protecting many rural settlements across northwestern Nigeria.
For residents of Danchadi, the devastation cannot be measured by the death toll alone. It is written in abandoned homes, deserted villages and families scattered across neighbouring communities in search of safety.
The latest assault ranks among the largest incidents of mass displacement recorded in Sokoto this year, highlighting the growing reach of armed groups into communities that had until recently escaped the worst of the region’s violence.
The District Head of Danchadi, Alhaji Lirwanu Mafaran, Kuwarun Sarkin Musulmi, who documented the attacks in an official report submitted to the Bodinga Local Government Council and security agencies, described the assault as unprecedented.
Speaking after further investigations, the traditional ruler said the death toll had risen from six to eight, adding that many residents were still missing while hundreds had fled to neighbouring communities.
“My people are living in fear and confusion. Some women are still searching for their husbands after the attacks,” he said.
His words capture a district battling not only insecurity but the profound humanitarian crisis left in its wake.
The attacks affected more than 30 communities, including Gidan Gadanga, Gidan Dan Bube, Dutsin Mai Gunya, Batsauje, Sire Modi, Gwantsi, Kore Maiganga, Bangi Rafi, Bangi Dutsin, Yabawa, Lageji, Bille, Gonin Gari, Wumumu, Chohi, Saran Malan, Wure Yal’dde, Gidan Hodi, Dabugi, Rukusawa, Tunga, Lakes, Maikataru, Dutsin Toka, Karaje, Kwantsi Buga, Yan Gidaje, Runbuki, Kwantsi Tunga and Lau Gari.
Today, many of these settlements are ghost villages.
Residents fled in panic, abandoning homes, harvested food, household belongings and livestock that represented decades of hard work and family wealth.
The economic toll is staggering.
In rural Sokoto, livestock are far more than animals. They are savings accounts, farm machinery, school fees, dowries and the family’s insurance against hardship.
The rustling of more than 1,000 cattle, camels and other livestock has wiped out the wealth of dozens of households almost overnight, pushing many families into uncertainty.
The violence has also disrupted farming at one of the most critical periods of the agricultural calendar, raising fears that the attacks could deepen food insecurity and further weaken the rural economy long after the gunmen have gone.
Perhaps the most troubling revelation from the district head was not what happened during the attacks, but what happened afterwards.
According to him, security operatives visited the affected communities shortly after the raids but did not maintain a permanent presence, leaving frightened residents to fend for themselves.
“As I am speaking with you, there are no security personnel in the area,” he said.
For many villagers, that single statement explains why returning home remains a terrifying prospect. Across rural Sokoto, residents have long complained that attacks often last for hours before security forces arrive, if they arrive at all.
Determined to prevent a complete exodus, the district head said he spent the night at his palace with displaced residents, comforting frightened families and persuading them not to abandon the district for Sokoto metropolis.
His intervention, he said, convinced some to stay. But for many others, fear had already taken root.
‘They stayed until midnight’
For Malam Mainasara Danjumma, a resident of Kyaluje village, the nightmare stretched for nearly 10 hours.
The gunmen, he recalled, stormed the community around 2 p.m. Instead of carrying out a swift raid, they remained until midnight, moving from house to house almost unchallenged.
“They searched virtually every home, stole our valuables and mobile phones, assaulted women and killed three people, including our Chief Imam,” he recounted.
“We are in a state of confusion and distress. Some of us are still searching for our family members because the village has been completely devastated.”
His testimony echoes those of other survivors, who described attackers roaming freely from one village to another with little or no resistance.
The prolonged assault has renewed questions about security response times and the level of protection available to isolated rural communities increasingly vulnerable to armed groups.
As news of the attacks spread, anger boiled over in Bodinga town.
Hundreds of residents poured onto the Sokoto–Jega–Yauri highway, one of the Northwest’s busiest transport corridors, blocking traffic in protest against the worsening insecurity.
Burning tyres sent thick smoke into the air as stranded motorists watched traffic grind to a halt. Some vehicles were vandalised before security operatives dispersed the protesters and restored order.
For the demonstrators, the road blockade was not merely an act of defiance. It was a desperate plea for communities they believe have been abandoned to repeated attacks.
The assault on Danchadi is only the latest in a disturbing pattern of violence across Sokoto State.
In recent weeks alone, communities in Tureta, Sabon Birni, Rabah, Goronyo, Wurno and Bodinga have recorded killings, kidnappings and large-scale cattle rustling. Village heads, Islamic clerics, farmers and community guards have all fallen victim.
The recurring attacks suggest that despite ongoing military operations, armed groups remain capable of mounting coordinated raids across multiple local government areas.
Security analysts say the Northwest’s vast forests, difficult terrain and porous borders continue to provide criminal gangs with operational advantages.
The Danchadi district head believes the attackers entered through neighbouring Tureta after crossing from Zamfara State, underscoring the cross-border nature of the security challenge.
For the survivors, however, the crisis is no longer measured in security assessments but in daily survival.
Hundreds of displaced residents are now sheltering in schools, markets and the homes of relatives in Danchadi, Bodinga and Sifawa.
Many fled without food, clothing or personal belongings. Children have been forced out of school. Families remain separated, while women who survived the attacks continue to grapple with psychological trauma.
Although the Bodinga Local Government Council has distributed relief materials, including plastic mats, community leaders say the assistance falls far short of what is needed.
Food, medicines, temporary shelter and psychosocial support remain urgent priorities. Without sustained intervention, they warn, what began as an emergency displacement could evolve into a prolonged humanitarian crisis.
The scale of the tragedy has also drawn increasing political attention.
In the days following the attacks, senior government officials—including the Speaker of the Sokoto State House of Assembly, the Secretary to the State Government, security chiefs and federal lawmakers representing the area—visited Bodinga to assess the situation and reassure displaced residents.
The lawmaker representing Bodinga, Dange-Shuni and Tureta Federal Constituency, Nasiru Shehu Bobo, said additional security personnel had been deployed to the affected communities in an effort to restore calm.
But for many displaced residents, the deployment comes after the damage has already been done.
The scale of the attacks has also drawn political attention.
The governorship candidate of the African Democratic Congress in Sokoto State, Hon. Manir Muhammad Dan’iya, described the displacement of more than 30 communities as both a humanitarian and security emergency, urging governments at all levels to respond with greater urgency.
In a statement issued by his media aide, Aminu Abdullahi, the former deputy governor warned that the continued displacement of rural communities poses a serious threat to Sokoto’s economy, food security and social stability.
“It is deeply troubling that entire communities are being displaced while many families continue to live in fear,” Dan’iya said.
“The protection of lives and property remains the foremost constitutional responsibility of government, and every effort must be made to restore confidence among our people.”
He called for stronger intelligence gathering, closer collaboration among security agencies, increased engagement with traditional rulers and immediate humanitarian support for displaced families, while urging the Federal Government and the Sokoto State Government to reinforce security operations in vulnerable communities.
Yet even as officials announce new security measures, some residents have already begun making the painful journey back to their villages.
It is a decision born not of confidence, but of necessity.
Displacement is costly. Families cannot afford to remain indefinitely in schools, markets or the homes of relatives. The rainy season is advancing, crops need tending and survival depends on returning, even when fear remains.
But home is no longer what they left behind.
Many houses have been looted. Livestock—the wealth of entire households—has disappeared. Farms lie abandoned, and the uncertainty of another attack hangs over communities struggling to rebuild.
For these families, recovery will require far more than relief materials. It will depend on lasting security, the restoration of livelihoods and renewed confidence that the villages they fled can once again become places where life is possible.
Official records reduce the tragedy to numbers: more than 30 villages abandoned, eight people killed and over 1,000 livestock rustled.
But statistics cannot capture what has truly been lost.
Every deserted village tells the story of generations uprooted. Every displaced family carries memories of a home left behind. Every stolen herd represents years of labour wiped away in a single day.
The tragedy unfolding in Danchadi is a reminder that the cost of banditry extends far beyond casualty figures. It empties communities, destroys local economies and leaves deep psychological scars that may outlast the violence itself.
For Sokoto, the challenge is no longer only how to stop the next attack. It is how to ensure that communities emptied by fear do not become permanent ghost villages—forgotten not only by those forced to flee, but by the institutions charged with protecting them.
General News
Residents Laud Tinubu as Presidential Team Inspect Bridges, Roads and Water Projects in Benue
By Felix Umande
Residents of Benue State have commended President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration for expanding connectivity through strategic road, bridge and water projects, as the Presidential Media Team and Renewed Hope Ambassadors concluded a two-day inspection of key infrastructure across the state on Thursday.
The delegation, comprising over 40 editors and journalists, was led by the Special Adviser to the President on Information and Strategy, Mr. Bayo Onanuga. The National Media Tour is designed to independently assess and document the implementation and impact of Federal and State government projects under the Renewed Hope Agenda.
The team inspected the ongoing 1,754-metre Buruku-Logo Bridge, the Wurukum Overhead Bridge in Makurdi, and the 22-kilometre Makurdi-Gboko Road, which forms part of Phase II of the Abuja-Keffi-Akwanga-Lafia-Makurdi Expressway. The expressway corridor links North Central Nigeria with the South-East and is scheduled for completion by December 2027.
Other projects visited included the ongoing 25.6-kilometre Captain Dawn’s Road from Lubona Junction to the Tor Tiv Palace, the Food Basket Brewery Limited in Makurdi, and the Federal Government-funded rehabilitation of the Buruku-Gboko Water Treatment Plant at Ameladu Headworks.
Completed state projects inspected were the High-Level Roundabout Interchange in Makurdi and the Gboko Underpass and Interchange.
Speaking during the inspection of the Buruku-Logo Bridge, Onanuga said the bridge is one of five Federal Government bridges currently under construction in Benue State and reflects the administration’s commitment to investing borrowed funds in productive infrastructure.
“This bridge in particular is the fifth bridge the Federal Government is building in Benue State. You can now see where the money is going. It is to develop infrastructure, to link people who have been forgotten before, to make sure that at least commerce flows freely,” he said.
According to him, the bridge will reconnect previously isolated communities, reduce travel time, improve market access for farmers, and strengthen economic integration across Benue, Taraba and Adamawa states.
“Farmers can get their products straight to the market, they can shorten the travel time between one community and the other, especially between the rural areas and the capital,” Onanuga added.
He assured that the projects are being financed through the Renewed Hope Infrastructure Development Fund and that funding remains adequate for timely completion.
The Buruku-Logo Bridge, which spans the River Benue, is expected to boost agriculture, commerce and regional integration. The contractor confirmed that more than 50 workers from the host community have been employed on the project.
Residents described the bridge as a life-saving intervention that would end years of dangerous river crossings and boat accidents during the rainy season. They also said it would create more employment opportunities for local youths.
Many pledged continued support for the Renewed Hope Agenda, saying the visible impact of ongoing projects had renewed public confidence in the Federal Government.
Benue State Deputy Governor, Dr. Samuel Ode, expressed gratitude for the Federal Government’s investments and said the people would strongly support President Tinubu’s re-election in 2027.
He described the Wurukum Overhead Bridge as a critical intervention on the Abuja-Lafia-Makurdi-Enugu corridor, noting that the junction had for years suffered severe traffic congestion, especially during festive periods.
“Actually, this road serves as the gateway between the north of the country and the south. Before now we used to have a heavy gridlock here especially during festivities, so the governor of Benue State approached Mr. President for us to have an overhead bridge here,” Dr. Ode said.
“The President in his magnanimity, graciously approved the construction of this overhead bridge. So work has commenced, moving at a very high speed and the people of Benue are happy because we used to experience quite a lot of difficulties at this point.”
General News
“It’s Becoming Too Much”: 2Baba Condemns Benue Killings, Calls For Collective Action to End Violence
Legendary Nigerian singer, Innocent Idibia, popularly known as 2Baba, has broken his silence on the wave of killings in Benue State, describing the attacks on communities in Otukpo Local Government Area as unacceptable and unbearable.
The Benue-born artiste made the remarks on Wednesday during a visit to Otukpo-Nobi, one of the communities hit by suspected armed herdsmen.
The visit came weeks after gunmen launched a deadly attack on the community on July 12, 2026, killing at least 10 residents and leaving several others injured.
Addressing members of the community, 2Baba sympathized with victims and their families, and urged stakeholders to unite in finding lasting solutions to the persistent attacks.
Lamenting the continued bloodshed, the music icon said the situation had gone on for too long and must no longer be ignored.
“It’s becoming too much now, we can’t pretend anymore. We need to begin planning. It won’t be automatic but there is definitely going to be a solution,” he said.
The singer stressed that ending the violence would require a collective effort from government, community leaders and citizens.
“It’s not going to be one person, we all need to come together and fight it. I came to sympathize with you all. It’s painful,” he added.
2Baba’s visit has drawn widespread reactions on social media, with many residents commending the singer for using his platform to amplify the plight of Benue communities affected by insecurity.
