ISAPA, Kwara State – In a brazen escalation of insecurity gripping north-central Nigeria, armed bandits stormed the rural community of Isapa late Monday, abducting at least 11 residents, including a pregnant woman, several children, and nursing mothers, just 24 hours after the release of 38 worshippers kidnapped from a nearby church. The attack, carried out by an estimated 20 to 30 gunmen who fired sporadically into the air and homes, has plunged the Ekiti Local Government Area into renewed panic, with bullet-riddled walls and doors serving as grim reminders of the assailants' ferocity.
Eyewitnesses described the chaos unfolding around 6 p.m. on November 24, as the bandits—some herding large contingents of cattle through the streets—forcibly entered compounds, selected victims at random, and vanished into the dense forests linking Isapa to Eruku and other border communities in Kogi and Niger states. Among the abducted are Sarah Sunday, a heavily pregnant mother of three; two nursing mothers, Lami Fidelis and Hadiza; and at least 10 children, including siblings from the same extended family. A community leader, speaking anonymously for fear of reprisals, said seven of the victims came from one household, underscoring the personal devastation wrought by the raid.
Kwara State Police Commissioner Adekimi Ojo confirmed the incident in a phone interview with Anadolu Agency on Tuesday, stating, "Yes, there was an incident. I'm about to enter Isapa from Ilorin," as he led a team of officers to the scene for an on-ground assessment. Ojo promised a detailed briefing following the inspection but noted that tactical units, including local vigilantes, had been mobilized to comb the forests for traces of the fleeing gunmen. No arrests have been made, and while a ransom demand has yet to be publicly confirmed, sources indicate initial contacts via untraceable phone lines.
This latest outrage in Isapa follows a pattern of banditry that has terrorized Kwara’s border regions for months, exploiting porous frontiers and under-resourced security outposts. The assault occurred mere hours after the triumphant return of 38 congregants from the Christ Apostolic Church (CAC) Oke Isegun in neighboring Eruku, who had been held captive since a deadly raid on November 18. That Thanksgiving service turned into a nightmare when gunmen, believed to be affiliated with Fulani herder militias or opportunistic bandit syndicates, killed three worshippers, injured several others, and bundled the 38 victims—including women, children, and the church pastor—into the bush, initially demanding up to ₦100 million per hostage.
The church victims’ release on Sunday, November 23, was hailed as a victory for coordinated federal and state efforts. Kwara Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq announced the breakthrough in a statement, crediting “many days of hard work by security forces and government representatives.” President Bola Tinubu, who postponed international engagements to oversee the operation, confirmed the rescue, noting direct interventions by the Department of State Services (DSS), Nigerian Army, and National Intelligence Agency. The freed worshippers, though physically safe, arrived in Eruku traumatized—marched for days through unforgiving terrain, deprived of food, and subjected to threats of execution. One survivor recounted how the captors “declared the entire forest as their domain,” boasting of unchallenged mobility across state lines.
The Eruku church attack, which spilled onto the Ilorin-Kabba highway and forced motorists to flee, was part of a broader wave of violence that has shuttered schools in four Kwara local governments and displaced thousands. Youths in Eruku protested the initial response, blocking roads and demanding permanent security posts, while the church held its first post-attack service on Sunday amid heavy police presence. Analysts link these incidents to the nexus of jihadist spillover from Boko Haram and ISWAP in the northeast, resource-driven herder-farmer clashes, and economic desperation fueling bandit recruitment.
As Kwara reels, the Isapa abductions have amplified calls for urgent federal action. Senate President Godswill Akpabio, unveiling Nigeria’s Counter Terrorism Strategic Plan 2025-2030 on Monday, vowed to equip security forces with “technology-driven intelligence” to preempt such strikes. The plan, crafted by the National Counter Terrorism Centre, emphasizes multi-agency collaboration and community resilience, targeting a 30% reduction in abductions by 2027. Yet, with schools closed and vigilantes patrolling dirt paths, residents express dwindling faith. One 62-year-old farmer, clutching a rosary amid the ruins of her bullet-pocked home, told reporters, “We pray for peace, but our children are the price.”
This domestic turmoil unfolds against a backdrop of heightened international scrutiny, as Nigeria navigates diplomatic fallout from U.S. President Donald Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric on Christian persecution. Earlier Monday, Bayo Onanuga, Tinubu’s special adviser on information and strategy, revealed that the U.S. had pledged robust support for Nigeria’s anti-terrorism efforts following high-level talks in Washington, D.C., last week. Led by National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu, the Nigerian delegation engaged U.S. officials to counter “false narratives” of genocide.
The meetings yielded commitments for enhanced intelligence sharing, expedited defence equipment deliveries, and potential excess U.S. military hardware to bolster operations against Boko Haram and ISWAP. Onanuga described the engagements as “structured and transparent,” aimed at deepening bilateral ties amid global concerns over West African jihadism.
Trump’s threats, however, cast a long shadow. On October 31, he designated Nigeria a “Country of Particular Concern” (CPC) under the International Religious Freedom Act, citing an “existential threat” to Christians from “radical Islamists.” Citing unsubstantiated figures of “thousands” killed, Trump warned of halting all U.S. aid and ordered the Pentagon to prepare for possible military intervention. Nigerian authorities have categorically denied genocide allegations, emphasizing that violence by Boko Haram, ISWAP, and bandit groups targets all faiths indiscriminately. Tinubu, a Muslim married to a Christian pastor, highlighted balanced appointments and argued that “the killing of any Nigerian is a national loss,” affecting families across ethnic and religious divides.
As bandits roam Kwara’s shadows, the Isapa families cling to hope amid fear. Security analysts warn that without addressing root causes—like climate-fueled resource scarcity and youth unemployment—the cycle will persist. Tinubu’s administration, buoyed by U.S. pledges, faces a litmus test: Transform diplomatic wins into boots-on-the-ground safety. For now, in Isapa’s quiet compounds, prayers echo louder than gunfire—but for how long?
