Yesterday, in Kwara State, nearly two hundred human beings, women, children, families were massacred. Not in a war zone. Not in a foreign land. In 21st-century Nigeria.

They were killed after doing what citizens are taught to do: they asked the State for protection.

The village head reportedly alerted security agencies that armed men had announced they were coming to “preach.” That cry for protection did not save them. It betrayed them. The message meant for security found its way into the hands of terrorists. And enraged by the audacity of a village seeking the protection of its own people, the terrorists returned and slaughtered them, methodically, mercilessly.

At 5:00 a.m., the villagers called for help.
Security arrived at 3:00 p.m.
Ten hours later.
After the killers had left.

That gap, those ten hours is not an accident. It is an indictment.

This is not merely a security failure. It is a vote of no confidence in governance itself. A State that cannot protect life has forfeited its moral claim to authority. A government that responds to slaughter with condolences has misunderstood its duty.

We will hear the familiar words.
“We sympathize.”
“We commiserate.”
“We condemn.”

But sympathy does not restore the dead. Condemnation does not deter the next massacre. And condolence is not governance.

Each time these words are spoken without consequence, something is stripped away from our shared humanity. Life becomes cheaper. Death becomes routine. And citizens are reduced to statistics.

I did not plan to write today. Like many Nigerians, I had work to do, responsibilities to attend to, life to live. But grief interrupts plans. Horror demands witness. Silence becomes complicity.

So I lament.

I lament for a nation where asking for protection has become a death sentence.
I lament for villages abandoned to killers while those sworn to protect arrive after the smoke has cleared.
I lament for a country where terror operates effortlessly while the State watches, delayed, distant, detached.

What is the value of a Nigerian life today?
Who is safe?
Who is next?

Let us be honest: crimes of this nature do not occur in a vacuum. They thrive in an enabling environment. Every crime requires four conditions:

First, the will to commit crime, this is the weakest factor.
Second, the opportunity to commit it.
Third, the certainty or near-certainty of escape, both from the scene and from the law.
Fourth, the lucrativeness of the crime, whether material, ideological, or strategic.

All four conditions exist today in Nigeria.

The will is emboldened.
The opportunity is abundant.
Escape is almost guaranteed.
And the rewards, power, fear, ransom, territory are intact.

This is not a mystery. It is a system failure.

When the State cannot monopolize force, terror fills the vacuum. When justice is absent, brutality becomes rational. When accountability is missing, violence becomes policy by other means.

We must stop pretending this is normal. It is not.

What happened in Kwara is not just a massacre; it is a warning. It tells us that citizens are increasingly on their own. That the social contract is fraying. That the distance between government and governed is being measured in graves.

And yet, lamentation alone is not enough.

So here is where I land, again, and deliberately: we must organize, not agonize.

Power belongs to the people, but power unused is power surrendered. We must ask questions, loudly, relentlessly, consistently. We must demand timelines, accountability, reform, and consequences. We must insist that protection of life is not a favour but a duty.

This is not about partisanship. It is about survival.
This is not about politics. It is about humanity.

If we do nothing, this will happen again, perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps closer than we think.

So I mourn.
And I refuse to normalize the mourning.

May the souls of the dead continue to haunt all who are overtly or covertly complicit in their gruesome massacre.

And may the living find courage, not only to grieve, but to act.

Because a nation that cannot protect its people must either change or be changed.

Do have an inspired day with the family.