'The Forest Eats Its Own': Inside Kwara’s Unfolding War With The Bandits Next Door
By Cecilia Aguda and Adedayo Said,
The morning air in Oke-Ode still smells of smoke. The silence that follows gunfire that thick, eerie quiet has become the new normal here. On the edge of Kwara’s forest belt, survivors of the last Sunday massacre whisper names of the dead in hushed tones. Fourteen forest guards. One community head. Dozens missing.
This was not the first time the forest came alive with gunfire. It may not be the last.
“They asked for food… and beer.”
Kwara State, once nicknamed The State of Harmony, is quietly unraveling.
Kwara State, once nicknamed The State of Harmony, is quietly unraveling.
In at least nine of its sixteen local government areas, bandits and kidnappers have turned farming villages into open prisons. And in a macabre twist, locals now say the kidnappers no longer just demand ransom they also ask for food, drinks, and even cigarettes.
“They asked us to add crates of beer and cartons of noodles to the ransom,” said Emmanuel Ayeoribe, a former NLC chairman in Kwara who helped raise money for a kidnapped friend’s release. “They see it as part of the deal as if this terror is a business contract.”
For hundreds of families, it’s a business that has destroyed everything. People have sold lands, vehicles, even inherited homes all to buy a few hours of peace.
The Long Shadow of the Forest
Deep inside Kwara’s northern and southern forests, groups of armed men some said to be herdsmen from Zamfara and Sokoto, have lived for nearly 30 years. Once traders and herders, they have reportedly transformed into something darker: organized gangs with a grip on rural life.
Local sources say they are aided by informants who live among villagers, feeding them intelligence about who has money, who just sold cows, who received a remittance.
“They know everything about us,” said a farmer in Tsaragi. “Sometimes, before we even know who’s been paid, they already call that person to demand their share.”
From Edu to Patigi, from Kaiama to Ifelodun, the pattern is the same night attacks, mass kidnappings, ransom calls, silence.
Special Investigation Oke-Ode, Kwara State - Sunday KwaraReporters Feature.
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“They asked us to add crates of beer and cartons of noodles to the ransom,” said Emmanuel Ayeoribe, a former NLC chairman in Kwara who helped raise money for a kidnapped friend’s release. “They see it as part of the deal as if this terror is a business contract.”
For hundreds of families, it’s a business that has destroyed everything. People have sold lands, vehicles, even inherited homes all to buy a few hours of peace.
The Long Shadow of the Forest
Deep inside Kwara’s northern and southern forests, groups of armed men some said to be herdsmen from Zamfara and Sokoto, have lived for nearly 30 years. Once traders and herders, they have reportedly transformed into something darker: organized gangs with a grip on rural life.
Local sources say they are aided by informants who live among villagers, feeding them intelligence about who has money, who just sold cows, who received a remittance.
“They know everything about us,” said a farmer in Tsaragi. “Sometimes, before we even know who’s been paid, they already call that person to demand their share.”
From Edu to Patigi, from Kaiama to Ifelodun, the pattern is the same night attacks, mass kidnappings, ransom calls, silence.
The police arrive hours late. Soldiers, sometimes days. By then, another village has been emptied.
Oke-Ode: A Warning Ignored
When news broke that bandits were gathering near Oke-Ode, villagers say they sent word to the authorities. “We were hearing gunshots in the forest since Saturday night,” recalled Ajetunmobi, one of the few forest guards who survived the assault.
When news broke that bandits were gathering near Oke-Ode, villagers say they sent word to the authorities. “We were hearing gunshots in the forest since Saturday night,” recalled Ajetunmobi, one of the few forest guards who survived the assault.
“We warned them. We begged for help. But nobody came.”
Then, at dawn, the shooting started.
Eyewitnesses say the attackers moved with precision targeting the vigilante post first, before heading into the village. By the time it was over, the community head and 11 forest guards lay dead.
And what angered residents even more was a claim that local vigilantes had been disarmed days before. A viral video showed a grieving woman accusing the DSS of seizing the guards’ weapons. “They took their guns,” she cried. “Now my husband is gone.”
The government swiftly denied it. “False and demoralizing,” said the governor’s spokesman, Rafiu Ajakaiye. But in Oke-Ode, people are not convinced.
“They can deny all they want,” an elderly man muttered near the burnt-out duty post. “Our sons are dead. The bandits are alive. Who should we believe?”
Then, at dawn, the shooting started.
Eyewitnesses say the attackers moved with precision targeting the vigilante post first, before heading into the village. By the time it was over, the community head and 11 forest guards lay dead.
And what angered residents even more was a claim that local vigilantes had been disarmed days before. A viral video showed a grieving woman accusing the DSS of seizing the guards’ weapons. “They took their guns,” she cried. “Now my husband is gone.”
The government swiftly denied it. “False and demoralizing,” said the governor’s spokesman, Rafiu Ajakaiye. But in Oke-Ode, people are not convinced.
“They can deny all they want,” an elderly man muttered near the burnt-out duty post. “Our sons are dead. The bandits are alive. Who should we believe?”
A War Without Guns
Behind the government’s press statements lies a harsh truth Kwara’s local defenders are fighting a war with barely any weapons.
Behind the government’s press statements lies a harsh truth Kwara’s local defenders are fighting a war with barely any weapons.
About 800 vigilantes were recently trained at the Sobi Barracks in Ilorin, yet few have access to rifles. Many still use pump-action shotguns against enemies carrying AK-47s.
“We give them intelligence every week,” said a local security volunteer in Edu. “We even show them the routes these people take. But the air support never comes in time. By the time soldiers arrive, the bandits have finished their business.”
It’s not lack of information it’s the slow machinery of bureaucracy.
“We give them intelligence every week,” said a local security volunteer in Edu. “We even show them the routes these people take. But the air support never comes in time. By the time soldiers arrive, the bandits have finished their business.”
It’s not lack of information it’s the slow machinery of bureaucracy.
And in that delay, entire communities disappear.
The Billionaire Bandits
In Edu and Patigi LGAs, kidnapping has become the new oil. A few years ago, the forest gangs realized ransom could bring faster wealth than cattle.
Today, some are said to own mansions in neighboring states, and drive luxury SUVs all built on blood money.
“Every ransom paid fuels the next attack,” says a local activist. “But what do you do when your brother is in their hands? You pay. You always pay.”
Even as the state government moves to shut cattle markets and relocate NYSC camps for safety, the violence hasn’t slowed. In some villages, entire families have fled to Ilorin or beyond, abandoning homes they may never return to.
In Edu and Patigi LGAs, kidnapping has become the new oil. A few years ago, the forest gangs realized ransom could bring faster wealth than cattle.
Today, some are said to own mansions in neighboring states, and drive luxury SUVs all built on blood money.
“Every ransom paid fuels the next attack,” says a local activist. “But what do you do when your brother is in their hands? You pay. You always pay.”
Even as the state government moves to shut cattle markets and relocate NYSC camps for safety, the violence hasn’t slowed. In some villages, entire families have fled to Ilorin or beyond, abandoning homes they may never return to.
Airstrikes and Denial
In a dramatic turn, Nigerian Air Force jets began pounding suspected hideouts on the Kwara-Kogi border last week. A notorious warlord called Maiwada was reportedly killed. The state government called it a breakthrough.
But to those who’ve buried their loved ones, it’s a small victory in a long, invisible war.
“The airstrikes came after too many funerals,” said one Oke-Ode resident. “They always come after.”
In a dramatic turn, Nigerian Air Force jets began pounding suspected hideouts on the Kwara-Kogi border last week. A notorious warlord called Maiwada was reportedly killed. The state government called it a breakthrough.
But to those who’ve buried their loved ones, it’s a small victory in a long, invisible war.
“The airstrikes came after too many funerals,” said one Oke-Ode resident. “They always come after.”
The Harmony That Was
Kwara once prided itself as a place untouched by Nigeria’s worst insecurities a safe corridor between the north and southwest. But now, the borders are porous, the forests dangerous, and faith in government fading fast.
Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq has promised to “deploy every resource” to fight back. Yet, in the villages where gunfire echoes at night, such promises sound like prayers said too late.
In the market square of Share, a grieving widow still sits every morning by the same tree, staring at the road her husband never returned from.
When asked if she believes peace will return, she shakes her head slowly.
“The forest has eaten our men,” she says quietly. “And nobody is coming to feed it back.”
Kwara once prided itself as a place untouched by Nigeria’s worst insecurities a safe corridor between the north and southwest. But now, the borders are porous, the forests dangerous, and faith in government fading fast.
Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq has promised to “deploy every resource” to fight back. Yet, in the villages where gunfire echoes at night, such promises sound like prayers said too late.
In the market square of Share, a grieving widow still sits every morning by the same tree, staring at the road her husband never returned from.
When asked if she believes peace will return, she shakes her head slowly.
“The forest has eaten our men,” she says quietly. “And nobody is coming to feed it back.”
Special Investigation Oke-Ode, Kwara State - Sunday KwaraReporters Feature.
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