The air along the Osi-Eruku-Égbé road no longer smells of laterite dust and harvested maize; it smells of fear and the acrid smoke of burnt hopes. The consistent insecurities here are not events; they are the new rhythm of life—a slow, agonizing disappearance of the people and the government meant to protect them.
In Eruku/Obbo/Égbé, the dawn is no longer greeted with the cheerful clatter of spoons, but with a paralyzing silence. Every eye in the village watches the road, waiting for a vehicle that won’t come, or for news that they dread. This terror has been in existence in the area for long but recently when the local vigilantes, the strong, young men who knew the bush trails better than the bandits, were suddenly removed.
The State Government, in a move universally condemned as suicidal, recalled them for “mandatory, intensive training in Ilorin.” This political maneuver, meant to sound strategic, served only to strip the road bare, leaving not a single replacement guard. The bandits, like vultures sensing the death of a herd, arrived within hours.
The Killing and kidnapping operations are surgical and swift. The roadside ditches now serve as macabre exhibition grounds. When a ransom is delayed, or a family cannot pay, the fate of the victim is often left as a chilling warning.
The killing is calculated: a message to the rest of the community that resistance is useless and government protection is non-existent.
The worst psychological wound is the official neglect.
Eruku City’s desperation peaked when a gang raided the farm and moved away farmers two days without any resistance.
The frantic calls to the Ekiti Local Government Chairman, the one who publicly boasted of raising a “second batch” of vigilantes, were met with an electronic wall. His phone was off. His office was locked. He has not set foot in Eruku or Any other community since the attack started days ago, his physical absence a crushing confirmation of their abandonment. The promised “second batch” turned out to be nothing but a cruel, empty rumour—a lie swallowed by the void he left behind.
“When you have no shield and the shepherd runs, what is left for the flock?”
The situation has moved beyond crime; it is a systematic dismantling of communal security and governance.
The Osi-Eruku-Égbé road is becoming a graveyard, and the residents know they are next.
At the ruined checkpoint, the people have delivered their last, most desperate decree:
Governor Abdulrahaman must immediately declare a State of Emergency in Ekiti Local Government, specifically the Eruku-Obbo district.
This is not a political request; it is a primal cry for survival. It demands the immediate deployment of security forces, the mobilization of any available local defense, and a full inquiry into why the vigilantes were removed without replacement. The declaration must stop the slaughter, acknowledge the horrific failure of local administration, and restore a sense of safety before the entire region is completely overrun and silenced forever.
The above is a wake up call and reminder to the government of its primary and constitutional obligation “ protecting the life and properties of the citizens.“
Concerned Illustrious Sons and Daughters
