The sight is familiar, but the horror always feels like the first time: the lifeless bodies of Hausa hunters from Kano State laid on the ground—one of them still being clubbed to a pulp, his limp body dragged onto the heap of his comrades’ corpses. Another man, either dead or dying, is wheeled in a barrow and dumped onto the pile. Yet another, pulled out from a manhole where he had taken refuge, is mercilessly beaten with cudgels as his comatose body is ferried to the growing mound of corpses.
The victims seemed dead—until old tyres were placed atop them, doused in petrol, and set ablaze. Suddenly, hideous screams pierced the air. One of the victims, still alive, writhed in agony as a tormentor adjusted a burning tyre around his body while the crowd cheered in approval. Soon, black smoke rose sky-high from burning rubber and human flesh as the strangers perished—one of them wailing to his death.
This horrific incident occurred in the town of Uromi in the southern state of Edo, Nigeria. The victims were most likely traveling home to celebrate Eid-el-Fitr with their families, taking a break from what must have been their occupations for a very long time. They had probably traveled this road in the same type of commercial vehicle several times before, never suspecting that their locally crafted den guns—primitive weapons that should have marked them as hunters—would seal their fate.
For the vigilantes of Uromi, however, the identity of 27 hunters passing through their domain was not so easily ascertained. The wayfarers were briefly interrogated, hastily tried, and found guilty of terrorism by a mob that had already reached its verdict. Some of the accused managed to escape, but more than half were not so fortunate. They fell victim to the brand of “justice” dispensed in Uromi, Edo State.
Across Southern Nigeria—in the Southwest, Southeast, and South-South—such scenarios are not new. Any group of Northerners walking the streets of an unfamiliar community, herding cattle, or simply passing through a village in a commercial bus is often deemed a security threat. To patrolling outfits like Sunday Igboho’s Amotekun and the Southeast Defence Force—jointly established by state governments and community-based vigilante groups—any stray Hausa-Fulani is a probable armed bandit, guilty until proven guilty again.
This stereotype is reinforced by a narrative that has gained traction not only among the Southern masses but also within their political and religious elite. According to this belief, the Hausa-Fulani are pursuing a historical expansionist agenda—annexing southern territories to further the glory of their still-existing caliphate. Communities like Uromi, therefore, did not see the hunters as an isolated group of travelers but rather as part of a wider, coordinated offensive against their lives and land.
A dangerous divide
Back in the North, the consequences of such incidents exacerbate an already dire situation. With banditry and insurgency ravaging the region, other geopolitical zones increasingly regard the North and its people as a scourge to be kept at bay. As a result, southbound trucks carrying grain and livestock are frequently ambushed and vandalized. Not even branded trailers of renowned corporate organizations are spared. And in most cases, these attacks follow the same mob-style aggression seen in Uromi.
Should the North and its people suffer the double tragedy of being victimized by insurgents and simultaneously stigmatized for the crisis they did not create? In the past, when Southern Nigeria was the epicenter of armed robbery and violent crimes, no indigene of a Southern state was branded and treated as a criminal in any part of Northern Nigeria. In the ’70s and ’80s, commercial vehicles bound for Lagos, Enugu, or Port Harcourt preferred to cover the Northern part of their route at night, only beginning the Southern leg of their journey during daylight.
Southern elements who propagate the falsehood that Hausa-Fulani farmers, herders, and hunters traversing the South are agents of territorial expansion conveniently ignore the fact that millions of their own traders have migrated northward and taken over major markets in Kano, Kaduna, Sokoto, and Abuja—without facing such hostility. Traders from the Southeast have even spilled over into Niger Republic, where the Igbo Traders Association boasts of hundreds of members in Niamey alone.
Furthermore, Southern universities remain the bastions of cultism, with some prominent Southerners openly admitting to their involvement in such fraternities during their student years. Yet, millions of Southern students have, for decades, studied in Northern institutions without facing discrimination or suspicion on account of their region’s security challenges.
Those who advocate stigmatizing people based on the struggles of their region fail to acknowledge that no part of Nigeria is an island. Their kinsmen travel far and wide, engaging in pursuits similar to those of the visitors they now demonize. Even if the country were restructured in a way that allowed each region to subsist independently, such attitudes would inevitably lead to diplomatic tensions between neighbors—escalating into crises better imagined than witnessed.
The North must act
In the meantime, Northern Nigeria—especially states whose indigenes are routinely targeted—cannot afford to remain passive. While Southern political leaders must be compelled to rein in the groups perpetrating these heinous acts, Northern leaders must also take decisive steps to safeguard their people.
Reciprocal violence is neither practical nor advisable. However, Northern states must implement measures to dissuade their citizens from venturing into hostile territories, even if those individuals resist. It is neither logical nor justifiable for people to risk fatal dangers in pursuit of prosperity or to supply goods and services to communities that regard them with deep mistrust.
Northern governments, therefore, have both the duty and the moral justification to intervene—even if that intervention means restricting movement for the safety of their people.
