Musa Na-Allah, Sokoto
There is a silence in Kebbe Local Government Area of Sokoto State that carries no peace, an uneasy stillness where children once laughed and families once gathered.
On Saturday, a group calling itself the Concerned Citizens of Kebbe told journalists that this silence is the cost of being forgotten.
At the Nigeria Union of Journalists Press Center in Sokoto, community leaders Adamu Haruna Kebbe and Tukur Mohammed Fakku spoke with the weariness of people who have watched their world collapse.
“We fought to survive, and over 30 of our villages are deserted. We are burying our people while the promises we were given gather dust,” one resident said.
Their words were not defiant but mournful. The villagers said their decision to take up arms was born not of rebellion but desperation, the final act of communities abandoned by those meant to protect them. “This is not insurrection.
“This is a cry for help. If the government cannot defend us, then train us, license us, and supervise us to defend our children,” one leader insisted.
Some families, they said, are now ready to sell their farmlands, the same soil that fed them for generations, to raise money for weapons.
It is a haunting image: people trading the fruits of their labour for the tools of survival, because peace has become too costly to hope for.
The group also accused authorities of withholding federal allocations meant for Kebbe, leaving displaced families without food or relief.
“Every day, our children go hungry. Every day we bury our people,” one mother said through tears. “Funds meant to help us are trapped in bureaucracy.”
Their demands were clear: deploy security forces immediately; sustain patrols and intelligence operations; release relief materials and funds; or formally empower communities to organise self-defence under lawful supervision.
Above all, they pleaded for dignity, for both state and federal governments to act in ways that restore safety and hope.
The citizens extended their appeal beyond Nigeria, calling on journalists and human rights groups to share their story.
“Let the world hear us, we are not fighters by choice. We only picked up arms because we were left with none,” they said.
What echoed most in their voices was not defiance, but grief, the sorrow of a people forced into resistance by neglect.
Their message was both a plea and a warning: Kebbe wants peace, but it refuses to die in silence.
For now, Kebbe waits, caught between fear and resolve, asking its leaders one question that can no longer be ignored: protect us, support us, or let us defend ourselves.
