Do we imagine that some magical solution will arrive from Abuja, Akure, Osogbo, Ado-Ekiti, or Abeokuta to protect us from the terrorists attacking our communities?
Do we believe that the bandits who recently ravaged villages have simply disappeared?
Do we think they will suddenly repent, grow tired of violence, or become so wealthy from ransom payments that they retire peacefully?
Experience from other parts of Nigeria suggests otherwise.
Once armed groups discover that communities are vulnerable and that ransom payments are possible, they often become more emboldened.
Their attacks grow more frequent and more aggressive, forcing residents to flee and leaving entire communities exposed.
What, then, is our plan?
Do we assume that the danger will somehow vanish if we pray harder, fast longer, or lament more loudly?
Prayer has its place. But prayer without preparation is not a security strategy.
The first reality we must confront is this: we cannot depend entirely on government protection.
Not because the government does not care, but because the scale of the challenge has stretched existing security resources beyond their limits.
The second reality is equally important: if those who attack us can organize, plan, gather intelligence, and coordinate their operations, then our communities must become equally organized in defending themselves.
We already provide many services for ourselves.
We drill boreholes because public water has failed.
We buy generators and solar systems because public electricity is unreliable.
Why should community security be any different?
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Our towns and villages need locally organized, professionally managed security systems supported by traditional rulers, community leaders, businesses, and residents.
We just witnessed the annual Ojude Oba festival in Ijebu Ode.
We watched the Olojo Festival in Ile Ife.
Ha, how lovely, the Eyo parades in Lagos.
We spend months planning festivals, ceremonies, and celebrations.
We mobilize resources, raise funds, and coordinate thousands of participants.
It isn’t that we are incapable of organizing.
The problem is that we only plan parties with utmost seriousness and celebrate with lavish commitment.
Surely the protection of our communities deserves the same seriousness.
We must plan as if expecting imminent attacks.
If the bandits knew that we were ready for them, waiting—even praying for them to come so we could teach them a lesson, do you think they would stray to our territories?
But if they know we are cowards and ready to flee when we see them approaching, they will swell in number, and they will attack us even more vehemently.
The message must be clear: we are not helpless, we are not unprepared, and we are not waiting passively for rescue.
Stop asking for your governor and what he did with your security allocations–it’s a waste of your time.
Communities that prepare, organize, and remain vigilant are far more difficult targets than those that assume someone else will solve their problems.
The time for complacency has passed. The time for preparation is now.
Moyo Okediji
