On December 24th, 2023, many people, including several children and women, were mercilessly hacked to death in what is unfolding as a conflict between farmers and herders. According to the latest figures by the government, over 200,000 people are affected; 331 people have been killed, including children, and 153 have been injured. Of this number, over 34,000 are displaced, living in temporary shelters, including religious structures and schools, with thousands in host communities. Their once peaceful and stable lives were overturned in the blink of an eye. Children lost their parents, and mothers saw their children being dragged and then killed while they stood there, helpless and in shock.
Soon after the incident, I undertook a mission on behalf of UNICEF to assess the gravity of the situation and make recommendations on urgent support for those displaced. Here are some of my impressions.Here is my travelogue.
Under the sombre skies of an early morning, I found myself setting out from Abuja to Jos, the capital of Plateau State in northern Nigeria. The journey was a mixture of trepidation and resolve, fueled by the unsettling reports of hundreds killed and hundreds of thousands displaced in a horrific incident that had gripped the region. Accompanied by a security escort, I couldn’t help but recall the days when such precautions were unnecessary.Driving through the towns and communities, I was struck by the juxtaposing images of the serene, lonely forests and the vigilant eyes of our security team—a poignant reminder of the region’s troubling transformation. Upon arriving in Jos, my heart sank as I met with my colleague, Margaret. Her briefing painted a grim picture of the crisis, particularly its impact on children, and the urgency of UNICEF’s response. Settling into my hotel room, I was engulfed by waves of nostalgia for a Jos I once knew—peaceful and thriving.
The chilly morning of January 10th saw us convene a critical coordination meeting. Jos’s 12-degree weather seemed unusual for Nigeria, and I noted the improved roads, a small beacon of development amidst the chaos. The meeting with Margaret, the UNICEF health specialist, and government representatives was sobering. The stark figures of casualties and displaced persons in Barkin Ladi, Bokkos, and Mangu LGAs were heartbreaking.That night, in the solitude of my room, my thoughts were consumed by the plight of the children, igniting a fierce determination to see the reality on the ground.
Accompanied by Margaret and teams from WHO and national and state emergency management agencies, we embarked on a field visit that would deeply impact me. Our first stop was at COCIN Church in Barkin Ladi, witnessing the government’s aid distribution. It became painfully apparent that the needs far exceeded the help being provided.The visit to various camps revealed the grim conditions of the displaced. The scarcity of water and the looming threat of cholera added to the urgency of the situation. The sight of hundreds of children in a shelter in Bokkos was particularly heartbreaking. Initially mistaken for a school, the harsh reality unfolded before us. These were displaced children, many orphaned or separated from their parents, sheltered by the selfless compassion of three local women: Fati, Mariam, and Ladi. Their stories, marked by loss and hope, compelled us to immediately mobilise support for the sick and hungry children, linking them to government food sources and healthcare.As we drove back to Jos, a reflective silence filled the vehicle. It was clear that Margaret and I shared a renewed commitment to intensify UNICEF’s efforts in this dire situation.
The return journey to Abuja was a time of introspection and profound dialogue with Rajat, the Chief of Communication. He encouraged me to document and share this experience to bring the human side of this crisis to light. As we passed the picturesque hills of the Plateau, a place I once knew as a haven of peace and tourism, the stark contrast to the current conflict was overwhelming.Driving past the verdant landscapes, now tinged with the scars of conflict, and the waterfall where I once shared joyful picnics with friends, I was reminded of the region’s lost tranquility. These memories, both sweet and sorrowful, inspired me to write this travelogue.Despite the heartache, I left with a sense of purpose and urgency. The faces of those children in Bokkos and their resilience amidst despair have instilled in me an unwavering commitment to return and support UNICEF’s mission to bring hope and healing to this beleaguered land.