By Sar Terver
The people of Yelewata in Guma Local Government Area of Benue State are once again mourning. And then, three more lives were cut short in the early hours of Monday, September 8, 2025, barely months after the June 13 massacre that claimed over 200 people in a single night.
The tragedy is now a series, and the community is left asking: can’t the security forces comb the bushes and flush out the attackers who keep hiding there?
The Monday killings struck like a cruel reminder. According to eyewitnesses, the attack occurred between 7:00 and 7:30 a.m. Achii Mathias, Yelwata’s youth leader, confirmed the timing.
“They came in the morning and killed three of our people,” he told reporters, his voice heavy with frustration.
Even more painful is that the three victims belonged to the same family that had already lost 19 members during the June 13 massacre. The village head, Zaki Julius Joor, confirmed this grim connection. For the bereaved, grief has become a recurring chapter.
Chief Dennis Gbongbon, President of the United Farmers Benue Valley, explained how the community decided to protest.
“We left the corpses on the highway so that people can see what we are passing through,” he said, as residents blocked the Makurdi–Lafia road with the bodies.
Women, in particular, have led the anger. In a viral Facebook video, they were seen singing protest songs against the soldiers. Translated from Tiv, their chorus was blunt: “Soldiers, you should leave our community; you are not protecting us but helping killers.” Their chants captured the despair of villagers who no longer see security agents as defenders.
This is not the first time Yelewata has bled. The June 13 massacre remains one of the darkest episodes in Benue’s history, when gunmen stormed the community at night, burning homes and killing indiscriminately.
Reuters reported that survivor Fidelis Adidi lost five members of his family. “My body is weak and my heart keeps racing,” he said then, words that continue to haunt the living.
In the aftermath, families buried charred remains in hurried mass graves. Camps for displaced persons sprang up overnight, as women and children fled into school buildings and churches for shelter.
Father Remigius Ihyula of the Justice, Peace and Development Commission of the Diocese of Makurdi has been providing aid.
“The survivors of the massacre are terrified; they have suffered and seen unspeakable violence. They now lack everything, from food to clothing, mattresses, blankets, and even medicine,” he told journalists.
The scale of the violence has drawn condemnation from traditional leaders. Tor Tiv, Professor James Ortese Iorzua Ayatse, described the killings as “a calculated, well-planned, full-scale genocidal invasion and land grabbing campaign by herder terrorists and bandits.”
His words show the fears of many who believe the attacks are part of a deliberate effort to displace Tiv communities.
Yet, despite such alarm, the cycle has continued. From June to now, Yelewata has faced multiple attacks—sometimes on farms, other times at homesteads—always with a similar pattern. Gunmen emerge from surrounding bushes, kill, and retreat back into hiding.
Residents insist the solution is straightforward: comb the bushes. “They come out, kill us, and return there. That is their base,” said a community elder. But despite repeated calls, operations in the area have remained reactive rather than preemptive.
The anger toward soldiers stems from this failure. During the latest protest, women accused troops of collusion, saying some attacks could not have taken place without insider knowledge.
While the military has denied the allegations, trust has eroded. “If soldiers cannot stop these killings, then what are they here for?” one protester shouted.
Victor Aleva, President of Mzough U Tiv UK, expressed his disillusionment after visiting the community. “I was there in Yelewata last week Saturday and I saw things with my own eye.
It pain me well well. It no be to dey play to gallery or just dey talk politics. As I dey talk to you now, nothing don change,” he lamented.
The humanitarian crisis is worsening. Farmers can no longer access their fields, schools remain closed, and hunger is spreading.
Aid workers warn that starvation could follow if farming communities remain under siege. Father Ihyula’s warning about food and medicine shortages is already a reality in camps.
Security experts point out that the geography of Yelewata makes it a soft target. The community is surrounded by stretches of forest, offering natural cover for attackers.
Without systematic bush-combing and permanent security presence, they argue, the killings will persist.
Yet arrests are rare. Survivors say no one has been prosecuted for either the June massacre or the latest attacks. Impunity has become the fuel of repetition.
“When people see no consequences, they strike again,” an Abuja-based security analyst asserted.
Political leaders have made visits and issued statements, but residents remain unconvinced.
They recall that after President Tinubu’s delegation visited Benue in June, expectations of change were high. But as Chief Gbongbon said: “What has changed? Only more graves.”
Civil society groups are raising international alarm, warning that Benue could be sliding into deeper crisis. Some survivors, weary of perpetual mourning, whisper about leaving their ancestral lands altogether. The killings, they say, have stolen not only lives but also hope.
For Yelewata, the demand is clear. Comb the bushes. Flush out the attackers. End the cycle. Until then, every sunrise carries the dread of another funeral.
The people’s grief is not only in statistics but in the unending burials. Yelewata has become a symbol of Nigeria’s failure to enforce security.
As the women’s songs echo through the viral video, one truth stands out: the community feels abandoned.
Without decisive action, Yelewata’s tragedy will not remain isolated. It risks spreading, emboldening killers elsewhere. For now, the community waits, fearful but unbroken, still asking why those charged to protect them cannot chase death out of the bushes.
