The Pain, Survival, and Resilience of Igangan Community Through Fulani Herders’ Onslaught

By: Lukman Adeoye.

For ages, the Igangan Community, a largely agrarian but fast-growing settlement in the Ibarapa area of Oyo state, South West Nigeria, enjoyed peace and harmony.

They also lived peacefully with their neighbors and undertook their social, political, and economic relationships with them as one indivisible entity.

But all these were soon truncated by emerging events they never envisaged or courted.

However, unknown to them, their community would soon be visited by suspected Fulani herdsmen, who unleashed unprecedented mayhem on them, leaving on its trail maiming, destruction of economic activities, social disequilibrium, and deaths.

These scars continue to elicit pity and public outcry in the community, and its neighbors to date.

Igangan Community

Indeed, nestled in the peaceful Igangan farm settlement of Ibarapa in Oyo State, Nigeria, my family and I once thrived on the rich soil that sustained our livelihood. Farming was more than a profession; it was a calling, a legacy handed down through generations. Every sunrise painted hope across the vast green fields, and every sunset was a reminder of the hard-earned rewards of labour. We lived simply but happily, connected to the land and our community. But, sadly,  that peace, which had been our bastion of development, was not to last for long.

Activities of Fulani herdsmen, bandits

The tranquillity of Igangan was shattered by the arrival of terror in the form of bandits, Fulani herdsmen, and kidnappers.

For our people, at first, the stories of the attacks on nearby farms seemed distant—isolated incidents, we thought. 

How mistaken we were, as the violence crept closer, like a predator stalking its prey. Their sadistic mission was clear: to terrorize, destroy, and uproot lives and livelihoods. 

We watched in awe as our farms, which once symbolized life and hope for us and generations before us, turned into fields of fear and killings of innocent and peace-loving people.

Community’s/ vigilantes’ response

Like brave people that is one of our historical hallmarks, Igangan Community mobilised itself to repel their bandits’ attacks.

As a member of the local vigilante group, I joined the group to defend not just my family,  but also the entire community. We had our mission to drive these unwanted visitors out of our community.

Hence, night after night, we patrolled the farmlands, our hearts pounding with a mix of courage and trepidation. We were farmers, not soldiers, yet we had no choice, but to fight for our survival.

Unrestrained attacks on families

This commitment, however, came at a steep cost.

It wasn’t long before my family and I became targets, as the mindless attackers marked us, our farm, and our home for destruction. 

The first attack came without warning, like a thunderstorm on a clear day. My wife and two of my male workers were at the farmhouse, while I was away on errands.

The bandits struck with the brutality of men without conscience. My workers were mercilessly  hacked down in cold blood —summarily. Not done with. They turned their attention to my wife, who is the rock of our family, tortured and beat her so severely that she managed to escape in whiskers.

Community in ruins, destruction

I returned to find the farmhouse reduced to ruins, the land stained with the blood of our innocent and harmless locals, who had worked with their hands to sustain themselves. 

The fields that once fed us now bore the scars of violence. 

Tragically too, the message left behind was chillingly clear: “You can run, but you can’t hide”!

However, I knew this wasn’t the end. We were determined, like soldier ants, to rebuild our cherished homeland.

Second attack unleashed 

As we made move to heal our wounds and 

repair the damages caused by these lunatics to our community,  the second attack came.

This time in a blistering  and more devastating form than the previous one.

This time, they took the lives of three more workers. By sheer luck- or perhaps divine intervention—my wife, a few other workers, and I were away transporting produce to the market. But the damage was done. It was no longer just about the farm or the land; it was about survival.

The local vigilante group, though brave, could no longer hold back the tide of violence. 

Police, others intervene

The police and other security agencies offered little more than hollow assurances. We were left to fend for ourselves against a relentless, faceless enemy.

How we became strangers in our land

The fear became unbearable. My wife and I could no longer sleep at night, haunted by the memories of bloodshed and the constant threat hanging over our heads. It became clear that Igangan was no longer safe for us. 

The farm we had poured our hearts into—the farm that fed not just our family but many others—had become a battlefield.

Journey to Lagos

Against the background of these incessant onslaughts and attacks against us, we had to take a hard decision to safe our lives.

Hence, we made the hardest decision of our lives: to leave everything behind.

We fled to Lagos, where the bustling city offered us some sanctuary, but little solace.

Survival strategy

I worked menial jobs in garages and on the streets, struggling to provide for my family while grappling with the trauma of what we had endured. The scars on my wife’s body were a constant reminder of the horrors we had faced. The weight of guilt and failure hung heavy on my shoulders. I had been unable to protect those who had trusted me with their lives.

Renewed hope, migration to Western world

But in the midst of despair, hope found us.

Through the kindness of strangers and the grace of fate, we received an opportunity to seek refuge in the West. The journey was long and uncertain, filled with tears and questions. Would we ever feel safe again? Would we ever call another place “home”?

Igangan continues to resonate

Today, as I write this from the safety of the West, my heart remains tied to Igangan. The memories of the farm, the workers who became family, and the lives lost are etched in my soul. We have found peace here, but the pain of displacement and loss lingers.

This is not just my story; it is the story of countless others who have been forced to flee their homes in search of safety. It is a story of resilience in the face of unimaginable loss, of finding strength in the darkest of times, and of the unyielding human spirit that refuses to be broken.

For every life lost, for every field destroyed, for every family torn apart – Olu Adekanmbi, Ojo Adeniyi, Hafiz Yusuf, Sunday Adeoye, Aliu Ade-to mention but a few!!

We must continue to tell these stories. It our collective responsibility. Our community, people must be safe, Their ancestral homes must not be lost, those in ruins must be rebuilt;  and the deadmust be compensated and immortalized.

 The world must know how about this grave man’s inhumanity to man!

Mr. Adeoye, a victim of bandits’ attack, is a businessman.