Once known as Nigeria’s “Home of Peace and Tourism,” Plateau State now seems to be auditioning for a much darker title. In April 2025, a relentless wave of violence swept across the state, leaving over 100 people dead, thousands displaced, and communities clinging to survival as chaos tightens its grip.
The most gut-wrenching blow landed on April 13 in Zike, a community in Bassa Local Government Area. Under the cover of night, suspected Fulani herders attacked, leaving 51 villagers dead — children, elders, and entire families caught in a storm of bullets and fire. Houses were torched, belongings vanished, and survivors left with nothing but shock and silence. As one resident put it, “We didn’t hear them coming. They came to kill.”
But this was no isolated eruption. The violence is part of a grim pattern. Just days earlier, the Bokkos and Bassa regions were drenched in blood, with at least 52 more lives lost and close to 2,000 people fleeing their homes. Emergency officials called it the most catastrophic episode since December 2023 — not exactly the sort of tourism Plateau had in mind.
The causes are as tangled as the violence is brutal: battles over land and water, ethnic fault lines, religious tensions, and decades of mutual suspicion. The farmer-herder rivalry has mutated into something more vicious — a power struggle wrapped in poverty and desperation.
Governor Caleb Mutfwang isn’t sugarcoating it. He believes what’s happening is a coordinated campaign of terror, not just random skirmishes. He’s pointed fingers at shadowy figures — conflict profiteers, external actors — who he says are fanning the flames for their own sinister gain. In response, the Inspector-General of Police has ordered tactical units into the fray. But for many villagers, help always seems to arrive too late — if it arrives at all.
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And still the bloodletting continues. On April 12, a father and his two sons were killed in the Zogu community of Miango District. It barely made a ripple in the national news cycle — one more tragedy in a place where death has become disturbingly routine. Fear stalks the streets, and some communities have taken protection into their own hands, forming vigilante groups and barricading entrances like something out of a siege movie.
President Bola Tinubu has issued a stern statement — as presidents tend to do — urging “decisive action” and calling on Plateau’s leaders to promote peace and unity. Lofty words, but on the ground, words aren’t bulletproof. Still, the federal government says it’s ready to assist with political and security solutions. Whether those will come fast enough to matter is another story.
International eyes are watching too. Human rights groups are calling for independent investigations and for perpetrators to be held accountable. There’s also a louder conversation emerging about the root causes of this mess — from climate pressures and economic neglect to the slow erosion of traditional dispute resolution systems.
Yet somehow, through all this, the people of Plateau keep showing a kind of stubborn grace. Community leaders are stepping up, hosting interfaith dialogues, pushing for reconciliation, and helping rebuild what’s been razed. It’s far from easy — trauma doesn’t vanish with a prayer — but it’s a start.
Plateau State doesn’t want pity. It wants peace — not the postcard kind, but the real, gritty, lived-in kind. The kind where farmers don’t sleep with one eye open and children don’t flinch at every strange noise. Until then, the hill country bleeds, and Nigeria’s peace takes an unpaid leave.
