In the fertile plains of Benue State, often dubbed Nigeria’s “food basket,” death now grows more quickly than yam or millet. The village of Yelewata, once a quiet farming community near the border with Nasarawa, has become the latest epicentre of rural carnage. Last weekend, over 150 people were killed by armed attackers, most believed to be herders in an increasingly bloody feud with local farmers. Homes were torched, market stalls incinerated, and entire families wiped out overnight. The devastation, while staggering, is tragically familiar to many in Nigeria’s Middle Belt.
Local sources described the attack as methodical. It started at dusk, with motorcycles speeding into the village carrying men with automatic rifles and machetes. The attackers moved from house to house, shooting anyone in sight and setting homes on fire. In some cases, residents were burned alive. “They came prepared,” said 38-year-old John Terver, who lost his brother and three nephews. “They didn’t come to rob. They came to eliminate.”
Survivors say the security response was painfully slow. Local vigilantes were no match for the attackers’ firepower, and police only arrived the next morning, long after the village had been reduced to ashes. “This is not a security failure,” said Father Dominic Iorfa, a local priest who spoke at a mass burial for some of the victims. “This is the absence of a state. We are on our own.”
The attack has reignited an old debate about the deadly conflict between nomadic herders, mostly of Fulani origin, and settled farmers, primarily from the Tiv ethnic group. What used to be sporadic clashes over grazing land and water has morphed into a militarised cycle of vengeance. Climate change and population pressure have worsened the competition for natural resources, pushing herders southwards into farming areas and leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
President Bola Tinubu condemned the killings and promised a full investigation, but his words have done little to soothe the trauma or the anger. His planned visit to Benue later this week has already stirred protests, with youth groups accusing the federal government of indifference. “The president only visits when the cameras are rolling,” said Grace Udo, a community organiser in Makurdi. “Where was he when we were screaming for help?”
Benue Governor Hyacinth Alia declared three days of mourning and requested urgent military intervention. However, critics say these gestures are too little, too late. For years, the state has been a flashpoint for violence, with displacement camps swelling in Makurdi, Gboko, and other cities. The National Emergency Management Agency estimates that over 1.5 million Benue residents have been displaced due to violence since 2015.
While international attention has largely focused on jihadist threats in Nigeria’s northeast or separatist tensions in the southeast, the Middle Belt remains a neglected theatre of slow-burn crisis. NGOs warn that the failure to address rural insecurity will not only destabilise food production, but also radicalise new generations. “When a 10-year-old boy sees his entire family killed and no one is arrested, what do you think he’ll grow up to believe?” asked Jumoke Ayodele, a conflict analyst with the Centre for Democracy and Development.
For survivors, the trauma will linger. Many say they will never return to Yelewata. “There’s no one left to bury the dead,” said elder Abraham Tyoapine, holding back tears. “We buried them in shallow graves with our bare hands.”
In a country of 200 million people, it is easy for rural massacres to fade from national memory. But Yelewata is now a name written in blood. And unless real action is taken—justice, security, and meaningful reconciliation—it won’t be the last.
