In a country that pulses with vibrant music, booming street culture, and a creative youth ready to take on the world, something tragic is unfolding in the heart of Nigeria—and it’s not getting the attention it deserves.

Between March 28 and April 14, 2025, tragedy struck again in Plateau State. Armed gunmen stormed villages in Bokkos and Bassa Local Government Areas—Hurti, Daffo, Zike, and surrounding communities—leaving at least 52 people dead. Almost 2,000 others have been displaced from their homes, now forced to live in makeshift camps, stripped of their lands, safety, and peace.

Plateau State, located in Nigeria’s Middle Belt, is no stranger to violence. For decades, simmering ethnic and religious tensions—fueled by land disputes, climate pressure, and a dangerous cocktail of political neglect have created a powder keg. Time and time again, it explodes. In its aftermath, a blood bath.Inncent and promising Josites laid to waste in lands they called their own.

This time, the bloodshed feels different. Not because it’s worse—though it is horrific—but because of the silence that’s followed. While President Bola Tinubu issued the usual condemnation and Governor Caleb Mutfwang called for peace, there’s a deafening lack of urgency. Security forces, survivors say, arrived too late—if at all. Religious leaders, whose voices once rallied entire communities, have mostly stayed quiet, their silence echoing louder than gunshots.

Why is it so easy for these killings to fade into background noise?

The affected villages are largely Christian. Many in Plateau believe these attacks aren’t just random outbursts—they’re calculated. A slow, brutal erosion of Plateau’s indigenous Christian population, masked under vague terms like “banditry” or “herder-farmer clashes.” But when homes are torched, families massacred, and farmlands looted, words don’t do justice. These are lives, not statistics.

And while politicians shuffle through press statements, and religious leaders stick to diplomatic prayers, the people are bleeding, literally and emotionally.

In a country where over 1.3 million people are displaced across the Northcentral and Northwest, this isn’t just a Plateau problem. It’s a Nigerian tragedy. One that touches every community, whether in the lush fields of Bokkos or the bustling clubs of Lagos. States like Borno and Enugu have also become recent victims of such similar attacks.. Because when we ignore what happens in places like Hurti and Daffo, we tell ourselves it’s okay to become numb to injustice.

As the music plays in our cars and clubs, let’s not forget that somewhere in Jos, children are sleeping on bare ground. Young people like us—dreamers, students, hustlers—have lost family, farms, and futures. If pop culture is the soul of the people, then part of our soul is hurting right now. We can’t dance while they die and this is definitely not the time for silence.

And we have to care. Please keep speaking out and supporting anyway you can. Jos needs you, don’t fail them!

This piece is dedicated to the resilience of Plateau State and all communities affected by violence across Nigeria. May your voices never be forgotten.