Oyo School Abduction: Mothers Cry Out as Terrorists Kidnap Over 45 Pupils

By: Abudu Olalekan

Friday dawned with terror gripping Yawota, Esiele, and Alausa when gunmen stormed three schools at once. Silence broke under gunfire instead of bells that morning. Children and staff vanished into unknown paths soon after the attackers appeared without warning. Heavy weapons flashed through school gates before anyone could react. The air thickened with panic as entire classrooms emptied within minutes.

Out of nowhere, the blow came rushing in. Still, the ache lingers like a shadow that won’t fade.

Folks in the village noticed armed men show up near dawn, riding bikes, wearing green-brown clothes that blend into trees. Their voices carried different ways of talking – Yoruba, then Hausa, mixed now and then with broken English. To some ears, it sounded like soldiers checking the area. Not a single person saw trouble walking right through the gate.

Out of nowhere, the sound of gunfire began.

Chaos hit fast, turning classrooms upside down while frightened kids scattered every which way. Out the windows some managed to crawl. Luck didn’t reach everyone.

From Yawota came word of Baptist Nursery and Primary School being hit. Over forty-five students vanished that day – teachers too, plus some living nearby. Another place struck: Community Grammar School at Esiele. The list goes on, including L.A. Primary School caught in the sweep. People on the ground shared what unfolded, piece by painful piece.

Shaking, Elizabeth Olagoke spoke of what happened – she teaches at Baptist Nursery and Primary School. The memory nearly broke her composure.

“They entered my classroom first,” she said quietly. “I was carrying a two-year-old child when they grabbed me. I begged them. One of them later said they should leave me.”

Out of nowhere, her words shook while telling what happened – gunshots cracked at random, then kids were shoved onto motorbikes, carried off into the trees close to Old Oyo National Park.

“It lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like forever,” she added.

From Esiele, the community leader Oba Tajudeen Abioye spoke up – yes, he verified the kids had been taken. Right now, teams are moving quietly, working behind the scenes just to bring them back without harm.

Nowhere feels untouched by the weight of loss piling up in these towns. Women weep without hiding their tears. Men move constantly, scanning thickets and dusty paths, chasing any sign a kid might walk back.

That morning, when soldiers showed up, Ajarah Ayanwale felt relief at first. Her thoughts turned to gratitude, seeing the uniforms move through the neighborhood. She spoke later about how it struck her then – hope mixed with fear.

“We thought help had come,” she said in tears. “Not knowing they were the same people who came to take our children.”

One morning, her boy vanished without a trace. The little one made it out just in time.

One neighbor, Shukurat Pius, recalled kids leaping out of class windows just as attackers pulled smaller ones aside.

“The little ones could not run,” she said. “That is what breaks my heart.”

These days, sleep won’t come easily for Nafasat Agunle. Her eight-year-old vanished – since then, nights stretch long without rest.

“I can’t eat. I can’t even think straight,” she whispered. “We just want our children back alive.”

Thirty-six students vanished from a single classroom, claimed ex-legislator Bamigboye Abidoye. Teachers disappeared too during the incident in that region.

Later, security teams spread into the wooded zones nearby while checks grew stricter. It came out that three people were in custody, linked directly to the incident.

Finding traces near the riverbank, troops push deeper into thick forest zones where escape routes are limited. Movement spotted at dusk suggests suspects have not moved far from park boundaries since last contact occurred. Search dogs picked up a scent leading toward abandoned ranger stations off Route 6 earlier today.

Fear spreads through the South-West as unrest grows more intense. A new wave of anxiety follows after recent events shake trust in safety.

Out in the open now, Gani Adams – holding the title Aare Ona Kakanfo of Yorubaland – spoke up about growing signs. Terror networks are slipping into parts once thought safe. Not just whispers anymore. Places like Oyo, then Ogun, followed by Ondo, even reaching Ekiti. Movement seen where it wasn’t before. Quiet steps, but spreading.

Facing a risky security challenge today – the area can’t look away any longer, he says.

“What we are seeing now is only the beginning,” he warned.

Now watching closely at crossings, teams in Lagos, Ogun, Osun, Ondo, and Ekiti move fast after threats. Watchful eyes scan roads while community checks tighten under new routines. Because of past incidents, patrols stay active day and night. Responses shifted quickly once warnings came through. Monitoring happens more often now than before. Security crews coordinate between regions just to be sure.

Still in Oyo, officials say work continues to bring back the kidnapped students safely.

Yet in those hit hardest, mothers stand by windows. Eyes fixed on empty lanes. Waiting for a familiar shape to appear. Each ring of the telephone holds breath before sound.

Fear sticks around, still hiding in every corner.