School Kidnappings Nigeria: Parents in Tears as 327 Children Vanish into Thin Air
By: Abudu Olalekan
They left home with backpacks. Not knowing. Not even imagining. Now, days later, 327 children are still missing in Kebbi and Niger states, and nobody can really say where they are or what comes next. Parents wait by dead phones. Teachers stare at empty desks. The fear is thick. And it’s spreading.
Across many parts of the North, schools are no longer just places of learning. They feel like targets. First, 26 girls were snatched from Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School, Maga, in Kebbi. Two somehow escaped. Twenty‑four didn’t. Then, in Niger, the numbers kept rising. What began as 215 pupils and 12 teachers abducted was later reviewed to 303 students missing. Numbers, revised like an account sheet. Except these are children.
Security agencies keep assuring the country that rescue efforts are ongoing. Governors speak of optimism. But the simple truth is harsh: the children have not come home.
School owners are rattled. Otubela Abayomi, who leads the National Association of Proprietors of Private Schools, told Reportersroom that his team is meeting over the crisis. His tone carried both anger and grief. This wave of kidnappings, he said, is a direct attack on national development. When children fear classrooms, how do you build a future?
To him, and many others, it feels like there’s no end in sight. “Those who should lead Nigeria tomorrow are being denied education today,” he lamented. Even schools that have not been attacked now live with a quiet, constant dread. One raid far away is enough to empty classrooms hundreds of kilometres off.
Parents’ voices are even sharper. The President of the National Parent Teacher Association of Nigeria, Haruna Danjuma, called the situation simply “scary.” The Federal Government has reportedly ordered dozens of schools to shut their doors. Danjuma is begging: make sure the abducted children are safe. Bring them back alive. Don’t let this become another Chibok, etched into memory as yet one more failure.
At the political level, President Bola Tinubu has been talking tough. Through the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Tajudeen Abbas, he told northern leaders in Kaduna that his government would “dismantle banditry architecture” and “eliminate terrorist networks.” No part of Nigeria, he said, will be left to “bleed in silence.” Strong words, carefully delivered. Still, for families in villages like Papiri in Niger State, what they remember most is not speeches. It’s the night the gunmen came.
At St Mary’s Catholic Primary and Secondary Schools in Papiri, Rev. Sr. Felicia Gyang was asleep when the noise started. Motorbikes. Cars. Heavy banging on gates. She and the other sisters peeped out into the dark. Children were already screaming. The attackers broke through several security points, moving from dorm to dorm. The chaos was so intense that, at some point, they could no longer even locate all the keys. She tried calling for help. The Divisional Police Officer. People nearby. Nobody picked in time. For nearly three hours, the bandits operated freely, herding students and staff into vehicles and motorcycles, then vanished into the night.
The Catholic Diocese of Kontagora later confirmed it all. Security personnel shot. Multiple barriers breached. No prior warning from authorities, they insisted. Contrary to some online rumours, all the sisters were on the premises. No one had gone to Abuja. The diocese also pushed back against claims that they ignored advice to shut the school, noting they had once closed for five months in 2021 and even hired special local security from Kwara to protect pupils.
Yet, precautions weren’t enough. The community is now broken, its children traumatised, many gone.
In Niger, the state government’s reaction was drastic but, perhaps, predictable: all schools closed. Public, private, mission, Islamic, unity colleges. Only tertiary institutions outside “vulnerable areas” were allowed to remain open. Kebbi followed with its own shutdowns, asking major polytechnics and colleges to send students home immediately. Adamawa switched all boarding schools to day schools. Other states – Kwara, Plateau, Katsina, Taraba – had already taken similar steps earlier. Education is slowly retreating before bullets.
Meanwhile, families still wait for a phone call that hasn’t come. The Chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria in Niger State, Rev. Bulus Yohanna, told Reportersroom that, as of now, kidnappers of the more than 300 students and 12 staff of St Mary’s have not contacted anybody. No ransom demand. No proof of life. Just silence. Parents are too shattered to even speak publicly, he said. The principal is devastated.
Security experts are blunt about why this keeps happening. Kabir Adams, of Beacon Security and Intelligence Limited, explained that armed groups – he estimates around 80 different ones – freely roam with motorcycles and light weapons, often striking “soft targets” like schools with minimal protection. Policies exist on paper, like the Safe Schools Initiative, but enforcement is weak. Ransom payments continue largely unchecked. Public awareness of basic safety is low. So the cycle goes on.
Another analyst, Jackson Ojo, points to something deeper: a broken system and a political class that parades wealth while communities crumble. Changing service chiefs alone won’t fix that, he argues. If the larger system remains corrupt and unequal, insecurity will thrive.
For now, in homes across Kebbi and Niger, none of those big arguments matter. Parents just want one thing. A knock on the door. A familiar voice. A child, dusty and tired, finally walking back in.
Until then, the fear grows. And classrooms stay empty.
