Each April 7th, the world dons a mantle of silence, marking the International Day of Reflection, a solemn tribute to the 1994 Rwandan Genocide, where nearly a million souls were swept away in a maelstrom of hatred. It’s a history lesson etched in blood, a mirror held up to humanity’s darkest depths and its flickering capacity for renewal. Yet, for us in this cherished nation, the echo of that distant tragedy reverberates closer than we’d wish. Our own fields and villages whisper tales of grief, none more piercing than those from Plateau State and the scattered corners recently touched by violence’s cruel hand. Today, we pause not just to remember a foreign past, but to cradle our own.
Consider the heartbreak of Bokkos, in Plateau State, where the dawn of April 2025 brought not springtime promise, but a shroud of mourning. In a series of brazen assaults across its villages, armed shadows stole at least 52 lives, men stooped by age, women cradling dreams, children yet to taste the fullness of youth. The numbers climb as the dust settles, a grim tally reported through anguished voices of Nigerians and fleeting news outlets dispatches. This is no isolated wound; it’s a fresh cut upon a tapestry of scars, joining the litany of losses in other regions, each a testament to a resilience tested, but never broken. To the people of Plateau and H. E. Gov. Caleb Mutfwang, hear this: your sorrow is seen, your tears are shared. You are not alone in this shadowed valley.
Yet, this is no dirge to drown in. It’s a lantern lit against the dark a call not to vengeance or despair, but to a quiet, fierce awakening. To the youth of these battered lands, I speak with a heart both heavy and hopeful: you are the keepers of your soil. You know its secrets, the twist of its rivers, the sigh of its winds, the cadence of its nights. The government, with its broad shield, strives to guard a nation vast and varied; its statements of condolence, like cool rain on parched earth, seek to soothe. But words alone cannot stem this tide. Step forward, then link arms with your elders, your leaders, your sentinels. Weave a tapestry of local defense, a bulwark born of your own hands, tailored to the rhythms you alone understand. This is not a surrender of faith in governance, but a partnership, a bold act of love for the living.
Imagine, for a moment, the Rwandan phoenix, rising from ashes to reclaim its sky. History whispers that healing follows action, that strength is forged in the crucible of resolve. As we bow to honor those we’ve lost, their laughter stilled, their dreams unspooled, let us also lift our chins to protect those who remain. Life, fragile as a dew-kissed thread, is sacred beyond measure, no matter the tempests that rage. To our leaders, from the humblest council to the presidential seat, we offer a gentle, insistent plea: let your vows be ironclad. President Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu pledge of justice for Bokkos’s tormentors is a spark, fan it into a flame. Hunt down these architects of agony, not merely to punish, but to proclaim that no soul can be snatched without reckoning.
To the people of Plateau State, to every community cradling fresh graves, take this solace: your pain is a thread in our national fabric, binding us closer. You are not forgotten footnotes, but chapters of valor, etched in courage and grace. This day of reflection is no mere pause, it’s a pivot. Let us spin our grief into sinew, our rage into purpose, our love into a shield that gleams. The departed watch, their spirits urging us onward. For them, for the children yet to bloom, for the sanctity of our shared tomorrow, we rise. And in rising, we rewrite the story, not with ink of sorrow, but with the golden hues of hope.
