Akin Olaoye@akintollgate
When the Ife-Modakeke war reached its peak between 1998 and 2000, I was a student at Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU) in the Faculty of Science and Engineering. Our family house in Omole Estate, Ile-Ife, became a target of arson not once, but twice.
One night, around 10pm, a violent mob stormed our street.
Young men brandishing pump-action rifles, pistols, and charms descended on our gate with the look of the devil etched on their faces. For nearly an hour, nonstop gunshots had echoed through the neighborhood.
With my heart pounding, I stepped outside and confronted the mob from behind the locked gates. I told them my family had no stake whatsoever in the conflict. My father was in Port Harcourt, where he provided opportunities, housing, and mentorship to many young graduates from the community as they sought their fortunes in the Niger Delta. We were neither sponsors nor participants in the war.
In the chaos, one of them suddenly shouted: “E ma so ina si ile Baba Shell oh!” in Yoruba, “Don’t burn down the house of Baba Shell!”
They came prepared with loaves of bread, jerry cans of fuel, and sticks wrapped as firebombs, ready to set roofs ablaze. At that moment, my life flashed before my eyes like a scene from a movie.
After a brief standoff, the rowdy mob moved further up the street and set another house on fire.
The next morning at around 7am, I called my parents and narrated the terrifying encounter. They were shocked and wondered why I had remained in the house during such a tense period. That night, I stayed awake playing my Super Nintendo, using the game as a desperate distraction, half-expecting the mob to return and torch the building. Mercifully, they never did.
The following morning, I quickly packed a few clothes and relocated to my cousin’s room on Road 7 in the University quarters. As I slipped out of Omole Estate through the back streets, the air was thick with smoke and the sickening stench of death. Near Samtad, I saw three corpses lying in the open, riddled with bullet wounds. I continued on a long bush path, passing through several neighborhoods where residents had locked themselves indoors out of fear.
The atmosphere across the city was eerily tense. Very few people dared to venture outside, while military vans patrolled the streets. I trekked a long distance to the OAU campus gate, where I boarded a bus to the quarters. Along the route, I witnessed more burnt properties and the devastating scars of communal violence.
This was not government-created terror or state-sponsored insecurity. It was a brutal conflict between the Ife and Modakeke communities, a war that claimed many innocent lives & destroyed countless properties, all in the name of a 200 yr feud that predated most of those fighting in it.
Fortunately, the conflict eventually subsided and life gradually returned to normal. However, for nearly two decades afterward, Ile-Ife looked like time had stood still. Locals were too scared to rebuild boldly, and investors stayed away. A once-bursting city in the heart of the old Southwest became a shadow of its former self and almost a pity story.
Today, the glory is being restored. Much credit goes to the current Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Ogunwusi, Ojaja II, whose visionary leadership and economic investments are rivaling those of long-established industrialists from the 80’s.
I will always maintain this, “Local leaders and communities bear primary responsibility for insecurity in their domains” (barring external incursions or targeted attacks). The government’s role is to act as a referee, ensuring the rule of law is applied fairly and impartially.
If a community remains unsafe, then the community leaders, stakeholders, and inhabitants must look inward. Screaming at the fed govt to secure your streets while local actors promote division and conflict is simply madness.
Policemen assigned from Makurdi cannot adequately address local security needs in Uyo!
Pass State Police Laws!
