From Mourning to Mayhem: Police Disperse Peaceful Protest Over Benue Killings with Teargas and Chaos

 

Yelewata, a once-peaceful community in Benue State’s Guma Local Government Area, was thrown into turmoil on Sunday as sorrow turned into defiance and a plea for justice met a harsh response. Hundreds of mourners, clad in somber black, flooded the streets to protest the brutal killing of over 200 residents—victims of a recent wave of violence attributed to suspected armed herdsmen.

Chants pierced the still morning air. “Enough is enough!” “We are not animals!” The demonstrators marched with grief carved into their expressions and anger boiling just beneath the surface. Placards carried stark messages—“Justice for Guma,” “Stop the Killings Now,” “Where is Our Government?”

For many, the march was more than a protest; it was a funeral procession in motion. The community, having buried their dead too many times before, reached a tipping point. The latest massacre—one of the deadliest in recent years—ignited long-standing frustrations over what residents describe as the government’s continued failure to protect vulnerable rural communities from violent attacks.

As the crowd swelled, so did their cries. But what began as a peaceful call for justice soon descended into pandemonium. Without warning, Nigerian police officers arrived on the scene and launched teargas into the gathered masses. The dense, acrid smoke sent protesters fleeing in all directions. Panic set in. Voices were replaced by coughing, cries of confusion, and the thunder of running feet. Several people were reportedly injured in the chaotic stampede that followed.

Eyewitness accounts describe a harrowing scene. Children and the elderly stumbled as they tried to escape. Protesters helped one another through the haze, but the fear was palpable. “We came with our pain, not weapons,” said one woman who gave her name as Mama Dooshima. “And they met us with smoke and sticks. Is this the justice they offer us?”

Another protester, visibly shaken, spoke through tears. “We lost our families to bullets and now we’re being silenced with teargas. What have we done but cry for help?”

The police justified their actions as necessary to prevent the gathering from spiraling out of control. A spokesperson for the state command claimed the protesters were “blocking major roads and disrupting public peace,” though no independent verification of violence from the protesters has surfaced. Human rights advocates, however, are condemning the police response as a gross overreach and a further assault on a grieving community’s dignity.

Benue State has for years stood at the epicenter of farmer-herder conflicts, with Guma Local Government Area often bearing the brunt of these violent episodes. Despite repeated calls from civil society organizations and local leaders, the region continues to suffer from what many see as systematic neglect.

Community leaders have decried both the massacre and the government’s response to the protest. “This is not just about the dead, it’s about the living who are being told their voices do not matter,” said Chief Iorver Ajene, a traditional leader in Guma. “We are tired of mass burials, tired of being statistics. Today, they buried our voices along with our people.”

Civil society organizations have also weighed in, urging immediate investigation into the police crackdown and demanding concrete steps from both state and federal governments to curb the ongoing violence in Benue.

Amnesty International Nigeria released a brief statement condemning the police action. “The use of teargas on peaceful mourners is unacceptable. The Nigerian government must not only bring the perpetrators of the Yelewata massacre to justice but must also ensure that grieving citizens are not re-victimized.”

As dusk settled over Yelewata, smoke from burnt incense and residual teargas lingered in the air—a cruel metaphor for a community suspended between mourning and outrage. The protesters dispersed, but the pain remains, festering like an untreated wound.

Sunday’s events have left a deep scar, not only on the physical bodies of those injured in the melee but on the collective psyche of a people struggling to be heard. The message was clear: justice delayed feels very much like justice denied—especially when it’s silenced with smoke.