National Shame Unfolds as Prophet El-Buba Leads Powerful Abuja Protest, Demands Justice for Over 200 Slain in Benue Massacre

 

A wave of moral outrage swept through Nigeria’s capital city on Tuesday as Prophet Isa El-Buba, Convener of the Initiative for Better and Brighter Nigeria (IBBN), took to the streets, leading a protest that echoed the pain and fury of a grieving nation. At the heart of his message was a harrowing incident from Benue State, where over 200 lives were brutally cut short in a recent massacre at Yelwata community near Makurdi, the state capital.

Tensions have been high following the attack, which many have described as a continuation of the relentless violence plaguing rural communities across central and northern Nigeria. The latest bloodshed, allegedly carried out by armed assailants suspected to be bandits and Fulani herdsmen, has reignited calls for decisive government action to stem the tide of insecurity.

Prophet El-Buba, a prominent religious leader and social reform advocate, was unequivocal in his condemnation of what he termed a national shame. Using both his physical presence in the streets of Abuja and the digital reach of social media, he called attention to what he described as systemic indifference and leadership failure.

“Today in Abuja, we lifted our voices not just in protest, but in righteous anger,” he declared in a passionate post on his verified Facebook page. “The killings in Benue State are not a distant tragedy—they are a national disgrace.”

Protesters who marched with him held signs bearing stark messages: “Enough is Enough,” “Stop the Genocide,” and “Where is Our Government?” Their chants resonated with a growing population frustrated by years of unfulfilled promises on security and justice.

The demonstrators gathered peacefully but powerfully near key government buildings in the Federal Capital Territory, calling for a public acknowledgment of the Yelwata massacre and a clear, actionable plan to address what many fear is spiraling into ethnic and religiously-tinged violence.

Prophet El-Buba was unrelenting in his speech to the crowd, directing his challenge squarely at the Nigerian leadership. “I call on the Nigerian government: How many more lives must be lost before you act? How long will you remain silent while the blood of innocent men, women, and children cries out from the ground?”

His words struck a deep chord with many, especially survivors and family members of past attacks who joined the protest in solidarity. One woman, who gave her name only as Mama Deborah, wept as she recounted losing three relatives in a similar attack in another part of Benue just last year. “We are tired of crying alone,” she said. “Today, the prophet cries with us.”

The protest was not simply a call to mourn but also a pointed demand for accountability. El-Buba emphasized the sacred duty of leadership, warning that failure to protect citizens renders governance meaningless. “Leadership is responsibility. Governance is protection. If you cannot protect the people, then you have failed them,” he said.

Observers from civil society organizations, legal groups, and media outlets were present at the protest, underscoring the broad coalition of voices aligning to confront the worsening security situation. Human rights activists, many of whom have documented similar incidents in Plateau, Kaduna, and Zamfara states, called for independent investigations and urgent deployment of relief efforts to affected areas.

Beyond the slogans and speeches, there is a palpable sense of desperation spreading across communities repeatedly targeted by these violent attacks. In many cases, survivors say they feel abandoned not just by their government but also by the broader national consciousness that often treats rural tragedies as distant and forgettable.

As the sun set on the Abuja protest, Prophet El-Buba closed the rally with a solemn call to action: “We demand urgent action. We demand justice. We demand peace. The time to speak is now. The time to act is now.”

For a nation grappling with insecurity on multiple fronts—terrorism, banditry, kidnapping, and intercommunal strife—the voice of the IBBN leader adds to the growing crescendo of citizens who refuse to remain silent.

Whether or not his call will translate into real policy shifts or meaningful interventions remains uncertain. What is clear, however, is that the memory of Yelwata will not be easily buried—and neither will the cries for justice that it has stirred.