In the dead of night, armed men descended on yet another school in northern Nigeria, exposing a grim truth the country has failed to confront despite years of promises and outrage.
Before dawn on Friday, silence settled heavily over St. Mary’s School in Papiri, Niger State. The classrooms were dark, the grounds still, and through that silence moved a group of armed men who slipped into the Catholic institution’s hostels and took one student after another. In minutes, a place meant for learning was turned into a hunting ground.
The attack came just days after 25 schoolgirls were seized in neighbouring Kebbi State. Together, the incidents confirm what many Nigerians fear: the abduction of schoolchildren has become a devastating, predictable pattern. Year after year, children pay the price for a crisis that refuses to end.
According to Niger State police, the first distress call came in around 2 a.m. on Friday. Armed bandits had invaded St. Mary’s Private Secondary School and abducted an unconfirmed number of students from the hostel. Local media later suggested that as many as 52 children may have been taken, though officials say verification is ongoing.
The Secretary to the Niger State Government, Abubakar Usman, confirmed the attack “with deep sadness,” adding that authorities were still trying to determine the exact number of abducted students. What made this incident particularly troubling, he noted, was that it happened despite prior intelligence that the area faced elevated threats.
In a statement that drew criticism from education advocates, Usman said: “Regrettably, St. Mary’s School proceeded to reopen and resume academic activities without notifying or seeking clearance from the State Government, thereby exposing pupils and staff to avoidable risk.” His words underscore the difficult balance the country faces between keeping schools running and keeping children alive.
The Niger attack mirrors Monday’s assault in Kebbi State, where gunmen stormed a girls’ boarding school before dawn, taking 25 students and killing a staff member. One girl, 15-year-old Hawau Usman, managed to escape. Her account is haunting in its simplicity: “They kept moving, and when they left, I ran back to the school. I knocked on the principal’s house, but no one answered.”
Her story is one more in a long list of tragedies that have come to define education in large parts of northern Nigeria. Over the past decade, thousands of children have lived through similar fear, chased through forests in the dark, or dragged away from dormitories meant to keep them safe.
UNICEF data shows just how vulnerable schools are. Only 37 percent of schools across 10 states have early-warning systems that can detect threats such as violence or armed attacks. In a country of over 200 million people, the numbers reflect a deep, systemic failure to secure learning spaces.
The growing crisis pushed President Bola Tinubu to cancel upcoming foreign trips, including his planned attendance at the G20 summit in South Africa. His spokesperson, Bayo Onanuga, said the president was “disturbed by the security breaches in Kebbi State and Tuesday’s attack against worshippers at Christ Apostolic Church, Eruku.”
In Niger State, police have deployed tactical teams and are working with the military to search for the missing students. Officials say they are combing forests and surrounding areas “with a view to rescue the abducted students.” The army chief, Lt. Gen. Waidi Shaibu, has ordered “relentless day-and-night pursuit of the abductors” and declared, “We must find these children. Act decisively and professionally. Success is not optional.”
The spectre of school abductions has loomed over Nigeria since April 2014 when Boko Haram kidnapped 276 schoolgirls from Chibok, sparking worldwide outrage. Since then, at least 1,500 students have been abducted, according to multiple reports.
But the threat has evolved. Boko Haram and its splinter groups remain active, especially in the northeast, but the northwest has increasingly become the domain of “bandits”—armed groups that grew out of clashes between herders and farming communities over dwindling resources. Unlike Boko Haram, their motivation is ransom, not ideology. The attacks are swift, often occurring at night, with gunmen arriving on motorcycles or disguised in military uniforms before vanishing into vast forests that security forces struggle to control.
The United Nations has repeatedly expressed concern over the rising attacks on schools. UNICEF strongly condemned the Kebbi incident, insisting that “no child should be put at risk while pursuing an education.” UN deputy spokesperson Farhan Haq called for the immediate release of all abducted students and reminded the world that Nigeria endorsed the Safe Schools Declaration in 2015, committing to protect the civilian character of education facilities.
Yet the gap between policy and practice remains wide. A recent monitoring report on the Minimum Standards for Safe Schools highlighted sharp disparities in governance, violence prevention, infrastructure, and conflict response across states. The report warned that ensuring safe learning environments is still “an urgent and unfinished task.”
Kebbi residents say some tragedies are preventable. Dan Juma Umar, a civil society leader, told reporters that locals had warned security agencies about suspicious movements three days before Monday’s attack. “Had they acted on the information we provided, this tragedy could have been avoided,” he said. His frustration mirrors that of many communities that feel abandoned despite offering timely intelligence.
Parents are left clinging to hope. Usman Muhammad, whose daughter narrowly escaped in Kebbi, said: “The only thing that will revive our trust is the safe rescue of our children. Until the authorities in charge secure the release of the girls still in captivity, we cannot feel at ease.”
The human cost stretches far beyond the abducted. In Kebbi, 12-year-old and 13-year-old sisters taken by gunmen were not the only victims in their family. Their mother lost her father, a security guard killed during the attack. “Since it happened, she has not been eating and is rapidly losing weight,” said their father, Abdulkarim Abdullahi Maga.
Nigeria’s worsening security situation has drawn international attention, especially after U.S. President Donald Trump threatened military action over what he described as targeted killings of Nigerian Christians—a claim Nigeria’s government sharply disputed. In response, Information Minister Mohammed Idris said President Tinubu “has put our nation’s security apparatus on the highest alert ever” and ordered security forces to “actively pursue and eliminate terrorists, bandits, and criminal elements.”
Still, some analysts argue that even with heightened pressure, negotiation may be unavoidable. Security expert Senator Iroegbu said, “Intelligence efforts should be prioritized to locate the abductors without endangering the girls. If contact is established, negotiation likely involving ransom may be necessary.”
As military teams continue their search in Niger State, the cycle repeats: national outrage, frantic deployments, and vows of decisive action. But for the parents standing outside the empty grounds of St. Mary’s School, none of that matters. What they want is simple: the safe return of their children.
And beyond that, a future where Nigerian children can go to school without fear a future the country has long promised but has yet to deliver.
