The Call That Emptied Ibarapa
It started with a call from Oke-Ogun. A teacher from a secondary school in the Ibarapa area had been taken on his way home. Three days later, his body was found in the bush. He had been beheaded.
When news reached Ogbomoso, panic erupted at Ijeru Baptist Basic School. Parents scrambled for their children while teachers struggled to keep their classes together.
The police later said the panic was triggered by a rumour of bandits near Ajawa, but for the parents in that yard, the rumour didn’t matter. They had just buried a colleague in Ibarapa.
When a teacher is killed like that, every voice note becomes real. Every shout outside the fence sounds like the next attack.
Yawata, Esiele, and the Friday That Broke Oriire
On Friday, May 15, 2026, fear became reality. Around 9:30am, armed men on motorcycles attacked three schools in Oriire LGA: Baptist Nursery and Primary School, Yawata; Community Grammar School, Esiele; and L.A. Primary School, Esiele.
They took 46 people—7 teachers and 39 pupils and students. Two people were killed during the attack. One of the abducted teachers, Mr Michael Oyedokun of Community High School, Ahoro-Esinele, was later found beheaded.
A two-year-old, Christianah Akanbi of Yawota Baptist Nursery and Primary School, was among those taken. The youngest faces in the group were 2, 3, and 4 years old.
Videos surfaced days later showing the abducted principal of Community High School, Esiele, pleading for help from a forested area. “We have been here since Friday,” she said. “Come to our help so that our lives will not be lost.” As of May 18, 25 pupils and teachers were still missing.
Each attack widens the fear. In Yawata, parents keep their children home. In Esiele, the school is half-empty since the headmaster’s abduction. Rumours alone now close schools in Ogbomoso.
One teacher put it simply: “We no longer just teach Maths. We teach children how to stay quiet and run.”
A Safe Schools Plan That Exists Only on Paper
Nigeria signed the Safe Schools Declaration years ago. It promises fences, CCTV, emergency drills, and a National Safe Schools Response Coordination Centre that links intelligence to action.
Walk into most public schools in Yawata, Esiele, and Ibarapa, and the gap is obvious. No fence. No guard. No drill. The coordination centre sits in Abuja, and when panic hits at 10am in Ogbomoso, nobody is calling Abuja. The policy is right. The implementation never left the memo.
Amotekun Is Willing, But the Law Hasn’t Caught up
Amotekun was born because people in the South West stopped waiting. They wanted security that knew the bush paths, spoke Yoruba, and could respond in minutes, not hours.
In the villages around Ibarapa, Oke-Ogun, and the border communities near Esiele, it works. People trust Amotekun. They tell them things they would never tell the police.
But trust doesn’t stop AK-47s. Many operatives still patrol in plain clothes, on motorcycles; they fuel themselves, carrying Dane guns against automatic weapons. There are no drones, no radios that reach past the next village, and no clear legal authority to chase suspects across local government lines.
The missing piece is constitutional backing. Today, Amotekun operates in a grey zone. They can observe and arrest, but they must hand suspects over and cannot prosecute. Their powers stop at LGA boundaries, and kidnappers don’t respect those lines.
If Oyo is serious about preventing another teacher from being taken to Esiele, or another group of students from being pulled out of a classroom in Yawata, the state assembly needs to push to amend Section 214 of the 1999 Constitution.
Oyo should establish state-controlled police forces with full powers and enact agreements with neighbouring states to allow Amotekun to pursue suspects across borders without delay. Such measures will ensure local response teams are empowered to combat threats that cross state lines.
Allocate additional funding to meet these new mandates: purchase reliable radios, surveillance drones, and vehicles; provide targeted training on school safety; and ensure salaries are paid promptly. These investments will turn Amotekun into a robust security force capable of responding to school threats.
The Chiefs Who Are Quietly Holding Things Together
While Abuja debates, traditional rulers in Ibarapa, Oke-Ogun, and the Yawata axis are stepping into the gap. Obas and Baales have set up youth vigilance groups made up of local boys who know every path in the bush. They notice when a stranger sleeps in town for two nights. They hear arguments over grazing routes before they turn violent.
After the teacher was killed in Ibarapa, it was the Baale’s voice that stopped parents in the next town from tearing down the school gate. “I spoke to the DPO. It’s quiet today. Send the children back.” That trust is worth more than a police van.
Yet these groups are unofficial, unpaid, and disconnected from the security system. Integrate them with stipends, training, and direct reporting to police and DSS.
Parents as a Security Plan
The hardest truth is that parents have become the security plan. Fathers take turns guarding the perimeter during school hours. Mothers walk their children to school in groups. Churches and mosques have turned into information hubs where parents share which road is safe that week.
In Esiele, mothers now take turns sleeping at the school gate after the headmaster’s abduction. In Yawata, fathers patrol the bush paths before school starts.
It’s resilience. It’s also a sign that the state has stepped back. Parents shouldn’t have to choose between going to work and guarding a primary school gate. That is the government’s job.
What Changes If They Act
If the governor, assembly, and traditional rulers act jointly, all public schools in Ibarapa, Oke-Ogun, Yawata, and Esiele could have fenced perimeters, secured gates, and trained guards, funded through the Safe Schools budget and implemented within six months.
Constitutional backing for Amotekun, the provision of proper equipment and prompt salaries, and the formalisation of vigilance groups (including pay, training, and reporting structures) will ensure that local intelligence reaches the DPO and DSS efficiently, reducing panic and improving school safety.
The gates at Ijeru Baptist shouldn’t be torn down by desperate parents again. Schools should be the one place in Oyo where a child feels safer than they do walking home, where a teacher can focus on teaching instead of listening for motorbikes, and where a family doesn’t have to bury a teacher for doing their job.
Oyo has the pieces. The people are willing. The only question left is whether the South West governors will stitch it together before the next call comes from the bush. The children are waiting, and they’re listening to see if anyone is coming.