By Adinoyi Ukpa
As the horses trotted majestically through the streets of Ijebu-Ode and social media erupted in admiration of flowing agbadas, expensive beads, celebrity appearances and the splendour of the 2026 Ojude Oba Festival, a different Nigeria was unfolding far from the cameras.
In the forests of Oyo State, schoolchildren and teachers abducted by bandits remained in captivity, their families trapped in anguish, uncertainty and fear. While millions of Nigerians debated fashion statements and celebrated cultural pageantry, parents waited anxiously for news of children who had simply gone to school and never returned home.
The contrast was not merely ironic. It was an indictment.
It revealed a nation that appears increasingly comfortable celebrating itself while its children languish in the hands of criminals.
This is not an argument against Ojude Oba. Far from it.
The festival is one of Nigeria’s finest cultural exports. It represents history, identity, community and pride. It is a testament to the enduring strength of Yoruba culture and deserves its place among Africa’s great cultural celebrations.
But culture cannot become an escape from conscience.
What should trouble every Nigerian is not that Ojude Oba was celebrated. What should trouble us is that the kidnapping of schoolchildren no longer possesses the power to interrupt our celebrations.
We have become accustomed to horror. A nation that once recoiled in shock at the abduction of a handful of schoolchildren now treats such incidents as routine news items. We express outrage for a few days, issue statements, offer prayers, blame security agencies, and then move on to the next political controversy, celebrity event or cultural festival.
The children remain behind.
The parents continue to suffer. The kidnappers continue their business.
The country carries on as if nothing has happened.
The Oyo abduction should have triggered a national emergency. Reports from Oriire Local Government Area indicated that armed men attacked schools and communities, abducting pupils, teachers and residents. One teacher reportedly lost his life in captivity. Families have endured days and weeks of agony while awaiting the safe return of their loved ones.
Yet the incident never generated the level of sustained national outrage that similar kidnappings attracted in the past.
Perhaps that is because Nigeria has become desensitised. Perhaps we have seen too many kidnappings. Perhaps we have become too accustomed to headlines about bandits, terrorists and ransom demands. Or perhaps we simply no longer value human life as much as we claim.
The tragedy in Oyo inevitably invites comparisons with earlier school abductions that shook the nation.
In June 2021, armed bandits invaded Federal Government College, Birnin Yauri, in Kebbi State, within the Zuru Emirate. The attack sent shockwaves across Nigeria. Students and teachers were seized and marched into the forests.
The response was immediate and relentless.
The Federal Government mobilised security agencies. Intelligence operations were intensified. Meetings were held at the highest levels of government. Traditional rulers became involved. The issue dominated national discourse for months. Every release of students generated national headlines. Every development was closely monitored.
The process was long and frustrating, but one thing was unmistakable: the country refused to look away.
The victims remained at the centre of national attention until they regained their freedom.
The same pattern was evident in Niger State.
Whether in Kagara, Tegina, Pandogari, Papiri or other communities ravaged by bandit attacks, successive mass abductions provoked urgent responses from both state and federal authorities. Governors convened emergency meetings. Security deployments were increased. Community leaders were engaged. The media maintained pressure. Public attention remained focused on the fate of the victims.
No one could accuse the government of indifference, even where outcomes were delayed.
The nation understood that schoolchildren in captivity represented a direct challenge to the authority of the Nigerian state.
That understanding appears to be fading. Today, the kidnapping of students struggles to compete with entertainment, politics and social media trends. This is dangerous.
Banditry thrives not only because of weak security structures but also because of public fatigue. Criminals understand that outrage has become temporary. They understand that Nigerians have developed a short attention span. They understand that after a few days, another story will dominate the headlines.
This normalisation of insecurity is one of the greatest threats facing the country.
A society that becomes accustomed to kidnapping is a society that has begun surrendering its moral foundations.
The consequences extend beyond the immediate suffering of victims. Parents begin to fear sending children to school. Teachers become reluctant to accept postings to rural communities. Educational outcomes decline. Economic activities suffer. Communities become isolated. Trust in government erodes. Most importantly, citizens begin to lose faith in the state’s ability to perform its most fundamental responsibility: protecting lives.
There is another uncomfortable dimension to this conversation.
Nigeria’s political elite often appears more visible during celebrations than during tragedies.
Photographs from Ojude Oba featured politicians, government officials and influential figures eager to associate themselves with a prestigious cultural event. There is nothing wrong with attending such occasions. Public officials are citizens too. The problem arises when citizens perceive greater enthusiasm for festivals than for confronting national emergencies. Leadership is as much about symbolism as it is about policy.
At moments of national trauma, leaders must demonstrate urgency, empathy and focus. They must ensure that victims know they have not been forgotten. They must convince citizens that government machinery is fully engaged. Anything less creates the impression that public relations has become more important than public safety.
The lesson from Birnin Yauri, Kagara, Tegina and numerous other school abductions is clear: sustained public attention matters.
Governments respond more aggressively when citizens refuse to look away. Security agencies perform better when subjected to scrutiny.
Political leaders become more accountable when public pressure remains constant.
That is why Nigerians must resist the temptation to normalise the Oyo tragedy.
The kidnapped children and teachers deserve more than fleeting sympathy. They deserve national attention.
They deserve sustained advocacy. They deserve a government that treats their captivity as a matter of utmost urgency. And their families deserve to know that the country has not abandoned them.
Ojude Oba will come again next year. The horses will return. The colourful attire will return. The music, festivities and celebrations will return.
But for the parents waiting for news from Oyo State, every passing day feels like a lifetime.
Long after the photographs from Ijebu-Ode disappear from social media timelines, those families will still remember the nights spent praying for the safe return of their children.
That is why the real question confronting Nigeria is not whether Ojude Oba should be celebrated. It should.
The real question is why a nation facing an epidemic of school kidnappings appears increasingly capable of celebrating everything except the urgency of rescuing its children.
Until we answer that question honestly, every grand festival will carry an uncomfortable shadow. Because somewhere beyond the music, beyond the glamour, beyond the pageantry and prestige, frightened children are still waiting to come home.
And no nation should be comfortable dancing while that remains true.
Ukpa a public affairs analyst writes from Okene, Kogi State.