“Every time we bury someone, we whisper to ourselves: who is next? We are dying slowly. Bishop Kukah spoke for us all.”
Those were the words of Amina Yusuf, a widow and mother of four in southern Kaduna. Her village was attacked three weeks ago. Her husband was taken. Her brother never made it out.
Across Nigeria, Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah’s Easter Vigil message has become a rallying cry — not just from the pulpit, but from the heart of a nation on the edge. In a country besieged by what he called “brutality and savagery,” the Bishop’s words pierced through the numb silence of a wounded people:
“Mr. President, please bring us down from this cross.”
Kukah, Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Sokoto, did not mince words. He described a Nigeria where homes have become mourning grounds, farmlands have become battlefields, and security has become a luxury for the privileged. Insecurity, hunger, and hopelessness — he called them cancers threatening to dismember the soul of the country.
“This message was not political. It was personal. Because this pain, this cross — we are all carrying it,” said Emmanuel Obiora, a civil servant in Enugu.
For many, Kukah’s invocation of the cross wasn’t just a Christian metaphor. It was an image of national suffering — shared by Muslims, Christians, farmers, traders, and students alike.
The Bishop acknowledged that President Tinubu did not create Nigeria’s problems. But he said the country’s descent into chaos must not be allowed to continue. He accused those in power of becoming “spectators in the dance of death.”
In his sermon, Kukah cited the Pope’s declaration of 2025 as the Year of Hope, reminding Nigerians that “we are pilgrims of hope.” But that hope, he warned, is running thin in the face of rising food prices, decaying healthcare, and a government some say is more reactive than proactive.
“When I hear Kukah speak, I remember that faith is not silence,” said Pastor Raji Adebayo from Ogun State. “His voice gives strength to ours.”
The message has already gone viral. Youths are quoting it in street protests. Civil society groups are printing parts of the message on banners. Even some lawmakers privately say it has sparked overdue conversations.
“If Kukah’s Easter plea cannot move us, what can?” asked Fatima Ngelale, a student activist in Bauchi. “The question is simple: are we still a people? Or just survivors waiting for the next tragedy?”
From the northeast to the delta, the cry is now shared: “Bring us down from this cross.”
And in a season meant to celebrate the resurrection of hope, Nigeria waits — battered, bleeding, but still believing — that someone in power is listening.