Admin I Sunday, Nov.09, 2025
AWKA, Nigeria – Renowned Nigerian human rights lawyer and lead counsel to the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), Sir Ifeanyi Ejiofor, has stated that if Nigeria truly desires peace, it must stop romanticising terrorism and begin to confront it decisively.
Ejiofor made this known in a statement titled “Weekend Musing: When the Monsters They Created Began to Rule Them; And Why Trump’s ‘Wipe Them Out’ Threat Still Rattles Their Enablers.”
According to him, whenever former U.S. President Donald Trump speaks firmly about dealing with terrorists, instead of hastily shouting “sovereignty!”, Nigerians should ask themselves:“Sovereignty over what? Over ungoverned territories? Over mass graves? Or over a nation that now negotiates with killers in broad daylight?”
Ejiofor argued that seeking foreign assistance should not be treated as a taboo when the nation’s sovereignty has already been “auctioned to bandits.”
He maintained that those protesting against external help are not defending sovereignty but merely protecting their political bargaining chips.
Quoting an Igbo proverb, Ejiofor said: “Onye kpara nku ahu yoro ngwere olu,”which translates loosely as, “He who fetches ant-infested firewood has invited lizards to a feast.”
He explained that the monsters some politicians nurtured to fight their perceived enemies have now grown beyond their control ,dictating who farms, who lives, and who rules.
Ejiofor emphasized that what the world offers Nigeria today is not colonization but rescue, noting that the terms and scope of any international intervention should be diplomatically discussed and mutually agreed upon.
He further stressed that Nigeria’s security institutions must play a central role in directing such operations, as no external partner intends to dismantle Nigeria’s democratic structures.
According to him, “Nigeria truly needs help.”
Ejiofor warned that until the country musters the courage to punish the enablers, expose the sponsors, and secure its borders, Nigerians will continue to mourn the same victims under different headlines.
“For now,the monsters dance freely while their creators hide behind national flags. But make no mistake — every dance has its last drumbeat.”
As for me, I’ll keep watching and writing. Because when silence becomes tradition, even truth begins to beg for attention.”he said.
Read the full statement:
WEEKEND MUSING
WHEN THE MONSTERS THEY CREATED BEGAN TO RULE THEM;
AND WHY TRUMP’S “WIPE THEM OUT” THREAT STILL RATTLES THEIR ENABLERS
It was one of those quiet Saturday mornings, the kind where your mind starts digging up uncomfortable truths. From the serenity of my bed, I found myself reflecting on a question that has become too heavy for silence: how did a nation once called the Giant of Africa become so helpless before the monsters it created?
Let’s not hide behind pretense. Boko Haram, ISWAP, deadly cattle-rustling militias- Fulani herdsmen and bandits of various labels are not strangers from outer space. The majority were imported while many were born and bred here, in our soil, in our politics, and in the greed of men who thought they could control chaos. It began with whispers about “using them” for elections or intimidation. Now, those same creators watch in silence as their Frankenstein monsters dictate the rhythm of our national sorrow.
Today, vast parts of Borno, Yobe, Zamfara, Katsina, Niger, Benue, Kaduna, and even down to Enugu, Ebonyi and Plateau are either under siege or partially conquered. Villages once bustling with laughter now echo only with gunshots and wailing. Ask the people of Baga, where Boko Haram turned a fishing town to ashes; ask Zangon Kataf in Kaduna, where attackers have massacred families in single nights; or the displaced farmers of Otukpo in Benue who must pay “levies” to till the soil their fathers died protecting. The truth hits differently when you meet the victims.
In Shiroro and Munya LGAs of Niger State, bandits have effectively become landlords, collecting taxes and dictating who enters or leaves. Birnin Gwari in Kaduna has repeatedly been the scene of mass kidnappings and attacks. And yet the country pretends it’s all “under control.”
Meanwhile, in Abuja and other cities, politicians still walk free, some of them the very enablers and financiers of this chaos. Retired security chiefs have publicly admitted how the seeds of these monsters were sown within political circles, but the silence that follows each revelation is louder than any gunfire. The truth is that Nigeria has been in a dangerous relationship with denial, and like every toxic relationship, it is costing us lives.
The irony deepens when we see “negotiations” between state officials and bandits played out on television. You see men with AK-47s slung across their shoulders being treated like peace envoys, while government representatives smile awkwardly beside them. In any sane country, such a public surrender of sovereignty would spark outrage; here it has become a national culture of shame.
And now, America sneezes and Nigeria catches a fever. When Donald Trump recently declared his intention to “wipe out the monsters committing genocide against Christians in Nigeria”, you could almost hear the political class jump in unison. Suddenly, we became born-again defenders of sovereignty, those that failed to protect children in Chibok, girls in Dapchi, or farmers in Benue. How convenient!
Let’s be clear: the noise isn’t about patriotism. It’s about self-preservation. Too many people have turned insecurity into a thriving enterprise: those who negotiate ransoms, those who supply arms, those who collect “security votes” without securing anything, and those who profit politically from fear. The prospect of a foreign force dismantling this network terrifies them, not because they love Nigeria, but because it would collapse their cash cow.
The world knew the scale of our tragedy long before any single politician made headlines. Human-rights organisations and investigators have documented widespread atrocities and urged accountability. Thousands of lives have been lost, millions displaced, and entire communities erased from maps. The evidence is on every Nigerian lip, every burnt village, and every weeping IDP camp.
During one of my visits to an IDP camp in Abuja earlier this year, I saw toddlers, one, two, three years old, who had no memory of home or parents. Some were born in the camp and might die there if nothing changes. I left that camp broken. Nigeria has happened to them, and it is shameful that our leaders can still sleep at night.
So, when Trump talks tough, instead of shouting “sovereignty!” maybe we should ask ourselves: sovereignty over what? Over ungoverned territories? Over mass graves? Or over a nation that now negotiates with killers in broad daylight?
Those crying foul are simply afraid of losing their political bargaining chip. As the Igbo say, “onye kpara nku ahu, yoro ngwere olu”, loosely: “he who fetched ant-infested firewood has invited lizards to a feast.” The monsters some reared to fight their perceived enemies have outgrown their control. They now decide who farms, who lives, and who rules.
If Nigeria truly wants peace, it must stop romanticising terror and start confronting it. Foreign help should not be a taboo word when our sovereignty has already been auctioned to bandits. What the world offers is not colonisation, it is rescue. The terms and scope of any intervention should be discussed and diplomatically agreed. Nigeria’s security services must play a pivotal role in directing operations against these common enemies. Nobody is coming to dismantle Nigeria’s democratic institutions. No! Nigeria truly needs help.
Until we summon the courage to punish the enablers, expose the sponsors, and secure our borders, we will keep mourning the same dead under different headlines. For now, the monsters dance freely, and their creators hide behind national flags. But make no mistake: every dance has its last drumbeat.
As for me, I’ll keep watching and writing. Because when silence becomes tradition, even truth begins to beg for attention.
Enjoy your weekend; if you still can.
