By The Nigerian Newspointer Editorial Board
In the quiet hills and lush forests of Kurmi Local Government Area of Taraba State, an uneasy wind is blowing. Reports of an unusual influx of Fulani and Hausa migrants fleeing violence in Northern Nigeria have unsettled the peace of this agrarian enclave. Migration in itself is not new—men and women have always moved in search of safety, trade, and survival. But what is happening in Kurmi today bears markers that Nigeria has, sadly, seen before. And if urgent steps are not taken, the consequences could be dire.
A Pattern Too Familiar
From Plateau to Benue, from Southern Kaduna to Zamfara, Nigeria’s troubled history is littered with stories of migration that started innocently but later spiraled into violent conflicts. Farmers and herders once lived in uneasy but manageable coexistence until land sales, unchecked settlements, and political silence turned simple disputes into ethnic conflagrations. The echoes of those past crises are now knocking at Kurmi’s doors.
In Baissa, the local government headquarters, concerned residents report that the newcomers are not only arriving in numbers but are also moving quietly from village to village, taking stock of the land and its people. On the surface, they claim to be traders. Beneath that surface, however, lies an ominous possibility: infiltration. And once infiltration becomes establishment, reclaiming territory often requires blood and years of pain.
The Land Question
Elders in Kurmi have raised a critical alarm—do not sell land to strangers. It is a caution rooted in bitter lessons. Across Nigeria, communal land sales have been the first domino in a tragic chain: land changes hands, the original owners are slowly edged out, and soon enough, disputes erupt into violent clashes. In today’s fragile Kurmi, the people cannot afford to repeat those mistakes.
Land, in Nigeria, is more than property. It is identity, heritage, and survival. To sell land recklessly in this climate is not merely an economic decision; it is a gamble with the future stability of the community.
Security Gaps and a Silent Council
The Nigerian Army’s 6 Brigade in Jalingo has commendably intensified surveillance, but surveillance without permanence is a half-measure. A forward-operating intelligence and operational base in Baissa is not just advisable it is essential. Anything less leaves loopholes wide enough for opportunists and armed infiltrators to exploit.
Even more worrisome is the deafening silence from the Kurmi Local Government leadership. At a time when fear and speculation run high, leadership must rise above whispers. The council chairman, Hon. Moses Maihankali, owes his people a duty,not just to govern, but to reassure. He must step into the public square, engage with security agencies, and prove that local government is more than an office in name. Silence now is not neutrality; it is abdication.
A Narrow Window for Action:
Kurmi stands at a delicate crossroads. Waiting until violence erupts is not an option. The cost of inaction is too heavy: families displaced, farmlands abandoned, schools shut, and lives cut short. Prevention is not only better than cure,it is cheaper, wiser, and safer.
The path forward is clear:
A halt to indiscriminate land sales.
Stronger community vigilance and reporting systems.
A permanent military intelligence presence in Kurmi.
Visible, proactive leadership from the local council.
Tomorrow May Be Too Late
Kurmi’s current quiet should not be mistaken for safety. Beneath it lies tension that, if ignored, could explode without warning. The Nigerian Newspointer urges all stakeholders,the state government, the security agencies, the traditional council, and above all, the Kurmi Local Government to act decisively.
The lesson of Nigeria’s troubled history is clear: the greatest mistake communities make is to believe “it cannot happen here.”
For Kurmi, the time to act is not tomorrow. It is now.
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