In the heart of Southeastern Nigeria, fear now walks in the open. Night and day, cries of anguish rise from once-thriving communities now gripped by terror, silence, and betrayal. Chigozie Chukwuokike, a young voice in the struggle for survival, paints a chilling portrait of a land under siege—his own.
“Our land is being strangled from every corner,” he begins. “They want to jail Mazi Nnamdi Kanu by all means, and those of us who speak out are being hunted.”
For Chigozie, and many others like him, this is no longer just political unrest—it is a fight for identity, existence, and freedom. The DSS, he alleges, have become the night stalkers, arresting and disappearing young men without trace. Meanwhile, the lush farmlands of the Southeast—once symbols of hope and self-sustenance—are turning into bloodstained battlegrounds, with Fulani herdsmen reportedly attacking farmers and villagers.
“They kill our people and burn our food sources. It’s deliberate. It’s a war tactic,” he says.
The police, he continues, are no longer peacekeepers but predators on the highways, extorting and intimidating road users. And while the people groan under the weight of oppression, those expected to speak—Igbo billionaires, influencers, and media—are conspicuously silent.
“Our content creators, our celebrities—they’re posting fashion and comedy while our land burns,” Chigozie laments.
The Nigerian Army, he claims, is not just searching for the Eastern Security Network (ESN)—a group formed in defense of southeastern communities—but actively dismantling it, while allegedly shielding those committing the atrocities.
He reserves special criticism for the political elite: “Our politicians have become merchants of betrayal. They're selling us off while their masters in Abuja applaud. They feed off our pain.”
But perhaps what hurts most, he says, is the betrayal from within.
“Ekpa and his group are part of a psychological warfare. They’ve divided the house. Instead of strengthening ESN, people now send their support elsewhere. It’s all a setup.”
The sense of abandonment is not limited to Nigeria. “The British government—the same that drew the lines of this country—are silent. Silent while a people are slowly erased.”
Yet, amid the despair, he holds on to a fragile hope—the spirit of IPOB and ESN. To him, they are not just freedom fighters; they are the last line between survival and extinction.
“They are the reason we still sleep with a little peace. The reason we still believe we have a future in our ancestral land.”
Chigozie’s warning is stark: If IPOB and ESN fall, what we now experience will seem like paradise compared to the hell to come. Schools, businesses, dreams—everything—will perish under the boots of invaders and the silence of a nation.
“Above all, we need wisdom. If our people can’t recognize their enemy from their savior, then we’ve already lost,” he says.
As Mazi Nnamdi Kanu’s court trial continues, Chigozie calls on every Igbo man and woman—home and abroad—to stand up before it’s too late.
“They want to jail a man who preaches self-defense and justice, while those who call for genocide walk free. If they succeed, we’re next.”
The battle, he says, is not just legal or political—it is existential.
“Support ESN. Speak for Kanu. Protect what is protecting you. Or soon, there’ll be nothing left to protect.”
