Before dawn broke over Kebbi State, gunfire shattered the quiet in Maga town — and then came the screams. By sunrise, 25 schoolgirls were gone, snatched from their dorm rooms at Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School by armed men who scaled the fence, stormed the compound and left a staff member dead.
Now, two of those girls are back — frightened, exhausted, wrapped in hijabs and surrounded by stunned relatives — while 24 others remain somewhere in the dense forests that bandit gangs use as their personal hideouts.
And the hunt is on.
School principal Musa Rabi Magaji confirmed to the Associated Press that one girl slipped away as gunmen dragged others into the night. Hours later, another reached home on foot, dazed but alive. “They are safe and sound,” he said — the closest thing to hope Maga has heard in 24 hours.
The rest? Swallowed by the wilderness.
The gunmen rolled in on motorcycles, according to terrified residents, cutting across the school grounds in the dark. Police exchanged fire but were outnumbered and outgunned. By the time the shooting stopped, dozens of girls were gone — and the school’s vice principal, Hassan Yakubu Makuku, lay dead on his floor.
His wife, Amina, recounted the final moments in chilling detail.
“Three of them entered and asked my husband, ‘Are you Malam Hassan?’ He said yes. They told him, ‘We are here to kill you.’”
They made good on the threat before turning their guns toward the dorms.
Northern Nigeria has become ground zero for mass abductions, with more than 1,500 students kidnapped since the infamous 2014 Chibok schoolgirls raid. But unlike Boko Haram’s ideology-driven terror, authorities say this wave of kidnappings is powered by bandit gangs — former herders turned armed extortionists, emboldened by impunity and easy access to weapons.
“These groups know exactly what sparks global outrage,” said security analyst Oluwole Ojewale. “If ordinary villagers are kidnapped, the world shrugs. If schoolchildren vanish, everyone pays attention.”
By Monday afternoon, the Nigerian Army, police units, and local hunters had fanned out into the forests sprawling between Kebbi, Zamfara, and Sokoto — a notorious corridor where gangs slip easily between state lines.
Nigeria’s Chief of Army Staff, Lt. Gen. Waidi Shaibu, ordered troops to begin round-the-clock operations.
“We must find these children,” he warned. “Success is not optional.”
Governor Nasir Idris echoed the urgency during a visit to the deserted campus, where empty dorm beds and abandoned notebooks paint a grim picture of the chaos left behind.
In Maga, parents are gathered in clusters, clutching photographs, praying, bargaining. Some have not slept.
“I heard the gunshots,” said Abdulkarim Abdullahi, whose daughter and granddaughter — ages 13 and 10 — were among the taken. “They came with many motorcycles. They took the girls like animals.”
Now, he waits.
Everyone waits.
And in a country where kidnappers grow bold and accountability grows thin, the question hangs heavy: How many more times will this happen before someone stops it?
