Things are really bad now with big church denominations cancelling vigils and schools shutting down. We all are afraid. Our palace is under threat. Lives are involved. Communities are vulnerable. Even well-thought-out strategies won’t be without casualties. Yet, history has repeatedly demonstrated that societies survive when lawful authority prevails over armed coercion.
Many moons and seasons ago, Akojo was a prosperous kingdom that sat between rolling hills and fertile valleys. Its rivers never ran dry. The ancestors and the deities endowed the kingdom with uncommon fertile lands and full barns. Its markets overflowed with yams, peppers, livestock and cloth. Travellers from distant lands spoke admiringly of its peace and abundance.
The people loved their king and celebrated each of the deities generously, especially Orisa-Oko and Obatala.
Alakojo of Akojo, Oba Alowolodu-bi-iyere, was not the strongest warrior in the land, but he was wise, patient and compassionate. Under his rule, children played without fear, women went to the river and returned safely. Hunters were not brought back home accompanied with a dirge. Farmers went to the farm whenever they wanted. The people slept with both eyes closed.
Until Kako Olojukan arrived like a demon sent from the coven of demons.
Nobody knew exactly where he came from. Some said he emerged from the forests beyond the mountains. Others swore he had crossed deserts and conquered smaller settlements before arriving at the kingdom’s borders.
What everybody agreed on was that he came with fire.
His men raided villages, burned farms and slaughtered anyone who resisted. They struck suddenly and disappeared before the kingdom’s Balogun and his men could organise a response.
Fear spread faster than wildfire.
The king summoned his chiefs.
“What does this man want?” he asked.
A messenger soon returned with the answer.
The warlord demanded one hundred slaves.
The chiefs argued.
Some insisted the kingdom should fight.
Others warned that war would destroy villages and kill innocent people.
The king chose peace. The slaves were handed over. For a while, the attacks stopped. The people sighed with relief.
Then Kako returned.
This time he wanted fifty virgins.
What for?
The kingdom groaned in disbelief.
Surely, this was too much.
Again, the council met. Again, voices rose in anger.
Again, the king feared bloodshed. The virgins were surrendered. The attacks ceased briefly.
But the one-eyed terrorist was not done. This time, he wanted strong young men. The future builders of the kingdom.
The farmers.
The hunters.
The blacksmiths.
The wrestlers.
The king hesitated but eventually yielded. The young men were taken away. Months passed. It looked like Kako Olojukan had had his fill. For where?
The warlord returned, again. This time, he wanted fertile farmlands. The king surrendered some distant lands. The attacks paused. Then the warlord demanded more territory. Then more livestock. Then more taxes. Then the fair and shapely wives of village leaders. Then wives of chiefs.
Every concession bought temporary silence. Every surrender was celebrated as a victory for peace. Every compromise was described as necessary.
But the warlord kept coming back. The appetite of a predator does not diminish because it has eaten. It grows. A monster does not become a saint because it has been appeased. And so it was with Akojo and Kako.
One morning, the kingdom awoke to the most outrageous demand yet.
The warlord wanted the king’s palace. Kako’s remaining one eye was set on Oba Alowolodu’s palace. The one-eyed one was tired of his own abode. He did not just want only the palace, he also wanted the royal farmlands that sustained the throne itself.
The king was stunned.
The chiefs were speechless.
The people were furious.
One elderly chief rose to speak.
“My king,” he said quietly, “the day we surrendered the first slave, we thought we were buying peace. What we were actually buying was time for the warlord to become stronger. We taught him that threats work. We trained him to demand more.”
The council chamber fell silent.
The old chief continued.
“A man who receives your goat today will return tomorrow for your cow. The man who takes your cow will soon demand your house. And the man who takes your house will eventually ask for your throne.” The kingdom had finally arrived at the destination of endless appeasement.
Today, that old tale feels painfully familiar.
Nigeria has spent years battling terrorists, bandits, kidnappers and violent extremists. Our soldiers have fought bravely. Thousands have paid the ultimate sacrifice. Communities have been destroyed. Entire villages have been displaced.
Yet alongside military operations, another dangerous culture has quietly flourished.
The culture of appeasement.
A nation under siege often faces difficult choices. Governments must protect lives. Communities sometimes negotiate under extreme pressure. Families of kidnap victims will do almost anything to bring loved ones home.
That is understandable.
But there comes a point when repeated concessions begin to strengthen the very forces threatening society.
For years, Nigeria’s one-eyed criminals have discovered a profitable truth.
Violence pays.
Kidnap schoolchildren.
Collect ransom.
Kidnap travellers.
Collect ransom.
Invade villages.
Extract concessions.
Threaten communities.
Receive rewards.
The evil enterprise grew rapidly. More criminals entered the business. More weapons were purchased. More territories become unsafe. More innocent people suffer.
The result is a vicious cycle. Every successful act of terror becomes an advertisement for future terror. The bandit who receives millions today inspires ten others tomorrow.
The kidnapper we rewarded with money and operational vehicles recruited more foot soldiers. The terrorist who survived have now learnt that society fears him enough to negotiate.
Today, the demands have become larger. The audacity, the temerity have increased. The attacks are now bolder, like the siege on Akojo.
Kako began with slaves and ended by demanding the palace.
Nigeria has witnessed similar escalation. Years ago, attacks that shocked the nation involved isolated incidents.
Some criminal groups are powerful enough to impose illegal taxes, seize farmlands, dictate movement, close highways and control vast territories.
Farmers abandon fields because armed groups have effectively become landlords. Communities pay protection levies.
Travellers calculate risk before every journey.
Entire local economies have been distorted by insecurity.
This is what happens when violence becomes an alternative system of governance and that should worry every Nigerian.
The problem is not merely terrorism. The deeper problem is normalisation.
A society can become so accustomed to abnormality that it stops recognising danger.
When kidnappings become routine news and mass abductions no longer shock us, we must admit that we are in trouble.
When communities expect to negotiate with criminals, we must admit that the enemy is winning.
When farmers budget for extortion payments, they will lose respect for government.
When citizens accept fear as a permanent companion, it means something fundamental has gone wrong. No nation can prosper under such conditions.
Investment and uncertainty cannot co-habit.
When agriculture suffers and tourism collapses, economic low hanging fruits will rot. When businesses relocate, young people lose hope because employment opportunities will dwindle.
Development slows down steadily, painfully.
Fear becomes the tax paid by everyone.
What lessons are there for Nigeria and its Balogun to learn urgently?
Terror movements rarely disappear because they are accommodated indefinitely. Criminal empires do not retire voluntarily.
Violent groups do not wake up one morning and decide they have accumulated enough wealth, enough territory or enough influence.
Power acquired through intimidation creates an appetite for more intimidation.
That is why every successful extortion breeds another demand.
Kako Olojukan never intended to stop at slaves.
The palace was always the destination.
Perhaps not immediately.
But inevitably. He just bade his time.
This is Nigeria’s difficult but unavoidable reality.
The war against terror cannot be won merely by reacting to attacks.
We must dismantle the systems that sustain violence. We must stop the weapons from flooding in. Our borders must be better secured.
*Egbemode ([email protected])
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