Afiniki Moses believed she had survived the worst moment of her life when she was released on January 15 after days in captivity in northern Kaduna State. Her family had scraped together a ransom, negotiated her freedom, and welcomed her back with relief and gratitude. But that sense of safety proved painfully short lived. Within days, her ordeal took a shocking turn that exposed the brutal realities of Nigeria’s kidnapping crisis and the growing vulnerability of ordinary citizens, especially women.
Afiniki’s initial abduction took place in a rural community in Kaduna State, a region that has become a hotspot for armed criminal gangs commonly referred to as bandits. These groups operate with increasing boldness, attacking villages, highways, farms, and places of worship. Victims are often held in forest camps under harsh conditions while their families are pressured to raise ransom payments. Women are particularly at risk, facing physical abuse, psychological trauma, and long term social consequences even after release.
Following her release on January 15, Afiniki attempted to resume normal life. However, insecurity remained widespread in her area, with limited security presence and ongoing attacks reported in nearby communities. According to local accounts, she was abducted again shortly after her release, underscoring how ransom payments have failed to guarantee safety and may even place former captives at greater risk of being targeted again.
Her experience highlights a troubling pattern emerging across parts of northern and central Nigeria, where kidnapping has evolved into an organised industry. Armed groups operate with detailed intelligence about communities, victims’ families, and their ability to pay. In some cases, survivors report that abductors threaten re abduction or maintain surveillance on released victims. This cycle has left many communities trapped between fear, poverty, and the absence of effective protection.
The psychological toll on victims like Afiniki Moses is profound. Survivors often suffer long lasting trauma, including anxiety, depression, and fear of public spaces. For women, the stigma associated with abduction can lead to isolation, loss of livelihood, and strained family relationships. Access to medical care, counselling, and rehabilitation remains limited, particularly in rural areas.
Kaduna State has witnessed repeated mass abductions in recent years, including attacks on schools, churches, and villages. While authorities have announced security operations and arrests, residents continue to report slow response times, poor intelligence coordination, and a lack of sustained protection. Community leaders and civil society groups argue that without comprehensive reforms addressing policing, rural security, poverty, and arms proliferation, the crisis will persist.
Afiniki Moses’s story is not just a personal tragedy. It reflects a wider national emergency where citizens can be kidnapped more than once, even after paying ransoms, and where freedom offers no assurance of safety. Her ordeal raises urgent questions about the effectiveness of current security strategies and the human cost of prolonged insecurity.
As Nigeria grapples with multiple security challenges, stories like Afiniki’s serve as stark reminders that behind the statistics are real lives caught in cycles of violence. Ending this crisis will require not only military action but also accountability, community protection, victim support, and long term investment in peace and development.
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