By Fresh Facts Magazine Investigative Team
In the heart of Plateau State, villages once known for quiet farmlands and simple living now bear the charred remains of homes and the echoes of unimaginable pain. In April 2025, the communities of Zike, Hurti, and neighboring villages were gripped by a wave of coordinated violence that left over 100 dead and hundreds more displaced—mostly women and children.
Zike: A Night Drenched in Fire and Blood
On Sunday night, April 13, residents of Zike village were settling in for the night when the sound of gunfire shattered the stillness. What began as sporadic shots in the distance quickly evolved into a night of terror and destruction.
Gunmen, reportedly communicating in Fulfulde and equipped with night vision equipment, descended on the village, killing indiscriminately and burning homes. By dawn, 54 people had been murdered—among them 18 children, including toddlers who were either shot, slaughtered, or burnt alive. Twenty women were also confirmed dead.
Moses Asabe, one of the survivors, now displaced and nursing severe burns, recounted the moment her world collapsed. Her 14-year-old son, Jerry, was dragged from their home and executed. Her younger sons, Jacob (3) and James (10), were burned alive. Her husband, who had hidden in the ceiling, succumbed to the flames. Only Asabe, her mother-in-law, and her one-year-old daughter—badly burned—survived.
“I held my daughter as the fire closed in. We screamed, but no help came. I don’t know how we made it out,” she whispered from a mat in a relative’s home, her body scarred by burns, her spirit visibly broken.
Others in Zike shared similar trauma. Mwa Jerry lost his mother, Asi, who had been hiding nearby, her tuberculosis-weakened body betrayed by a coughing fit. She was shot on the spot.
“She was everything to me,” Jerry said through tears. “I’m still numb.”
Adamu Dogara buried his two sons—Reuben (4) and Dogara Jr. (9)—after watching them slaughtered while attempting to flee. “They were just children. What threat did they pose?” he asked, still unable to comprehend the horror.
Hurti: Peace Shattered in Broad Daylight
Barely two weeks before the Zike massacre, Hurti—a peaceful village in Manguna District—was hit on April 2. It was the first time the community had witnessed such violence.
According to residents, more than 40 gunmen on motorcycles rode into Hurti and surrounding villages in a coordinated ambush. Armed with rifles and machetes, they moved from house to house, slaughtering and setting buildings ablaze. Forty-three people were killed, including seven children. Hundreds fled; dozens of homes and farmlands were razed.
Malo Yohanna, 68, had just returned from a bath at the river when the attack began. His wife, trying to escape, was shot and then butchered with a machete. Two of his young nephews were also killed and burned in front of his home.
“They came like a storm—three to a motorcycle, dressed in black. They cut through our lives like we were animals,” he said.
Ahwet Simon, just 11, witnessed the murder of his father, the family’s sole provider. “He was shot while running from the market. I saw it happen. I’ll never forget.”
In Doi, Yukut, and Tukwai—neighboring hamlets within Bokkos LGA—young victims included one-year-old Bright Ephriam, four-year-old Saltifat Mangut, and 15-year-old Isa’ac Michael. Their deaths are a stark reminder of the depth of the crisis.
“It Wasn’t a Clash”: The Politics of Denial
Despite the staggering death toll and patterns of attack, the federal government initially described the violence as “communal clashes.” But community leaders and survivors adamantly rejected that claim.
“This wasn’t a clash. It was a massacre,” said Luka Miri, the District Head of Kimakpa. “Zike had never experienced this kind of attack before. The gunmen knew exactly what they were doing.”
Plateau State Commissioner for Information, Joyce Ramnap, echoed this sentiment. “These aren’t spontaneous incidents or farmer-herder disputes. They are well-planned, coordinated attacks designed to depopulate and destabilize communities,” she told Fresh Facts Magazine. “When women and babies are killed in their sleep, who are they clashing with?”
While many locals identified the attackers as Fulani-speaking men, the leadership of Fulani communities denied responsibility. Garba Abdullahi, Chairman of the Fulani Association, dismissed the claims as “fabrication.” Miyetti Allah’s local leadership instead pointed to an incident involving poisoned cattle as a possible trigger, though this occurred after the Zike massacre.
The Deadly Geography of Conflict
Both Bokkos and Bassa LGAs have been hotspots of identity-based violence for years, with thousands killed. According to Armed Conflict Location & Event Data (ACLED), over 8,000 people have died in Plateau State from violence since 2000. The most lethal years were 2010 and 2004, marked by ethnic and religious riots that claimed over 2,000 lives combined.
In the past, Bokkos was relatively calm. But following a series of crises in Mangu, particularly between the indigenous Mwaghavul people and Fulani settlers, violence began spilling into nearby villages like Hurti and Zike.
What began as tensions over farmland and grazing routes has evolved into a terrifying campaign of reprisal and ethnic violence. Many locals now live in fear, unable to return to their farms, with no clarity on who will protect them.
A Bleeding Future
For the children of Zike and Hurti, the future is a question mark. Orphaned and displaced, they wake each day in uncertainty, their nights filled with trauma. For the women who have lost their husbands and sons, the anguish is unending.
As the scars of April remain fresh, one thing is clear: these attacks were not mere conflicts. They were assaults on humanity, designed to destroy not just homes and bodies, but the soul of a people.
And until justice is served and safety restored, the hills of Plateau will continue to bleed.
