Recently in Esiele, an elderly woman stopped briefly outside a school gate and stared into the compound beyond. The classrooms were open. The blackboards were still hanging where they had always hung.

A football lay abandoned near a patch of grass. But there were no children running through the grounds. No teachers calling pupils to order. No morning assembly. Just silence.

In communities across Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State, silence has become a painful reminder of a tragedy that refuses to end.

Nearly three weeks after gunmen stormed three schools and disappeared into the forest with pupils and teachers, the story has grown bigger than the abduction itself.

The kidnappers took dozens of children and educators into the forest. But they left behind something larger. They left behind a generation of parents wondering whether sending a child to school has become an act of faith. That fear now hangs over classrooms, homes and entire communities. And until the captives return, it is unlikely to disappear.

The Day Fear Walked Into The Classroom

Friday, May 15, began like every other school day. Children arrived carrying exercise books and lunch packs. Teachers prepared lesson notes. Parents dropped off their children and turned their attention to farms, markets and daily routines.

Nobody imagined the school day would end in terror. Then armed men on motorcycles arrived. Their targets were Baptist Nursery and Primary School in Yawota, Community Grammar School in Ahoro-Esinele and L.A. Primary School in Esiele.

Within minutes, routine gave way to panic. Pupils screamed. Teachers fled or tried to shield children. Families would later receive the devastating news that dozens of pupils and teachers had been taken away. The attack stunned communities that had never imagined becoming the latest entry in Nigeria’s long and painful history of school abductions.

For days, residents clung to hope. Then came news that changed the emotional temperature of the crisis. One of the abducted teachers, Michael Oyedokun, a mathematics teacher, was reportedly beheaded in captivity. The development sent fresh waves of grief through affected communities. Until then, many families had been sustained by hope.

After Oyedokun’s death, fear became harder to suppress. The question was no longer simply when the captives would return. It became whether all of them would.

‘Don’t Let Them Waste Our Lives’

The anxiety deepened when a video surfaced from captivity. In it, Principal Rachael Alamu of Community High School, Esiele, appeared visibly exhausted.

The forest had become her world. The uncertainty was written across her face. Looking directly into the camera, she introduced herself: “I am Mrs Alamu F.R. I am the principal of Community High School, Esiele, in Oriire Local Government of Oyo State.”

Then came an appeal that quickly spread across the country.

“I am making this video to ask for help from everyone, starting from the Federal Government of Nigeria and Oyo State Government, Engineer Seyi Makinde, the Christian Association of Nigeria and all well-meaning Nigerians, that they should come to our help and settle this thing peacefully so that our lives will not be lost,” she said.

For relatives, the footage was agonising. Some watched it repeatedly, searching for signs of hope. Others struggled to watch at all.

The video confirmed what everyone feared: their loved ones remained trapped in harsh conditions, exposed to uncertainty and dependent on forces beyond their control.

Then came the line that many residents of Oriire still discuss in hushed tones.

“Please help us. Don’t use force, just negotiate with them. Don’t let them waste our lives,” Alamu begged.

It was not the language of politics. It was the language of survival.

When Teachers Refused To Return

The fear that entered the schools on May 15 did not remain there. It followed teachers home. It sat beside them at dinner tables. It travelled with them to churches, mosques and staff meetings.

Every passing day without a breakthrough deepened the sense of vulnerability. Many educators began asking themselves difficult questions. If teachers could be abducted from their workplaces, what guarantees existed for those still reporting for duty? How could they reassure children when they themselves were afraid?

By the end of May, the Nigeria Union of Teachers, NUT, decided it could no longer continue as if everything was normal. An indefinite strike was declared.

Explaining the decision, Oyo State NUT Chairman, Comrade Hassan Fatai, said: “The continued detention of the victims has created fear and anxiety among teachers, discouraged school attendance, and heightened tension across affected communities.”

He said the action was intended to draw attention to the urgent need for intensified efforts to secure the victims’ release.

The strike immediately transformed the crisis. A kidnapping story became an education story. Fear was no longer holding only those trapped in the forest. It was now keeping teachers out of classrooms.

Empty Desks, Frightened Parents

For parents, the strike merely confirmed what many already felt. Trust had been broken. Across the affected communities, conversations increasingly revolved around one issue: safety.

Parents who once discussed homework, school fees and examination results were suddenly discussing escape routes, security and survival. In a viral video of the recent protests, one mother captured the prevailing mood. “As from today, my own children, they are not going to school until you release those children,” she said.

Then she broadened her appeal, adding: “Other parents should allow their kids stay at home pending the release of the innocent people in captivity.”

Her words resonated because they reflected fears that extended beyond the victims’ families. The kidnapped children may be in captivity, but many children still at home are also paying a price. Some have watched their schools close. Others have seen anxious parents become reluctant to let them move around alone. A crisis that began with dozens of victims now affects thousands of families.

The Government’s Race Against Time

For authorities, the challenge is immense. Security operations are taking place in difficult terrain where visibility is limited and intelligence gathering is often painstaking.

Officials have also cited concerns about explosive devices reportedly planted by kidnappers, as well as the dangers of launching operations that could place hostages at greater risk.

Governor Seyi Makinde has repeatedly insisted that government will continue pursuing every available option.

“We will not give in to terror. We will do everything to ensure that our children and their teachers are returned safely.

“Whatever it is they demand, we are ready to listen to them and address what we can as a state government. But the children and their teachers must be released,” he said.

At the federal level, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu also sought to reassure families.

“No child should be taken from the safety of a classroom. No parent should have to endure this anguish.

“To those children, their parents, and their teachers, I say this as a father and your President: you are not forgotten,” he added.

Security agencies have intensified forest sweeps and surveillance operations. Suspects have reportedly been arrested, while the Federal Government has approved the recruitment of 1,000 forest guards for Oyo State.

The scale of the response highlights the seriousness of the crisis.

Yet for families counting the days since May 15, progress is measured differently. Not by announcements. Not by deployments. But by one simple outcome. The safe return of their loved ones.

The Questions Nigerians Are Asking

In homes across Oriire and beyond, conversations increasingly revolve around questions that nobody seems able to answer.

How did armed men move through several communities and attack multiple schools? Could the tragedy have been prevented? Why have weeks of operations not brought the captives home? What does this incident say about the security of schools across the Southwest?

The questions are uncomfortable. But they are unavoidable. Because the Oyo abduction has tapped into a deeper national anxiety.

For years, many Nigerians watched school kidnappings unfold elsewhere and assumed such horrors belonged to distant places. Oriire has challenged that assumption.

Today, the concern extends beyond the fate of those still in captivity. It touches on whether parents can trust schools to remain what they are supposed to be: places of learning, growth and safety.

Every morning, the school buildings in Esiele, Ahoro-Esinele and Yawota still stand where they always stood. The blackboards still wait. The desks remain arranged in neat rows. The gates still open onto compounds built for learning.

But many of the children who should be filling those spaces are somewhere in the forest, beyond the embrace of their families and beyond the certainty of tomorrow.

And until they come home, the silence inside those classrooms will remain a reminder that while the kidnappers took children into the forest, they left fear behind in the many communities. (Vanguard)