The lavishly decorated Government House in Benue State, where President Bola Ahmed Tinubu was welcomed, looked more like the setting for a wedding or a grand banquet than a place of mourning. For many Nigerians, this display was a painful contradiction, especially following the recent massacre that claimed over 200 lives in the state. Such extravagance, critics argue, does little to comfort grieving families or honor the memory of those who were brutally killed.
One survivor, Michael Ajah, who narrowly escaped the attack, shared his harrowing experience. Choking back tears, he revealed that he lost 20 family members in a single day—eleven in one house and eight in another. Now standing amid the charred remains of his home, Ajah struggles to “be a man,” his grief almost unbearable.
A deeply emotional video has also circulated online, showing a woman devastated after losing her mother and all five of her children during the assault. Her pain was visible, raw, and overwhelming.
Reacting to the tragedy, one X (formerly Twitter) user asked, “How do you console someone like this? How do you tell her to ‘reconcile’ with those who wiped out her entire family?” Such questions echoed widely on social media, where users were stunned by the perceived disconnect between the people’s suffering and the government’s priorities.
Even more disturbing were reports that a young girl had already been raped in one of the IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camps established after the attack. For many, this was a stark reminder that the trauma continues even in supposed places of refuge.
Against this backdrop, Governor Hyacinth Alia declared June 18 a public holiday to “allow residents to welcome the president warmly.” The official statement encouraged people to come out en masse in colorful attire—a move that many citizens have condemned as tone-deaf and inappropriate.
Critics questioned why no day of mourning was declared for the victims before the president’s visit. With the scale of the killings affecting nearly every family in the region, why were citizens encouraged to dress up and celebrate, rather than mourn in solidarity?
Adekunle Oderinde, whose X post was read out on Arise News, wrote: “There is something fundamentally wrong with our society. Both leaders and their aides fail to grasp the weight of the moment. Who approved this circus of celebration for a condolence visit meant to address genocide?”
Journalist Rufai Oseni gave a scathing critique: “The color of blood is red, and it’s all over Benue. Yet, this government rolls out drums and organizes a jamboree? A man just lost 20 family members. Does anyone care how he sleeps? What trauma he lives with? This was not a visit to commission a project—it was a moment to mourn, to reflect, and to demand action.”
Oseni went further, calling out the sycophancy surrounding the event: “This same government that declared a public holiday for a welcome parade never declared one to mourn its own people. When victims protested, they were dispersed with tear gas. Now, the streets are being swept and the grass trimmed overnight—all for presidential optics. What country are we running?”
Indeed, the government’s last-minute efforts to beautify roads ahead of the president’s arrival raised eyebrows. Social media users interpreted it as nothing more than “eye service.” @primadon wrote, “This is proof that he is not a working governor but an eye-service man.” Another user, @fobecyril, added, “Unserious elements, governor wan do eye service.”
Activist Betty Abah issued a cautionary message: “Someone with emotional intelligence should advise Benue officials not to organize cultural dancers and local women’s groups in uniform to welcome the president. This is a state in mourning.”
Adding to the outrage were the thank-you billboards plastered across the state that read, “Mr. President, thank you for condoling with the people of Benue.” For many, this was nothing short of shameless political campaigning, barely veiled as gratitude. A trending video showed these billboards with commentator Eniola Daniel stating: “Campaigning on the blood of 200 people killed in Benue. How can our leaders be this insensitive?”
Public responses to the government’s actions were filled with sorrow and anger:
Benibo Gifted wrote: “I’ve been crying since this mobilization memo was released. Nigeria otilo!”
Okwujweka Ojukwu warned: “If you agree to be mobilized to welcome your oppressors, remember—the victims of today were yesterday’s survivors. It will soon reach everyone.”
ID Gabriel commented: “A man who abandoned priesthood for politics—why are we surprised at his insensitivity?”
Sylvester Ukpong added: “A politician remains a politician. Forget the seminary.”
Anyanebechi summed it up grimly: “This country has been cursed.”
Kenneth John lamented: “This priest-turned-governor has utterly disgraced us. I’m ashamed.”
At a time when the people of Benue needed compassion, justice, and leadership, they were instead met with optics, pageantry, and political theatre. The general sentiment remains: you do not host a party where there should be a funeral.
