By Dooyum Dominic Ingye

Before the end of last year, I watched several video clips on TikTok in which some Nigerian youths boasted about engaging in money rituals to get rich. I vividly remember a video showing several young people gathered in the home of a traditional priest for consultation on money rituals. Furthermore, the internet was flooded with videos of young Nigerians declaring, “As 2024 no work for me, na rituals we go do for 2025.” These were disturbing signs of the events that would later define 2025.

Due to the number of ritual killings recorded in 2025, Nigeria’s House of Representatives urged the Federal Government to declare a state of emergency. This was partly in response to figures released by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), which indicated that over 150 ritual killing cases linked to young people seeking quick wealth had been recorded in the six months leading up to January 2025. Many of these cases occurred in the western part of Nigeria and the Federal Capital Territory.

For those wondering, ritual killings have always been practiced in Nigeria—from the Ogbuefi and Otu-Edo ritual killings in pre-colonial times to the Otokoto ritual killings in post-independence Nigeria. In 1910, British High Commissioner Sir Hugh Clifford documented various ritual killings in Southern Nigeria. Essentially, where superstitious traditional beliefs held sway, ritual killings were practised.

Prior to Nigeria’s return to democracy in 1999, most ritual killings were performed for so-called traditional religious purposes. However, contemporary Nigeria is characterized by exploitative ritual killings driven by superstition, greed, and power. Vulnerable people—such as women, children, and the elderly—are the primary targets.

Many youths who engage in money rituals today likely grew up in the early 1990s and 2000s, a period when Nollywood movies and the media romanticized or sensationalized money rituals. Films such as Living in Bondage (1992), Circle of Doom (1993), Idejimba (1995), Blood Money (1997), Rituals (1997), and Last Burial (2000) effectively promoted ritual themes that not only evoked strong catharsis in viewers but also solidified their belief in rituals and other superstitious nonsense.

During this period, Nigerians were still reeling from the effects of the Structural Adjustment Program, which caused widespread hardship and suffering. Many saw these movies as validation of the effectiveness of rituals, believing that they could be used to escape poverty. These fictional narratives became ingrained in the minds of children who grew up admiring actors such as Kanayo O. Kanayo, Clem Ohameze, Kenneth Okonkwo, Pete Edochie, and others as classic examples of the success of rituals. They aspired to become like the fictional characters these actors played.

Similarly, the release of Isakaba in 2001 actively promoted the belief in magical powers, particularly Odeshi—the belief that certain charms can make the human body impervious to bullets and machetes. Isakaba depicted a society plagued by crime, where the policing system had failed. The introduction of the Isakaba Boys, who possessed magical powers to apprehend and kill criminals, was portrayed as a welcome solution.

The impact of this movie was profound: it resonated with Nigerians’ real-life experiences, and many wished for a real-life Isakaba to deal with criminals. As a result, many Nigerians grew up believing that certain rituals could make them invincible.

Furthermore, Nigeria’s weak law enforcement system has allowed ritualists to operate freely. Corruption and lack of consequences have emboldened those who engage in money rituals, as they see no one willing or able to stop or prosecute them.

Coupled with increased economic hardship—especially in the last two years—and social media pressure, many young people have been driven to kill others for ritual purposes. In a country where wealth is glorified without question, where education lacks critical thinking, and where social values are eroded, the belief that human body parts can be used to attain wealth or power reigns supreme.

These beliefs have led to the deaths of many young Nigerians with promising futures.

For instance, in January 2025 in Ogun State, four teenagers were arrested for the murder of 20-year-old Sofiat Kehinde. They allegedly decapitated her and burned her head, intending to use it in a money-making ritual. In Ushata village, Nasarawa State, a suspect was arrested for allegedly killing his friend’s seven-year-old son for ritual purposes. The arrest followed a report by the boy’s father regarding his son’s disappearance. In Kwara State, Ismaila Saliu, a 25-year-old herbalist, and an accomplice were arrested by the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps for allegedly murdering Saliu’s 14-year-old brother for a money ritual. Reports indicate that he conspired with another herbalist and an accomplice to commit the act. In Abeokuta last month, Taiwo Yemitan was arrested by the Ogun State Police Command for possessing a fresh human head and dismembered body parts of a female victim. Last year, in Isua Akoko, Ondo State, Yusuf Adinohi was apprehended for allegedly possessing eight human skulls.

These killings have created fear and paranoia in communities. Feelings of trust and friendship have been completely eroded. Women and girls, who are often the victims, increasingly see men as dangerous predators. Worse still, ritual killings are now so rampant that ritualists kill their own wives and children, believing that sacrificing their loved ones will bring them wealth. The most sought-after human body parts for rituals include private parts, eyes, breasts, hearts, heads, tongues, and hands.

To address these issues, the government, as the major stakeholder, must take a decisive action by creating jobs and youth empowerment programmes to reduce desperation for quick wealth. There is a need to introduce stricter punishments for ritual-related crimes to deter offenders and to sponsor national awareness campaigns that educate Nigerians on the dangers of ritual killings. It is also necessary to address misconceptions around wealth and superstition by partnering with organizations such as the Advocacy for Alleged Witches (AfAW), which has spent the last four years addressing witchcraft accusations and ritual killings in Nigeria.

This year, AfAW launched the “Stop Witchcraft Accusations and Ritual Killings” campaign to tackle witch hunts and ritual killings by teenagers. Now is the right time for the government to support AfAW and end this menace once and for all.

Dooyum Dominic Ingye is the Program Manager of the Advocacy for Alleged Witches.

By Tony Afejuku

Let me begin this essay with an open confession – by “open confession” I mean my saying it loud here about writing or speaking about this column’s present subject without difficulty. He is a man, a literary personage of distinction, whose writing span covers years upon years running into decades of verbal self-expression of longitude and latitude of dexterity. Where do I begin and end my scrutiny of Professor Emeritus Femi Osofisan – a distinguished literary scholar and professional of numerous parts that are more than numerous parts? He is a writer who is intimately concerned with imaginative literature; he is an academic/literary administrator; he is a theorist and critic; he is a playwright and dramatist; he is a novelist, biographer and short story writer; he is a newspaper columnist; he is a teacher and mentor; he is a poet, he is, he is a poet. In these listed parts and landscapes, so to say, in which we can rightly examine him without qualms, he so fittingly, so skillfully and so penetratingly distinguishes himself to the extent that we cannot or may not but see him as a literary personality whose stories constitute a story of how his imagination is kindled by experiences, that is, by happenings that were/are intrinsically insignificant and significant at the same time. What this means (to me) is that Femi Osofisan is one gem of a human being and a writer who appeals to me as a significant embodiment of our world, of our landscape, and his response to it.

Now my difficulty about writing about Femi Osofisan today should be apparent to my readers. I cannot possibly dwell on everything I have listed above – as important as they are because I really set out to view him as a poet, a well-languaged poet, of “a particularly wholesome or edifying matter of communication,” as TS Eliot would say. His two recent volumes of new and selected poems respectively called Remember Tenderness (Volume 1) and The Jeweller of Night (Volume 2: On Night and Life’s Mutations) represent faithfully and interestingly what Femi Osofisan (Okinba Launko – his pen name – in publishing the volumes) essentially means to me from my perspective or impression of the qualities of the poems that well define him as a considerable figure in the world of poetry and of letters generally.

In drawing my readers’ attention to Okinba Launko’s new and old offerings in this light exercise, I am not too certain if I should stick squarely to a run of the mill newspaper critique or do the run of the grain on a piece of wood reading distinct in a lavish manner from the former. Which one will delight my readers – my sophisticated and un-sophisticated readers – more? My rumination on the matter fetches me this answer: “Employ what inspiration fetches you to fit into the scheme of the length of time of your purpose and position at present.”

As a poet, what school of poetry does Okinba Launko belong to in our clime as his volumes reveal? Furthermore, what generation of poetry Okinba Launko’s volumes belong to – as the volumes equally reveal? What span of years do they cover or seem to cover in terms of the generations of poetry in our age and clime? These are weighty and difficult questions. I was a young man, a young under-graduate of the Ahmadu Bello University in Zaria trying my hands at poetry and learning to hone my writing skills as a poet or would-be poet. Of course, at this time the great Chinua Achebe had published me in Okike, the very remarkable journal of new African writing he founded, and which is still existing. And my poems had appeared in Poetry From ABU edited by Brian F. Downes, an Irish, and one of our under-graduate lecturers who supervised my collection of poems which I submitted in my final year as the requirement for the Original Composition Course which I was the lone student allowed and expected to offer the course. I cannot remember at this time that I had encountered Femi Osofisan’s name or figure in the world of our literature. But something happened when the late novelist Kole Omotosho visited ABU’s English Department to deliver a lecture to us. After the lecture I remember asking him a question that bordered on the generation(s) of Nigerian Literature. I don’t remember that he answered the question to my literary or critical satisfaction. As the editor of the students’ Departmental literary magazine, The Mirror and one of the founders of ABU Writers’ Club, I was looking for masters outside the class or the generation of Achebe, Soyinka, JP Clark, Christopher Okigbo and others – who would stir us to write what we wanted to write. My stubbornly inquisitive insistence elicited Femi Osofisan’s name from him – but the poetry of the young Osofisan did not exist for me; it certainly did not ring a bell.

Let me relate another encounter. As an undergraduate, Onibonoje Publishers, Ibadan had accepted to publish several of my poems in an anthology – in which other poets – aspiring and established ones – would also be published. Just before I graduated Onibonoje Publishers sent me their contract papers which I duly filled,  signed and dispatched to them. When I did not hear from them after a long time that was more than a pretty long time, after my NYSC year, and I was already in Zaria as a Graduate Assistant, I travelled to Ibadan. Who did I meet there in the publishers’ office – but Kole Omotosho? He told me after hearing my story that Femi Osofisan was the editor of the envisaged anthology committed to the kind of poetry that world allow young writers/poets to use their voices to lead other younger ones the use of their own voices in an original manner. Up to this moment, even though we had ceaselessly seen or met each other at different times, I had not raised the issue with Osofisan whose figure has since loomed large in our consciousness. (Kole Omotosho informed me then in Ibadan that Onibonoje Publishers had some publishing hiccups which I presumed was why the anthology did not eventually see the light of the day).

Now, why this lengthy tale? It is germane, from my point of view, to the matter of the generation of poetry Okinba Launko two volumes that are well-languaged belong to. If at the time I alluded to Femi Osofisan had not made a name as a poet, but as a play-wright and dramatist, can I, can we, regard his poetry as that of a predecessor? And from another point of view can I, can we, regard his poetry as that of a contemporary? The year I mean in this reference to the master of drama and now of poetry after the generation of the big four – Achebe, JP Clark, Soyinka and Okigbo – is from 1975 on.

To be Continued.

Afejuku can be reached via 08055213059.