For the people of Apunren-Ijebu, home has ceased to be a place of rest and safety. It has become a theatre of fear, loss and unending uncertainty.
Under the scorching Ogun sun on Saturday, January 11, 2026, men, women, elders and youths from 16 ancient communities gathered not in celebration but in grief. Many clutched painful memories of homes reduced to rubble, farmlands abandoned and loved ones lost to trauma induced by years of displacement.
They came to receive Senator Otunba Gbenga Daniel, representing Ogun East Senatorial District, with a singular hope: that after nearly five decades of unanswered cries, someone in authority would finally listen.
“We welcomed you with tears, sir, but also with hope,” said AdeOluwa Adenaike, Secretary-General of Apunren-Ijebu, his voice breaking as he addressed the gathering.
Residents insist Apunren-Ijebu is not a settlement of strangers but ancestral land where generations were born, raised and buried. Graves, shrines, churches and farmlands, they say, stand as proof of a history older than many modern institutions.
Yet, according to the community, soldiers and army-linked contractors have in recent weeks moved into the area, digging trenches, flattening houses, destroying farms and pulling down places of worship in the name of land enforcement.
Children now sleep in fear, farmers have abandoned their fields, and women struggle to survive by selling whatever they can. Hunger, once unknown to homes sustained by farming, now stalks the community.
The roots of the crisis, Adenaike explained, date back to 1977, when surveyors allegedly arrived without consultation to mark 1,791 acres of land for the Nigerian Army—land already occupied by over 7,000 people.
Although dialogue under the late General T.Y. Danjuma once brought temporary relief by limiting Army use of the land, the tension resurfaced in 1989, following a government gazette that reportedly swallowed 13 of Apunren’s 16 communities. Since then, peace has remained elusive.
What pains residents most, they say, is that the dispute has crossed from land into human lives.
“This is no longer a land matter. It is a human tragedy,” Adenaike said, citing trauma-related deaths, including that of Baale Chief Bashola Akibu Omotoso, who reportedly collapsed and died after hearing that demolitions had reached his community. “These are graves we can show you,” he added, drawing tears and murmurs from the crowd.
Responding, Senator Gbenga Daniel acknowledged the age and gravity of the conflict, assuring residents that their voices have finally reached the Senate.
He confirmed that Apunren-Ijebu’s petition has been formally presented and that the Senate has directed the relevant committee to investigate the matter within three weeks.
“Issues involving soldiers are never easy,” Daniel admitted. “But now that our own son, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is President, this issue will be finally resolved.”
The senator pledged to engage the Nigerian Army and work toward halting further demolitions pending legislative resolution, adding that both parties would be summoned for dialogue when the Senate resumes on January 27, 2026.
Amid the emotion, the Alapunren of Apunren, Oba Jimoh Oyelaja, appealed to his people to remain calm and hopeful. “Please, stop committing suicide because of property destruction,” the monarch pleaded. “You have now heard directly from your senator. Let us trust this process.”
As the gathering dispersed, there was neither victory nor defeat—only a fragile sense of hope.
For Apunren-Ijebu, the visit marked yet another chapter in a 48-year struggle for dignity, justice and the right to exist on ancestral land. Whether this chapter ends in healing or heartbreak now rests on political will, the rule of law and the humanity of those in power.
For now, the people wait—tired, traumatized, but still believing that their tears have finally been seen.
