By Mohammed Kaita
On a quiet Friday night, as the final echoes of the Isha’i prayers (Muslim night prayers) faded into the cool Kebbi air, life in the small town of Bagudo seemed peaceful — ordinary even. Children chased each other around the mosque square, elders exchanged greetings, and Hon. Muhammad Samaila Bagudo, the Deputy Speaker of the Kebbi State House of Assembly, was on his way home to his family.
Moments later, that peace shattered into chaos.
The roar of motorbikes and the crackle of gunfire tore through the night. In a flash, men armed with rifles descended on the town, their faces hidden behind masks. Before anyone could react, they had seized Bagudo and vanished into the darkness.
For the people of Bagudo, it was as if the night had swallowed one of their own.
A Town Held Hostage by Fear
In the hours that followed, fear gripped the community. Women huddled together in tears. Men gathered in hushed groups, replaying the sounds of gunfire in their minds.
“They came like shadows,” said Musa Garba, a local trader who witnessed the abduction. “We heard the shots, we saw them take him… and then silence. Just silence.”
For days, the silence continued.
Rumors filled the air — some said the kidnappers had crossed into the forests between Bagudo and the Niger border. Others whispered about ransom demands that never came. Each new day stretched endlessly, marked only by prayers for the Deputy Speaker’s safe return.
Seven Days of Agony
Back in Birnin Kebbi, the state capital, search operations were underway. Police teams, soldiers, and local vigilantes fanned out through the forests. The Commissioner of Police, Bello Sani, coordinated the manhunt with one goal: bring him home alive.
But as the days passed, hope began to waver — until a video appeared online.
In the grainy footage, Hon. Bagudo was seen blindfolded, his hands bound, his legs shackled in chains. One of the abductors struck him across the back as he pleaded softly for mercy.
The video went viral within hours. Across Nigeria, outrage and grief poured in. Political leaders and ordinary citizens alike united in a single, desperate prayer: “God, bring him home.”
The Long Road to Freedom
Then, on the night of Saturday, November 8 — seven nights after he was taken — the prayers were answered.
Hon. Bagudo was freed.
The details of his release remain shrouded in secrecy, though security sources credit a combination of community intelligence and relentless pressure from the joint rescue team. The important thing was simple: he was alive.
When word spread through Bagudo that the Deputy Speaker was back, people poured into the streets, tears and ululations mixing in the cool night air.
“I didn’t believe it until I saw him with my own eyes,” said Hajara Abdullahi, a shopkeeper near the town’s central mosque. “We’ve all been living in fear, but that night — it felt like light had returned to our town.”
A Homecoming of Tears and Relief
When Hon. Bagudo finally stepped through the doorway of his family home, there were no speeches, no politics — only embraces, tears, and whispered prayers of gratitude.
He was taken for medical care and counselling, surrounded by family and close friends. In photos shared later, his face appeared drawn but peaceful, his eyes heavy with exhaustion — and relief.
In a statement, Ahmed Idris, Chief Press Secretary to the Kebbi State Governor, thanked the security forces and community members whose courage and cooperation made the release possible.
“The Deputy Speaker is safe and back with his loved ones,” Idris said. “We are grateful to everyone who stood by us during those dark days.”
Reflections on a Fractured Peace
But even as Bagudo begins to heal, the shadow of insecurity still looms large over Kebbi.
For residents, his abduction was not just an attack on one man — it was a warning. “If a leader can be taken from his own town, what about us?” one villager asked quietly.
Security analyst Dr. Musa Gwandu from the Federal University, Birnin Kebbi, believes the incident should serve as a wake-up call. “It shows that no one is beyond the reach of these criminal networks,” he said. “We must strengthen our intelligence and community policing before more lives are lost.”
The state government has vowed to intensify efforts to secure all 21 local government areas, but for the people of Bagudo, true peace still feels fragile — something that can vanish with the sound of a single gunshot.
Light After the Darkness
For now, the people of Bagudo cling to gratitude. The Deputy Speaker is home. Families sleep a little easier. And though fear still lingers in the air, so does faith — faith that one day, their community will not have to live by the rhythm of gunfire and prayer.
As dawn breaks over the dusty roads of Bagudo, the call to prayer once again echoes through the town — a reminder that even after seven nights of terror, light can still return to the darkest corners of the earth.
