By Lillian Okenwa
As the International Women’s Month draws to a close, Nigeria and its women are once again in the headlines—for all the wrong reasons.
At the very start of the month, even as the world marked International Women’s Day, the dominant images from Nigeria were not of celebration, but of anguish—women in captivity, families torn apart by terrorists, communities living under constant threat and dread.
That reality has not changed. The abductions continue. The killings persist. And for those who return, there is no structured trauma care, no psychological support, no healing framework—only silence, confusion, and unprocessed pain.
It raises a troubling question: Why do we allow crises to spiral into catastrophe before acting?
Even as that question remains unanswered, now, layered atop this already fragile national psyche is yet another wound—one that cuts deep into the dignity of women.
Videos that surfaced in the days following March 19, 2026, from the Oruamudhu quarter of Ozoro in Isoko North Local Government Area, of Delta State, showed disturbing scenes: women chased, grabbed, stripped, and assaulted in the name or under the cover of tradition.
The festival, identified as the Alue-Do fertility festival, has since been described by locals as having been hijacked by criminal elements. Yet, troubling questions persist.
What unfolded during that festival is not merely another news cycle; it is a stark reminder of how deeply entrenched disregard for women remains in certain spaces.
Why was there no formal announcement this year, as tradition demands?
Was the silence accidental, or deliberate?
In a society where shame often silences survivors, how do we identify those affected? How do we ensure they receive medical care, psychological support, and justice?
Trauma care remains largely absent in our systems. But beyond that absence lies a more fundamental truth: some things should never happen.
That a festival associated even remotely with the violation of women could exist in 2026 is difficult to comprehend. That members of a community could inflict such humiliation and violence on women, mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, defies both logic and humanity.
Every man, after all, came through a woman.
What we seem to be losing is the essence of our shared humanity—the philosophy captured in Ubuntu: “I am because you are.” Our existence is bound together. Our dignity is shared. To violate one is to diminish all.
The Delta State Government has condemned the incident, with the Commissioner for Information describing it as barbaric and unacceptable. The police have also downplayed reports of rape, citing a lack of formal complaints.
But this raises another uncomfortable question. How often do women come forward to report sexual violations? And when they do, are they heard?
Too often, they are not.
The reluctance to report is not born of apathy, but of experience. Experience of dismissal. Of delay. Of doubt.
This reality was captured poignantly by FIDA Nigeria in part of its International Women’s Day message:
“A woman walks into a police station to report abuse and is told to return later. A girl gathers the courage to speak and is advised to remain silent. A survivor enters a courtroom carrying both trauma and hope, uncertain which one will leave with her.”
These are not isolated experiences. They are patterns.
And patterns, when ignored, become systems.
What happened in Ozoro must not be explained away or minimized. It is violence. It is a violation. And it demands more than statements. It demands accountability.
The perpetrators must be identified and prosecuted.
Survivors must be supported with dignity, urgency, and care.
And perhaps most importantly, the culture of silence must be broken.
Because when silence persists, it does more than conceal pain. It enables it.
And when silence becomes the norm, complicity is not far behind.
Until we learn to hear the pain we silence, the echoes will never fade, and neither will the wounds.
● Okenwa, a journalist, lawyer and Publisher of Law & Society Magazine, can be reached on lillianokenwa@gmail.com
