If you missed the Rosary for Peace in the Middle East, you can still watch it and join us in prayer here.
Nigeria: “Some Christian Communities Could Disappear”: The Bishop Struggling to Keep the Faith Alive in His Country
In an interview with Press Crux, Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna of Kontagora warns that violence is forcing families off their land, disrupting education and leaving rural communities without regular access to Mass.
INTERVIEW | CHURCH IN NIGERIA
Ana Paula Morales (Poli)
9/14/202611 min read
Photo composite by Press Crux, featuring images courtesy of Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna.
KONTAGORA, Nigeria — In some villages of the Diocese of Kontagora, Mass can no longer be celebrated regularly. It is not that the faithful have lost their faith or that priests are unwilling to accompany them. The problem is reaching them. Roads crossing this vast region of north-central Nigeria have become dangerous corridors where priests, religious and catechists must carefully assess the risks of every journey.
Some pastoral visits are postponed; others are carried out with extreme caution. Meanwhile, entire communities wait longer than they would wish to receive the Eucharist, while families wonder whether they will still be able to live on the land they inherited from their ancestors.
“I fear that if insecurity continues without adequate protection and support, some small and remote Christian communities could disappear, not because their people have abandoned the faith, but because they can no longer live safely in their ancestral land,” warned Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna of Kontagora, who also serves as chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria in Niger State, in an interview with Press Crux.
Niger State — not to be confused with the neighboring country of the same name — is located in north-central Nigeria. There, the possibility described by the bishop already has specific names: Babana, Sarabe, Kigbera, Ibbi, Pissa, Guffanti, Bakon Mission, Karenbana, Galadima, Bangi, Tsamiya and Shafaci are among the communities in his diocese where attacks, kidnappings and persistent fear have forced families to flee or made their return extremely difficult.
Communities at Risk of Disappearing
The consequences of violence cannot be measured solely by the miles traveled or the number of homes abandoned. When a family flees, it leaves behind farmland, its livelihood, its children's school, its parish and the network of relationships that sustained life for generations.
“When homes, farms, schools and places of worship are lost, returning becomes increasingly difficult,” Bishop Yohanna explained.
Young people grow up far from their places of origin and gradually lose their connection to them. In this way, what began as temporary refuge can become permanent displacement.
For the bishop, insecurity threatens both human life and the historical continuity of communities. A population that can no longer cultivate its land, educate its children or gather to celebrate its faith eventually becomes scattered. Prolonged absence also allows homes, fields and places of worship to deteriorate until returning becomes impossible.
Protecting residents, therefore, cannot be limited to responding after each attack. It must create the conditions necessary for families to remain in their communities or return home without once again putting their lives at risk.
This threat took on a particularly painful human dimension in Papiri, where violence entered a place meant for learning and growing. In the early hours of November 21, 2025, armed men attacked St. Mary's Catholic schools, owned by the Diocese of Kontagora. They entered while many students were sleeping and took children, students and staff members into the forest.
Photo credit: Courtesy of Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna.
The Night a School Ceased to Be a Safe Haven
Initial reports indicated that 315 people were missing. Following two verification processes conducted by authorities, security agencies, school officials and families, the diocese clarified that 85 people had escaped or had never been captured. The verified number of abducted children and staff was 230, all of whom were subsequently released, according to Vatican News.
Their return, however, did not mean the ordeal ended on the day they were freed. Bishop Yohanna remembers the kidnapping as one of the most traumatic experiences his diocese has endured.
“Although all were eventually released, the experience left deep emotional scars. Many parents remain understandably anxious about sending their children back to school,” he said.
The testimony of Onyeka Chieme, one of the abducted students, helps explain the origins of that fear. The boy told the Associated Press that the students awoke to a loud crash at the entrance. Some tried to escape through windows, but the attackers chased them on motorcycles and fired shots into the air.
“They said if we ran, they would shoot us,” he recalled.
According to his account, the kidnappers burned an image of the Virgin Mary and a Nigerian flag before taking the children away on motorcycles and buses. For more than two weeks, Onyeka slept outdoors, constantly saw weapons and had to hide beneath trees whenever search aircraft flew overhead. He regained his freedom with an initial group of 100 people, while his brother remained in captivity longer.
The diocese welcomed the released hostages with gratitude, but it has since faced a quieter and more prolonged task: addressing the trauma suffered by the students, the anguish of their parents and the fear that threatens to empty classrooms.
Pope Leo XIV followed the case from Rome and, two days after the attack, called for the hostages' release and expressed his closeness to the children and their families.
“May churches and schools always and everywhere be places of safety and hope,” he urged, according to Vatican News.
In Papiri, those words spoke to a very real wound: a Catholic school had ceased to be perceived as a safe haven and, in a single night, had become the scene of terror.
Kidnapping Becomes an Industry
The attack on St. Mary's is part of a crisis that has spread across Nigeria and can no longer be understood as a series of isolated incidents. Between July 2025 and June 2026, 7,825 people were kidnapped in the country, a 66% increase over the previous period, according to a report by Nigerian consulting firm SBM Intelligence cited by Reuters. At least 1,142 people were killed, and confirmed ransom payments reached nearly $5.8 million.
The consulting firm warned that these figures are conservative, since many ransom payments are never publicly disclosed.
Schools, roads and remote villages have become especially vulnerable targets. Criminal gangs kidnap people for money, but the cost extends far beyond the ransom itself: classrooms close, farmers abandon their fields, families lose confidence in authorities and entire communities are displaced.
Papiri is located approximately four miles from the nearest police post — a facility primarily equipped to handle minor offenses — and several hours from the nearest town. Families had requested protection before the attack, but eventually organized unarmed volunteer guards. When dozens of armed men arrived on motorcycles, those guards had no means of confronting them, Reuters documented.
Vast forests, difficult terrain, scattered populations and a limited government presence allow armed groups to strike and disappear with their hostages before an effective response can be mounted.
Against this backdrop, the question Bishop Yohanna hears repeatedly from families in the most remote areas is as simple as it is heartbreaking:
“Who will protect us when we are attacked?”
A Complex Crisis That Must Not Turn Neighbors Against One Another
Insecurity in Nigeria is often explained from abroad through a single lens: religious persecution, jihadist terrorism, land disputes or criminal kidnapping. For the bishop, no single explanation is sufficient.
His diocese faces overlapping threats involving kidnapping for ransom, cattle rustling, territorial and economic interests, poverty, weak government institutions and, in certain circumstances, ethnic and religious tensions.
“The religious dimension must also be recognized,” he said. “In some cases, Christians and Christian communities have been targeted, while churches, catechists and other Christian leaders may be particularly vulnerable because of their visible religious identity.”
Without diminishing the seriousness of these incidents, the bishop drew an essential distinction:
“I would caution against describing every attack simply as religious persecution.”
A kidnapping may be primarily motivated by ransom, while the victim's Christian identity may also influence the choice of target. Elsewhere, gangs without a clearly defined religious motivation attack Christians and Muslims indiscriminately because they control roads, forests or territories where government authority is barely present.
That complexity was again evident in August 2026, when armed men surrounded a mosque during Friday prayers in Kpenya, also in Niger State. At least 60 people were kidnapped, although local residents estimated that the number could be closer to 80, according to the Associated Press.
As state chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria, Bishop Yohanna is also familiar with the suffering of Muslims and members of other religious traditions who have endured killings, kidnappings, displacement and the loss of their livelihoods.
“Ordinary Christian and Muslim families who live and work side by side are not enemies. They are fellow citizens who want security, peace and a better future for their children,” he said.
Recognizing this shared suffering, he explained, does not require remaining silent about the particular vulnerability of many Christian communities. Rather, it means preventing criminals from turning fear into conflict between neighbors.
For this reason, Christian and Muslim leaders work together through dialogue and reconciliation initiatives, early-warning mechanisms and joint efforts involving traditional authorities and security agencies.
“We must not allow criminals to succeed in turning neighbors against one another because of their religious identity,” he insisted.
When the Road to Mass Becomes Dangerous
In Kontagora, the map of insecurity overlaps with the diocese's pastoral map. Many Catholic parishes, chapels, schools and health centers are located in remote rural communities, precisely where government presence is most limited and the Church is often one of the few institutions that remains close to the population.
Some mission stations have been attacked or temporarily closed. Priests cannot always travel freely or visit the most remote communities as frequently as needed. A route once used to bring the Eucharist, administer the sacraments, teach catechism or visit a sick person may now expose those traveling it to the risk of kidnapping.
“We must balance our desire to remain close to our people with our responsibility to protect the lives of priests, religious and the faithful,” the bishop explained.
The disruption of pastoral life has consequences that rarely make headlines: communities without regular Sunday Mass, postponed confessions and suspended catechetical programs.
When priests cannot reach a community, catechists and lay leaders sustain communal prayer and maintain its connection with the diocese.
“Our people continue to long for the Eucharist and the presence of their priests,” he said.
This isolation, together with school closures and the inability to farm, makes communities increasingly fragile. First, some families leave. Later, the mission itself may close. What disappears is not merely a religious building, but an entire way of community life.
Despite the danger, Bishop Yohanna rejects the possibility of abandoning these communities.
“Fear cannot make us abandon our people. We continue to accompany affected communities, strengthen their faith and work for peace.”
Violence has forced the diocese to expand its mission. In addition to keeping parishes open whenever possible, it must feed those who have lost their crops, find shelter for displaced families, support children's education, accompany widows and orphans, and address emotional wounds that are not always visible.
“Behind every statistic of insecurity is a human being: a parent, a child, a widow or an orphan whose life has been transformed by violence,” the bishop recalled.
Through its parishes and communities, the Church distributes food and essential assistance, provides pastoral care and works to ensure that children whose education has been interrupted are not permanently excluded from school. Priests, catechists and laypeople remain in contact with scattered families, although the needs far exceed the diocese's capacity.
Food, health care, clean drinking water, educational support, transportation for pastoral ministry and resources to rebuild homes and churches are urgently needed. Above all, security is essential so families can return.
“Displacement must not become the new normal. Every family that returns safely and every community that is restored is a sign of hope and a victory for peace,” he said.
Protecting Families Is the Government’s Responsibility
Explaining why Nigeria has been unable to stop the attacks, Bishop Yohanna cited the country's vast territory, porous borders, shortages of personnel and resources, intelligence failures, the speed with which armed groups move and criminal networks that have become entrenched over the years. But he also emphasized one decisive word: impunity.
“When perpetrators repeatedly attack, kidnap or steal without being brought to justice, further violence is encouraged and public trust is weakened,” he said.
In many rural communities, assistance arrives too late or never arrives at all. The bishop acknowledged the sacrifices made by members of the security forces and the government's efforts, but his assessment of state protection was unequivocal:
“Do Christian communities feel sufficiently protected by the state? In many remote areas, the honest answer is no.”
For Bishop Yohanna, deploying security forces after every attack is not enough. Nigeria needs prevention, reliable intelligence, rapid-response capabilities, sustained protection for vulnerable populations and judicial proceedings that break the cycle of impunity. The country also needs schools, health care and opportunities for young people, because security cannot be built through military operations alone.
Pope Leo XIV has called for a response that effectively protects human life. Following another wave of attacks in February 2026, he expressed his “sorrow and concern” and voiced his hope that authorities would act decisively to guarantee the safety of every citizen, according to Vatican News.
Months earlier, after approximately 200 people — most of them internally displaced persons sheltered at a Catholic mission — were killed in Yelwata, Benue State, the Pontiff had called for security, justice and peace to prevail. He prayed especially for “rural Christian communities” relentlessly affected by violence, according to the Holy See's official text.
At the conclusion of the interview, Bishop Yohanna addressed Catholics and Christians in Mexico and around the world. His first request was not financial:
“Please do not forget our people. Remember them in your prayers.”
For those who feel abandoned, he explained, knowing that other Christian communities share their suffering restores courage and confirms that they belong to a Church that transcends national borders.
He then called for concrete solidarity with displaced families, widows, orphans and vulnerable children, as well as a strong voice before governments and international institutions to ensure that the humanitarian and security emergency receives the attention it demands.
“We do not want insecurity to define us,” he said. “We want to remain a Church that accompanies, serves, forgives and builds peace. We want our people not merely to survive, but to live with dignity, faith and hope.”
In communities that priests still cannot reach, catechists continue gathering the faithful for prayer. Displaced families continue longing to return home, while children in Papiri are trying to learn once again that a school can be a safe place.
The Church can sustain them, accompany them through their suffering and keep hope alive. But ensuring that families can return to their homes, cultivate their land and live without fear remains an essential responsibility of the state.
Photo credit: Courtesy of Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna.
Photo credits: Courtesy of Bishop Bulus Dauwa Yohanna.
Want to Help Us Grow? Read. Pray. Share.
Read our stories and turn each one into a prayer: for countries facing crises, for those who suffer, for missionaries and for the people who share their testimonies.
Throughout my life, I have been inspired by the example of a saint who prayed while reading the news, looking at the world and placing its concerns before God.
And if you are able, please support Press Crux so we can continue telling these stories with accuracy, independence and hope.
You May Also Be Interested In
