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Freedom of Belief
Trauma
6 min read

Nigeria’s terror survivors share their stories

This violence is not gruesome fiction, it’s reality.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A Nigerian man looks up towards the camera, behind him is dusty ground
Manga survived an attempted beheading.
Open Doors.

This article contains distressing content.  

Something is happening. And nobody is talking about it.  

Nigeria, the big and beautiful ‘Giant of Africa’, is becoming a place of increasing terror for the hundred million Christians who call it home. Since 2000, 62,000 people have been killed for having a Christian faith. Eight-thousand people were killed in 2023 alone. These staggering numbers mean that more Christians are being killed in Nigeria than in every other country combined.  

The violence is as extreme as it gets. And yet, very few of us know that it’s happening.  

When it comes to the Nigerian government and media, the relentlessly brutal attacks are seemingly hidden in plain sight; undeniable and yet somehow unstoppable. While, in the UK, we appear to be entirely unaware. This violence is out of sight, and therefore largely out of mind. The reasons why are admittedly complex, as outlined by Chris Wadibia. Nevertheless, the violence being carried out toward the Nigerian people, particularly those living in the Northern states, surely deserves our attention.  

Earlier this year, I took a trip to Northern Nigeria. While I was there, I got to know a group of people who had endured unimaginable trauma, largely because of their Christian faith. Every day, they would bravely tell their stories – who they were and what they had experienced. Every day, I looked into the faces of children who had lost parents, parents who had lost children, husbands who had lost wives, and wives who had lost husbands. All of a sudden, the bewildering statistics were people before me – people who were having to live with the images of their loved ones being ‘butchered’ before their very eyes. Their villages being burnt down. Their lives being turned upside down by militants with assault rifles and machetes.  

The only reference I had for stories such as the ones I was hearing were apocalyptic movies. But these things happened. They happened to the people sitting across from me. This violence is not the stuff of gruesome fiction, it’s the stuff of reality.  

As she was running, she came across a woman who has hiding herself because she was giving birth to twins. This mother handed the babies to her and begged her to get them to safety... 

I met one woman, she was incredibly gentle and kind, and told her story with a composure that’s hard to fathom. She was working on her land along with her husband and mother-in-law, a totally run-of-the-mill day. They were so engrossed with the task at hand, they didn’t notice that their village was being attacked by armed ‘Fulani’ militants (the majority of the violence being carried out in Northern Nigeria is at the hands of Islamic extremist groups such as Fulani militants, Boko Haram and ISWAP - Islamic State in West African Province). She looked up to find herself face-to-face with two attackers and despite their command for her to surrender to them, she ran, as did her husband and mother-in-law. While she was running, she could hear bullets flying past her head and the screams of her mother-in-law. Making it to a neighbouring village, she gathered help and eventually went back to find her husband and mother-in-law. Both of whom were stabbed and killed that day.  

The Fulani militants now have control over her village, and she told us how she’s been praying that she would be able to forgive these men for what they’d done, as she is now forced to live alongside them. And so, she felt proud because she had recently been able to respond to one of the men as they greeted her.    

There was another woman, she was strong and defiantly compassionate. Her story is laced with horror. She studied at a university – the discrimination she experienced there meant that a course that was supposed to be four years long, took her eight years to complete. In 2014, Boko Haram attacked the university – while she was trying to escape, her friend was shot and ‘hacked at’ while he refused to deny his Christian faith. She recalls how his last words were ‘I’m happy. I’ve saved lives today. And I have Jesus’.  

He died and she continued to run. As she was running, she came across a woman who has hiding herself because she was giving birth to twins. This mother handed the babies to her and begged her to get them to safety, as she did so, she heard the mother being shot behind her.  

She ran those twins to Cameroon, leaving them in safety, and now lives in a rural Nigerian village where she teaches the local children. Her Christian identity is no secret, and so faces continual danger. Her crops were burnt to the ground and destroyed, twice. And the villagers have tried, repeatedly, to get her to leave. One night, she came face to face with young men with bats and machetes who threatened her life – she told them – ‘you can’t scare me. I have seen the Lord’.  

And they left. Remarkably, that village is still her home.  

One heart-wrenchingly-young girl told us how, while she sleeping – she was awoken by her father who told her that they needed to run, they were under attack. She ran, hand in hand with her father, while her mother carried her younger brother. While they were fleeing, her dad was shot and killed. Her mother pried her hand out of her father’s and buried both her and her brother in sand, instructing them to stay hidden. The next day, they found that their house, their crops, their entire village had been burnt down.  

This is what is happening. This is what we are not seeing.  

While we are not seeing this violence, they are not seeing an end to it.   

Since my return, I have met with a man who bears the physical scars of his trauma. He thought his house was being pillaged by armed robbers - it was only when they led him, his brother and his father outside, made them kneel with their hands tied behind their backs, and demanded that they denounce their Christian faith that he realised he was being attacked by Boko Haram. It was a regular evening, he was putting together a lesson plan for his class the following day, and now he was kneeling before an executioner. His father refused their demand, and they beheaded him. His brother also refused, and they took a blade to him, too. Then it was his turn, and while his mind was filled with thoughts of death and how much this was about to hurt, he also prayed that these men would be forgiven for what they were doing. Taking after Jesus, who forgave his executioners mid-execution, this man continued to pray as he felt the blade in his neck.  

Left to bleed to death, miraculously, both him and his brother survived. Now, his scar tells an astonishing story.  

This epidemic of violence seems to reside under our radar. It’s not quite catching our eye, is it? And, as a result, is not quite receiving the force of our outrage nor benefiting from the depths of our compassion. So many of the people that I met expressed a feeling of being neglected – like they’re suffering in deafening silence. While we are not seeing this violence, they are not seeing an end to it.   

What’s happening in Nigeria is a crisis, one that we must acknowledge.  

Article
Atheism
Belief
Creed
4 min read

Atheism discovers Christianity — just not the inconvenient bits

When sceptics start praising faith for its vibes and values, you know the secular ship is taking on water

Jonah Horne is a priest, living and working in Devon.

A spotlit round table with podcast guests around it.
Steve Bartlett and guests discuss belief.
Diary of a CEO.

Atheism in the age of authenticity and self-expressive secularism is inherently cannibalistic. I’m not suggesting that Dawkins, Harris and Hitchens are losing their minds and devouring one another. But what I am proposing is that atheism, held within today’s philosophical waters, cannot not affirm the thing it so vehemently denies: faith. 

There’s a fascinating moment in a round table conversation with Steven Bartlett (Diary of a CEO) and Alex O’Connor (Cosmic Skeptic). The former presents a case of his friend whose life is radically changed when he becomes a Christian. In some senses it’s a classic despair to hope story. Bartlett concludes by asking O’Connor “what would you say to this friend?” The answer that follows flawed me. O’Conor, an ardent atheist, responds by essentially saying “if these things work, then I’d encourage him to continue doing them.” 

In a similar vein, last year Richard Dawkins professed his faith in cultural Christianity. Dawkin’s well documented and fresh alignment with Christianity is accordingly founded upon its ‘fundamental decency.’ Which just to be clear, according to the biologist, is very unlike Islam. Sadly, his newfound respect hasn’t prohibited New Atheism’s inherent Islamaphobia, it just seems to be masquerading in more sympathetic clothing. 

Amongst these stories and other examples there seems to be a resurgence, or at least a growing respect, in Christian religion and faith. This can also be seen in church attendance and statistics around those professing faith. And whilst Dawkin’s move away from religious degradation towards cultural affirmation can, in some senses, be welcomed; there is an inherent flaw in both his and O’Connor’s perspectives when held in light of Christianity’s central claims. 

For O’Connor, Christianity is seemingly commendable if it leads to self-actualisation, self- fulfilment and a privatised sense of hope. From O’Connor’s atheistic vantage point, the goal of the human is self-actualisation. When confronted by Christianity as a means of this fulfilment, his philosophical stance begins to eat itself. Similarly, for Dawkins, Christianity is a useful tool for the construction and preservation of Western societies. As our country goes through rapid change and our cities exponentially expand in size and multiculturalism Dawkins finds himself affirming the faith he so enthusiastically mocked as a means of security. His atheism inevitably eats itself. 

Whilst different, Christianity in both of these cases is used as a crutch. The faith becomes a prop either for societal betterment or self-fulfilment: it is a reductive perspective that views Christianity as the best truth amongst other truths on offer. It approaches religion as a pick-n-mix sweet shop, with Christianity currently the best flavour. 

However, for Christians, their faith is not a truth amongst other truths, it is the truth. It is not primarily reasoned, discovered or affirmed upon positive reviews but is fundamentally revealed to us and encouraged by a Triune God of love. Reason, positive societal change and personal fulfilment are not bad things in of themselves but when approaching Jesus, they are utterly secondary. This revelation, when fully recognised, reveals O’Connor and Dawkin’s understandings of Christianity as inherently stunted. For O’Connor his affirmation of faith, when positively leading to self-actualisation, would struggle to reckon with St. Stephen’s death found in the book of Acts. The first Christian martyr pleaded for God’s mercy upon his murderers as they launched stones at him. His faith led to incredible courage in the face of intense violence but I’m not entirely sure you could say it led to a widely accepted notion of self-actualisation. For Dawkin’s his affirmation, of Christianity as a pillar for society, should be held in light of the early church’s teachings on radical hospitality, their startling financial generosity and the faith’s ongoing care for the alien or foreigner. This, I would contend, would unsettle the biologist’s divorce of culture and faith. 

The challenge for Christians when confronted by seemingly positive reactions from historically antagonistic voices is to refuse the subtle domestication of the ancient faith. I appreciate O’Connor’s openness to the Christianity and I commend Dawkin’s softening tone. However, their self-defeating and cannibalistic atheism can only affirm Christianity as crutch for their own agendas. They concede defeat but on their own terms. Their vision accepts a partial understanding of following Jesus, an understanding that has been moderated and regulated to fit into their preconceived philosophical and societal agendas. However, for Christians, Jesus is not someone who affirms our predetermined frameworks but instead devastates our self-obsessive tendencies and overwhelms our insecurities with a profound love best revealed in his life, death and resurrection. This realisation is ultimately revealed to us, not on our terms but received freely as a gift. It is given, not grasped or owned, but received.

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