The Last Man of Owa-Onire: How Insecurity Turned a Thriving Kwara Community Into a Ghost Town
For decades, Owa-Onire was a peaceful rural community where families lived, worshipped, farmed, and built their futures. Today, however, the town stands as a haunting symbol of the devastating impact of insecurity across parts of Nigeria. Its streets are empty, its homes abandoned, and its once-vibrant social life reduced to silence.
When a combined security team comprising personnel from the Drone Unit, Mobile Police Force (MOPOL), and the Anti-Kidnapping Squad arrived in Owa-Onire during a recent operation, they were met with a shocking sight. There were no traders in the market, no children playing in the streets, no worshippers in the mosque or church. The entire community appeared deserted.
Only one person remained.
Standing amid the silence was Lekan, a prince of the community and now its sole resident. In a town where hundreds once lived, Lekan has become the last man left behind. Locals jokingly refer to him as the "landlord" of Owa-Onire, but the title carries a painful reality. The mansions, family compounds, church, mosque, and public spaces now belong only to nature, memories, and one lonely inhabitant.
The security operation forms part of the ongoing efforts by the Inspector-General of Police to strengthen security surveillance across forest corridors in Kwara South. The exercise covers several local government areas, including Ifelodun, Isin, Oke-Ero, and Ekiti, where security agencies continue to combat kidnapping, banditry, and other criminal activities.
Yet among all the communities visited, Owa-Onire stood out for the wrong reasons.
According to residents who fled the area, the town's decline did not happen overnight. Repeated attacks by armed criminal groups gradually destroyed the community's sense of safety. Kidnappings became increasingly frequent, forcing families to live in fear. The situation reached a critical point when the traditional ruler of the community was reportedly abducted and held captive for months before a ransom secured his release.
That incident became a turning point.
Unable to endure the constant threat to their lives and livelihoods, residents began leaving. Families locked their homes and relocated to safer communities such as Oke-Onigbin and other neighbouring towns. What started as a gradual migration soon became a mass exodus.
Today, Owa-Onire is only one example of a much wider crisis affecting rural communities in Kwara State. Reports from local residents and community leaders indicate that dozens of villages across Ifelodun and Isin Local Government Areas have either been partially abandoned or completely deserted due to persistent insecurity.
Communities such as Oro-Ago, Omugo, Ahun, Oke-Oyan, Owa-Kajola, Owa-Onire, and parts of Oba have reportedly experienced significant population displacement. Residents estimate that more than 20 villages in the region have suffered varying degrees of occupation, attacks, or abandonment linked to suspected bandit activities.
The consequences extend beyond human displacement. Vast farmlands have been left uncultivated, local economies have collapsed, schools have shut down, and ancestral homes that once housed generations now stand empty. Entire communities risk disappearing from active existence, becoming little more than names on maps and in history books.
For Lekan, survival depends entirely on farming. With no functioning market in Owa-Onire, he relies on crops from his farm to sustain himself. There are no shops, no commercial activities, and virtually no social interaction.
During the visit, members of the security team reportedly gave him ₦10,000 to assist with immediate needs. Lekan quietly accepted the gesture and explained that he would travel to Oke-Onigbin, the nearest active market town, to purchase food supplies.
He also shared a disturbing account with the officers. According to him, unidentified individuals entered the community the previous night. He could hear movement but could not determine who they were or what they were doing. By morning, the visitors had vanished.
Nothing else had changed.
The buildings remained abandoned, the streets remained silent, and Lekan remained alone.
Deeply affected by what they witnessed, senior security officials involved in the operation reportedly described the situation as unacceptable. They emphasized that no Nigerian community should be forced into extinction because of insecurity and pledged to advocate for stronger and sustained security measures across affected areas.
Their hope is that improved security presence and coordinated government intervention will eventually create conditions that allow displaced residents to return to their ancestral homes without fear.
Until then, Owa-Onire remains a chilling reminder of the human cost of insecurity—and of one man who stayed behind when everyone else was forced to leave.
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