What happens when Nigeria’s headlines stop being mere news and become a mirror for our deepest struggles—faith, justice, and the rights of the girl child? Imagine two Nigerian girls at the centre of a storm, caught between power, faith, and the law. In a country as diverse and vibrant as ours, their stories unravel tough questions that touch every home: How safe are our children? Whose interests are truly being served? And ultimately, what future awaits young Nigerian girls who dream beyond their circumstances?
The Shocking Intersection of Power and Faith: The Ganduje Controversy
In April 2020, while Nigerians kept vigil against the pandemic, Kano State’s then-governor, Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, found himself back in the spotlight. But this time, it was not about COVID-19 relief or good governance. Instead, a video circulated online showing Ganduje reportedly presiding over the public conversion of two teenage girls to Islam. The event drew mixed reactions, as many questioned whether the spirit of tolerance was being replaced by a show of influence.
Adding fuel to the fire, Ganduje, who would later rise to the position of national chairman for the All Progressives Congress (APC), was not just being scrutinized for his religious initiatives. He was already facing allegations of corruption, allegedly captured on camera stuffing foreign currency into his agbada. As many saw it, rumour and reality were dancing a tight tango in his public career.
Ignoring widespread calls for a transparent investigation, Ganduje reportedly obtained a court order in March 2024, effectively halting further probes into the bribery saga. For plenty of Nigerians, the governor’s role in the conversion of the girls and subsequent events raised serious concerns about power dynamics, religious freedom, and the rights of minors.
Ese Oruru’s Ordeal: Between North and South, Rights Hung in the Balance
Just one month after Ganduje’s headline-grabbing conversion ceremony, the other end of Nigeria was rocked by another watershed moment. In Bayelsa State’s capital, Yenagoa, Federal High Court Justice Jane Iyang delivered a verdict that reverberated through Nigeria’s corridors of power and faith. She convicted Yunusa Dahiru, popularly known as Yunusa Yellow, of child trafficking and rape. He was sentenced to 26 years imprisonment, though this was later reduced on appeal.
Go back to August 2015: Ese Oruru, reportedly just 13 or 14 at the time, vanished from her family’s home in Yenagoa. According to court documents and multiple reports, Yunusa, then 22, took her all the way to Kano State. There, he claimed to have converted her to Islam and “married” her without family consent. Months later, the girl was found pregnant. In May 2016, Ese gave birth—a childhood lost, dreams derailed.
Nigerian society was quickly split along familiar lines: North versus South, Christians versus Muslims. Instead of focusing on the welfare and rights of the child—the real heart of the matter—the air became thick with accusations and counter-accusations, drowning out the voices of those most affected. According to court proceedings, Yunusa faced five counts, including criminal abduction, illicit intercourse, and child rape.
Religion, Rights, and the Law: Navigating Dangerous Crossroads
At the centre of the storm was Nigeria’s patchwork of laws and customs. In Bayelsa, the age of consent is 18. For a teenager carted off at 14, torn from family and the safety nets of community, the trauma ran deep. To complicate things, Kano State at the time had no Child Rights Law—leaving minors in a kind of legal limbo.
In pursuit of a marriage that flouted both social and legal expectations, Yunusa reportedly changed not just Ese’s location but, allegedly, her religion and civic status. According to statements from the Kano Emirate Council, investigations concluded that Ese was not old enough to give informed consent for either her new faith or the marriage. Acting on this, the Emir reportedly instructed that she be returned to her family by the police—a decision that realigned the focus, at least briefly, to the rights of the child.
Yet, debates raged on, with many deploying the language of faith as a smokescreen. As one concerned Lagos-based activist put it, “Religion is never an excuse for trampling on the dreams of a child.” The hard truth? Child trafficking and child marriage under the guise of religious conversion is both a criminal and moral offence, one that rattles the very foundation of our coexistence.
A Turning Point for Girl Rights Advocacy in Nigeria
The conviction of Yunusa Yellow became a milestone in Nigeria’s struggle to define where rights begin and power ends. For many, it signaled strong judicial resolve and sent a clear message: faith cannot be twisted into a shield for child abuse.
But progress, as always, is not straightforward. Some government officials appeared to suggest—at least in private online exchanges—that the verdict could or should be influenced. This provoked widespread condemnation, with advocacy groups and ordinary Nigerians alike insisting that justice must remain blind to influence or status.
It’s essential to remember: The struggle to protect children from abuse, trafficking, and forced conversions is ongoing. Change does not rest solely on the shoulders of courts. It lives in our communities—in the questions we ask, the customs we uphold, and the protections we demand for every Nigerian child.
From Survivor to Graduate: Ese Oruru’s Inspiring Comeback
Despite all odds, Ese Oruru’s story did not end in tragedy. Instead, it became a testament to Nigerian resilience and the boundless potential of our young women. In what many called an “explosive achievement,” Ese graduated in June 2024 with a Second Class Upper from the University of Ilorin’s Department of Education Technology. This incredible feat wasn’t just a personal win—it was a powerful message to every girl forced to walk through fire before reaching her dream.
As reported by several well-wishers and confirmed by online celebratory posts from prominent Nigerians, Ese’s success reminds us: When girls are protected, they can go from victim to victor. Her academic accomplishment is more than a degree. It’s a bright signal that Nigeria can nurture, not only survivors, but future leaders among its daughters.
Policy, Progress, and the Unfinished Battle for the Girl Child
Moving forward, what’s next for Nigeria’s countless Ese Orurus still awaiting justice? According to UNICEF, Kano State only passed a comprehensive Child Protection Law in 2023, years after Ese’s ordeal. While legal reforms are coming—slowly and steadily—many families remain worried that loopholes and culture wars could leave their children exposed.
- Will stricter laws be properly enforced?
- Are advocacy campaigns doing enough to cut across religious and ethnic boundaries?
- How involved are community leaders and faith groups in championing child rights?
Legal experts emphasize that true change will require not just the right laws, but also courageous enforcement and the will of society to reject silence and complicity. “We can’t afford to just yam about these issues at beer parlours,” adds a civil rights lawyer in Abuja. “It’s time for coordinated action on every front—police, courts, mosques, churches, and homes.”
Global Echoes with a Nigerian Voice
Nigeria is not alone in facing these challenges. According to global reports, forced child marriage and trafficking remain problems across West Africa and beyond. Yet, every local success—like Ese’s graduation—feeds hope that things can change, one determined step at a time. As we celebrate victories, let’s also remember there is much left to do until every girl’s right is respected, regardless of tribe, religion, or social status.
What do you think? Should Nigeria focus more on strengthening laws, changing mindsets, or both to protect its girls? Share your opinion below and join the movement for change!
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