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Displaced Nigerians Demand Voice and Justice in Abuja's Development

Displaced indigenous communities in Nigeria's Federal Capital Territory demand compensation, political representation, and recognition decades after forced relocation for Abuja's construction.

·7 min read
Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani Lami Ezekiel in front of the home built for her by the government in the late 80s. She appears to be blind in one eye and is wearing a black and red floral dress, She is sitting on the ground next to a saucepan on a wood fire.

Memories of Displacement in Abuja's Formation

Now in her 80s, Lami Ezekiel recalls the arrival of construction crews at her ancestral home in Maitama during the late 1980s, as the area was cleared to build Nigeria's new capital, Abuja.

"We just saw big trucks and construction vehicles destroying our farms,"

She and many others who lived on the land where the city now stands say they are still awaiting the compensation promised to them at that time.

The planning for Abuja began a decade earlier. On 4 February 1976, the military government under Murtala Muhammed established the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), a 7,315 sq km (2,824 sq miles) area carved from Niger, Plateau, and Kaduna states.

Born in 1982 in Kabusa, within the FCT, Isaac David remembers a childhood surrounded by streams and farmland where families drank water from springs and cultivated land that had sustained them for generations.

Today, the streams have been replaced by developments such as the Transcorp Hilton Abuja hotel.

Land once used for agriculture now hosts buildings including the United Nations headquarters and the United States embassy.

The Aso Rock presidential villa, Nigeria's seat of power, occupies land that was once a community shrine.

"Those of us who want to farm now have to go and buy farmland on the outskirts of town,"

David, who now owns farms in neighboring Niger state, said.

 Abuja's main mosque and cathedral seen amidst a canopy of trees and cranes.
Over the last four decades Abuja has grown from a small village into a huge city, where people from all over the country go to live and work

Abuja: Neutral Territory or Disputed Land?

Lagos, the former capital, was considered vulnerable due to its coastal location and politically sensitive as it was in the heart of Yoruba land amid ethnic rivalries.

Abuja was promoted as neutral territory, officially described as "no man's land."

However, for at least 10 indigenous groups, including the Gbagyi, whose homes and farms were replaced by government ministries and mansions, this label remains contentious.

Daniel Aliyu Kwali, president of the FCT Stakeholders' Assembly, highlighted that some anthropologists and historians estimate communities have lived in the area for over 6,000 years.

"The FCT is just 50 years old; I am 70 years old. We are much older than the FCT."

The government initially planned to relocate the "few local inhabitants" outside the territory but later reversed this policy.

Nasiru Suleiman, director of resettlement and compensation at the Federal Capital Development Authority (FCDA), explained:

"Because of the high cost of resettlement, the government allowed those who wished to remain in the FCT to do so."

This policy adjustment allowed some residents to stay, while those in central districts were relocated.

Forced Relocation and Broken Promises

For many families, the relocation process was traumatic. John Ngbako, then secretary of the Maitama community, recalled his confusion and frustration.

He said he asked the authorities "what is wrong with us?" that they couldn't live alongside the newcomers.

Community leaders report they were promised farmland, housing, and access to electricity and water in Kubwa, the relocation site.

However, before negotiations were finalized, security forces arrived and forcibly moved families.

Residents were loaded onto tipper trucks and transported about 30 minutes away to Kubwa, an area lacking basic amenities and where tensions arose with original inhabitants.

Laraba Adamu, newly married at the time, recalled hostility at the river where she fetched water.

"People would see us coming and say: 'The government cows have arrived.'"

Ezekiel, outside her two-room house where she cooks outdoors, stated:

"When we were moved, they promised us all the social amenities. None of them have been fulfilled. The water we drink, we buy. The electricity we use, we buy. And we have no farmland."

The community refers to itself as Maitama-Kubwa, preserving the name of the neighborhood they were displaced from.

Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani Chief Pada sitting on his red and gold throne in his palace in Mariana-Kubwa. Sitting on the floor is John Ngbako on a rug with a lion design on it.
Esu Bulus Yerima Pada, sitting on his throne, and John Ngbako want Abuja to have an elected governor, like Nigeria's 36 states

Esu Bulus Yerima Pada, a descendant of traditional rulers and chief of Maitama-Kubwa since 2001, said the government also promised documents confirming residents' legal ownership of their new land.

"Up to today, they have not done it,"

he said.

Community members sometimes take their children to Maitama, now one of Abuja's most expensive neighborhoods, to show them where their ancestors lived.

"Even the banana trees our forefathers planted are still there,"

Chief Pada said.

Ongoing Land Tensions and Demolitions

Tensions over land and demolitions continue. On 13 March 2025, bulldozers demolished homes in Gishiri, an indigenous community predating the FCT.

Princess Juliet Jombo, a 32-year-old schoolteacher, said properties built by her late father, a traditional ruler, were destroyed.

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"Everything my father worked for in his life and left for us. Everything,"

she said.

Her one-bedroom flat was initially valued at 260,000 naira ($170; £135), later raised to about 520,000 naira after protests, but she said this was insufficient to secure alternative housing.

The demolition also destroyed the community primary school, leaving nearly 500 pupils out of class for months.

Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani Princess standing in front of her father’s traditional grave. She is wearing a long brown gown and standing next to a round concrete structure with a conical roof made from corrugate iron.
Princess Juliet Jombo standing in front of the grave of her father, a traditional ruler

Nasiru Suleiman of the FCDA maintains that the resettlement process is consultative and that compensation is paid directly into recipients' accounts or houses are built instead of cash payments.

However, activists argue that these measures come too late.

"By law, the government must first dialogue with the people who have a right to choose a place where they feel safe,"

David said.

"Then the government should build houses and relocate them to the new site."

Political Exclusion and Lack of Representation

David, whose activism earned him the nickname "Commander," became politically active in the mid-2000s after learning about the FCT's unique constitutional status.

He and others say the issue extends beyond land and compensation to political exclusion.

Unlike Nigeria's 36 states, the FCT has no elected governor. Instead, the president appoints a minister from anywhere in the country with powers similar to a state governor.

"As an indigene of Niger, I could contest elections as governor of Niger state,"

Kwali said.

"But now, I have no constitutional right to elect a governor, and I cannot run for the position myself. Other Nigerians can become governor, but I never can."

Additionally, anyone residing in Abuja can contest local offices regardless of origin, unlike other parts of Nigeria where such positions are reserved for those with local family origins.

Several elected representatives in the FCT have come from other parts of the country.

"But I cannot go to your own village and contest for office there and expect to win,"

said 32-year-old Methuselah Jeji.

A new father, Jeji worries about the limitations his child will face.

"My child can never be governor. That is very sad - not because I am not able but because the FCT is where God has placed me."

David says the lack of indigenous representation helps explain why many communities around the FCT remain underdeveloped.

In central Abuja, wide boulevards, embassies, and high-rise apartments reflect significant state investment.

But in many indigenous settlements on the outskirts, roads are potholed, classrooms overcrowded, clinics understaffed, electricity unreliable, and residents lack secure land titles.

"When we had our person in the Senate, we saw the difference,"

David said, referring to Philip Aduda, the only FCT indigene elected to the Senate.

Aduda lost the seat in 2023 to Ireti Kingibe, an Abuja resident originally from Kano.

Jeji's father, Danladi, fears the peaceful approach pursued by activists may not endure.

Many court cases have lingered unresolved for years, reinforcing the sense that their concerns are ignored.

He worries that a younger, more politically aware generation may be less patient and more willing to confront the state.

"It's a bomb waiting to explode."

Despite the frustrations, David emphasizes non-violence.

"We can demand for our rights,"

he said.

"We want representation. We want to have a voice in our own land."

Ezekiel remains hopeful the government will fulfill its promises and return land to her.

"If I could be given land to farm today, land where I and my children can work, I would be truly grateful,"

she said.

"I am still strong."

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This article was sourced from bbc

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