Homes Without Peace: The Hidden Pain of Bokkos -By Rinret Istifanus

In Bokkos Local Government Area of Plateau State, many families now live in houses that no longer feel like homes. What should be places of rest and safety have slowly turned into spaces filled with fear, tension, and silent suffering. Insecurity has taken away the simple peace that once defined daily life in these communities.

As evening approaches, life changes completely. Doors are locked early. Children are pulled indoors, not because it is bedtime, but because danger moves freely after dark. Parents sit awake late into the night, listening carefully to every sound, praying it is not the one that brings tragedy.

In Tenti village, fear hangs heavily in the air. Residents say the sound of gunshots has become part of their daily reality. What once caused panic now brings a quiet, helpless silence.

According to Ibrahim Mafulul, a resident, fear has lasted so long that people have learned to live with it.

“The sounds of gunshots don’t even freak us any more,he says. “It’s what we hear almost every day. When it starts, we just stay indoors and pray.

But for women in Tenti, fear goes beyond the sound of gunshots it enters their bodies, their memories, and their nights.

Favor , a resident of the village, speaks with the weight of someone who has lived through what many only fear. As night falls, her voice carries pain that words can barely hold.

Once it is 8 p.m., you dare not step your legs outside,she says softly. Darkness is not safe here. As a woman, you fear what may happen to your body. As a man, you fear you may not return alive. So everyone stays indoors, waiting for morning.

Favour is not speaking from fear alone she is a survivor of sexual violence. She was attacked in the same village she calls home. The trauma did not end that night it returns every evening when the sun goes down. For her, darkness is no longer just the absence of light, but a reminder of pain she did not choose.

Like many women in Tenti, Favour carries her suffering quietly. Her scars are mostly unseen, hidden behind forced strength and daily survival. Her story reflects the untold pain of countless women whose voices are rarely heard, whose tears fall behind closed doors, and whose lives are forever shaped by insecurity.

Beyond the personal pain, livelihoods have also been destroyed. Farming the backbone of Bokkos has been severely affected. Many farmers now fear going deep into their farmlands. Some have abandoned their crops completely, leading to poor harvests, hunger, and deeper poverty for families already struggling to survive.

Children grow up learning fear before hope. School attendance is disrupted, concentration is lost, and dreams slowly fade as survival becomes the priority. Mothers worry not only about feeding their children, but about keeping them alive.

Yet, despite the pain, the people of Bokkos continue to endure. Neighbors watch out for one another. Communities share warnings and support. Churches and mosques have become places of refuge, where prayers for peace rise daily from broken hearts.

But resilience alone is not enough. The people of Bokkos, and villages like Tenti, are calling for urgent action. They need security, justice, and lasting solutions that will allow families to sleep without fear and women to walk without terror.

Homes are meant to offer peace, not imprison fear. Until calm returns to Bokkos, many families will continue to live behind locked doors counting hours, waiting for daylight, and hoping that one day, night will no longer bring pain, but rest.