When the Sky Watches Over Us: Why the Tiv Must Now Protect Themselves.

The land still carries the memory of blood. It’s not just the soil that grieves, but the very air above it.

Since I last wrote about the silent slaughter of the Tiv people, the world has remained quiet. No headlines. No consequences. No change.

And while we continue to pray for peace, there is every reason to believe the violence will continue.

Because nothing has changed.

There are no UN boots on the ground. No peacekeepers in Benue. No drones overhead watching for the next group of attackers. There is only silence — and the long memory of a people who have endured too much for too long.

So what now?

If governments won’t act, and the international community looks the other way, then we must imagine something different.

Something practical. Strategic. A new model of self-defence rooted in community and courage.

We believe the way forward must come from within — led by those most at risk, equipped to protect themselves.

That’s why we’re now exploring how to help communities like the Tiv access the tools they need — eyes in the sky, and healing on the ground. Not charity. Not dependency. But dignity. Preparedness. Protection.

This would mean community-led early warning — drones flown by locals, alert systems that reach families in minutes, not hours. And the beginnings of a Golden Hour response network — training ordinary villagers to stabilise the wounded when no ambulance is coming.

It’s not just possible — it’s necessary. Because in the absence of protection, the alternative is unthinkable.

The reality is stark: if we don’t act, these communities will be left defenceless. And if we do act, it must be with clear-eyed intent — not pity, not performance, but purpose.

The Tiv are not asking for our saviour complex. They are asking for the tools to live. And we must respond — with urgency, with humility, and with conviction.

There is a word from Scripture that keeps returning to me — one that feels made for moments like this:

“Son of man, I have made you a watchman…

When you see the sword coming and do not blow the trumpet to warn the people…”

Ezekiel 33:6.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about responsibility.

The truth is: many of us do see the sword coming — whether through headlines, testimonies, or quiet conversations that never make the news. And when we see these things, we have a choice: look away, or sound the alarm.

At Kerygmos, we choose to sound the alarm.

We believe the role of the watchman is not just a metaphor — it’s a call. And in today’s world, that calling might look like helping a community launch a drone that will look for threats or training a local volunteer to treat wounds no ambulance will reach. Or telling the story no one else will tell.

We want to help raise up a new kind of watchman — not with sandals and scrolls, but with vision, technology, and courage.

This is not about militarising communities.

It’s about helping them live.

Helping them see the sword in time — and act.

Because when no one else is watching, we must be.

And when the world is silent, we must still blow the trumpet.

No more villages should burn in silence.

Not while we have breath.

Not while the sky can still speak.