Fifty years after the creation of Abuja as Nigeria’s Federal Capital, the city is often celebrated for its growth, beauty, and status. But for the indigenous communities who own the land, the story is far less glamorous.
For families in places like Rubochi, a Gbagyi community on the outskirts of Abuja, daily life tells a different tale—one marked by hardship, limited opportunities, and uncertain futures.
Jaji is 12 years old. Born into a family of teachers, he was expected to begin school at the age of three. But life had other plans. As indigenous residents of Abuja, his parents faced circumstances that made that dream impossible.
There are no proper schools in Jaji’s community. What serves as a kindergarten is a small thatched hut made from palm fronds, where children—some as old as ten or eleven—gather to learn. The nearest primary school is about 10 kilometres away. His parents felt he was too young to make that long trek, so he had to wait until he turned 12 before enrolling.
“At first, I felt ashamed,” Jaji said quietly. “I should be in secondary school by now. But my parents told me it’s not my fault—we are just victims of our situation.”
As he spoke, tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his left hand, whispering that he feels his destiny has been cut short.
Mahmud shares a similar story. He began primary school at 13. “My parents didn’t want me walking such a long distance at a young age,” he explained. “So they waited until I was older.”
These stories reflect the reality for many children across more than 800 indigenous communities in Abuja. While the capital marked its 50th anniversary in February, countless children are still struggling to access quality education. For them, dreams of a better future remain distant.
In recent years, the challenges have only grown worse. Rising cases of kidnapping and banditry have made the journey to school even more dangerous, especially for children and women.
In Wupa, a traditional riverside settlement, Mrs. Wadi Gade, a Gwari woman, spoke about the fear that now shapes daily life. She lamented the wave of insecurity affecting the Abuja Original Inhabitants (AOIs), recalling incidents where children were kidnapped on their way to school.
“I had to withdraw two of my children from primary school,” she said. “I could not risk them walking to school only to be taken.”
Now, the children accompany her to the farm each day, their education paused indefinitely, their future uncertain.
As Abuja celebrates five decades as Nigeria’s capital, the voices of its original inhabitants serve as a sobering reminder: behind the city’s shining skyline are communities still waiting for basic amenities, safety, and the simple promise of education.
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She lamented that children in Abuja’s indigenous communities are paying the highest price. “Sadly, our children are the ones suffering. They have no access to education; we feel helpless. While the Federal Capital Territory continues to expand and flourish, our communities are left behind—poor, excluded, and forgotten,” she said.
The twin challenges of insecurity and lack of schools have left many children exposed and vulnerable. With little or no access to education, several are pushed into adulthood far too early, forced to take up menial jobs to support their families. Poverty and instability have become a harsh reality for most households.
Mrs. Gade explained that without education, young people from Abuja’s indigenous communities struggle to compete for decent jobs. In a country already battling high unemployment, she noted, their chances are even slimmer because they lack the basic qualifications that education provides. For many AOI children, the future appears uncertain and bleak.
Healthcare is another pressing concern. The absence of medical facilities has contributed to alarming maternal mortality rates. Experts estimate that more than 80 percent of women in these communities give birth without the presence of trained health workers, a situation that continues to put mothers and babies at serious risk.
During a week-long visit to the communities by the Network of Journalists on Indigenous Issues (NEJII), the reality on ground was stark. Once you leave the heart of Abuja city, smooth tarred roads give way to winding, rough paths more typical of remote rural areas.
In Byazhin Community in Bwari Area Council, malnourished children played barefoot on sandy soil and bathed in open streams. The women, though hardworking and resilient—tilling the land for planting and harvest—wore the visible strain of poverty and exhaustion on their faces.
Mrs. Usman Duje, a widow and indigene of the Gwandara tribe in Karshi Community, shared her pain over what she described as years of neglect. She fears for the future of her four children.
“My children see no hope ahead,” she said. “My three sons survive on menial jobs because they have no access to good education. The land that should have been their inheritance was taken from us. It was seized without proper compensation.”
Speaking about her married daughter, she said she worries that history will repeat itself. “My two-year-old grandchild may grow up to face the same struggles her mother endured. This is becoming a generational problem. We need help. We are pleading for support.”
The indigenous peoples of Abuja include the Koro, Ganagana, Gbade, Ebira, Nupe, Gbayi, Bassa, Gwandara, Amwamwa and others. When Abuja was created in 1976 by military decree and the Federal Capital moved from Lagos to Abuja, vast ancestral lands were taken over. Although compensation was reportedly paid in some cases, many describe it as inadequate.
Over time, as the Federal Capital Territory developed into a sprawling city, the original inhabitants say their own economic fortunes declined. Their major concern remains that while Abuja continues to grow and modernize, they have lost access to their ancestral lands, natural resources, and traditional means of livelihood. Today, many of their communities stand diminished—struggling with poverty, exclusion, and a deep sense of displacement.
Many believe the continued neglect of Abuja’s Original Inhabitants (AOIs) by the Federal Government has deepened the wounds of displacement and loss. Since their ancestral lands were taken over for the development of the Federal Capital Territory—often without adequate compensation—many families have been left in hardship, struggling with pain, frustration and poverty. For years, they say their voices have gone unheard, prompting renewed calls for the government to ensure they truly benefit from the dividends of democracy and feel a genuine sense of belonging.
Civil society groups have stepped in to amplify their concerns. Organisations such as the Network of Journalists on Indigenous Issues (NEJII), the Resource Centre for Human and Civic Education (CHRICED), and the MacArthur Foundation have continued to advocate for the rights and recognition of the AOIs.
In a symbolic step toward preserving their identity, a Heritage Centre was recently established in Abuja to serve as an institutional memory for the culture, language and civilisation of the indigenous peoples. For many, it is a welcome development—but they insist that cultural recognition must be matched with concrete action to address economic and social exclusion.
Observers note that government policies dating back to 1976, when the FCT was created by military decree, significantly weakened the land and cultural rights of communities that had lived on the land for centuries.
International law also supports their cause. The United Nations General Assembly adopted the United Nations Universal Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People in 2007, affirming the rights of indigenous peoples globally. Similarly, the International Labour Organization Convention 169 calls on governments to respect and protect the rights, lands and aspirations of indigenous communities.
Advocates are therefore urging the Federal Government to listen more closely to the grievances of the AOIs—engaging them in meaningful dialogue, restoring their sense of belonging, and ensuring their voices are part of decisions that affect their future.
Media voices have also joined the conversation. Martin Oloja of The Guardian Newspaper criticised President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and the FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike, for not marking Abuja’s 50th anniversary with the same enthusiasm shown by the seven states created on February 3, 1976, which celebrated their golden jubilees. He argued that this omission further reflects the marginalisation of the AOIs within Abuja’s ambitious “Mega City” vision.
Many observers believe the responsibility now rests with the current administration to change the narrative—by addressing longstanding grievances, restoring dignity, and giving the Original Inhabitants renewed hope for the future.
