According to a report by The Cable on Tuesday, 19 May, 2026, In the quiet farming communities of Oriire Local Government Area in Oyo State, Friday, May 15, 2026, began like any other school day filled with the chatter of children in uniforms, morning assemblies, and the promise of learning.
By mid-morning, it had turned into a nightmare of gunfire, chaos, and terror that no child should ever witness.
Among the survivors is 12-year-old Aisha, whose harrowing account paints a vivid picture of bravery amid betrayal, fear, and the desperate struggle for survival.
Aisha had just settled into her class at one of the affected schools part of a coordinated raid on three institutions including Community High School in Ahoro-Esinele, Baptist Nursery and Primary School in Yawota, and another nearby when the nightmare erupted.
Armed terrorists, arriving on motorcycles and firing indiscriminately, stormed the premises shortly after 9 a.m. What followed was pandemonium as pupils and staff scattered in every direction.
“Our teacher ran away first,” Aisha recounted in a trembling voice, her young eyes still wide with the trauma of that day. “We were in class when we heard the loud noises gbam! gbam! Like fireworks but much scarier.
Everyone started screaming. I looked at our teacher, expecting her to tell us what to do, to protect us like they always say. But she just grabbed her bag and ran out the door. We were all shocked. Some of my classmates started crying, ‘What do we do now?’”
The young survivor described how she and a few friends instinctively bolted toward the nearby bushes and thickets bordering the school compound. “My legs were shaking, but I just kept running.
Thorns were cutting my skin, but I didn’t feel the pain. I could hear the men shouting in different languages some Yoruba, some Hausa, some English mixed.
They were shooting and laughing. It was like they were enjoying the fear they caused.”
Aisha hid in the dense undergrowth for what felt like an eternity, curled up in a small hollow, heart pounding so loudly she feared the attackers would hear it.
She whispered prayers she had learned at home and in school, clutching a small Quran pendant her mother had given her.
Around her, she could hear the distant cries of other children and the revving of motorcycles as the gunmen moved between the schools, abducting dozens of pupils and teachers, including the principal of Community High School.
“I stayed there till evening,” she continued. “Mosquitoes were biting me everywhere. I was hungry and thirsty, but I was too scared to move. I thought about my parents and my little brother.
What if they took me like they took my friends? Some of the bigger boys tried to run deeper into the bush, but I just stayed small and quiet.
