Category: Campus Life

These are not the best of times at the Abia State University (ABSU), Uturu. There is palpable tension and fright among students with the upsurge in kidnapping, armed robbery and violent attacks. Students are bemoaning the seeming nonchalance of ABSU authorities  and security operatives in the state, CHUKS OSSAI( ABSU) reports.

The surge in crime has caused tension across the Abia State University (ABSU), Uturu, causing fear and uncertainty among students and members of staff.

Once considered a relatively quiet institution, the university community now finds itself grappling with rising insecurity, including abductions, robberies, and violent attacks.

Last week, five students were reportedly abducted by unknown gunmen along the infamous Okigwe-Uturu Road, a stretch of road that has, over the years, become synonymous with danger.

According to multiple student sources, the victims were returning to campus when they were intercepted and taken into the bush by armed assailants. The incident sparked immediate panic among students, as rumours swirled on social media platforms and campus forums.

The identity of the abducted students has not been disclosed, and university authorities are yet to release a statement. However, the silence from the school management and local security agencies has further heightened anxiety across the student body.

“The fear is real,” said one student who lives in a hostel close to the area. “If five people can disappear like that, in broad daylight, then no one is safe.”

This chilling incident was followed by yet another act of violence. On Friday, June 27, a commercial motorcycle rider was shot dead by two assailants also on a motorcycle. Witnesses reported that the gunmen struck swiftly and left immediately, taking nothing from the victim – neither money nor belongings – leading many to believe the act may have been targeted or intended to create chaos.

“We are no longer safe to even move around. Whether you’re a student, bike man, or trader, anything can happen to you now,” a witness said.

These incidents are not anomalies. Over the past few months, the frequency and severity of crimes reported in and around the university have escalated alarmingly. Students have recounted tales of phone snatching, nighttime robberies, and threats of violence. In many cases, victims are left traumatised, with little hope of justice or recovery of their stolen property.

About two weeks prior to the abductions, a first-year Mass Communication student had a nasty encounter.

“I went to Upgate to collect my phone and power bank where I had plugged it earlier. It was around 7 p.m. and I was on my way back when two men came out of the bush. They asked me to lay down, and I did.

“They pointed a gun at me and asked for my phone. I gave it to them. They told me to put my password, and I did. Then, right there, they formatted the phone and took the power bank too. After that, they just walked back into the bush,” he said.

When asked if he had reported the incident to security personnel, the student simply shook his head.

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“Report to who? Nobody listens. And if they do, nothing happens.”

This narrative reflects the broader frustration and helplessness that many students now feel. Several others share similar experiences– harassed on the way to class, attacked while running errands, or robbed while returning to their hostels. Yet, few feel that they don’t have any reliable system of support or protection.

“I’ve stopped going out once it’s evening. I’d rather miss my evening lectures than risk my life,” said a female student who lives off-campus.

The insecurity has also impacted commercial activity around the university. Local traders and transport operators have begun closing early, while students are urged by hostel managers to remain indoors after dusk. Previously lively areas like the Upgate Junction and the Students’ Park are now quiet shadows of themselves by 6 p.m.

The Okigwe-Uturu Road, where the most high-profile crimes have occurred, remains particularly treacherous. Its narrow, pothole-riddled lanes flanked by thick bushes offer ideal cover for criminals. Despite being the main route connecting the university to neighbouring towns and transport hubs, the road is largely unpatrolled.

“The road is a deathtrap. There are no lights, no checkpoints, and when something happens, the police come the next day – if at all,” a bus driver said.

In response to the growing crisis, some hostels and student lodges have attempted to organise their own security systems. A few have recruited local vigilance groups or formed internal watch groups to monitor suspicious movements, especially during the evening.

However, these measures raise serious concerns. Without proper training or legal authority, the risk of misjudgment, escalation, and even violence looms large.

“It’s not our job to fight criminals,” said a student who helps coordinate a hostel watch group. “But we’re left with no choice. If we don’t protect ourselves, no one else will.”

University authorities have remained largely silent. While it is believed that discussions may be ongoing behind closed doors regarding security reinforcement and collaboration with local law enforcement, no clear information has been communicated to the student body. This lack of transparency has only deepened the distrust students already feel.

Meanwhile, the state police command has offered a vague promise of “ongoing investigations” and “strategic deployments,” urging students to report incidents promptly and avoid moving at night. For parents and guardians, the situation is equally disturbing. Social media posts from concerned families call for immediate intervention from the state government, with some threatening to withdraw their children from the institution altogether if the insecurity continues.

“I sent my child to school, not a warzone,” wrote one parent in a widely shared Facebook post. “This is beyond unfortunate — it is unacceptable.”

The growing tension has also taken a toll on students’ mental health and academic focus. Attendance has dropped noticeably in some departments, and many students now prefer virtual or asynchronous learning options, where available. For many, even something as routine as walking to the faculty building now requires careful timing and coordination.

With each new incident, the fear grows – and so does the urgency for action.

At its core, the crisis facing ABSU is not just about crime; it is about a community losing faith in the systems meant to protect it. It is about students waking up each day unsure whether they will return home safely. It is about a university struggling to maintain not just academic excellence, but basic human security.

Until meaningful action is taken – from bolstered security patrols to effective infrastructure improvements on high-risk roads – the sense of danger will continue to fester. Students will remain on edge. And the institution’s integrity, as a place of learning and growth, will remain under threat. For now, as the sun sets over Uturu and darkness creeps in once more, one question echoes in the hearts of thousands of students: If we are not safe here in school, then where are we safe?