————-How A National Debate Turned Faith Against Faith, Truth Against Pain”.

By Emma Gogwim Kayi

When the storm first broke over the push to designate Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern (CPC) by the United States, one unsettling thought crept in. 

The debate,driven by accusations that Christians were being persecuted,was so charged, so emotionally explosive, that common sense itself appeared in danger of becoming collateral damage.

What began as a policy conversation quickly hardened into a national confrontation. And at the centre of the crossfire was a voice once regarded as a moral compass: Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah of Sokoto.

Few could have predicted that a cleric respected for moderation would be attacked, even by fellow church leaders, for allegedly downplaying the “tribulations” of Christians.

 Critics dug up old statements to accuse him of inconsistency. One commentator pointed to the fate of more than 140 murdered Catholic priests and demanded  :

Has the Bishop grown deaf to the cries of the slaughtered?

Into this heated atmosphere stepped Professor Usman Yusuf,haematologist, oncologist, former NHIS boss, and a man whose influence straddles religious divides.

 In a viral Trust TV interview, he dismissed the claims of Christian persecution outright.

His verdict was absolute  : Christian leaders are not presenting the correct picture. No, they are not.

Known for his bluntness, Yusuf did not mince words. He said the “Christian genocide” narrative was a falsehood crafted to attract sympathy and funding. 

Even the Owo church massacre, he insisted, had been misrepresented as a Fulani terror attack. Yes, killings occurred in Benue, Plateau, nd Southern Kaduna, he admitted,but he rejected the label of genocide, arguing that violence was widespread across Nigeria.

But his claims opened a darker, more uncomfortable set of questions  :

If killings are everywhere, who exactly are the victims?

If terror stalks communities, who are the perpetrators?

Are Christian Idomas killing Christian Tivs in Benue?

Are the Ron-Kulere, Mwaghavul, Berom, and Atakar murdering each other in Plateau?

Are the Christian Adara wiping out the Christian Ikulu in Southern Kaduna?

If not, then who is behind the carnage?

In the interview, Yusuf added a seemingly harmless detail  : he had attended Christian schools as a child.

“This is not Christianity,” he said, rejecting claims of persecution.

But that statement touched a deeper nerve.

What happened to the very Christian schools he once attended?

A quiet, older form of erasure looms in the background,one many Christians believe is a policy-driven assault on their identity.

 Across the far North, once-thriving missionary schools were taken over, renamed, absorbed, or left to rot.

 Meanwhile, similar institutions in Plateau, Benue, and Nasarawa continue to flourish.

Historians recall a time when a motion was even raised in the Northern House of Assembly to ban Christian missionaries from the region altogether.

So Christians ask  :

What happened to our history?

What became of our institutions?

Why were the names erased?

Is St. John’s College, Kaduna, not now Rimi College?

Did Queen of Apostles not become Queen Amina College?

Did St. Peter’s not transform into Government College, Kaduna?

What of St. Louis Kano, St. Louis Zonkwa, or the Sudan Interior Mission schools across Kagoro, Kafanchan, and Zaria?

For many, these were not mere administrative takeovers,they were strategic blows designed to weaken the Church’s long-standing influence.

‘More Muslims Have Died’,A Claim That Deepened the Divide

When asked whether his comments might anger Christians in Plateau and Benue,regions that have endured unthinkable violence,Professor Yusuf’s answer was blunt enough to freeze the air:

 “More Muslims have been killed in Katsina than in Benue or Plateau. End of story.”

But suffering cannot be quantified.

The widow in Irigwe, whose entire family was wiped out and whose village now bears a new name under new occupants, gains no comfort from knowing others died elsewhere.

Her pain has a face. Her loss has a name.

And someone must answer for it.

For years, terrorists, extremists, bandits, and their sponsors have operated freely across Nigeria—sometimes even rewarded with “rehabilitation.” 

Victims receive condolences, not justice. Communities rebuild graves, not lives. From the Middle Belt to the North East, the North West, and now the South, the violence has spread like a plague without restraint.

So if some Nigerians speak of genocide, it is because ordinary vocabulary no longer captures their reality.

If some seek help from foreign governments, it is because local cries echo unanswered.

If Christians no longer turn the other cheek, it is because whole bodies,not just cheeks,are being buried in mass graves.

The CPC designation by the United States amplified the debate.

Government officials reacted with outrage, insisting Nigeria is not religiously intolerant.

 But global perception is shaped not by government declarations, but by what the world sees unfolding in real time.

And Nigeria’s global image is already burdened by reliance on foreign funding for sanitation, education, governance, and even elections. The idea of outsiders evaluating our internal failings touched a raw nerve.

Yet the government still has an opportunity to reclaim its narrative. It can  :

engage international partners constructively,

confront terrorism decisively,

deliver justice without bias, and

guarantee equal protection to Christians, Muslims, and traditionalists alike.

If we do not want foreigners describing our “nakedness,” then we must weave a new garment,stitched with fairness, security, dignity, and freedom. A cloth wide enough to cover every Nigerian.

Such a transformation demands leadership that unites rather than inflames, leadership that manages diversity with firmness, honesty, and compassion.

History may yet record that at this critical moment, Nigeria rose above its fault lines,that truth was confronted, wrongs were punished, justice was restored, and every community found equal refuge beneath the law.

If we do this together, the so-called “genocide divide” will not be the story of our undoing,but the turning point of our rebirth.