The Day Everything Changed: Musa’s Story
By the time Adamu Musa, a freelance journalist in Kebbi state, crawled out of hiding hours after an attack on the Malikawa community where he had gone to report, many people had died.
On the ground was the body of a vigilante who escorted him to the community where he had just interviewed farmers whose harvests were destroyed by Boko Haram invaders.
The guard’s gun hung over his shoulder, his throat slit open, blood pooling beneath him.
As Musa walked past the bullet-ridden bodies of women, children, and men, the whole place was filled with cries of “wayo Allah”.
“The gory sight still gives me nightmares till today. It was the worst situation I have ever witnessed since reporting conflict in northwest Nigeria,” he said.
Musa’s experience is far from isolated.
Across Nigeria, journalists covering conflict and insurgency witness mass killings, destruction, and displacement, trauma that often leaves with them emotional scars long after the headlines are forgotten.
In Ondo State, Gbenga Olubumoye, a former reporter with Glow FM Akure, shared a similar ordeal while covering the deadly farmer–herder conflict. The violence intensified after the state rejected the Federal Government’s open grazing proposal, a crisis leading to the kidnapping and murder of Funke Olakunrin, daughter of Afenifere leader Reuben Fasoranti.
Gbenga Olubumoye, still grappling with trauma of reporting farmers-herders conflict
“After I returned from covering the farmers -herders massacre, I couldn’t sleep for days because of the dead bodies I saw,” Olubumoye said.
Ademola Adinlewa, a reporter with Breeze FM, instead recalled a life-threatening experience. In 2020, he was sent to cover the bloody fight between farmers and herders in Akunnu Akoko and Oke-Agbe,Ondo state. But the locals mistook him for a spy and almost executed him.
Not long after his traumatising experience, a first-class king was killed.
Adinlewa said he could imagine what could have happened had things gone wrong. “ I had no armored vests, no health insurance; just faith, a pen, and the faint hope that someone would care enough to read my report”.
Pascal Ogbulafor who reports for Factwatch in Owerri was not as lucky as Adinlewa.
The security agents assaulted him while filming the carnage caused by IPOB during an army raid, and later accused him of“inciting tension.” He suffered a fractured wrist and was never compensated. He said the media organization that he worked for left him to his fate.
But while each of these reporters could tell their story, many others are not alive to tell theirs.
(From L-R) Nathan Dabak ,Sunday Gyang Bwede and Alhaji Zakariya Isa, outstanding journalists murdered in their prime.
Take the case of Nathan Dabak and Sunday Gyang Bwede, journalists with The Light Bearer. In 2010, both were stabbed to death by rioters while covering sectarian violence in Jos.
Similarly, Alhaji Zakariya Isa, reporter and cameraman with the Nigeria Television Authority (NTA), was murdered in 2011 outside his home in Maiduguri, Borno State by Boko Haram insurgent who accused him of being a government spy, a claim that was denied by his colleagues.
A year later, Enenche Akogwu, a journalist and cameraman with Channels Television, was shot dead by militants in Kano while interviewing bystanders near a police station attacked by Boko Haram.
In 2020, Maxwell Nashan, a reporter of the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria, FRCN was abducted and killed in Yola, Adamawa.
Journalists are not only vulnerable to attacks by blood-thirsty criminals, the law enforcement agents also threaten their fundamental human rights.
Last year, Comrade Jide Oyekunle, Chairman of the FCT Correspondents Chapel was harassed by the Nigerian Police while covering the EndBadGovernance protest in Abuja.
His case is one of several other cases of police brutalities and harassment of journalists in a country that has signed several treaties on the rights of journalists and citizens.
The situation under which journalists operate is simply “unacceptable,” said Oyekunle, emphasizing the need for the Nigerian government to implement comprehensive safety measures to protect media practitioners.
Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ) though has consistently called for stronger protections for its members who work in an increasingly hostile environment, all to no avail.
International Press Centre recorded 66 attacks against journalists and three media houses, 24 journalists were physically assaulted, seven were abducted and 21 were unlawfully detained; all in 2022.
Reporters Without Border, RSF reported that nearly 20 reporters were attacked in early 2023, particularly during election periods.
Yet the number never keeps going higher in the following years.
Press Attack Tracker, a research project by the Centre for Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID) recorded 90 cases of abuse of journalists between July and October, 2024.
The same year, the World Press Freedom Index ranked Nigeria 112th out of 180 countries that are most dangerous and difficult for journalists to practise.
Boko Haram: Decades ravaging menace in North Eastern Nigeria.
For women journalists, the challenges of reporting conflict go far beyond the threat of physical harm. Alongside the dangers of reporting in conflict areas, they must also navigate deeply entrenched gender bias and harassment.
In conservative regions such as Northeast and Northwest Nigeria, women are often denied access to key sources or barred from frontline reporting under the guise of “protection”, a practice that sidelines their careers.
Those who push forward frequently lack safety gear, receive little or no institutional support, and face threats of sexual violence, sometimes even from colleagues or security personnel assigned to protect them.
Eberendu Chisom, Sanctioned for her passion
Eberendu Chisom, 32, a conflict and humanitarian journalist with Breeze FM Akure, knows this struggle all too well.
After graduating from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Chisom had hoped to build a career with a reputable media organization. That dream seemed to materialize when she was admitted as an intern at Breeze FM. But on October 14, 2014, during an assignment in Borno State, she had an experience that would haunt her for years.
While returning from Gamboru with her cameraman, Yusuf Danlami, soldiers accused them of filming a mass grave. The pair were detained in a makeshift guardroom for three days, without charges, access to phones, or legal representation. Their phones and memory cards were confiscated.
Instead of support, Chisom said her newsroom responded with blame. Days after her release, she was suspended for two months for what her supervisor called “insubordination,” criticizing her for reporting outside the internally displaced persons (IDP) camps she had been assigned to cover.
“I was only doing my job, trying to shed light on the real impact of the insurgency,” she recalled. “But instead of backing me, they punished me.”
Lois Abba Sambo, gory experiences still flash
Her story echoes the experiences of other women journalists like Lois Abba Sambo, a freelance reporter from Southern Kaduna. Having grown up amid years of ethno-religious conflict, Sambo has witnessed violence both as a local and a journalist. This perspective has shaped her understanding of trauma and resilience.
In December 2023, while home for the holidays in Kagoro, her community once again came under threat. On Christmas Eve, gunmen attacked nearby villages, forcing residents to stay up all night in fear. “The next day, I went to cover the incident, even though I was home on holiday,” she said.
Years of navigating conflict zones have taught Sambo to rely on instinct and luck, and this tool has kept her safe so far. But like many of her peers, she knows that neither courage nor experience offers full protection in a field where women face double jeopardy: the danger of the story and the danger within the system meant to support them.
To help mitigate the impact of psychological breakdown of journalists, CJID initiated mental health support programs for journalists, in partnership with Mental Health KAFE and the Association of Psychiatrists in Nigeria (APN).
Similarly, Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Reporting, through its Civic space Guard project, offers mental Health and Psychosocial Support to journalists who have gone through traumatic experiences.
But these initiatives require regular funding that have now been cut down due to Trump administration policy.
On their own
In Nigeria, most newsrooms lack structured training programs for reporters assigned to cover conflict. Even fewer provide the psychosocial support essential for journalists who return from the frontlines deeply scarred by what they’ve witnessed.
Akinfe Adewale, a freelance journalist who has spent more than a decade covering insurgency and banditry in the Northwest, is no stranger to the dangers. His work has taken him deep into conflict zones where the risks are high and the support system almost non-existent.
“Many of us had no formal guidance on how to safely cover terrorism,” Adewale said. “We rely mostly on instinct for safety, which leaves us extremely vulnerable.”
According to him, numerous injuries sustained by reporters in hostile environments could have been avoided with proper training in safety protocols, access to trauma care, and institutional backing.
“Just report the story, do not be in the story,” Adewale recalled a former editor advising him. It’s a line that many reporters have latched on to in dangerous situations, often as their only form of protection.
But it’s not only reporters who face these risks.
Fixers, the Invisible Frontliners
Fixers are local guides who work behind the scenes to help journalists navigate complex terrains, and are also highly exposed to danger, yet remain invisible in most newsrooms. These individuals live in some of Nigeria’s most volatile states like Borno, Zamfara, Niger, Yobe, Nassarawa, Adamawa, Kebbi, and Benue, and often serve as cultural translators, security buffers, and logistical navigators.
“Fixers aren’t just guides. They’re translators of trauma, cultural interpreters, local negotiators, and bodyguards without vests,” said Sambo.
“They know when silence means fear, and when it means death is coming. Yet, they’re treated like expendable tools.”
Muhammad Bakari, still awaiting support from journalists
Fixers are not insured. They don’t get trauma counseling. No one plans their extraction if an operation goes south. Instead, they face threats, surveillance, intimidation by insurgents, and, worst of all, abandonment.
Muhammad Bakari, a fixer in Konduga, lost an eye during a Boko Haram attack while on assignment. “The reporter I took to cover a massacre of fishermen promised to help with medical care, but I never heard from him again,” he said.
A 2016 study by the Global Reporting Centre revealed that 86 percent of fixers wished to be named in published work. While a few foreign correspondents now insist on crediting fixers, sharing award money, or securing insurance on their behalf, such cases remain the exception in a system built on exploitation.
Despite their crucial roles, fixers are not legally recognized under Nigerian journalism laws. Even the proposed National Press Safety Bill, according to observers, makes no mention of them.
Trauma Without Treatment
The mental health toll of conflict reporting is rarely acknowledged in Nigerian newsrooms.
Janet Burabari Nleera, a psychotherapist at the University of Port Harcourt, warns that journalists exposed to violence are at high risk of acute stress disorder (ASD) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Janet Burabari Nleera, pinpoints various ways trauma are rejuvenating
“These conditions are triggered by flashbacks, reliving trauma, because the brain doesn’t rest, even during sleep,” she said.
“Depression can follow, especially when newsrooms offer no support and journalists are left to deal with their struggles on their own.”
While international organizations like the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Reporters Without Borders (RSF), and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) provide comprehensive safety frameworks for journalists, including guidelines on gear, risk assessment, and trauma care, most Nigerian media houses do not utilize these resources.
In fact, a Wilson Center study found that none of Nigeria’s major news outlets offer trauma care, insurance, or evacuation plans for journalists.
Freelancers fare even worse.
Without insurance or welfare packages, they are often left to fund their own therapy, or hope for assistance from NGOs.
Experts attribute these gaps to newsroom budget constraints, lack of a national workplace mental health policy, and deep-rooted cultural stigma around mental health. While the 2022 Health Insurance Authority Act mandates employer enrolment in health schemes, psychological care remains excluded.
“The dangers and psychological trauma journalists face are real, but the support system is virtually non-existent,” said Garaobe Salomon, a Cameroonian psychologist and mental health advocate.
“Reporters are documenting human rights violations and suffering while trying to maintain professional objectivity. This constant exposure, compounded by low pay and job insecurity, creates a perfect storm for psychological breakdown.”
Models from Abroad, and Local Efforts
In contrast, international media houses operating in Nigeria have adopted more supportive measures. Reuters, for example, offers a full mental health support system. BBC provides trauma programs and 24/7 counseling for its journalists.
Locally, organizations like CJID have partnered with Mental Health KAFE and the Association of Psychiatrists in Nigeria (APN) to support journalists’ mental health. For example, the CJID has provided therapy for over 100 journalists. Similarly, the Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Journalism, through its Civic Space Guard project, offers trauma support for journalists affected by violence.
Yet, many of these initiatives are grant-dependent. As international funding dwindles, partly due to restrictive donor policies like those from the Trump-administration in the U.S., the continuity of such programs hangs in the balance.
Until mental health and safety become institutional priorities in Nigerian media, journalists will remain on the frontlines with little more than instinct, courage, and luck.
“In this country, journalists are treated as collateral damage, by bandits and by the state,” said Adinlewa, the Breeze FM reporter.
This report is produced with the support of the Centre for Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID) as part of a project documenting issues focused on press freedom in Nigeria. The story is edited by Ajibola Amzat.
