Kidnapping in Nigeria has evolved into a significant and devastating industry, with severe human and financial consequences. The National Bureau of Statistics reports that Nigerians collectively paid an estimated ₦2.2 trillion in ransom between May 2023 and April 2024. During this period, hundreds of thousands of individuals were reported kidnapped across the country, with many more cases likely going unrecorded. Beyond the statistics, each incident represents a personal tragedy, forcing ordinary people—farmers, students, mothers—into an unimaginable reality. Families are often driven to impossible decisions, selling their livelihoods or incurring immense debt to secure the release of loved ones. The victims, upon their return, often carry lasting scars: sleepless nights, haunting memories of violence, and a pervasive fear that impacts their ability to live, trust, and move freely. This is the profound human cost of kidnapping, exemplified by the harrowing experience of Gbolahan Olaniyin.

Gbolahan Olaniyin recounts his kidnapping on October 23, 2025, at Oke Ako, YSJ Farm, Ikole Local Government, Ekiti State. At 9 am, while overseeing maize harvesting, he instructed a tractor operator to take workers to the farm and return for him. When the operator failed to return and his phone was unreachable, Gbolahan took a motorbike to the farm. Upon arrival, he discovered the tractor diverted into the bush. As he approached, he was suddenly surrounded by seven armed individuals, whom he identified as ‘Boro’ boys. Overwhelmed with shock and fear, he immediately knelt, raised his hands, and pleaded for his life. He saw the tractor operator already hand-tied and struggling. The bandits confiscated Gbolahan’s phone, bag, farm boots, and ₦80,000 intended for farm worker payments. When questioned, he falsely identified himself as the farm manager out of terror. His hands were then tied, and he and the operator were forced to walk, crossing a river behind the farm and ascending a mountain where they waited.

While on the mountain, the bandits roasted stolen corn and gave it to their captives. With a gun held to his head, Gbolahan was forced to unlock his phone. As they scrolled through his contacts, they inquired about various individuals. They communicated primarily in Pidgin, with one bandit also understanding Yoruba. On WhatsApp, they noticed a contact whose profile picture showed them with the Ekiti State Governor. This individual was Gbolahan’s boss at YSJ. They ordered him to call her. Gbolahan informed his boss of his kidnapping, and she immediately stated her intention to report to the Police and Army. Upon hearing this, one of the bandits warned her against involving armed forces, asserting their sole demand was money. They abruptly ended the call. They called again, reiterating their demand for money. When Gbolahan’s boss asked for the amount, they demanded ₦100 million for the farm manager (Gbolahan) and ₦50 million for the tractor operator, totaling ₦150 million. They refused her request for an account number, insisting on cash. His boss promised to gather the money within three days. Immediately after the call, the bandits rushed their captives, fearing Gbolahan’s boss might track them or send armed forces. They took Gbolahan’s phone, and they continued walking barefoot.

As they moved, they encountered more farmers and other people, kidnapping an additional nine individuals, bringing the total number of captives to eleven. They reached the bandits’ main base on the fifth day of their ordeal. Prior to reaching the base, they attempted to call Gbolahan’s boss again for the ransom, but her number was unreachable. Under threat of death, Gbolahan offered to call his mother for negotiations. After discussions with his mother, the ransom was reduced to ₦30 million, split evenly between Gbolahan and the operator (₦15 million each). Miraculously, a week after his abduction, Gbolahan’s family managed to gather his ₦15 million, a significant feat given his mother ran her trading business with loans. According to his mother, before delivering the money, the bandits also demanded additional items including cartons of drinks, two new phones, food, and two pairs of trousers and shirts. Gbolahan’s mother, younger brother, and father delivered the ransom and items at Egbe, Kogi State. After the delivery, his family requested his immediate release, but the bandits claimed he was ill and would be delivered the following morning to a village whose name Gbolahan cannot recall. Late that night, the delivered items were brought to their location, confirming to Gbolahan that his ransom had been paid, and he anticipated going home the next day.

The following morning, Gbolahan expected his release. However, the second-in-command approached him and stated he was not ready to leave, claiming his ransom was incomplete. They demanded an additional ₦5 million for Gbolahan and the full ₦15 million for the operator. Gbolahan protested, explaining that the farm owners were responsible for the operator’s ransom, and his mother had likely sold her properties to raise his portion. In response, he was beaten and pushed to the ground. The bandits then confronted the tractor operator, who, having lost his phone, could not recall any family numbers. Gbolahan offered to call the operator’s boss using his own phone, but they refused, using their own phone instead. When the boss answered, he reported they had only managed to gather ₦2 million and could not afford more. The bandit disdainfully asked, “Wetin we wan use 2 million naira do?” When the boss reiterated their inability to pay more, the bandits shot the operator twice—once in the stomach and once in the chest. Gbolahan was horrified, urinating on himself, his body trembling. He feared he would suffer the same fate. The operator’s boss, still on the phone, heard the gunshots and, in tears, cursed the bandits in Yoruba, saying, “You too shall be killed by gun bullets.”

Following this horrific event, the remaining captives were forced to resume walking. Over time, other kidnapped individuals were released as their ransoms were paid, with amounts ranging from ₦3 million to ₦12 million. Eventually, only Gbolahan and a woman who identified herself as a pastor’s wife remained. They were then transferred to another bandit group at a different location—a high hill. There, Gbolahan observed two men, one of whom was Hausa and another referred to as ‘Baba,’ chained to the ground. Gbolahan and the pastor’s wife were also chained, constantly urged to beg their families for money. After approximately 28 days, their group was reduced to three: Gbolahan, the Baba, and another man, as the pastor’s wife had been taken away. During this time, the group responsible for the infamous Eruku church incident brought their newly kidnapped victims to the same location. These approximately 35 individuals, including children, elderly women, and adults, were released after five days, their ransom reportedly paid by the Kwara State government. Gbolahan learned about their ordeal from one of the church victims.

Gbolahan believes he was saved by divine intervention, describing what he witnessed as an experience beyond comprehension. After enduring about 39 days in captivity, one of the bandits approached him, offering him a chance to go home if he could call his mother to send any available amount. His mother offered ₦1.5 million, but the bandit insisted on ₦2 million, to be delivered by Friday. On Friday, the bandit called Gbolahan’s mother, who inquired about the drop-off location. Surprisingly, the bandit provided an account number for a transfer. Since the bandits struggled with operating phones, Gbolahan texted the account number to his mother using the bandit’s phone. His mother transferred the money, and he was told he would be released the following day. The next morning, Gbolahan eagerly awaited his freedom, but the bandit who promised his release was absent. Only an errand boy, armed but friendly, remained. The bandit did not return until nightfall. He called the errand boy, and they disappeared briefly. When the errand boy returned, he appeared distraught, explaining that the bandit who collected ₦2 million had only given him ₦15,000. Angered, the errand boy declared he was leaving to go to his father’s house. On Sunday, the errand boy departed, leaving behind everything—keys, torchlight—except his gun. Initially, Gbolahan and the Baba suspected it was a trap and waited for hours. However, when no one returned, they took the keys and unchained themselves.

They fled, running and walking through unknown terrain, disoriented but driven by the memory of their ordeal. They rested when exhaustion overcame them and drank from any available stream, refusing to give up. Upon reaching a road with bike tracks, the Baba advised following them, indifferent to whether it led them back to danger. Fortunately, they encountered farmers harvesting crops, who offered them food and water. One farmer’s son took them on his bike to a nearby town, a journey that filled Gbolahan with renewed fear, mistaking it for another bandit trap. They eventually arrived safely at Isanlu Esa, Yagba West, Kogi State, where they were taken to an army base and interrogated by a major. The army then contacted the base at Oke Ako, Ekiti State, where Gbolahan was kidnapped, arranging for their transport to Ado Ekiti police station that same day. Gbolahan had called his mother from Isanlu Esa, and she was waiting for him at the police station.

To this day, Gbolahan’s mother is still repaying the debt incurred for his ransom. Gbolahan describes his experience as being caught in an unforeseen loop. He continues to suffer from sleepless nights, lives in constant fear, and has since left Ekiti State, refraining from going out, haunted by the feeling of being watched. His life, once normal, was irreversibly altered against his will, leaving him struggling to find a way forward. Tweets from his account, THIAGO☺️ (@GbolahanOlanyi0) on April 8, 2026, and April 7, 2026, confirm his survival and his ongoing journey to recover his sense of self after spending “42 days in the wilderness with bandits.”