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Abuja's origins: Land seized for a new capital
In the late 1980s, Lami Ezekiel watched as bulldozers flattened her family's farmland in Maitama to make way for Nigeria's new capital, Abuja. Nearly 40 years later, she and other indigenous residents say the compensation they were promised has never arrived.
The birth of the Federal Capital Territory
The shift from Lagos to Abuja began in 1976, when Nigeria's military government designated 7,315 square kilometers-carved from Niger, Plateau, and Kaduna states-as the Federal Capital Territory (FCT). The move aimed to create a neutral, centrally located seat of power, free from the ethnic and political tensions of the coastal former capital.
For indigenous groups like the Gbagyi, however, the FCT was far from "no man's land." Historians and anthropologists estimate communities had lived on the land for over 6,000 years-long before the territory's official creation. Daniel Aliyu Kwali, president of the FCT Stakeholders' Assembly, notes, "The FCT is just 50 years old; I am 70. We are much older than the FCT."
Forced relocations and broken promises
Initial plans called for relocating all local inhabitants outside the FCT, but the government reversed course due to the high cost of resettlement. Those in central districts, however, were still displaced. John Ngbako, then a community secretary in Maitama, recalled his confusion: "What is wrong with us that we couldn't live with the newcomers?"
Families were moved to Kubwa, a site lacking basic amenities. Laraba Adamu, who was newly married at the time, described the hostility she faced: "People would see us coming to the river and say, 'The government cows have arrived.'"
Residents say they were promised farmland, housing, electricity, and water-none of which materialized. Ezekiel, now in her 80s, cooks outside her two-room home and buys drinking water. "When we were moved, they promised us all the social amenities. None of them have been fulfilled," she said.
Land disputes and ongoing demolitions
Tensions persist. In March 2025, bulldozers razed homes in Gishiri, an indigenous community predating the FCT. Schoolteacher Princess Juliet Jombo, 32, saw her late father's properties-including a one-bedroom flat-destroyed. The government initially offered 260,000 naira ($170) in compensation, later doubling it after protests, but she called the amount insufficient for alternative housing.
The demolition also shuttered a community primary school, leaving nearly 500 pupils out of class for months. Nasiru Suleiman, director of resettlement at the Federal Capital Development Authority (FCDA), defended the process as consultative, stating compensation is paid directly or replaced with housing.
"By law, the government must first dialogue with the people who have a right to choose where they feel safe. Then the government should build houses and relocate them to the new site."
Isaac David, activist
Political exclusion and systemic neglect
Beyond land disputes, indigenous residents face political marginalization. Unlike Nigeria's 36 states, the FCT has no elected governor; the president appoints a minister to oversee it. This denies locals the right to elect their own leader or run for the position-a right afforded to citizens in other states.
"As an indigene of Niger, I could contest elections as governor of Niger state," said Kwali. "But here, I have no constitutional right to elect a governor, and I cannot run myself."
Methuselah Jeji, 32, worries about the future for his newborn child: "My child can never be governor. That is very sad-not because I am not able, but because the FCT is where God has placed me."
Activists argue this lack of representation contributes to underdevelopment in indigenous settlements. While central Abuja boasts wide boulevards, embassies, and high-rises, many outlying communities lack paved roads, reliable electricity, or secure land titles.
A call for justice and representation
Despite decades of frustration, activists like David-nicknamed "Commander"-advocate for nonviolent resistance. "We can demand our rights," he said. "We want representation. We want to have a voice in our own land."
Esu Bulus Yerima Pada, chief of Maitama-Kubwa, said the government has yet to provide legal documents confirming residents' ownership of their new land, despite promises. Community members sometimes bring their children to Maitama, now one of Abuja's most affluent neighborhoods, to show them the banana trees their ancestors planted.
Ezekiel clings to hope. "If I could be given land to farm today, land where I and my children can work, I would be truly grateful," she said. "I am still strong."
