Rise of child cultists turning schools into battlefields (1)

Children as young as 12 in secondary schools are stealthily lured into violent cult groups, leaving behind a trail of bloodshed, fractured families, and lost futures. This investigative piece by GODFREY GEORGE exposes the grim reality of child cultism and its devastating impact on a nation nearly crippled by socioeconomic crises

At 16, Ipalibo has been arrested 12 times. In 2024 alone, he spent 11 days behind bars—11 nights in cold, filthy cells—with his childhood slipping through the cracks.

He lost his father before he turned four. His mother, Mina, eventually found love again. A young man was willing to marry her despite the weight of single motherhood. But Ipalibo was a thorn in their flesh. Mina had moved in with her lover and taken Ipalibo with her.

After being expelled from his second private school, he was sent off to the community secondary school to continue his education, but that did nothing.

It was one school fight after another until he was arrested and detained for cracking another student’s skull during a scuffle for seats at a social event held within the school premises.

He was subsequently suspended by the principal and asked to come back when he was ready to be better. He was in SS 1 (Year 10) at that time.

Back at home, if Ipalibo was not stealing from his stepfather, he was in brawls with the neighbours’ children or vanishing into the night for days, only to show up lean and sickly with machete marks on his back, a swollen jaw, a broken arm, or an injured, infected head.

In 2023, he was still 15. The community had a short period of power rationing, which lasted some weeks.

His mother’s small generator became the lifeline of their compound. Neighbours crowded her home to charge their phones and power banks. Most of them plugged in their devices and only came to pick them up when Mina turned off her generator before midnight.

But one August evening, something terrible happened—Ipalibo gathered all the phones charging in the living room and disappeared.

“For days, we didn’t see him,” Mina recalled, her voice heavy with regret.

It seemed like a random theft. Her phone, her husband’s, and over 11 others—including a neighbour’s brand-new iPhone 11—were gone. Yet the chargers remained plugged in, mocking them.

“At first, we thought it was a petty thief. We called the police. I searched everywhere. But my husband noticed something—while everyone panicked, Ipalibo was missing. His was the only phone still charging.”

They scoured the neighbourhood, checking his usual hideouts. No sign of him.

“For two weeks, no one saw him. Then someone said they spotted him sneaking out of a hotel with some boys—smoking, looking rough. One of them, Bruno, is a notorious thug, always getting into fights. I ran like a madwoman, but by the time I got there, he was gone.”

She involved the police. Days later, they found him by the waterside in another community, loitering with older boys, thick smoke curling from the marijuana sticks they held.

“I couldn’t even step in to take my son. I was afraid. I stood there, begging him to come home. But he just looked at me and said, ‘Mama, Dey go. I go join you later.’” He never did.

The police returned, but he had disappeared again. Four days later, officers finally caught him at a roadside buka in a neighbouring community. There was no escape.

After hours of interrogation—and the kind of rough handling the Nigerian police are known for—he confessed. Yes, he had stolen the phones, sold them, and spent the money. Over N455,000 gone in days. All he had left was N3,500.

Detention

Ipalibo was held by the police for over three days. Heartbroken, his mother urged them to charge him in court. But as a juvenile, he faced up to two years in prison for theft.

Her husband, who requested anonymity for personal reasons, secretly bailed Ipalibo out on the condition that he signed an agreement to return to school and cut ties with “bad boys.”

That promise lasted just a day. By the next morning, Mina discovered that he had stolen money from the previous day’s sales and disappeared for two more days.

“Sometimes, I won’t lie, I feel this boy is possessed,” she told this reporter, exasperated.

When they saw him next, he was in the vigilante detention centre of a nearby village caught for alleged cult activities.

The vigilantes claimed he was part of a group attempting to initiate a young man into their cult in the dead of night.

“I don’t know what they called it. They said it was Iceland, and my son was the leader of the group in his last school. I still cannot understand how a boy I raised in the name of the Lord decided to disgrace me like this. This was the same life his father lived before meeting an untimely death. Now, this one (Ipalibo) has taken over,” she lamented.

She managed to secure his release, though the vigilantes had planned to hand him, along with the other boys, over to the Criminal Intelligence and Investigations Department of the Rivers State Police Command. After much pleading and money changing hands Ipalibo was freed. He had been severely beaten; his swollen eyes were scarlet.

Out of desperation, Mina took him to a prayer house, leaving him in the hands of prophets to “pray out the spirit of cultism.”

Cultism in secondary schools

Cultism, once predominantly associated with tertiary institutions in Nigeria, has alarmingly permeated secondary schools, particularly in the Niger Delta region.

This infiltration has led to the emergence of various cult groups within these schools, contributing to increased violence and criminal activities among youths.

According to an online platform that publishes research on cult violence and other social issues, there are over 23 cult groups that have found their way into secondary schools.

One is the Deebam (Deygbam). Originating in the Niger Delta, Deebam is deeply rooted in the region. While not directly opposing the state, the group has engaged in violent clashes, particularly with rival cults like Deewell.

Their activities, our correspondent learnt, include organised crime such as drug trafficking, arms dealing, hostage-taking, and armed robbery.

Another is the Deewell (Deywell). Formed as a splinter group from the Supreme Vikings Confraternity in 1999, Deewell was established to counter the influence of Deebam. However, it struggled to challenge Deebam’s dominance, leading to the formation of the Icelanders in 2000.

Another is the Klansmen Konfraternity. Initially a campus-based cult, the Klansmen expanded their operations beyond universities in 1991 by forming Dee Gbam. This move marked their transition into street cult activities, seeking to exert control over defined territories.

Others include the Supreme Vikings Confraternity (SVC), Eiye Confraternity (National Association of Air Lords), Black Berets, Red Devils, KKK (Klansmen Konfraternity), Mafites, and Black Hearts which is open to both male and female joiners.

In the Northern part of the country, there are Yan Daba in Kano, Shagari Boys in Kaduna and Sara-Suka in Bauchi.

Who are the Icelanders of Nigeria?

The Iceland cult, also known as the Icelanders, is a very notorious criminal group operating primarily in Rivers, Edo, and Delta states. Over the years, investigations by Sunday PUNCH have linked them to numerous violent activities, contributing significantly to insecurity in the region.

While details about their formation remain scarce, they are one of the most feared cult groups in Rivers State. Their operations follow a strict hierarchy, with leaders orchestrating various criminal activities. Ex-cult members revealed that recruitment often starts in secondary schools.

One such member, who identified himself as Kpali, told Sunday PUNCH that he was recruited in Junior Secondary School 2 and remained a member until he graduated. He attended Bonny National Grammar School in Rivers State.

“They (Icelanders) were always on my case. They’d surround me in the corridors, threatening to make my life a living hell if I didn’t join. They beat me up, mocked me for being a ‘Jew man,’ and warned me not to report them,” he recalled.

Kpali was eventually initiated during an inter-house sports event in 2014 at Coconut Estate, Abalamabie Road in Bonny in Rivers State.

“The initiation involved severe beatings with machetes and a blood oath. But since I had two insiders who vouched for me, they spared me the worst. They poured kai kai (ethanol-based liquor) on my back, made me recite some words, and introduced me to the group’s colours and meeting days. I was only 13.”

After initiation, new members were required to choose a ‘guy name’ and deliver an ‘orientation’—a personalised declaration of identity.

“It’s a mix of coded jargon about your abilities, the people in your ‘black book,’ and why you should be feared or respected,” explained Fenibo Peterside, a sociologist researching cult activities in Rivers State.

Peterside noted that the initiation process was designed to cement loyalty, ensuring members remained bound to the group for life.

“Even in death, cultists rarely betray their secrets. The oath is the ultimate bond,” he said.

Kpali admitted that his cult participated in numerous attacks, sometimes over trivial disputes.

“We fought when our members were threatened or killed. Sometimes, even petty things like a capon’s girlfriend being snatched could spark a war. We had access to guns, but I usually handled machetes,” he said.

Pressed on whether he had participated in killings, Kpali fell silent.

“I can’t talk about that. But I’m no longer in the life. I left when I got into Lagos State University and moved to Lagos. That doesn’t mean they can’t find me I’m still scared.”

Now a baptised member of a popular Pentecostal church, Kpali insisted he had turned a new leaf.

“Even when I struggled with failed courses in LASU and had to repeat a year because of a lecturer, I never went back to cultism—not even once. I’m a changed man. I’m fully born again,” he said.

Assaults, murders

The Iceland cult has been linked to a series of violent crimes, including killings, oil bunkering, kidnapping for ransom, and extortion—particularly in the riverside areas of Rivers State, Sunday PUNCH reports.

One of their most notorious acts was the brutal killing of SP Bako Angbashim, the Divisional Police Officer in Ahoada.

Reports indicate that the DPO engaged in a prolonged gun battle with Iceland cult members led by a figure known as 2Baba. When the police ran out of ammunition, the cultists captured and killed him.

The group has also been accused of facilitating illegal oil bunkering, providing “security” for criminal operations run by local politicians.

In October 2024, suspected Iceland cult members stormed the Edeoha community in Ahoada East Local Government Area, killing four residents. The assailants reportedly went door-to-door, hunting their targets and spreading fear among locals.

Beyond killings, the cult is deeply involved in kidnapping and extortion. In a chilling recent case, five members were arrested for murdering a man and still demanding ransom from his mother. The criminals had initially requested N2.5m. Unaware that her son was already dead, the grieving mother transferred N300,000 into his account.

Police’s efforts

In response to the escalating violence attributed to the Iceland cult, law enforcement agencies have intensified their efforts to dismantle the group.

For instance, in November 2024, police operatives neutralised a notorious cultist and kidnapper, Gbarani Bume—also known as Pelele—who was a member of the Iceland cult terrorising the Beree/Tabaa axis of Khana LGA.

Upon sighting the operatives, the hoodlums opened fire, resulting in a fierce crossfire during which Pelele was fatally wounded. His accomplices escaped with various degrees of bullet wounds.

Following the killing of DPO Bako Angbashim, a manhunt led to the arrest of six suspects believed to be involved in the crime. The Rivers State Government and the Nigeria Police also offered N100m bounty for any credible information leading to the arrest of the cult leader known as 2Baba.

The activities of the Iceland cult have had devastating effects on communities in the state. Their violent operations have led to significant loss of life and destruction of property, instilling fear among residents.

Frequent attacks have forced many to flee their homes, leading to displacement and humanitarian challenges.

The group’s involvement in oil bunkering and other illegal activities has disrupted local economies and contributed to environmental degradation. The most frustrating aspect of their activities is the cycle of recruitment, as they have been alleged to have infiltrated several private and state-owned secondary schools to lure unsuspecting young boys like Ipalibo into the group.

‘They macheted my son’

A mother of two, who chose to remain unnamed for personal reasons, was devastated when her son came home one afternoon from school in Rivers State with a swollen lip and bloodshot eyes. The sight was incomprehensible for a mother who had always known her child to be “quiet and well-mannered.”

She wasn’t alone in her distress. Alongside four other mothers, all of whose children had been accused of cult involvement, she found some comfort in a small support group. They were mothers, bound by grief and confusion, desperate to pull their sons back from the brink.

At the time, her son, Israel, was in SS2. He had just been appointed Science Prefect. He was also a star athlete, with his life seemingly revolving around academics and football. Cultism was the furthest thing from her mind.

So, when Israel came home that day, battered and bruised, she couldn’t comprehend it. “I asked him everything I could, but he told me he had an accident. I had no idea he’d followed his gang members to another school to attack a boy who had ‘stolen’ the girlfriend of their leader,” she recounted, still in disbelief. “It didn’t make sense. This was the same Israel who never missed Sunday school, and who was always polite and obedient. How could he possibly be involved in something so sinister?”

When the police linked him to a cult group and detained him, her world seemed to crumble. She rushed to the station, desperate to clear his name. “I didn’t even ask him any more questions. I thought they were lying. Even his school principal had been fooled by his quietness and brilliance. I never imagined he was truly a member of that gang. He was friends with Ipalibo, who later turned out to be a member of the same cult,” she said.

The truth came in pieces. She thought she knew her son, but now, she had to face the painful truth that she only knew the part of him he chose to reveal.

“The police released Israel to me that day, but they told me to look at his back. There were marks and some kind of inscription. I also found out his ‘guy name’ was ‘Broccoli.’ I had to beg him for hours, crying, on my knees, before he confessed that he had been in the cult for two school terms. That day was his first operation,” she said, her voice strained.

At that moment, she vowed that her son would never return to that school. After consulting with his father and their pastor, Israel was transferred to another school across the river. However, on his first day there, he was attacked.

“Some cult members weren’t happy he had revealed their secrets. They attacked him after school while he was waiting for a speedboat. They macheted him in the back and thigh, but luckily, there were people around who fought back,” she explained.

The next day, Israel was sent to Port Harcourt for safety. After a few weeks, he was enrolled in a missionary school in Imo State to finish his studies and write his final exams.

‘I coulndn’t believe my eyes’

The vice-principal of the school where Israel had transferred—who had witnessed the attack—told our correspondent that he could hardly believe what he had seen.

“I thought this cult matter had died down, but if you see the way these boys used their machetes, you would know they are professionals. Since then, we (teachers) have become so careful, even in our conduct,” he said.

When asked if he was aware of cultism in secondary schools, he replied, “Of course, I know some of these students are members of cult groups. I know that. It is almost a part of the fabric of most secondary schools in the area. It used to be a thing with only government-owned schools. Now, even private schools are not an exception.

“The other day, over a small competition that was won by one private school, some students from the losing school attacked the school bus of the winners, smashing the windows. Several students were injured. We later learnt that the main perpetrators of the attack were themselves ambushed two days later and beaten to a pulp,” the VP added.

Cultism now rampant in secondary schools – Policeman

A policeman in the area, who was privy to the matter but did not want to be named for security reasons, said child cultism was rampant in the region, especially among senior secondary school students.

“They are recruited from age 12, 13, and 14, and by the time they become seniors in SS2 and SS3, they are very ruthless. Most of them barely graduate, and the ones who do are always hiding,” the source said.

He advised parents to report any suspicious marks or sudden changes in behaviour to the police for further investigation, warning that any child could be a cultist and may just be masking it.

“These cultists are very good at masking their identities. It is not all of them that go about with rugged hairdos, crazy jeans, and smoke weed. Some of them are very cool and normal, but they go for meetings and operations. The other day, a schoolgirl was arrested during a raid.

“She had gone for a meeting with her cult group, BarBeach, and the police stormed the area, seizing tons of weed. She was only 17 years old and was the Social Prefect of a popular private school. When the parents, who were preachers, were called to bail their child, they could not believe it. She was the perfect child,” he said.

BarBeach cult group for schoolgirls

The BarBeach cult group is a clandestine organisation reportedly operating in Rivers, Bayelsa, and other riverside states in Nigeria, Sunday PUNCH investigations revealed.

Although information about this group is scarce, and there is limited documentation in public records or academic journals regarding their origins, structure, or activities, several sources who spoke to our correspondent said it was the female version of the Icelanders.

“The BarBeach Cult is for girls. They are very sophisticated and have some of the finest girls as members. These girls, between the ages of 14 and 19, are mostly recruited from secondary school. Some of them are lured by their boyfriends to join the ‘social club’, which they later find out is a cult group.

“Some stay even after secondary school and become capons, but several of them leave the group after some time. However, there is always that saying, ‘Once a Bar-Btch, always a Bad Btch.’”

“Their activities are very clandestine, and only members can really say what they do. But from my findings, they stand for each other and would go for operations against anyone who dares touch their member,” said local researcher Peterside.

He cited an incident where a girl had gone with her group to beat up and strip another girl, who had allegedly slept with her boyfriend.

“When we traced the matter, we found out that they were girls from the BarBeach cult group, who banded together and attacked the young girl, brutally injuring her because of a man,” he added.

Greenland cult group

The Greenland cult group, also known as the Greenlanders, is a prominent and notorious secret society operating primarily in Rivers and Bayelsa states in Nigeria. They are one of the numerous cult groups contributing to the region’s insecurity through violent activities and criminal enterprises.

In January 2025, suspected members of the Greenlanders invaded the Igbogene community, a suburb of Yenagoa in Bayelsa State, resulting in the deaths of three individuals: 28-year-old Donaldson Mison, 27-year-old Addy Mulan, and 29-year-old Greenboy Dudella. The assailants, numbering about ten and armed with dangerous weapons, attacked the community around 8:00 pm, causing residents to flee for safety. One of the victims was reportedly the son of a former head of the community vigilante group.

The Greenlanders have also been involved in violent clashes with rival cult groups, such as the Bobos. These confrontations often lead to loss of life and heightened tension within affected communities.

The Bayelsa State Police Command has acknowledged the presence of over 50 organised cult groups in the state, with the Greenlanders being among the most active.

The origins of the Greenlanders are not well documented, but they are believed to have emerged from the complex socio-political landscape of the Niger Delta. Factors such as economic disenfranchisement, political marginalisation, and unemployment have contributed to the proliferation of cult groups in the region. These groups reportedly often engage in various criminal activities, including armed robbery, kidnapping, and political thuggery, further destabilising the area.

Greenland hungers for high-scale violence, says ex-member

A social commentator who lives in Bayelsa and claimed to be an ex-member of the Greenland cult group told this reporter that the violence associated with the group was high-scale.

“This is not a group of small boys. I joined when I was already in senior school in Amassoma, Bayelsa State. We had what we called ‘Point One’, who is the leader. The ‘Point Two’ was the second in command. We also had the ‘Executioner’, who sanctioned operations.

“It used to be a social club of young men who gathered to drink, smoke, and sleep with women, but I saw them perpetrate violence first-hand. I could not graduate from my secondary school because of an attack that happened in my school at that time in 2012.”

“People who knew about the case at the time can testify. Many of our members were killed in their homes. I ran to Brass to stay with my grandma for months before I heard that most people from my unit (local area) had been killed. I was told by a senior member that I had to take over as the ‘Point One’, and I ran away.

“I am an adult now and have stopped all that, but it was a serious challenge then. My parents did all they could to preserve my life,” the source said.

Efforts to curb the influence of the Greenlanders and similar cult groups have been ongoing, our correspondent learned.

Law enforcement agencies, in collaboration with community leaders, have been working to apprehend members and dismantle their networks. However, the deeply entrenched nature of these groups and their ability to recruit new members—often from a young age—pose significant challenges to these initiatives.

Monitor your kids, educationist urges parents

Experts say this rise in secondary school cultism demands urgent intervention to prevent further violence and safeguard the future of Nigerian youths.

An educationist and child/women’s rights advocate, Mercy Chepaka, urged parents to look out for their children in secondary schools, stating that they are not too young to be lured into cult groups.

“It is no longer a matter of waiting for them to get into university before you start sounding the alarm. Before they enter JSS1, sit them down, tell them about the dangers and how they might be attacked or killed, and how their futures could be truncated. Give them that consciousness so they go to school armed with knowledge,” she said.

Chepaka also urged school administrators to ensure that new intakes are thoroughly checked before they are admitted.

“Most schools do not do background checks. As long as money is involved, they will admit anyone into the system. It should not be so. Otherwise, you will end up breeding a school filled with violent cultists, and by the time you realise it, it may be too late for you,” she advised.