Mrs. Oreku Odogbunwebe, a grieving widow and mother, has recounted the tragic murder of her only child, Deacon Donatus Ndubuisi, who was brutally killed by Fulani herdsmen in their compound on February 28.
Ndubuisi, fondly called “Ofunwa,” was visiting his mother in Ndiagu Amofia Umuhu village, Eha-Amufu, Isi-Uzu LGA, Enugu State, when the incident occurred.
His mother recounted, in an interview with SaharaReporters, how they spent the morning together, harvesting cassava, yam, and cowpeas from their farm.
As they worked, they heard gunshots in the distance, but didn’t think much of it until they heard a closer shot.
Ndubuisi’s uncle, who was working in a nearby palm plantation, was shot by the invaders.
Oreku and her son ran in different directions, unaware that Ndubuisi had been shot.
After the attackers left, Oreku searched for her son, calling out his name, but he didn’t respond. A search party was formed, and eventually, they found Ndubuisi’s lifeless body.
Oreku lamented that her only child, who was her sole source of comfort and support, had been taken away from her. “My own lineage and his lineage just closed because he is the only child of his father and my only child. That’s why I have refused to be consoled.”
She described Ndubuisi as a kind and hardworking young man who had graduated from university and was waiting to start his national youth service. He was also a skilled photographer and electrician.
Oreku expressed her frustration and sadness, stating that she had lost everything and was now left with nothing. “I need clothes, I need shelter to stay alive, and I need food. I am going to die of hunger because you can see me that I am no longer a child.”
She appealed to the government to provide her with a house, as she is currently squatting in someone else’s home.
Oreku also urged the authorities to take action against the armed herdsmen responsible for her son’s death.
As she reflected on her loss, Oreku said, “I had told him to go and marry so that I will nurse his children when I am still strong. He would tell me if he goes and marries now, who will support him. We don’t have help, but God has been faithful.”
She narrated, “My son came home on February 27, 2025, to see me because we were not living together; he was living in Enugu metropolis where he was studying. So, he came back on Thursday, Eke Market day, to be with me through the weekend and helped with some home chores.
“On Sunday, he would go back. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that that was the last time he would be with me on this earth,” she explained.
“That day, one of my relations met with him and told him that he should not sleep in Ndiagu Amofia (farm settlement). When my son came, he told me what our relation had said, but at the time he got to the settlement, it was already night. As a human and a mother, I asked him to stay back and sleep because night had already fallen. I was not comfortable letting him go back to the town that night.”
“So, he agreed and slept in the farm settlement. In the morning, we prayed together, and I asked him whether he would be going back that morning, but he said he would be going back to the town in the evening. He said he would accompany me to the farm that morning. We left very early, and before 9:30 am, we were already back. We only harvested some cassava, yam, and cowpeas. When we came back, I cooked food and finished before 12 noon. After he assisted me in processing the cassava, he ate and fetched water for me.”
She further explained that after he fetched water for her and they processed the cassava they harvested, she begged him to break bush mango seeds she had gathered and packed in the house.
“I asked him to help me break them while I was processing cowpeas we harvested from the farm. While we were doing the work, we started hearing gunshots, but we didn’t know where the sounds were coming from. My son said maybe the Fulani herdsmen had come again. I told him that the gunshots were sounding different. It was around 2 pm that we started hearing the shooting.”
“We continued working, and after a short while, we heard another gunshot. This one sounded close, and we didn’t know that they had approached our house. His uncle, who was inside the palm plantation clearing weeds, was the person the invaders shot. We didn’t know the next thing; my son shouted in a loud voice, ‘Jesus,’ and we ran. Because we didn’t know the direction the gunshot came from, we ran in different directions. I didn’t know that they had shot him.”