General Yakubu Gowon, I write to you today not out of condemnation, but out of love—love for your soul, which is of infinite value before the Creator. Time is short; I must speak to you in these final years. The cries of the innocent, the women whose wombs were ripped open, the men beheaded, the children thrown from bridges—all their blood cries out. Igbos were gored like animals in their own land, starved, and left to die under the weight of the war that you officiated.
You declared “No Victor, No Vanquished,” and for that, history has shown some favour. But is it enough to pacify the blood of over three million Igbos, spilled in a senseless war? While you sought to heal a fractured nation, the tears of the Igbos have not dried. Time is slipping through your hands, General Gowon, and the opportunity for true reconciliation and redemption dwindles with every passing moment.
As a Christian, you know well the teachings of Christ: to seek forgiveness, to reconcile with those you have wronged, and to atone before the judgment seat of God. Yet, you presided over one of the most horrific chapters in Nigerian history—the Biafra War. You watched as innocent children, women, and men—many of whom shared your Christian faith—were raped, gored, massacred, starved, and dehumanized.
The women whose wombs were ripped open, the men gored like animals, the children beheaded, and those thrown from bridges—each soul was precious in the sight of God. These lives, brutally cut short, demand reckoning. Yes, you did some good. You declares “No Victor, No Vanquished,” and in many ways, without your leadership, more Igbos might have been slaughtered after the war. That is undeniable. Your words possibly prevented further bloodshed; you deserve some credit for this mercy.
In January 1967, you, General Gowon, stood before fellow military leaders and the Igbo delegation at Aburi, Ghana. There, you promised peace. You promised a resolution to the growing tensions, especially after the anti-Igbo pogroms in Northern Nigeria where thousands of your Igbo brothers were butchered in cold blood.
General Yakubu Gowon, a man who once professed a deep Christian faith, now stands at the twilight of his life with the weight of an entire nation’s history upon his shoulders. As the former Head of State who led Nigeria through one of its darkest chapters—the Biafran War—Gowon’s role in the suffering of millions of innocent Igbos cannot be understated. His actions, guided by a desire to “keep Nigeria one,” led to the deaths of over three million people, many of them his Christian brothers and sisters. As a man who claims to follow the teachings of Christ, the question that must now weigh on his soul is this: Has he ever truly sought forgiveness for the atrocities committed under his leadership?
Gowon, who today resides in the comfort of the United Kingdom, must confront his conscience as he reflects on the past. How can a Christian leader—who claims to serve the Prince of Peace—justify the deliberate starvation, mass killing, and suffering inflicted upon the Igbo people, the very people Christ died to save? These are questions that demand not only honest reflection but also repentance. For as you stand at the threshold of eternity, General Gowon, there are cries from the earth—echoes of the blood of innocent children, women, and men—rising to heaven, demanding justice and reconciliation.
The Aburi betrayal and massacre.
In January 1967, you, General Gowon, stood before fellow military leaders and the Igbo delegation at Aburi, Ghana. There, you promised peace. You promised a resolution to the growing tensions, especially after the anti-Igbo pogroms in Northern Nigeria where thousands of your Igbo brothers were butchered in cold blood. They trusted your words, your handshake, and your assurances. Yet, upon returning to Nigeria, you broke that promise. You betrayed the agreement that could have spared millions of lives. The Aburi Accord was not merely a political document—it was a covenant that could have prevented the devastating war that followed.
Your betrayal of that covenant led to the declaration of the Biafran War, a war in which millions of innocent Igbos, many of whom were devout Christians like yourself, perished in one of the most horrific genocides in African history. Under your command, the Nigerian military blockaded the Eastern Region, cutting off food and medicine. Children starved to death. Mothers watched their babies die in their arms, their eyes hollow from hunger. You, a Christian leader, sanctioned policies that led to these unspeakable horrors. How is that different from Adolf Hitler’s massacre of the Jews?
As a Christian, you know well the teachings of Christ: to seek forgiveness, to reconcile with those you have wronged, and to atone before the judgment seat of God. Yet, you presided over one of the most horrific chapters in Nigerian history—the Biafra War. You watched as innocent children, women, and men—many of whom shared your Christian faith—were raped, gored, massacred, starved, and dehumanized.
Hitler orchestrated the Holocaust, sending millions of Jews to their deaths in concentration camps and gas chambers, driven by hatred and prejudice. The world looks upon Hitler’s legacy with disgust, seeing him as a man responsible for one of the greatest atrocities in human history. But General Gowon, how different is your legacy from his? You may not have set up gas chambers, but you oversaw a blockade that caused famine, and you ordered bombings that killed innocent civilians in their homes. Is the death of a million Igbo children by starvation any less tragic than the death of Jewish children in Auschwitz? Both are genocides. Both are stains on human history. Each stains the soul of Christ’s followers who lead.
General Gowon, the blood of millions of Igbos cries out from the ground. The blood of children who died with distended bellies from hunger, the blood of women who were raped, the blood of men who were executed, all cry out to heaven. And they cry out to you. You’re elderly, nearing life’s end, on eternity’s threshold. Can you, with a clear conscience, approach the throne of God without seeking forgiveness from those you wronged?
The Bible says in Matthew 5:23-24, “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. Begin by reconciling with your brother. The Igbo people, your Christian brothers, have something against you. Can you stand before God without first seeking their forgiveness?
Hell is real, General Gowon. The Bible speaks of eternal punishment for those who harbour sin in their hearts without repentance. Matthew 25:41 warns of a place “prepared for the devil and his angels,” where those who cannot live according to God’s commandments will be cast. How can you, responsible for leading many to their deaths, expect to confront Christ’s judgment seat without reconciling with the Igbo people?
Christians are called to love their neighbours as themselves. But what love did you show to the Igbo people, General Gowon? What compassion did you offer when you sanctioned policies that starved millions of people? What forgiveness can you seek from God if you refuse to acknowledge the pain and suffering you inflicted on your fellow Christians, your fellow Nigerians?
Do you believe that heaven will welcome you while the ghosts of innocent children haunt your steps? Do you think the gates of eternity will swing open for you while the cries of millions of Igbo souls echo in the courts of heaven, demanding justice? Without true repentance and reconciliation, the path before you is clear—and it is not one that leads to the kingdom of heaven.
Children starved to death. Mothers watched their babies die in their arms, their eyes hollow from hunger. You, a Christian leader, sanctioned policies that led to these unspeakable horrors. How is that different from Adolf Hitler’s massacre of the Jews?
General Gowon, the time is now. Your youth has passed; your remaining days are limited. You cannot run from your conscience, nor can you escape the judgment of God. There is only one path to redemption, and that path is through heartfelt repentance. You must apologise to the Igbo people, not as a political act, but as a Christian seeking forgiveness. You must own the atrocities committed under your leadership and seek reconciliation with the families of those who perished.
The Igbo people are not just your fellow countrymen—they are your brothers and sisters in Christ. How can you hope to stand in heaven’s glory if you cannot acknowledge the pain, suffering, and loss that you caused them?
This is your last chance, General Gowon. If you want to make heaven, if you seek to stand before God without guilt or shame, then you must make amends. Seek the forgiveness of the Igbo people. Atone for the war, the famine, and the massacres. Do this not for political reasons, but because your Christian faith demands it.
Repentance brings forgiveness, according to the Bible. But without it, there is only judgment. 2 Corinthians 5:10 reminds us, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.” What will your verdict be, General Gowon? Will you enter eternity with the weight of three million souls on your conscience, or will you seek to make peace with your Christian brothers and with God?
Gowon, why now? This is your last chance to correct past mistakes. The time for soul cleansing precedes judgment. Repent, atone, and reconcile—before the moment passes.
