This article examines the rise of vigilantism in southeastern Nigeria.

Two opposing discourses on Nigerian vigilantism are examined. The first is characterized by the valorization of vigilantes as heroes in popular Nigerian video movies. The second is represented by a recent Human Rights Watch (HRW) report denouncing the vigilantes as criminals.
My research utilizes ethnographic research to contextualize the video movies as a means toward understanding the ideological gap between these discourses. A close analysis of the Issakaba video series reveals a subtle treatment of the vigilante phenomenon designed to appeal to an indigenous perspective that is cognizant of the inherent risks of vigilante justice but also aware of the limitations of reform strategies such as those proposed by the HRW report.

I was traveling across southern Nigeria from Enugu to Lagos in what Nigerians call a "luxury bus." Packed with people, the large coach alternated between rocketing down stretches of expressway that were relatively pothole free and crawling slowly over the long tracks of road that were more pothole than pavement. It would be a full day of travel and as usual, a salesman provided entertainment for part of the journey. Before peddling his wares, he led the passengers in a few hymns and then gave a sermon in which he petitioned Jesus to protect the bus from violent attack. Utterances from the passengers enthusiastically endorsed this sentiment. Luxury buses had become a favorite target for the armed robbers that plague Nigeria's roads and markets. Just a few weeks earlier, robbers on this very route had forced a bus like this to a stop, and thirty passengers were murdered.

Thus bus sermons provide a modicum of comfort to Nigerians who seek security in an increasingly perilous environment. Understanding this helps one to appreciate the poignancy of the opening scene of Issakaba 2, the second in an extremely popular Nigerian video movie series about armed robbers and the vigilantes, or "Bakassi Boys," that have mobilized to stop them. The movie opens with an inspiring sermon on a luxury bus. The preacher shouts, "I pray that none of you meet any robber today, in Jesus' name!" and the passengers respond with a resounding "Amen!"
He then smiles ironically and says, "Brethren, I don't know how effective that prayer was... Because, you are face to face with an armed robber!" Suddenly brandishing a gun, he walks down the aisle demanding money and jewelry from the passengers. Along the way he grabs a baby from its mother and points his gun at its head as the mother begs pitifully for mercy. This dramatic transition from religious comfort to abject terror in the opening scene of the movie resonates with the anxiety Nigerians feel about the pervasive violence that has become an increasingly prevalent fact in their lives.

On our bus, however, the preacher was of the ordinary sort. He was soon hawking his odd assortment of products, including Indian ayurvedic ointments and packaged wafers. By the time we reached Onitsha, his performance was over. It was Sunday morning and the streets of the great market city on the Niger River were bustling with people on their way to church services.
Through the windshield I caught a fleeting glimpse of what looked like a headless body on the median. Then I saw another decapitated human body between the roads. Smoke rose lazily from it, much of the flesh burned away from the blackened bones. I watched the crowds of finely dressed churchgoers filing past the carnage. They seemed to take no more notice of the mutilated corpses at their feet than they did of the clutter of refuse that had accumulated between the roads. People stepped around the bodies and went on their way.

I knew the Bakassi Boys had been summoned by Governor Mbadinuju of Anambra State to rid the city of Onitsha of a plague of armed robbers. I knew that the governor had acted under pressure from citizens of Onitsha, particularly the market women who had suffered extensive loss of property and life from the thieves' predations. I knew the methods of justice and techques of execution employed by this now legendary vigilante group. I knew, therefore, what it was I was witnessing. I wondered whether the people who strode past the corpses perceived them as marking the end of a reign of terror-irrefutable evidence that the murderous criminals whose dismembered bodies smoldered by the road would no longer threaten them. My struggle to understand the scene intellectually, however, left me unsatisfied. The reaction of the city's residents to the carnage remained opaque.