"From this day forward, any person found practicing FGM in our community shall face both communal and legal consequences.”
These were the powerful words of H.R.H. Ezeogo Anthony Ogbalikpa, Mgbo Agbaja, Ebonyi State. It was a warm October morning. Hundreds of residents gathered under colourful canopies. Women arrived with their daughters. Elders sat beside youth leaders. Religious and traditional authorities stood with government officials. They had not gathered for a festival or political rally, but for a promise: to protect their girls and end Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). H.R.H. Ezeogo Anthony Ogbalikpa continued with details.
“Their land and titles will be revoked. They shall be removed from positions of authority. Perpetrators will be handed over to law enforcement. Our community stands united to protect our girls and uphold their rights."
The words of H.R.H were met with applause and nods of agreement. Parents shed quiet tears, knowing their daughters would be safer. This moment crowned months of H.R.H.'s personal engagement. He mobilised his people, convened meetings, and engaged families in difficult conversations about a long-standing practice. On 11 October 2025, he made history. Mama Adaeze was seventy-three the first time she spoke it aloud. She recalled how her voice had been calm since she was thirteen, when her mother gave her a blade. It stayed calm through years of cleaning blood and receiving small payments from grateful mothers.
"I held the razor for forty years," she told the women of Mgbo Agbaja. "Forty years, and I never once asked myself what I was cutting away."
"But I have granddaughters now," she said. "And I will not be the woman they remember with fear."
That evening, she walked to her backyard and buried the knife beneath the mango tree. No ceremony. No announcement. Just red earth closing over forty years of female genital mutilation.
Three compounds away, another grandmother was doing the same. This is how change begins. It starts with a grandmother setting down her razor. Another watches. Another whispers, 'If she can, perhaps I can too.'
Recognizing the importance of community voices, UNFPA and partners turned to the people who shape daily life: traditional rulers, faith leaders, women's groups, and youth networks to end FGM.
In Osun and Oyo, they reached 65 communities across 12 LGAs in 2025. Not with lectures. During household visits, volunteers listened more than they spoke. Intergenerational dialogues followed, allowing survivors to name their childhood wounds. Community-designed sanctions gave people ownership of accountability systems.
Meanwhile, in the quiet but resolute town of Ode-Oba, located in Iseyin Local Government Area of Oyo State, history was made. On the 20th of December, 2025, the community joined the growing movement of towns and villages choosing to protect their daughters and uphold their rights by publicly declaring an end to female genital mutilation.
This declaration was not an isolated event. It was part of a broader 2025 intervention. The programme was implemented through partners and Community-Based Organizations across 35 communities in Oyo State. Partners relied on traditional structures, dialogue, and ongoing engagement to shift deep social norms.
The path to abandonment began with respect for tradition and governance. Recognizing Iseyin LGA’s authority structure, the project team started with high-level advocacy. They first visited the palace of Oba Sefiu Olawale Oyebola Adeyeri III (Ajirotutu I), the Aseyin of Iseyin, who rules over all Baales, Chiefs, and Obas in the LGA.
Ode-Oba’s experience shows that social norm change is possible when traditional institutions partner rather than being bypassed. Royal endorsement was secured. Community champions were strengthened. Dialogue was fostered. Symbols of commitment appeared in daily life. The initiative turned statements into collective accountability.
In Ode-Oba, the declaration was not merely an event. It was the culmination of dialogue, leadership, and consensus, and a promise that the protection of girls will remain visible, respected, and enduring.
Public declarations marked months of invisible work. More than 4,900 people attended last year's ceremonies. Leaders recited oaths in mother tongues and unveiled zero-tolerance signage. These signages grew from roots already planted.
Voices from the Ground
Speaking on this milestone, the UNFPA Resident Representative, Ms. Muriel Mafico, emphasized the importance of community leadership: “Lasting change happens when communities lead their own transformation. These declarations show that culture evolves to protect life, dignity, and opportunity. UNFPA is proud to stand with leaders and families who are building a future free from FGM.”
What Remains
Mama Adaeze still tends her mango tree. Her grand daughters play in its shade, chasing lizards and arguing over who will climb higher. They do not know what sleeps beneath their feet.
But they know other things. They know their bodies are theirs alone. Tradition is not a chain but a river—it flows, changes, and finds new ground. The day H.R.H. Ezeogo Anthony Ogbalikpa signed his declaration, Mama Adaeze heard from her daughter-in-law. She heard it from market women, who got it from the radio. She listened while stirring her pot.
That night, she stood under the mango tree in the darkness. Not digging. Not praying. Just standing, hand on the bark, seventy-three years gathered quietly. Forty years with the razor. One afternoon to lay it down.
This movement is not about imposing change from outside. It is about grandmothers choosing the story they leave behind. They choose not blood and blade, but mango trees, playing children, and their own voices saying: No more.
In Ebonyi, Osun, and Oyo, the knives are being buried. One by one, in backyards and beneath trees, in the quiet evenings, when no one is watching.
The earth receives them. The children play above them. And the future, at last, belongs to the girls.
