The long wait for justice: The bustling yet weary corridors of Benue High Court, a file labeled NAJUWA has become something of a ghost

By Joseph Adahnu, Yola

It appeared on cause lists, only to vanish into adjournments, reschedulings, and long silences. For the members of the National Association of Jukun Wanu (NAJUWA), this was not just another civil suit.

It was the story of a people who felt pushed to the margins in their own state alleging years of discrimination, exclusion from governance, and neglect along the banks of the River Benue in areas like Makurdi, Guma, and Logo Leadership

A text written by Manuel Ashepo said, they had approached the court seeking accountability and N1 billion in damages, believing the law could finally address their grievances against the Benue State Government and others. But as months stretched into years, the temple of justice began to feel more like a waiting room with no exit.495e31Benue

A community in limbo
Elder Terna sat under the shade of a mango tree in his compound, surrounded by younger men and women of the Jukun Wanu community. “We did not rush to court,” he said quietly. “We tried dialogue. We wrote letters. We waited for understanding. When none came, we turned to the law the last hope of the common man.”

Behind every adjournment were real human costs: opportunities lost, businesses stalled, children growing up under the shadow of uncertainty, and a growing whisper that the system did not see them as equal citizens. Families watched as their leaders grew older carrying the weight of an unresolved fight. Hope, once bright, began to dim with each “case adjourned to the next date.”

The Nigerian Constitution promises every citizen a fair hearing within a reasonable time. Yet for NAJUWA, time itself had become the adversary. Justice postponed, many feared, was slowly turning into justice denied.

The petition Frustrated but not defeated, the association took a bold but lawful step. They petitioned the National Judicial Council (NJC) the body tasked with ensuring discipline, integrity, and efficiency in the judiciary. The petition was not an attack on the judges or the court. It was a plea for accountability: Why has this matter lingered without clear progress? What explanations exist for the endless delays?

Manuel Ashepor captured the sentiment powerfully in his writing: the strength of any democracy rests on institutions that deliver justice not just fairly and independently, but timely. A judiciary that commands respect must ensure that citizens who approach it leave with their grievances resolved, not buried in administrative fog.

The bigger picture Judicial independence is sacred, and must be protected at all costs. But independence does not mean immunity from scrutiny. The NJC exists precisely for moments like this to examine concerns, review proceedings, and restore public confidence where it may be eroding.

The NAJUWA case became more than a dispute between one association and the state. It turned into a test of whether the justice system could still deliver for ordinary communities, or whether powerful delays would continue to silence voices. In courtrooms across Nigeria, countless other files gather dust. But each delayed case carries a human story of dashed hopes, prolonged suffering, and fading trust in the rule of law.

A call renewed as the petition reached the NJC, the Jukun Wanu people waited once more. Not with despair this time, but with quiet determination. They believed that justice, though slow, could still prevail if the right eyes turned to the Benue High Court and asked the necessary questions.
Because in the end, justice must not only be done. It must be seen to be accessible, timely, and available to all no matter how small the community or how long the wait has been.

The file labeled NAJUWA still sits in the court. But now, it carries the weight of institutional eyes upon it. The community hopes that soon, the ghost will finally be laid to rest, and their day in court will bring not just a ruling, but closure and renewed faith in the system.
For now, under the mango trees by the River Benue, they wait but they wait with their voices raised.