She grew up hearing words no child should ever hear from her father, “You will never amount to anything.” Today, Becky Banka is the founder of Cheerful Hands Initiative, a lifeline for women and children in Benue State, especially in their darkest hours. In this interview with Rita Oyiboka, she talks about her journey from rejection to impact, the realities in Benue’s IDP camps, and why she refuses to let another child feel as powerless as she once did.
Please can we meet you?
My name is Becky Banka. I am from Benue State, Tiv by tribe.
When was Cheerful Hands Initiative founded?
Cheerful Hands Initiative has been in existence since 2015, but activities fully took off in 2019. It got officially registered in November 17th, 2021.
What inspired you to found the Cheerful Hands Initiative?
Growing up as a child, I didn’t have many opportunities. I faced struggles. I remember how difficult it was for me to even register for my senior secondary school exams. Everyone had been registered, and I was the last person to be registered. The school even had to intervene to assist with my registration before my people eventually came through.
My father kept saying things that could crush one’s spirit, like “you’ll never amount to anything in life.” It affected me psychologically. But my mother was different. Whenever my father said those things, she would counter him: “You will amount to something,” she’d say. “You will be great. You will do amazing things.”
That kept me going, even though it almost broke me mentally. I had to fight my way through it and made up my mind that no one would determine my destiny, that it wasn’t in anyone’s hands but mine. I even had to stand up to my father at some point. It was a tough battle, but my mum kept encouraging me. Eventually, I got a job, and I told myself that I would help others who struggled to go to school, especially girls, to get an education despite their challenges.
That’s how Cheerful Hands Initiative was born, an initiative for the girl child, women empowerment, youth, the elderly, and persons with disabilities. It started small, like a joke, but I kept pushing, and now we are here.
Where did you receive your higher education?
First, I went to Benue State University, where I did a diploma in Computer Science. Later, I attended NIT in Abuja, where I became a Microsoft Certified IT Professional. After that, while waiting to get a degree, because of various delays, I enrolled at the National Open University where I studied Criminology and Security Studies. I bagged a 2:1 and was the best graduating student in my set.
Since founding the Initiative in 2015, what goals have you achieved so far?
To me, the goals we’ve achieved might not be as big as what I wish for, but we’ve made an impact. We’ve trained out-of-school girls. Our main focus has been enrolling girls in basic education, primary and secondary school, because we don’t have the funding to support tertiary education yet.
We’ve also been involved in several projects. For example, we worked with the Benue State Rehabilitation Board, focusing on persons with disabilities. We’ve done projects in WASH (Water, Sanitation and Hygiene), and created awareness in schools. We’ve trained women in cosmetology at IDP camps due to the crisis here. There’s so much we’ve done, I can’t list it all, but right now, due to the crisis in Benue state, we are focused on supporting traumatised children at the IDP camps. You must have heard about the Yelwata massacre where five children in one family were burned to death, among other families that were wiped out.
We provide humanitarian assistance, psychosocial support through therapy and creative expression, helping them tell their stories through music, dance, and drawing. These children are our priority. Yes, the women are also affected, but the children need urgent attention.
That’s a very emotional part of your work, helping children not just academically but also with healing. What is the state of these children emotionally?
You know children, one minute they’re playing, the next minute they’re looking for food. When you visit these camps and see the children displaced, not in school, it’s heartbreaking. Their homes have been destroyed. Their education cut short. But because they’re children, once they get food and something fun to do, they’re okay, for the time being.
Still, crisis-affected children need psychosocial support. If not, they grow up with vengeance in their hearts, thinking, “They killed my family; I’ll get revenge.” That’s why helping them process these events now is crucial. Many people bring donations, but these kids need more than food, they need healing. If not protected, they could also be trafficked.
Thankfully, many of them still play and smile, though the older ones are more aware and affected. Some younger ones don’t even know what happened.
What about the elderly people in the IDP camps?
It’s not a good sight. These are people who had homes, cooked their own food, bought what they wanted, now they must rely on aid from the government and individuals. They want to go back home. Some have to sleep on bare floors with wrappers, exposed to mosquitoes. Many can’t go to the farm or market. It’s painful. I met with a woman there who became mentally unstable from the trauma. It’s a very difficult situation.
How safe do they feel at this moment? Is there a fear of another strike?
Right now, they are safe. We have about 17–21 IDP camps in Benue State. Some people left the Mega Camp, which was deep in the bush without fencing, out of fear of another attack. But the ones at Daudu is safe. They can even leave to work and come back just to make a living. Likewise, the one in Makurdi town is secure, with security personnel and support from State Emergency Management Agency (SEMA), United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), International Organisation for Migration (IOM) and others. They’re monitored 24/7. The only issue is that when food aid comes in, community members also try to get a share, but aside from that, they are safe.
Back to your NGO, what have been your greatest challenges?
Funding. To sustain an NGO, you need funds. Most of the funding comes from my own pocket. It’s exhausting. Sometimes, I want to give up. But individual donations, even small ones, help push things forward.
How do you measure success?
I feel fulfilled when I meet someone’s need, no matter how small. Sometimes, I feel like crying when people express deep gratitude for even ₦500 or ₦1,000. That makes me human. Women have come back weeks later to thank me. It means a lot. I may not have much, but I give with my whole heart. This is not business, it’s passion. I sleep better knowing I’ve made someone’s life better.
Do you collaborate with other NGOs or agencies?
Getting international funding is tough, but we partner with local NGOs and government ministries, Women Affairs, Health, Education, and the Benue State Rehabilitation Board. However, even when you collaborate with others, you’re solely expected to bring something to the table. For example, last year, we carried out an anti-bullying campaign in ten schools. When we approached one school, the principal asked what was in it for them, not the students, but for them. They thought we already got funding from somewhere.
We brought together several organisations, but we bore most of the cost because it was our project. Even when government representatives join, you often have to pay their transport. So sometimes, we just get approval and carry on ourselves.
Across Nigeria, NGO experiences vary. What’s it like running an NGO in the North Central?
I wouldn’t say our experiences are entirely unique, but when US aid funding was withdrawn, many NGOs folded. People lost jobs. Since I never relied on that kind of funding, I didn’t panic. Maybe because I haven’t started receiving grants like others. It’s slow and steady for me. We’re not where I imagined we’d be, but we’ll get there. I just believe in doing what I believe in, sincerely. Some people run NGOs for selfish reasons, but we’re doing the real work, even without funding.
So, if the NGO isn’t a business, what do you do to earn a living?
I’m a public servant. I work with the government. Most of my salary goes into the NGO. I don’t even think of myself. I focus on how to touch lives. Right now, I’m planning a project to give micro-grants to petty businesswomen. I’ve not secured external funding yet, but if I don’t, I’ll use my salary again.
You mentioned your mother supported you a lot. How does she feel now seeing how far you’ve come?
She’s very happy. She’s even a member of the Board of Trustees. She supports everything I do. She always tells me, “I didn’t train you for nothing.” She’s proud of what we’ve started but still pushes me to go further, and she believes in God for bigger things.
But what about your father? Has he had a change of heart about you seeing all you’ve achieved so far?
Honestly, that’s one person I don’t even mention when I speak. He hasn’t changed. He’s still the same. He looks bitter and frustrated, like all his efforts to hold me down have failed. He sees that I’m still pushing forward and growing, and it bothers him.
To him, I’m just someone who should get married so he can collect the bride price and eat. But I’m not going to be used that way. He has never said anything good about me, not even up till now. So yes, the strife is still there. But I’ve grown. I’m no longer a child he can control. The man is still stuck in his old ways.
And finally what is your word for all the girls who are in the shoes you once having to fight for future?
I always tell them not to give up on their dreams. They should keep pushing and never allow anyone to discourage them or look down on them because they’re women. In this part of the world, women are still regarded as nothing, that segregation is still very much present. In many traditional settings, when elders gather, the woman is not expected to speak or even be present. These are the social norms we’re trying to challenge and move away from.
They say a woman doesn’t inherit anything from her father, and that’s one of the many things we’re fighting against. As for me, I’m not waiting for anyone to name me as the next of kin. I want to make my own money, build my own name, and own my own property, as a girl. I tell them to stay focused and take their education seriously, because that’s the one thing that can push them forward.
But aside from education, I also encourage young ladies to venture into entrepreneurship. White-collar jobs are no longer enough, they’re not even sustainable anymore. If you have something of your own, you’ll have your own money. That way, you avoid being insulted or looked down upon when you’re married. You won’t hear things like, “Look at what your mates are doing.” I tell them to strive to have something of their own, to be their own person, to make themselves better so that no man can belittle or look down on them.
I was belittled, and I made up my mind that no one would ever belittle me again. I’m not married, but I make it clear to every man I meet, I want to have my own. Don’t think I’ll be depending on you for anything. I share that with the girls, and many of them are very happy to hear it. It makes them stronger, especially those who feel like they don’t have a way out. Once I share my story, they have a change of heart. They begin to believe they can be somebody. They start saying, “I want to go to school. I want to become something tomorrow.” That’s how I encourage them.
