Communities

Kathdhara village is a riot of colour as the early evening light turns the clouds the rosy hue of Himalayan salt. Bright red chillies lie drying in front of cornflower blue doorways. The pink of a sari and the orange of marigolds pop against a backdrop of verdant terraced fields, where cabbages grow in perfect rows like a picture from a Peter Rabbit book.

Just 22 families live in this remote hamlet in Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary, in the Kumaon region of Uttarakhand, north-east India. As we stroll with our guide, Deepak, taking in views of the layered hills and soaring, snow-capped Panchachuli peaks beyond, we are welcomed by villagers tending homes and gardens, strings of Diwali fairy lights adding extra sparkle to the scene.

I’m here to explore the foothills of the Himalayas and sample village life on a walking holiday with Village Ways, a pioneer of responsible, community-based tourism in India, which is celebrating its 21st anniversary this year. Dreamed up by Manisha and Himanshu Pande, the couple who run the Khali Estate, a small hotel in the reserve, the goal is to help address urban migration and support traditional rural life through low-impact tourism. Village Ways launched in 2005 with just five villages in the reserve, which guests hike between, and now more than 30 villages are involved in different parts of the country, from Madhya Pradesh to Kerala.

“The idea was to bring the community together to run something collectively, training people in all aspects of business. Everyone has a role to play,” says Manisha. “The Village Ways model has captured the attention of the government, too, and we’re collaborating on various projects in other states now, which is exciting.”

Most accommodation is in small, village-built guesthouses sleeping up to eight, rather than homestays, and money is evenly distributed to everyone from cleaners to porters, with committees making joint decisions. Back at the Kathdhara guesthouse, we join Diwali celebrations, sharing sweets, lighting lamps and praying to the goddess Lakshmi by a makeshift shrine. We feast on a delicious thali – spicy yams, dal, hemp chutney and warm roti – and sleep soundly, cocooned by the silence of the mountains.

The next day brings blue skies, and after breakfast we set out on a gentle walk to the neighbouring Gonap village. Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary was created in 1988, a 47 sq km (18 sq mile) area to help protect the broadleaf oak forest and wildlife. For the people living here, it altered their relationship with the forest, ending tree felling and hunting – tempting many to abandon village life for the cities. Village Ways offered an alternative – former hunters turned guides, sharing knowledge of the land and wildlife with guests, and seeing outsiders’ interest in local customs and traditions renewed their sense of pride.

We hike through pristine pine, oak and rhododendron forests (come in March or April to see the land painted red, pink and white when they bloom). I’m fascinated by the Himalayan oaks, which play a key role in storing and releasing water and stabilising the land with their vast root networks. We see the bright red flowers of wild turmeric and countless medicinal plants, from goat weed (some believe the juice stops bleeding) to Indian tobacco (used for toothache).

Leopards roam here too and, though they remain elusive, we spy footprints and scat, as well as porcupine quills. But the sanctuary is best known for its amazing birdlife – more than 200 species are found here – and we stop frequently as Deepak points out the crested serpent eagle, leaf warbler, black-headed jay and noisy parakeets.

Gonap itself is tiny – home to just seven families today. We’re welcomed to the guesthouse with chai and plates of warm pakora – enjoyed with staggering mountain views as Eurasian griffon vultures float on the thermals. Deepak leads us to a tiny temple, past houses with gardens heaving with jumbo lemons and air potatoes on giant stalks, the sounds of cicadas in the air.

No roads connect the five villages in the Binsar circuit, but the paths between them offer easy walking and there’s plenty of time to rest. A higher-altitude route in the nearby Saryu and Pindar valleys, close to the border with Tibet, offers more challenging hikes. But limited time means we head back to the Khali Estate from Gonap, stopping at Zero Point lookout – the highest vantage spot in the reserve, at 2,500 metres – to gawp at the 360-degree Himalayan panorama, dominated by Nanda Devi, the second highest mountain in India.

Built 150 years ago by a British commissioner, Gen Sir Henry Ramsay, the Khali Estate makes a picturesque base, with accommodation in stone rondavel cabins and a sitting room with roaring fire. During his time in Kumaon, Ramsay is credited with developing local infrastructure, founding a leper colony in the historical capital of the region, Almora, and regulating tree felling. We delve into the estate’s history on a tour with Himanshu, poring over photos and library texts, and learn how it was also a retreat for the Nehru family and an ashram for Mahatma Gandhi. Surrounded by forest, it’s utterly peaceful. Later, I fall asleep to the distant sound of barking deer.

For visitors wanting to learn more about the region’s history and the characters who shaped it, Village Ways has launched a new itinerary, Khali in Kumaon. As well as the Binsar walks, it takes in the lakeside hill station of Nainital, where we had stopped on the 270-mile journey from Delhi. Guests will also explore Almora, with its local primary school supported by Village Ways, the museum of the Anglo-Indian hunter turned conservationist Jim Corbett, and the Gandhi trail, heading into the hills to see some of the first looms he established for homespun cotton – a symbol of economic independence and resistance to British rule – at Anasakti ashram.

But our last day is very much focused on the present, as a stream of villagers arrive at Khali from far and wide to join the anniversary celebrations. Other Village Ways founders – Brits who worked in development and tourism – are here too, and there are talks, feasting and dancing. I learn about the Village Ways charitable trust, which supports healthcare in these remote villages, training local women to run mobile clinics. Since Village Ways’ inception, it has hosted 7,000 guests, benefiting about 5,000 people, from artists to taxi drivers, according to Manisha, and 470 villagers are directly involved in decision-making as members of the village tourism committees in six states.

I buy locally made scarves and handicrafts, and many of the young villagers – now guides, cooks or porters – tell me about the positive impact tourism has had on their lives. “Since I joined as a guide three years ago I’ve learned lots about Binsar and our birds – and my English has really improved,” said 23-year-old Ashirwad Joshi from Dalar village. “I’m very happy to be part of it and share my knowledge with visitors – it makes me proud.”

When we leave the next morning for the long drive to Kathgodam and onward train journey to Delhi, it’s the feeling of mutual respect and warmth that stays with me. The challenges are many, from ageing village populations to a decline in international visitor numbers to the area since Covid, but the Village Ways mission is very much full steam ahead – taking its ethos to other parts of the country. This type of tourism – one that involves communities as partners and is collaborative rather than exploitative – benefits locals and travellers alike. In these times of division, it is to be celebrated more than ever.

The trip was provided by Village Ways, which creates bespoke itineraries, tailored to travellers’ interests. The suggested 10-day Khali in Kumaon itinerary (available until 30 May, and from 15 September to 30 November 2026) costs from £1,315pp, based on a party of four, including transfers, rail travel, accommodation and most meals

Fifty-five-year-old Tabitha Iorchon used to work as a nanny at a rural primary school in her community, Demevaa, in Chanchanji District of Takum Local Government Area, in Taraba State, northeastern Nigeria. The job provided her with a steady income which she used to support her children and grandchildren who lived with her. She supplemented her earnings with farming. 

Tabitha loved her job and was very fond of the children she cared for. 

But that life has been snatched from her. 

In September 2025, terrorists invaded Demevaa and surrounding communities in Chanchanji District. “They killed pregnant women and ripped their babies out of their bellies. They slaughtered men and cut off the hands of many people,” she recounted. 

Tabitha is among those who escaped that night of terror. She, alongside other residents, fled to reach Chanchanji town, where they are now living in displacement. Her parents, who lived in a different neighbourhood and were weak and vulnerable, were left behind, but fortunately, they survived the attacks.

The genesis of violence

This is not the first time communities in southern Taraba have come under attack. However, locals say that early September last year was when the wave of violence reached Chanchanji District. It began with the discovery of two farmers dead on their farms. Before residents could make sense of the incident, more farmers were attacked and killed. The weeks that followed saw communities like Demevaa and Amadu raided.

Over the years, Taraba communities, such as those within Takum bordering Benue, have experienced attacks often described as farmers-herders clashes or carried out by local militia gangs. One of the most notorious figures linked to violence in the region was Terwase Akwaza, alias Gana, who, before his death, claimed that terrorists disguised as herders contacted him to carry out attacks in “about three states they want to [capture], being Plateau, Taraba, Benue…”. 

Since the Nigerian Army killed Gana in September 2020, his once-cohesive network has fractured into rival factions, with groups led by criminals such as Fullfire and Chen now operating independently and often violently in border areas.

Residents in Chanchanji told HumAngle that herders often come to graze in the area during the dry season, but clashes have never occurred. HumAngle contacted Lashen James, the Taraba State Police Command spokesperson, but he did not respond.

Life in displacement 

In the wake of the attacks, several displacement camps were established by non-government and faith-based organisations in Chanchanji town, an urban area in Takum to accommodate people fleeing the violence in Demevaa, Amadu, Tse-Bawa, Tse-Tseve, and other affected communities within the district. 

Tabitha and several other displaced persons sought refuge at one of the camps. There, they rely on humanitarian organisations for survival. Although the food supplies are inconsistent, she said they felt somewhat safer there.

“Old people and children were dying because there was insufficient food,” she noted. “Our yams, guinea corn, millet and cassava were all destroyed and burnt by the terrorists who attacked our people.”

Tabitha said that even the tents in the camp are not sufficient and the available ones are always overcrowded. “We just spread our wrappers on the floor to sleep,” she said. 

Despite the difficulties in the camp, the displaced persons persevered, hoping peace would eventually be restored. However, another wave of terror erupted on February 8, when terrorists attacked Chanchanji district and raided several villages. Locals said the terrorists returned the next day and unleashed more havoc.   

No terror group has claimed responsibility for the attacks. 

Avangwa Emmanuel, a resident of Tse-Bawa, told HumAngle that his father and three uncles were killed during the February incident. He noted that many others were killed in their homes that day. “They [terrorists] were heavily armed,” he added.

Avangwa and others from his village are currently taking shelter at a secondary school that has been converted into a temporary camp.

“No water, no food, nothing. Everybody is just struggling. Our major problem here is food. Also, what we need is peace. If there’s anything the government can do to restore peace so that we can return to our homes and continue our work, that is all,” he said.

Amadu, another community in Chanchanji District, was among the hardest hit. Terkuma Moses, the community leader, said scores were killed, and locals have fled to displacement camps. HumAngle could not independently confirm the figures as the police authorities did not respond to enquiries. 

“The attackers come here daily. We’ve been living in perpetual fear. There have been many rape occurrences during these attacks,” Abraham Nyingi, a resident of Amadu, told HumAngle. He noted that no government official had been dispatched to assess the displaced persons’ situation. “We are at the mercy of humanitarian organisations. If the government really wants to help us, we would be very grateful,” he said.

“The environmental conditions are very harsh. Our children can’t go to school. We lack medical care,” he lamented.

In recent months, the worsening hunger has compelled some displaced persons to return to their communities. Tabitha said that none of those who left made it back. “They got killed,” she said. “Their bodies were found in the bushes.” 

Life at a standstill

The school where Tabitha once worked has remained closed since the crisis began. She has lost not only her livelihood, but also her sense of independence, as she cannot return home or secure alternative work. She continues to fear for her elderly parents, who remain in the village. She sometimes reaches them by phone, and they tell her they are also experiencing food shortages, as their barns were burnt during the attacks.

Tabitha described the displacement as the worst experience of her lifetime. 

“We lack basic things like food and we buy water since the camp doesn’t have a water supply. The harmattan season is still here, and many of us are still sleeping outside because all the rooms are overcrowded,” Tabitha said. 

With the new arrivals following the February 8 attacks, she said the struggle for survival has intensified. 

“I can’t further my education now. I can’t do any business. I’m just stuck here,” said Veronica Iorchan, a 22-year-old resident of Demevaa. 

When the attacks began in September, she was in her final year at the Taraba State Polytechnic in Suntai. By the time she completed her studies in October, instead of returning home to a joyous celebration, Veronica was informed that her community was deserted. The rest of her family had moved to the Abaya IDP camp. 

“I came straight to the camp from school,” she said, adding that she lost two of her uncles in the attack.

While the camp provides them with accommodation and food, Veronica said they must fend for themselves when it comes to obtaining hygiene products and toiletries, such as sanitary pads. Even though she is determined to seek employment in the host community, she feels unsafe whenever she leaves the camp. She dreams of a time when she can return home and make plans for her future.

A cry for peace

Tabitha looks forward to a time when she can return to her community, re-unite with her parents, resume her job as a nanny, and supplement her income with farming. 

“That will only happen if there is peace,” she said. 

While Avangwa is still grappling with the loss of his father and three uncles, he says the hardship at the makeshift camp intensifies with each passing day. He noted that Tse-Bawa is an agrarian community, and the crisis, which has persisted for about five months, has severely disrupted farming activities, as locals can no longer access their farms. Several farmlands and barns were also set ablaze in the attacks.

“So if we can have peace, then we can go back to our places and settle. All we need is just peace and nothing more,” he said. 

Abraham calls on the government to urgently look into the crisis. “Our people do not really need much from the government,” he said. “Just secure us.”

Residents say the government’s lack of concern for their plight has been deeply shattering. Recently, religious leaders affiliated with the Catholic Church led a peaceful protest in Jalingo, the state capital, calling on the government to extend security interventions to the southern Taraba area, which includes Takum and Donga Local Government Areas.

“As a matter of urgency, adequate security personnel should be mobilised and deployed to the hinterlands, where this carnage is taking place unabated,” James Yaro, a priest and Vicar Pastoral of Taraba’s Catholic Diocese of Wukari, told journalists. 

“The government at all levels must be deliberate in ensuring security guarantees and bringing enablers and perpetrators of these dastardly acts, or heinous crimes against humanity, to justice through their immediate arrest and prosecution, irrespective of their ethnic, political, and religious affiliations.” He added that, “IDPs require immediate intervention by the government.”

HumAngle wrote to the Taraba State Ministry of Special Duties and Humanitarian Affairs for comments but received no response at the time of filing this report.