Katsina

In July, the humanitarian organisation Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) revealed that Nigeria’s northwestern region is facing an alarming malnutrition crisis, with Katsina State at the epicentre, and is currently witnessing a surge in admissions of malnourished children. It was not the first time the organisation had raised the alarm. It had also done so several times in the past year. 

Against this backdrop, government leaders, international organisations, and civil society convened in Abuja, the federal capital city, on Thursday to mobilise against the escalating crisis in the region.

Hosted by the Katsina State Government, the Northwest Governors Forum, and MSF, the event drew participation from the Office of the Vice President, UNICEF, WFP, the World Bank, the INGO Forum, ALIMA, IRC, CS-SUN, and the European Union.

MSF’s country representative, Ahmed Aldikhari, noted that 2025 has been flagged as the worst, recording the highest cases of malnutrition in the last five years.

“We are here to highlight the situation and solidify commitments, collaborations, and engagement from all partners and government officials.”

He echoed a silent sentiment: “We acknowledge that resources are invested in conferences like this, but the real solutions lie within the communities. So, we must go beyond the hall and get practical in finding real solutions.”

HumAngle had reported the broader impact of this crisis, noting that displacements, armed conflicts, limited access to healthcare, and climate change have compounded the nutritional emergency. In one of our reports, we documented how 30 per cent of children under five in Katsina’s Jibia and Mashi local government areas are suffering from acute malnutrition. 

Most recently, HumAngle produced a 21-minute-long conversation via The Crisis Room, a monthly podcast series that focuses on crisis signalling and explores existing responses and solutions to crises in Nigeria. The conversation with the state’s MSF coordinator focused on the state’s malnutrition crisis—where aid workers fight to save lives on the edge.

Despite these reports, malnutrition in Katsina and northwestern Nigeria remains dire with limited systemic change.

While reacting to MSF’s latest report on the scale of the issue in Katsina state, the governor said he saw it as an opportunity to find feasible solutions to the crisis in the state.

“Instead of criticising the latest MSF report on malnutrition, my administration saw it as a call to action for confronting the crisis head-on. To address this challenge, we set up a high-level committee to investigate the root causes of malnutrition across the state,” he said. 

“We are promoting local production of therapeutic foods such as Tom Brown to reduce dependency on imports, distributing thousands of food baskets to at-risk families, and training hundreds of women to produce nutritious meals at the community level.”

However, the commercialization of Tom Brown and other therapeutic food is a present threat that has been documented all over the country, and was highlighted in his speech. This suggests that beyond making the foods available, the distribution process needs to be strengthened.

The federal government’s concerted efforts are also needed for an enduring impact, an area many, especially displaced people, have found insufficient. Uju Vanstasia Anwukah, Senior Special Assistant to the President on Public Health, who was present at the event as the Vice President’s representative, said the government was committed to fixing the issue. 

“This partnership with MSF and the convening of this high-level conference reaffirm the government’s understanding that real progress begins with the health and nourishment of every child,” she said.

Adding to the discussion, Nemat Hajeebhoy, Chief of Child Nutrition at UNICEF, outlined an affordable financing strategy.

“The global architecture of financing is changing, but there is still very much the recognition that there is a need to invest and support countries. UNICEF is here to partner with the government. They are our clients, so to speak, but children are our bosses.”

She introduced UNICEF’s Child buy-one-get-one-free-to-one match initiative: “It’s a buy one get one free. For every Naira the government invests—federal, state, or LGA—we will match it to help procure high-impact nutrition commodities.”

“But we need more. It’s not sufficient. This is the pavement for the future. It’s no longer just about aid—it’s about partnership.”

While commending the Katsina State government, Nemat emphasised the need for a 360 advocacy, involving bilateral engagement with governors, technical communities, media, and champions like actors.

“We also need communities to speak out and demand. There is hope. The Nutrition 774 Initiative, launched by the vice president in February, puts accountability and action at the LGA level. Nigeria is a big country, and unless we go ward by ward, we may not see change.”

Though the conference seems to have set the stage for concrete, coordinated action to protect the health and future of millions of vulnerable communities, citizens are eager to see improvement in the coming months and years. 

The first call to prayer in Malumfashi, northwestern Nigeria, was barely finished when gunmen stormed the Unguwan Mantau area. It was around 5 a.m. on Aug. 19, and the small mosque was full of worshippers, old and young men, all bowed in devotion, when the attack happened.  

It was a moment chosen for maximum shock and helplessness: none of the victims expected to be killed while praying for peace.

Mallam Umar Aramma, a local Qur’anic teacher and a survivor of the attack, says he remembers the silence before the gunshots and then people started running to save their lives.

“Many were instantly killed by gunshots,” he told HumAngle. “Others were rushed to the hospital with wounds, and some died there.”

Local officials first put the toll at 13. Within 48 hours, the figure rose to about 29 as more bodies were recovered from the mosque and nearby hamlets torched in the same raid. 

Since the terrorist attack was reported, grief has mixed with an old debate across northwestern Nigeria, particularly on social media: whether to negotiate with the terrorists who have turned vast rural stretches into locations to be raided. 

The federal government has quietly encouraged some Islamic clerics to explore channels with some commanders. Sheikh Musa Asadussunnah, one of the peace talk proponents, hasn’t explicitly mentioned this in his speeches, but sources confirmed to HumAngle that he has federal backing. 

Earlier this month, the cleric delegation said their talks with the Zamfara warlord Bello Turji secured the release of 32 captives and a symbolic surrender of weapons. The accounts vary on the details and on the federal government’s role, but the message of engagement was clear. 

Opinions have already been divided since the beginning of the engagement. However, the recent attack in Katsina has hardened many hearts against the idea of a peace deal.

For many, failed peace deals are not a distant history. In 2019 and early 2020, former Governor Aminu Bello Masari of Katsina State convened a series of accords with local terror leaders that included public ceremonies, photoshoots, promises of amnesty, and assurances that attacks would cease. 

However, within months, the deals unravelled. 

By June 2020, Masari publicly expressed his disappointment, accusing the gunmen of betraying the terms and resuming raids. “We’ve pulled out,” he said, adding that negotiations had failed to bring “lasting peace.” And the violence continued. 

Zamfara, the epicentre of the northwest conflict, had the same experience. Governor Bello Matawalle’s 2019 amnesty and disarmament plan led to a temporary partial peace. Reports showed that the terror kingpins paused in some villages while expanding operations elsewhere or engaging in rivalry for space control. 

By 2021, major attacks had reappeared; by 2023–2024, researchers tracking the conflict concluded the amnesty had failed in its central objective. Armed groups had diversified revenue streams, deepened cross-border logistics, and used the money to buy arms. 

The pattern persists at the micro level. Recently in Adabka, Zamfara, HumAngle reported that villagers bought peace for nearly three years by funnelling payments to terrorists in a ransom-for-peace arrangement that collapsed this month with fresh abductions and killings. 

The failure of such peace arrangements shows the bigger problem: They are unenforceable, unclear, and can always change due to the next grievance, the next terror group, and the next terror leader in charge. 

But out of desperation, people, at a community level, still do them. 

In recent weeks, since the beginning of the rainy season, some Katsina villages have seen the return of a localised peace deal. Community leaders in Jibia, Danmusa, Batsari, and Safana have explored or entered quiet pacts aimed at protecting farms and markets during the rainy season. 

Even state officials, while insisting they are not negotiating, have acknowledged meetings with ‘repentant terrorists’ to enable access to farmlands. In Safana, local leaders announced a peace accord just days before the Uguwan Mantau massacre. 

Why do peace deals fail? 

Several reports have explained why these agreements keep failing. First, there is no single chain of command. The northwestern insurgency is a patchwork of gangs and entrepreneurial warlords who shift alliances and territorial footprints with the rains, the market for cattle, the gold mining sites, and security pressure. 

Research has shown that a peace deal with one group creates economic and tactical incentives for others to attack. Conflict monitors warned as far back as 2020 that “partial peace” in one state often displaced violence into a neighbour. That remains true today. 

Another problem is that the agreements lack credible enforcement. The Federal Government has not and cannot offer a strong stance large enough to bind dozens of decentralised terror commanders in the region. 

When deals hinge on payments, safe corridors, or promises of non-prosecution, they risk rewarding coercion. When they hinge on community levies, they entrench protection rackets. When they hinge on the word of a single prominent warlord, they fall with his next strategic calculation.

Moreover, the deals often ignore the cross-border economies that keep the war profitable. Arms and motorcycles ride the same trails as cattle. Without plugging the border routes and illicit markets, de-escalation in one cluster is merely an intermission, not an ending. 

Research mapping the terror economy across 2023–2024 shows how quickly groups adapt to bans and roadblocks by shifting to new corridors and taxing new commodities. 

To many Katsina residents, these are not abstract critiques. They are recent history, lived twice. Liman Garba, a young man who lost his father in one of the terror attacks in Katsina, said any peace pact with terrorists will be meaningless as they continue to target civilians. 

“People like us, whose father was killed right inside our home, and our mother and younger siblings were taken away after our father was murdered, we had to pay ₦10 million before our relatives were released. How can anyone say there should be reconciliation when you see the very person who caused your father to leave this world, and who also made you lose millions of naira?” he said.

Masari’s collapse of talks in 2020 is always in any conversation about peace with terrorists. People remember the promises, the ceremonies, and the resumed killings. Aramma, the Qur’anic teacher, told HumAngle that they no longer want any empty promises or failed peace dialogue; they want the state to stop the killings. “We prayed for protection,” he said, “and they met us at prayer.” 

The clerical involvement

The federal government’s openness to clerical intermediaries is understandable. Clerics can go where officials cannot, and carry moral authority in a region where politicians are rarely trusted. Their recent shuttle diplomacy with Turji may have saved lives; 32 people are home because someone talked instead of shooting. 

But the same week those headlines broke, Unguwan Mantau buried its dead. And across the northwest, countless families still pay “farming fees” to armed men so they can plant maize and millet. Tasiu Saeed, another resident of Zamfara, explained the contradiction.

“Reconciliation is a good thing. But to be honest, there is a big problem, because there has been no progress with reconciliation, since the terrorists do not stop killing people, even while talks are ongoing. They are traitors, so the government should focus on fighting them instead,” he said. 

Does that mean talks are futile? Zainab Nasir, a youth leader in Kano, thinks otherwise. She explained that the answer may lie in redefining what “talks” are for. 

According to her, any dialogue with terrorists “can only be meaningful if it is pursued with sincerity, strategy, and accountability.” She explained that the talks “should not be seen as a reward for violence, but as a pathway to lasting stability where both the dignity of the affected victims and the future of offenders are secured.”

However, the record suggests that peace talks are not, on their own, a path to lasting stability. When they are sold as such, they sour public trust. But when they are paired with transparent benchmarks, regional coordination, and blocking revenue streams, they can be a tactical component for lasting peace. 

Back in Unguwan Mantau, Aramma said, since the attack, fear has engulfed people, and men no longer attend mosques in full. “Some do, many others don’t”. The fear is that while you may go there to pray for peace, you may be engulfed in the fire of violence. Aramma said they feel defenceless.

“The police came, took some report and left us asking ‘where is safe to pray?’”

Against this backdrop, the federal government’s symbolic outreach through clerics sits uneasily with public sentiment in the wake of Unguwan Mantau. “People are not rejecting peace,” Tasiu said, “they are demanding a strategy that can outlast a photoshoot.”

On The Crisis Room, we’re sounding the alarm.

This week: a powerful conversation with MSF on Nigeria’s malnutrition crisis—where aid workers fight to save lives on the edge.

But we’re not stopping there. In the coming episodes, we will dig into the tangled roots of insecurity, mass displacement, and how climate change fuels conflict across Africa.

The stakes are real. Tune in, share, and stay ahead of the story.

Hosts: Salma and Salim

Guest: Mr Suwulubalah Dorborson, project manager MSF Katsina, Nigeria

Audio producer: Anthony Asemota

Executive producer: Ahmad Salkida