Niger

For Ike Uche and many others looking to flee the turmoil of gang violence in Niger State, North Central Nigeria, the eastern bypass area of the Minna metropolis was supposed to be a sanctuary. After years of hard work, Ike finally finished building his house, which is located behind the M. I. Wushishi Housing Estate along the bypass.

For him, the move symbolised a fresh start, a promise of safety, and a chance to raise his family in a peaceful environment. The quiet streets, the open plots waiting for development, and the hum of a growing community gave him hope that life there would be different from New Market, an area notorious for gang violence in Minna. Within a year of moving there, that dream began to die when gold was said to have been discovered in the community. 

For about five years now, the silence of his neighbourhood has been broken not by the laughter of children or the bustle of new shops, but by the metallic clang of shovels and the chaos of hundreds of illegal miners, mostly youths. 

Illegal miners had occupied lands within the community. Armed with weapons, cutlasses, and knives, and emboldened by impunity, they dig through residential lands in search of gold, carving scars into the earth and into the lives of those who lived there.  

At first, Ike thought it was a case of young people constituting a nuisance, but when he confronted the miners who closed onto his property, his worst fears materialised. The same day he confronted them in late 2024, his home was attacked. During the attack, miners rained insults, calling him an enemy of progress and telling him to mind his own business while they focused on theirs.

“They vandalised my house,” he said, his voice heavy with frustration. “People from the ministry came to my house and told me that the government will take action. It’s been over a year now; the situation has only worsened.”

His vehicle was damaged too; his windows were shattered, doors broken, and even his ceiling ripped apart.

“I had to shoulder all the responsibilities to fix everything myself,” he said, pointing to the patched walls and replaced fittings. For him, the cost was not just financial but also emotional: a constant reminder that the safety he sought had been stolen.  

Even after the attack, the miners threatened to attack again. What was meant to be a safe haven had gradually changed into a battleground, where the pursuit of illicit wealth outweighed the sanctity of family and home.

“If you come here during the rainy season, you will see more than one thousand people digging through people’s land,” he said. “It’s because we are in the dry season that their presence has reduced, but we still feel threatened by them.”

This climate of fear has silenced many residents. “That is why a lot of people are scared to speak about it publicly because they can be attacked by these boys,” he added.

For many people living in the area, safety has become a significant concern.

“How can one be safe in this kind of environment?” Ike wondered. “If I have another means to leave here, I would because we no longer feel safe here. This is not something somebody will start asking questions about; everybody knows that on the issue of gold mining, the government is not doing anything. The three-arm zone is not far from here; they are seeing it. It’s on the expressway, and they’re not taking any serious action. That is why they are doing it without any fear.”

The damage caused by illegal mining in Minna’s eastern bypass is not limited to land alone; it has seeped into the lives of residents, eroding their sense of safety and community. During field reporting, HumAngle observed how roads once passable have been torn apart by miners digging for gold, leaving behind networks of gullies and broken pathways.

Illegal mining in Niger State’s metropolitan area remains unchecked, characterised by blatant impunity and the failure of security agencies to take decisive action. Massive pits were seen scattered across vast lands. One of the pits was so deep that it held over 15 people in sequence as they disposed of debris. This massive pit sat close to a carcass that was now covered in debris.

Locals, including Muhammad Ndagi, claim that most miners are not originally from Minna, with many arriving from Sokoto and Zamfara in northwestern Nigeria. Armed with machetes, some illegal miners in  Minna are emboldened by weak enforcement, vandalising properties, including one belonging to an army general. Beyond the damages, illegal mining sites in Minna have become arenas of violence, where weapons are now part of daily survival. 

An illegal miner who simply identifies as Rugged explained that the practice began as a response to constant power struggles among young people in the state capital.

“Miners who are stronger or have the numbers tend to attack the weak ones to collect their gold or money. So, we decided to also come with our weapons in order to protect ourselves and avoid intimidation,” the illicit miner told HumAngle.  

Over time, the weapons were not only used against rival miners but also against residents and security personnel. Confirming what residents told HumAngle, Rugged admitted that when community members tried to stop them, they were chased away with threats.

“With the weapons, they were scared, and we would chase them away. We also use them to protect ourselves from security personnel who come to disrupt our activities,” he added.  

The presence of men, women, and children at these sites underscores how deeply entrenched their activity has become. Ndagi stated that attempts by Nigeria Civil Defence Corps (NCDC) officers to intervene are often met with hostility, as the miners retaliate as a gang.

“Whenever their vehicles approach, the miners start shouting ‘ƙarya ne!’ and throwing stones,” Ndagi said. “If anyone is arrested by the civil defence officers, the miners converge as a gang to fight them, and at the end they get released before returning to continue their operations.”  

“They have left mining activity in the hands of hoodlums who you can’t dare challenge even on your property, and as a taxpayer,” Ndagi lamented.

Residents expressed concerns over the possible consequences of these illegal activities, which include devastating effects on waterways as they expand towards homes, buildings at risk of collapse, and daily clashes involving machetes.

Girls in the pits of gold

Mining activities in the metropolis have also attracted many girls, including school-aged children, who abandon classrooms for the lure of quick earnings. Hannatu Audu, a 16-year-old student of Hilltop Model School, is one of them. She told HumAngle that on some days she earns between ₦10,000 and ₦15,000, and once made as much as ₦300,000 from selling gold. But the money comes at a high cost. In her pursuit of survival, she has nearly lost her life multiple times inside collapsing pits. 

On one occasion, after returning to retrieve her pan, the soil caved in and buried her completely. 

“I went into the pit to gather materials, and when I came out to look for water to wash and separate the gold, I realised I had forgotten my pan inside. So, I went back in to get it. That was when the soil collapsed and buried me for the third time,”  she recalled.

“My friend noticed I hadn’t come out. She saw fresh soil in the pit and shouted for help. People kept digging until they reached my waist; that was when I finally got to breathe. But as they continued, the pit collapsed again. I only woke up the next day to find myself lying on a hospital bed.” 

Since the incident, Hannatu has been scared to go back.  “I want to, because that’s where we feed from. But anytime I think of going there, I feel something bad will happen to me,” she said. Beyond the physical dangers, Hannatu told HumAngle that she and other girls face constant harassment. 

At the sites, men often demand sexual favours, threatening to deny access to pits or refuse assistance with heavy tasks if these are declined.

“There are instances where you need a stronger person to help you, especially in digging or pulling out the debris you intend to wash because it is heavy. So, if you decline their proposal, they will hate you and hinder you from even accessing the pits they have dug,” she noted. 

Women and girls in northern Nigeria’s mining sites face severe risks, including sexual harassment, exploitation, and life-threatening accidents, forcing many girls into vulnerable positions, where survival is negotiated not only through labour but also through resisting exploitation. 

Hannatu revealed that sympathetic miners intervene to protect them, but the environment remains hostile. “To cope, we form girls-only groups, working together to reduce dependence on men so that we can protect ourselves from predators. 

The dangers remain constant. Hannatu acknowledged that she has lost track of how many people have perished in the pits.

“For young girls like myself, mining is both a lifeline and a trap: because it is a place where we can earn enough to feed our families, yet where every day carries the possibility of violence, exploitation, or death,” she noted.

A broader crisis 

Illegal mining in Nigeria is not only an economic drain but is also a direct driver of insecurity. According to a 2025 report by the National Assembly Library Trust Fund, unregulated mining sites in the north-central and northwestern states have become fertile ground for armed groups. 

Terror groups impose “protection fees” on miners, smuggle minerals to finance weapons, and use mining fields as safe havens. In states like Zamfara, Kaduna, and Niger, the overlap between mining zones and terrorist camps is striking, with many illegal mining sites linked to violent networks, according to the report.

The report also emphasised that mining areas often function as ungoverned spaces, where state authority is absent and criminal groups thrive. Competition over access to gold pits sparks violent clashes, while communities are displaced and stripped of livelihoods.

Illegal mining in Niger State has found its way spreading to parts of Minna metropolis, carving deep scars into several communities and fueling gang violence. A report by the Nigeria Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (NEITI) ranks the state as having the highest number of illegal mining sites in Nigeria. Areas such as Shiroro, Munya, Rafi, and Paikoro Local Government Areas (LGAs) are the most severely affected. These areas, rich in gold and lithium deposits, have become magnets for unlicensed miners and armed groups.  

In Shiroro and Munya, illegal mining fuels insecurity. Armed groups impose “taxes” on miners, using the proceeds to purchase weapons and sustain violent operations. Communities there face displacement, with residents abandoning farmland and homes due to constant attacks. 

In areas like Rafi, illegal mining activities have led to environmental devastation, with road networks and farmlands destroyed by uncontrolled digging. In Paikoro and Minna’s outskirts, such as the Pmapi community, residents recount tragic accidents from collapsed pits and violent reprisals when they challenge miners.

In February this year, the Niger State Government ordered the immediate closure of illegal and non-compliant mining sites. The directive followed a joint inspection carried out by the State Ministry of Mineral Resources in collaboration with the Federal Ministry of Solid Minerals Development.  

Leading the delegation, the state’s Commissioner for Mineral Resources, Qasim Danjuma, revealed that operators without valid federal licences and proper state documentation would not be allowed to continue operations. 

While the move signals the government’s renewed effort to curb illegal mining and enforce compliance in the state’s mineral sector, residents in affected communities in the metropolis believe the government is not walking the talk, as the menace persists. 

“Until the government has the political will to stop it, the situation can only get worse, especially as the rainy season is fast approaching,” Ike warned.

Abbas Idris, President of the Risk Managers Society of Nigeria (RIMSON), emphasised that unchecked illegal mining in Minna metropolis could lead to severe environmental damage and security challenges. 

Idris warned that illegal mining leads to the destruction of land, ecological balance, and loss of arable land that could have long term consequences.

“Land degradation increases the risk of flooding during the rainy season, leaving communities exposed to disaster. Also, mining activities undermine infrastructure, weakening roads and buildings, which creates hazardous living conditions and communities in the affected areas are bound to face heightened risks due to poor access to safe housing.”

“Most concerning is that illegal mining operations, especially in a state like Niger where terrorists are turning it into a sanctuary, can fuel crime, violence, and conflicts over resources where armed groups exploit the situation, worsening insecurity and displacing populations,” he added.

While criticising weak governance and ineffective law enforcement, Idris warned that unchecked illegal mining devastates society and traps communities in cycles of insecurity and deprivation.

HumAngle has shared the findings of this report with the Niger State government through the Chief Press Secretary, Ibrahim Bologi, who has failed to respond to the questions aimed at providing clarity on illegal mining in Minna metropolis.

Aichatou often heard of insecurity for most of her life, but never experienced it herself. She had relatives who had either been killed or displaced in places like Bosso, a village close to Lake Chad that was ravaged by Boko Haram insurgency in 2015. But the violence that festered along the Sokoto and Kebbi flanks was not common where she lived in Dosso, a region in southwestern Niger. 

Then came the coup. And with it, a promise that what had happened elsewhere would never reach her. 

It did. 

In 2024, terrorists stormed her town. They killed her brother and neighbours. And like many other survivors, she fled carrying nothing except the experience of something she had only once heard about – violence. It had finally reached her. 

After Niger’s military rulers seized power in July 2023, they promised to do what the elected government could not: make the country safe. Nearly three years later, an analysis of conflict data, geospatial information, and interviews with people in the country shows that the military administration has failed to deliver on its promise.

While the junta has partly succeeded in shielding the capital city, Niamey, from attacks, more people are being killed across the country, and more people are being displaced from regions that were previously stable. The evidence shows that the generals have not ended the violence; they have simply relocated it.

For this investigation, HumAngle analysed 62 months of conflict data, evenly divided between the period before and after the coup. We complemented this with interviews with Nigeriens in Maradi and Diffa, many of whom had fled from areas that had historically never been frontlines. They declined to speak on record, citing fear and arrest, and so their names have been changed to protect them.

Aichatou now lives in Maradi as a displaced person. She has not heard from her missing relatives and some of her neighbours. They were scattered when the attackers came. Everyone ran for safety, and it’s unclear who died and who survived. It’s a crisis of missing persons during a war. 

“We don’t know where they are and don’t even have phone numbers to reach out,” she says.

The promise

When soldiers deposed President Mohamed Bazoum on the evening of July 26, 2023, the justification was that the civilian government had failed the people. Specifically, it had failed them on economy and security.

The coup leader, General Abdourahamane Tchiani, accused Bazoum of covering up the deteriorating security situation and cited what he described as both his predecessor’s “outstretched hand” policy toward armed groups and a fundamental failure to build a regionally coherent security architecture. 

Two days after seizing power, Tchiani proclaimed himself head of state, saying he had deposed Bazoum to prevent what he described as “the gradual and inevitable demise of the country.” The new ruling body named itself the National Council for the Safeguard of the Homeland (CNSP) – a title that placed national security at the very centre of its identity and mandate.

The announcement landed on fertile ground. Niger had suffered genuine insecurity under the elected government. The Tillabéri region, squeezed between the borders of Mali and Burkina Faso in the volatile Liptako-Gourma tri-border zone, had been burning for years. Attacks by Islamic State affiliates and al-Qaeda-linked groups had claimed the lives of hundreds of soldiers and thousands of civilians. The insurgency had spread eastward into Tahoua, and southward into Dosso — regions that had once felt insulated. 

Ordinary Nigeriens, particularly in rural and border areas, had every reason to want something different. The coup, for some, looked like that. What followed were celebrations. 

Pro-junta crowds gathered in Niamey. Thousands marched. Russian and Nigerien flags flew alongside each other in the same streets where anti-French sentiment had been building for years. The generals had read the room correctly, at least in the capital.

Since assuming power, the junta in Niger has claimed some successes, especially in repelling some attacks, asserting sovereignty, and staging defences against the internal and perceived external threats. The military has, in 2025, also pursued general mobilisation decrees and created new partnerships, especially with Russian mercenaries. The mobilisation includes bolstering the military to 50,000 troops, increasing the retirement age for officers to 52, and mobilising youth to combat insecurity. 

However, under the same military, in 2026 (data for 2025), Niger reached its worst-ever ranking on Global Terrorism Index (GTI) as the 3rd most terror-impacted country in the world. This was significantly higher than when it was under an elected government, in which it was ranked between 8th and 10th. 

The silence

As the violence spreads under the junta, public criticism becomes more dangerous. 

State-owned newspapers in Niger do not often report comprehensively on the security crisis. Most of what appears tends to highlight that a security meeting was held, or that some terrorists were killed, or it focuses on accusing France of being responsible for the country’s security problems. This narrative has gone as far as Abdourahamane Tchiani alleging that Nigeria is collaborating with France to launch an attack on Niger through terrorists deployed at the Nigeria/Niger border. The Nigerian government and independent fact-checkers denied that. 

But when activists or independent journalists speak about insecurity, they get arrested.

Gazali Abdou Tasawa, a correspondent of DW Hausa, was arrested and jailed in January 2026 for reporting on displaced persons in Niger. He was not the first. 

Human Rights Watch (HRW) has documented that in October 2025 six journalists were arrested in Niamey – Moussa Kaka and Abdoul Aziz of Saraounia TV; Ibro Chaibou and Souleymane Brah from the online publication Voice of the People; Youssouf Seriba of Les Échos du Niger; and Oumarou Kané, founder of the magazine Le Hérisson – over their alleged role in circulating a government press briefing invitation on social media criticizing the introduction of the mandatory payment for “Solidarity Fund for the Safeguarding of the Homeland”, a form of security levy in Niger to combat terrorism. 

Moussa Ngom, Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ)’s Francophone Africa representative, explained that “arrest and detention have become tools-of-choice for Nigerien authorities to try to control information they find undesirable.” For this investigation, HumAngle reached out to journalists in Niger to speak on insecurity. Three of them declined to speak and one promised to speak but never replied to our questions. 

However, recently, a few activists have begun to speak out. A prominent Nigerien activist, Maikoul Zodi, recently called on the military junta to account for two years of broken promises on security – the central justification offered for seizing power on July 26, 2023.

Writing on his Facebook page, Zodi was blunt about what he sees as the junta’s failure. “Niger is still bleeding… the same villages are burning… the same families are burying their dead.” He asked directly what tangible improvements had been made on the ground since the coup. 

His statement reflects a shift in civil society’s posture from solidarity with the transition to demands for results. “Compassion alone is no longer enough. There must be accountability,” he wrote, as violence continues spreading into regions that had previously been spared. 

“I think the CNSP should present a transparent report of the security situation, with concrete figures and data,” reacted Tahirou Halidou, a concerned Nigerien.

One day after that Facebook post, Zodi was interrogated by the police because of the publication. 

What the numbers buried 

The junta’s promise of improving security has not become a reality. 

To understand what changed, HumAngle analyzed conflict data from the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data (ACLED) project which maps political violence worldwide in real time, covering equal 31-month periods before and after the coup – from January 2021 to February 2026. 

ACLED data does not necessarily give us a complete picture of the dire  situation in Niger, given that most of its information relies on open-source reporting from NGOs and journalists who have been repressed by the junta, and so may not be able to accurately capture what is really happening on the ground. 

While the ACLED number of recorded incidents for the period under review rose only modestly, the outcomes of insecurity became dramatically deadlier in Niger Republic. Worse, the violence is spreading toward communities that were never hotspots.

“Although we are aware of insecurity in some villages a few kilometres away from ours, we had never experienced violence before the military coup,” said Ousmane*, an IDP who left his village Gadori in Diffa and moved to Maradi in early 2025.  

According to ACLED data, total recorded conflict events rose modestly after July 26, 2023 – from 1,879 to 2,221, an increase of 18.2 percent. Taken alone, that figure might suggest a country holding steady. But fatalities tell a radically different story: deaths surged from 2,983 before the coup to 4,855 afterwards, a 62.8 percent increase. The same rough number of incidents, but significantly more people dying in them. The deaths per incident climbed by 37.7 percent, meaning that even setting aside the raw count, each individual attack became deadlier on average.

One of the deadliest attacks recorded under the junta was on Dec. 10, 2024, when Jihadists affiliated with the Islamic State attacked Nigerien soldiers at a market in Chetoumane, Tillabéri region, killing at least 90 soldiers and over 50 civilians.  The junta suspended BBC for reporting the attack. 

The Junta Redistricted the Violence by IT HumAngle

The displacements

Before the coup, areas surrounding the Nigerien border with Nigeria were relatively safe, but not anymore. “In Dan Issa here, we had never experienced a situation when people were as afraid to go to villages as they are now,” one of the residents told HumAngle. “There is a silent displacement in the villages due to incessant cases of kidnappings.” 

Dosso, Aichatou’s region, appeared in the ACLED displacement data for the first time, with six distinct locations recording forced civilian movement: Dogondoutchi, Banizoumbou Kobia, Boumba, Kassalama, Kontalangou, and Tounouga. 

The entire Gaya corridor, the southern road connecting Niger to Nigeria and Benin, recorded zero displacement events in the 31 months before the coup. After it, the route became newly active, with JNIM and ISSP both documented operating along it. These are not places with histories of insurgent attack. They are places that were, until recently, buffers that absorbed refugees from further north without themselves being overrun. But that buffer has collapsed.

Tillabéri’s Abala district recorded nine distinct new displacement locations after the coup, compared to only two locations before the coup. A cluster triggered in a single week in October 2023 – Maimagare, Mandaba, Tamattey, Dangna, and Badak Toudou – marked the opening of that sub-region to what the data suggests was a systematic IS Sahel campaign of threats designed to clear villages. 

By early 2026, even Niamey itself was no longer exempt: an Islamic State Sahel Province (ISSP) attack on Air Force Base 101 in January 2026 produced the capital’s first recorded displacement event.

Across the full dataset, 51 locations recorded displacement for the first time after the coup. Only four sites of chronic, pre-existing displacement persisted into the post-coup period. The coup expanded the footprint of violence into entirely new territory. Generally, according to the United Nations Refugee Council (UNHCR), as of 2026, Niger has recorded over one million displacements, more than half of whom are internally displaced (IDPs). 

As the new wave of violence reached new places, more people fled their homes. Confirmed displacement events – i.e. ACLED incidents explicitly noting that people had fled or evacuated – rose by 83.3 percent, from 30 in the pre-coup period to 55 after. Abandoned settlement events declined, from 27 to 18, but that apparent drop carries a grim explanation: many of the communities that might have been abandoned had already been emptied. There were fewer inhabited places left to abandon.

The nature

The nature of the violence also transformed. Events recorded by ACLED explicitly as “violence against civilians” fell by nearly 31.7 percent. This decrease does not, however, reflect the full picture and reading it literally can be misleading.

ACLED records each conflict event under a single type based on its primary event: a gun battle is coded “Battles” even if the notes confirm civilians were killed; a roadside bomb is “Explosions/Remote violence” even when the target was a civilian vehicle. Only when deliberate civilian targeting is the defining characteristic, before they flag it as “Violence against civilians” and set the civilian targeting variable. However, three columns allow a closer accounting of civilian contributions to those increased overall fatality numbers: the “civilian_targeting” flag itself; the “interaction code”, which records the actor types involved; and the free-text “event notes”, which often documents civilian casualties in events coded under other categories.

Events that ACLED explicitly classifies as “Violence against civilians” did fall from 785 to 536 incidents. However, battles surged. The dominant interaction in battles by far was state forces against rebel groups, accounting for 182 clashes and 944 deaths before the coup and climbing to 382 clashes and 2,009 deaths afterwards. There have been clearly stated large combatant tolls in these events. But embedded in the ACLED event notes for those same battles are post-coup civilian-involved incidents, together contributing to 447 deaths when you count the fatality column of the rows’ note that explicitly records “civilian casualties”. This goes up from 23 battle events and 108 deaths before the coup to a more-than-threefold rise.

Most explosions and remote violence surges follow the same state-versus-rebel pattern: IED attacks on military convoys classified as “State forces-Rebel group” jumped from 46 to 155 events. Yet ACLED’s own civilian_targeting flag registers a 230 percent increase in civilian-linked explosion-related deaths (from 33 to 109). 

Reviewing these columns in those months before and after the July 2026 coup gives a narrower picture than the overall event counts suggest. 

More battles. Triple the bombs. Fewer labels, same bodies. by IT HumAngle

The increase in the death toll aligns with the assessments of other security monitoring bodies. The Africa Center for Strategic Studies noted that fatalities linked to extremist groups were projected to reach more than 1,600 in 2024 alone — a 60 percent increase from 2023. The Safeguarding Security Sector Stockpiles (S4) Initiative found that attacks on Niger’s own security forces in the first nine months of 2024 were more frequent than in any previous year. The CNSP had promised to protect its soldiers, but the opposite happened.

The HumAngle ACLED analysis also tracked attacks on state forces specifically: incidents targeting the military nearly doubled, rising from 198 to 366 – an 84.8 percent jump. Fatalities in those incidents climbed from 623 to 1,555, a 149.6 percent jump. By the post-coup period, state-force targeted deaths accounted for 32 percent of all fatalities recorded – up from 21 percent before the coup. The lethality of each individual attack on security forces also rose: from 3.2 deaths per event before the coup to 4.3 after.

“Those numbers reflect a simple reality that the security vacuum created by the rupture with Western partners has been exploited ruthlessly by non-state armed groups,” said Ikemesit Effiong, an analyst and a managing partner at SBM Intelligence, an African security intel firm based in Lagos, Nigeria. “A massive increase in violence metrics is more than a failure of policy; it is a failure of legitimacy,” he told HumAngle.

Jihadist groups, freed from the surveillance, intelligence-sharing, and operational pressure that Western and regional partnerships had provided, adapted their tactics. They hit less often but harder, and with dramatically more lethal results. JNIM, the al-Qaeda affiliate that had previously operated mostly in southwestern Tillabéri, expanded into southern Dosso. Islamic State Sahel Province consolidated control over the Abala sub-region and extended pressure southward toward Niamey. 

Tera, in Tillabéri, became the single deadliest location shift in the dataset: event counts rose by only a third, but fatalities exploded from 198 to 991 – a 401 percent increase. Gaya, on the Nigerian border, went from near-silence to an active conflict zone. Dioundiou appeared in the data for the first time, with 49 events and 144 fatalities recorded where none had existed before. The geography of the war had moved.

The war moved south. by IT HumAngle

In January 2026, the Jihadists affiliated with the ISSP conducted an unprecedented daring attack on the Diori Hamani International Airport in Niamey. The attack included the first-time use of drones, which were reportedly engaged by the airport’s air defence systems. The attack sent a chilling message that the terrorists are getting bolder and ready to wage more sophisticated attacks on some of the state’s most protected infrastructure. 

“The use of drones by ISSP shows a level of technical sophistication and intelligence gathering we haven’t seen this close to the capital before,” said Effiong, the security analyst. “For the military regime, if they cannot secure the perimeter of the country’s premier international gateway, they cannot claim to control the state.”

The protection bubble

What the full body of evidence suggests is that the junta in Niger built a bubble around Niamey and the corridors of power that connect it to key military installations. Inside that bubble, things are calmer. Attacks on urban centres remain relatively rare. The capital’s residents can move through their days with a reasonable sense that yesterday’s normal will resemble tomorrow’s.

“The distinction is now visible,” Effiong told HumAngle. “Regime security focuses on Niamey’s checkpoints and the presidential palace; peripheral areas are being sacrificed.” 

Outside that bubble — in Dosso, in the new displacement clusters of Abala, in the villages whose names appear in ACLED event notes for the first time after July 2023 — the junta’s promise of peace has not arrived. 

“This emboldens groups like ISSP and JNIM because it reveals a risk-reward calculation: the junta’s air power is limited, and their reaction times are slow,” Effiong said.

The Islamic State Sahel Province has moved closer to Niamey than at any point in the country’s history, with militants increasingly controlling key roads into the capital, effectively tightening a noose that the junta’s propaganda apparatus does not mention.

Aichatou knows this too well. She is in Maradi, far from everyone who once knew her, far from the brother whose body she could not bury, far from the relatives she could not trace, and far from the neighbours who once gave her a sense of community.

The promise of security reached Niamey.

It did not reach her.

This article was produced with support from the African Academy for Open Source Investigations (AAOSI) and the African Digital Democracy Observatory (ADDO) as part of an initiative by Code for Africa (CfA). Visit https://disinfo.africa/ for more information.

Kasuwan Daji, once a bustling village, now lies in haunting silence. 

The aftermath of the Jan. 3 terror attack has stripped the community and market of their familiar rhythm, leaving behind charred homes and empty streets.

In the village market, located in the Borgu Local Government Area of Niger State, North Central Nigeria, where voices once mingled in trade and laughter every Wednesday, only the wind now moves through its abandoned, burnt makeshift tents.  

When HumAngle visited the community in February, the village felt hollow, its people gone—either displaced, abducted, or buried. 

Amid the ruins, Sule Amadu, an elderly man in his late 60s, moved slowly through the debris of his burnt house, searching for anything that might have survived the flames. He was dressed in the same clothes he wore on the day of the attack. 

His quiet scavenging symbolised both survival and loss. 

“I was at the farm when I first heard the roar of their motorcycles heading towards our village,” he recounted. “Moments later, they began shooting sporadically. In panic, I exclaimed, ‘Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un’ [from God we are and to Him we shall return].”

Sule said the violence was relentless, as the terrorists aimed their bullets directly at people. 

“Those who tried to run were chased down by terrorists on motorcycles. Two of them rode together—one driving, the other firing at random. What was our crime?” he added, his voice carrying both grief and bewilderment. 

State authorities said no fewer than 30 people were killed in the attack. However, eyewitnesses who spoke to HumAngle say 57 people were buried that day, while 49 others were abducted, contradicting the official figures.

Sule narrowly escaped death. His younger brother was killed, and nine of his grandchildren and his son’s wife were abducted that day. 

“When the terrorists stormed in, I was trying to bag my millet. One of them chased me while shooting, but by God’s mercy, I escaped the bullets. I ran and jumped into the river to save my life,” he said. 

How the attack unfolded 

Sule was not alone in witnessing the chaos that engulfed Kasuwan Daji. HumAngle met another resident, Isa Mamman, who said he was among the first to notice the approaching attackers and raise the alarm in the community that day. 

He recalled how the attack began and how quickly it unfolded.

Isa was alone in a nearby bush around 4 p.m. when he noticed heavy dust rising in the distance and the sound of motorcycles approaching. He immediately ran towards the community to raise the alarm, where he met another villager who was also fleeing. Isa learned from him that the attackers had stormed in from the market axis.  

Within minutes, chaos engulfed Kasuwan Daji. 

Gunshots echoed across the village as people screamed and scattered. Terrorists on motorcycles fired indiscriminately, chasing down those who tried to escape. Shops and homes were set ablaze, and the once-thriving market became a scene of devastation. 

Just like Amadu, Isa narrowly survived, as he was shot at twice as he fled into the bush. From his hiding place, he watched helplessly as villagers were slaughtered and houses reduced to ashes.  

The violence stretched into the night as Isa remained hidden, fearing an ambush, while the community lay in ruins. 

“By dawn, when I came back to the community, lifeless bodies were scattered across the village, food storage facilities were destroyed, and every house and the market were burnt,” he said. That day, I escaped by God’s grace. I ran into the bush to hide, but I could still see what was happening. I saw our people being slaughtered like rams.”

Isa noted that, “There was no part of the community where we didn’t find dead bodies. Every house in Kasuwan Daji was set ablaze. Our market and storage facilities, where we kept food, were burnt down. We’ve all fled because we are terrified they might attack again.”

A new terror base

Field investigations conducted by HumAngle across the Kasuwan Daji, Wawa, and Babanna areas of the Borgu LGA of Niger State, in February show that terrorist factions are now entrenched in and around the Kainji Lake National Park axis. 

Terror groups such as Mahmudawa (Mahmuda faction), Lakurawa, elements of Ansaru, and Jama’atu Ahlis Sunna Lidda’awati wal-Jihad (JAS) led by Sadiku and Umar Taraba, as well as a newly emerged cell affiliated with Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, have turned the Kainji Forest Reserve into a safe haven.

These groups operate in interconnected networks rather than in isolation, exploiting local cover to conceal their movements. They conduct attacks in distant areas before retreating to established hideouts within the park’s surrounding communities.  

Kasuwan Daji is situated within this geographic corridor and has become a focal point due to its depth, accessibility, and lack of security presence. It sits about 14 kilometres from the Saint Mary’s Catholic School, where some schoolchildren were abducted in Nov. 2025.

The largely ungoverned terrain provides violent groups with mobility, supply routes, and escape paths across state and national boundaries. This strategic advantage has made the area increasingly attractive to extremist factions seeking to expand their operational reach.  

Recent incidents in Niger State and adjoining areas — including coordinated assaults on villages and high-profile abductions — have heightened concerns that extremist networks are embedding themselves beyond the country’s North East, their traditional stronghold. Their spillover into villages such as Kasuwan Daji, Agwara, Babanna, and Kaiama LGA of Kwara State underscores the emergence of a hybrid threat ecosystem in which ideology, criminal enterprise, and local grievances converge to reinforce instability.  

This evolving dynamic positions Kainji not only as a local security challenge but also as a critical node in the broader extremist landscape of the North Central region. 

Earlier attacks

The Kasuwan Daji attack of Jan. 3 was not the first. 

Months before, precisely in September 2025, residents told HumAngle that terrorists had entered the community and abducted several of its most significant figures. Among them was Usman Jatau, the village head, along with five others: Ibrahim Jatau (zone chair of Kambari), Anthony Yakubu Takura (youth leader), Mathew Ibrahim (head of vigilante), David (businessman), and Abu Agwara. 

To date, none of them has been heard from, a situation that has left families in anguish and the community without its leadership.  

After the abduction, Ajikali Jatau, the brother of the village chief and head of the Kasuwan Daji market, said the same attackers returned with greater brutality. 

“This time, their intent seemed clear—to wipe out the community. Villagers were slaughtered mercilessly, some tied with their hands behind their backs before being killed,” Ajikali told HumAngle. He believes the market was deliberately attacked because of its boom and constant business activities.

Ajikali told HumAngle how the market itself had its own history of struggle. 

“Before establishing Kasuwan Daji, we used to trade at Sokomba market every Wednesday. But after two young men from our tribe [Kambari] were killed and burnt there in broad daylight, we decided to stop going there. 

“One of the victims had tried to escape but was shot dead. The repeated harassment and targeting forced us to request that the market be moved somewhere else, but after several futile efforts, we created our own,” he revealed. 

For seven years, Kasuwan Daji market thrived, residents say, as they paid revenue to the local government—until it was reduced to ashes in the January attack.  

Displacement and human toll

More than 300,000 people have been displaced across 10 LGAs in Niger State, including residents of Kasuwan Daji, according to Governor Umaru Mohammed Bago. 

Hajara Shuaibu, a resident of Kasuwan Daji, is one of them. Her husband, Malam Shuaibu, a farmer, had made the village his home, cultivating produce with his family and planning to relocate there permanently. When the terrorists struck, Hajara’s world collapsed. Two of her younger brothers were kidnapped along with her husband’s other wife and daughter, forcing the family to flee to Papiri, a 14-kilometre drive from Borgu to Agwara LGA of Niger State, in search of refuge.

Before arriving at Papiri, Hajara said she and her children hid in the bush for three days, waiting for the violence to subside. 

“Our house was burnt to the ground, along with our belongings and food supplies. About two truckloads of grains and groundnuts that were harvested by my husband were destroyed in the fire, erasing our year-long hard work in a single night,” she said. 

Days later, her brother’s wife managed to escape captivity, only to return with devastating news: her husband [Hajara’s brother] and several others who had been abducted had been killed.  

The terror was felt even among the youngest. 

Suleiman, Hajara’s four-year-old grandson, was among the abducted persons from the attack but was later abandoned in the Gallah area of Agwara LGA, near the house of the village chief. 

His cries were said to be so persistent that the attackers eventually dropped him off before leaving with the other captives. 

Hajara said that the joy at seeing him [Suleiman] alive was quickly overshadowed by grief, as she remembered her slain brother and relatives still in captivity.   

‘We’re not thieves’

In the aftermath of the Jan. 3 attack, the Niger State Governor described Kasuwan Daji as a “market of thieves”, claiming that the community had become notorious for the sale of rustled cattle. He made the remarks during a condolence visit to the Emir of Borgu.  

Adding to the despair, he instructed the survivors to leave the Kasuwan Daji village altogether, even though no plans were announced for their relocation or resettlement, leaving families displaced, vulnerable, and uncertain of their future.

However, survivors of the attack strongly refuted the governor’s framing. 

Ajikali, brother of the village chief and leader of the now-destroyed market, told HumAngle, “We are not thieves. We are hard-working people, and the emirate is aware of us and our market. We are farmers—that is our business and what we are known for. We do not deal in the cattle business, so how can we be called thieves?”  

Sule also echoes this rejection of the governor’s claim: “I strongly disagree with the governor’s assertion that our market is ‘a market of thieves.’ We do not sell cows in Kasuwan Daji, yet he accuses us of selling rustled cows. He’s been misled by those around him.”

“The only thing I want is to have my grandchildren back. Even if they [terrorists] demand ransom, I have nothing to give except the clothes I am wearing. They burnt everything I owned—my food, my savings, and my animals were stolen,” he noted.

The Niger State Commissioner for Homeland Security, Bello Maurice Magaji, while reaffirming the government’s commitment to tackling insecurity through intelligence gathering and grassroots collaboration, also defended the governor’s branding regarding activities at the market, stressing that it was based on verified intelligence.

“We are adopting an intelligence-gathering strategy to understand the patterns of these crimes and attacks so that we can tackle the situation head-on,” the commissioner told HumAngle. He noted that the government is also engaged in advocacy to help citizens recognise early warning signs that may not have been obvious in the past. 

“Also, I believe that whatever information was released by His Excellency is based on facts that were made available. Our government does not simply go out to brand or profile people based on unverifiable information. Our government is too serious to speculate or issue statements without evidence. Therefore, we stand firmly by what the Governor said about the market,” he stated.

Investigation by HumAngle revealed that there are two markets with the same name: Kasuwan Daji. One is situated in Niger State, North-Central, and another in the Kauran Namoda area of Zamfara State, in northwestern Nigeria. 

Further checks also indicate that Kasuwar Daji Market in Kaura Namoda local government area of Zamfara State, is a popular hub for cattle rustling. Terrorists, in January, stormed the market and rustled over 500 cattle. 

Aminu Garba, Chairman of the Cattle Breeders Association of Nigeria in the state, told journalists that the operation was not an isolated incident noting that similar attacks have occurred in the past, with one recorded about four years ago. 

He explained that the terrorists infiltrate the market and nearby villages during the day, monitoring livestock transactions before striking. 

It is not impossible that the Niger State government is mistaking one Kasuwan Daji for the other. 

For Isa Mamman, another survivor of the attack in Niger State, the governor’s words add insult to injury. He explains that he and Amadu stayed behind in the community because they had nowhere else to go, even as their livestock was rustled and nearly fifty women and children were abducted. 

“It has been almost two months since the attack, yet nothing has been done. Neither the state governor nor the district head of Kabe has visited our community. Instead, we were insulted and labelled as thieves. We pay revenue to the government, yet they claim our market is illegal. Now, we have no food, no peace, and countless lives have been lost, and nothing has been done.”