North-Central

The last time Abdullahi Alabi heard from his friend, Oluwafemi Adeyemo, it was a voice note. “I dey Terminus… I sey make I update you,” his friend said in Nigerian Pidgin. He was restocking his foodstuffs at the market, but he never came back.

Abdullahi and Oluwafemi had been friends and coursemates since they came on campus. “We became brothers, I knew his family, he knew mine,” Abdullahi said.

Two days before that, on March 29, terrorists had opened fire on residents and passersby at Angwan Rukuba, a busy roadside community in Jos, Plateau State, North Central Nigeria, killing at least 30 people. The Plateau State government immediately clamped a 48-hour curfew on Jos North, the kind of precaution the city has learned, through painful experience, to take, given how quickly such attacks can tip into ethno-religious reprisal violence.

When the curfew lifted on April 1, Oluwafemi, a final-year Quantity Survey student at the University of Jos (UNIJOS), had just received his upkeep allowance from the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND). He headed to Terminus Market that morning, a 15-minute tricycle ride from where he and Abdullahi lived, to buy foodstuffs.

What made Abdullahi check his phone that morning was hearing that something was happening around Terminus. He wanted to know if his friends were alright. That was when he saw the voice note.

“I actually did not take it that seriously,” he said. But as the updates on social media got worse, he started calling. Oluwafemi’s number was not going through. He and other friends kept trying.

By evening, Oluwafemi had not returned and was still unreachable. Abdullahi called the family, who said he had not been in touch with them either. “I took permission from the family to file a missing person report, and we also made a post on social media,” he said.

Then another of Oluwafemi’s friends reached out. She sent Abdullahi a screenshot of her last chat with him. He had told her there was a fight at Terminus, that he had escaped, and that he had made it to Bauchi Road, near the university’s Main Campus. After that, nothing.

The next day, Abdullahi and other friends went from one police station to another. On the third day, they started checking mortuaries. That afternoon, a call came asking them to come to the Jos University Teaching Hospital to identify a body.

“When we got there, it was his body,” Abdullahi said, with a sigh. “He was attacked at Bauchi Junction. According to the autopsy, he sustained a gunshot wound to his back and was macheted as well.” He added that they were told that the police officers who brought his corpse to the hospital had intervened. The identities of the perpetrators remain unknown.

Oluwafemi was one of at least eight people killed in reprisal attacks that swept through Jos on 1 April, after the night of terror at Angwan Rukuba took on an ethno-religious colouration.

“Femi was ready to make a change in the world,” Abdullahi said. “A few days before his death, he sent a voice note in a group lamenting about how Nigeria is bad and what he thinks needs to be done to fix the challenges.” He never got the chance.

In that same voice note, obtained by HumAngle, Oluwafemi turned his frustration toward the government’s response to the recurring violence. Precautions like curfews, he said, were not enough. “What has curfew done?” he asked. “Make we speak up, abi na until dem kill everybody finish.”

Oluwafemi is not the first UNIJOS student the city has claimed. With over 40,000 students – according to its website – living and studying in Jos’s most volatile neighbourhoods, the university community has, for more than two decades, been one of the most consistent casualties of the city’s recurring violence. And with no meaningful change in how students are protected, many fear it is only a matter of time before the next name is added to the list.

Caught in harm’s way

To understand why Oluwafemi’s death is not an isolated tragedy, it helps to know the city he was living in. To outsiders, the speed with which violence can spread across Jos often appears bewildering. Yet the city has endured recurring cycles of conflict for more than two decades, fuelled by a complex mix of ethno-religious tensions, disputes over indigene-settler identities, political representation, land ownership, and access to resources. While many incidents are framed as clashes between Christians and Muslims, residents and researchers have long argued that the roots of the conflict run deeper than religion alone.

“…as is often the case with identity conflicts in Africa, these are socially constructed stereotypes that are manipulated to trigger and drive violence in Jos,” said Prof. Chris Kwaja, a Researcher at the Centre for Conflict Management and Peace Studies at the University of Jos, Nigeria, who also serves as the Plateau State’s Special Envoy on Peace and Security. 

“The ethnic or religious dimensions of the conflict have subsequently been misconstrued as the primary driver of violence when, in fact, disenfranchisement, inequality, and other practical fears are the real root causes. Capitalising on such conditions, many political rivals have instrumentalised the ethnic and religious diversity of Jos to manipulate and mobilise support. Each outbreak of violence worsens suspicions and renders communal reconciliation more difficult, deepening the cycle and further incentivising polarisation,” he noted. 

Over the years, many neighbourhoods have become identified with particular ethnic and religious communities, creating a city that is deeply polarised along social and geographic lines. Areas such as Angwan Rukuba, Terminus, Bauchi Road, and other mixed communities often function as fault lines where residents from different backgrounds live, trade, commute, and study side by side. When violence breaks out, fear, rumours, and reprisals can quickly travel beyond the immediate scene of an attack, drawing in people who had no connection to the original incident.

For students of the UNIJOS whose campuses, hostels, and daily routines are woven into these communities, that vulnerability is particularly acute. A journey to class, the market, or a friend’s place can suddenly become dangerous when the city descends into unrest.

Jos North is where most of the university’s campuses sit, including the Township Campus, Bauchi Road Campus, Naraguta Campus, the Jos University Teaching Hospital, staff quarters, and other facilities. Student hostels, both university-owned and private, are scattered all across the area. Angwan Rukuba, where the March 29 attack happened, is one of the neighbourhoods with the highest concentration of students. Meanwhile, Terminus Market, which borders it, has long been an epicentre of violence in the city.

Several residents and students who spoke to HumAngle said the university community is always caught in the middle when violence breaks out, which is hardly surprising, given how deeply the campuses and student hostels are woven into those areas.

Although no comprehensive data exists on the total number of students killed across incidents, HumAngle’s research — drawing on interviews with students and staff, as well as archival news reports — indicates that at least five students have died in every major episode of violence, and often significantly more.

In 2018, Shedrach ‘Kums’ Fenan, a 300-level Law student, was shot and killed by a stray military bullet near the Students’ Village Hostel during a similar crisis. That same year, the bodies of several students were found floating in nearby rivers. 

Plangna’an Daor, who studied law at UNIJOS and now works as team lead of the post-conflict rehabilitation and recovery desk at the Plateau Peacebuilding Agency, knew Kums personally. 

“I still remember how we were all glued to social media, checking on friends in different parts of Jos, asking questions and trying to understand what was happening,” she told HumAngle. “Imagine finding out that the student was someone you knew personally, someone with immense potential.” As an executive leader of the National Association of Plateau State Students at the time, she travelled with other students for the burial. “It was a stark reminder that students are not merely observers of conflict; they can become direct victims of it,” she said.

Aondona Kwaghaondo, a medical student at the university, almost lost his life when a mob attacked him in August 2021, along the Bauchi Road near the Naraguta Hostels, which sits between major university communities. “It was a very traumatising experience; till this day I am a bit triggered by similar sights and sounds,” he said. Aondona survived, but he sustained several injuries from the attack. 

During one of the crises, while she was a student, Plangna’an lived off campus near Dariye Park, barely 100 metres away from the main gate of the Naraguta Campus. “I remember the tension of that period vividly,” she said. “We could hear gunshots at night and constantly monitored developments around us.” 

The fear was not abstract. During that same period, Plangna’an narrated that a young man attempting to reach Bauchi Road Junction was stabbed after ignoring a neighbour’s warning and was brought to her compound, where a medical student provided first aid before he could be taken to the hospital. “The atmosphere was one of constant fear and uncertainty,” Plangna’an recalled. Her roommates told her, “This is not the time to sleep in a nightie. Wear trousers. Wear something that, if we have to wake up and run, you can simply get up and leave.”

She also highlights a dimension of the crisis that is easy to overlook: the particular vulnerability of students like Adeyemo, who are from outside Plateau State. “Those of us from Plateau State at least had some understanding of the context,” she said. “But imagine students who came from other states and had no understanding of the local dynamics. They arrived expecting a safe learning environment and suddenly found themselves navigating fear, insecurity, displacement, and uncertainty.” Many students, she notes, are simply unfamiliar with which areas are considered high-risk during periods of tension, and which routes should be avoided. 

Prof. Lazarus Maigoro, former chairperson of the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) UNIJOS chapter, said the pattern has left the university community exasperated. “We have suffered untold damages in relation to loss of lives and property… each time there is a security breach in Jos, and as a union, we have tried to understand how the university community is always at the receiving end of each crisis in Jos,” he said. 

“In spite of all the provocations, we have continued to offer community service to all, irrespective of religion, culture and tribe; the university administration has, over the years, made overtures to host communities in terms of undergraduate admissions and staff employment, yet our students and staff are killed at the slightest provocation, however far the epicentre of the crisis from the institution.” 

Plangna’an, who now works on post-conflict recovery, points to structural factors that compound the danger. The communities surrounding the university include areas with high concentrations of informal settlements, illegal structures, motor parks, and markets. “Some of these spaces have become hideouts for criminals, street gangs, drug users, and other vulnerable groups susceptible to recruitment into violence and extremism,” she said. Students living off-campus must pass through these environments daily.

As Prof. Maigoro noted, the attacks not only threaten the security of life and property within the university community but also disrupt the academic calendar, causing students to spend more than the stipulated number of years to complete their programmes. “Some who were meant to spend four years will end up doing six, that is, if there are no labour union strikes,” said Liamhuan Akpenmo, a student of the university’s Faculty of Education. 

For instance, Adeyemo got admission in 2019, but by the time of his death, he had spent seven years on a five-year programme, his progress interrupted by the COVID-19 lockdown and the 2021 crisis that forced the university to close.

The evacuation

When the situation following the March 29 incident worsened, the university management rescheduled the semester examinations and placed academic and related activities on hold.  Prof. Ishaya Tanko, the vice-chancellor, also announced the evacuation of students from hostels, in collaboration with the Plateau State government.

In the days that followed, specifically from April 2, other state governments and private individuals began sending dozens of buses to evacuate students who were indigenes or residents of those states. More than 1600 students were reportedly evacuated by about seven state governments, including Benue, Delta, and Kaduna. Such arrangements are often collaborations with state student union groups and relevant state government ministries.

“It was all familiar,” said Liamhuan, a student who first experienced a similar evacuation in 2021. She and her younger sister, who is also a student, left for Benue; other students travelled as far as Lagos.

Then, even as the crisis was still unfolding, the university management announced that examinations would go ahead. “It was abrupt,” said Liamhuan. The city was not yet safe. A 6 p.m. curfew was still in effect. In one press statement issued around that time, the Student Union Government advised students to either split their journey into two legs or arrive early enough to beat the curfew. Social media was still full of missing-person posters.

“Let me state clearly that since the beginning of the crisis, no single breach of the peace was recorded on any of our campuses,” the Vice Chancellor said at a press briefing. But students like Oluwafemi, who died during the incident, were attacked in areas immediately surrounding the university, a distinction that offered little comfort to those who had lost someone.

For instance, in August 2021, at the peak of a similar crisis, a 100-level microbiology student of the university was murdered by a mob at a filling station, near Dariye Park – where Plangna’an lived – which is located adjacent to the university. 

HumAngle reached out to Emmanuel Madugu, the university’s Deputy Registrar for Information and Public Relations, for comment on how the university intends to prevent casualties among students and staff. Madugu acknowledged the request and indicated that he would respond after consulting the relevant units, but had not done so at the time of publication.

An alumnus of the university with knowledge of security matters, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said there is only so much the institution can do. When students and staff are attacked outside the university environment, he noted, the university’s hands are largely tied. The responsibility, he argued, falls primarily on the state and federal governments to secure the city.

For Liamhuan, the management’s decision to continue with the session reflected a pattern she had seen before. “I prefer to leave because the school environment does not feel safe, and everywhere feels threatened. So, home is where I feel safe, and if anything happens to you, it is you and your family that will bear the burden.” She added that the situation is even more difficult for students like herself who live off campus, largely due to a lack of sufficient student hostels.

“Even those on campus are not protected,” Liamhuan added. She once lived in one of the student hostels at the Naraguta Campus before moving off campus. “Students are still attacked by mobs when they are close to the school facilities.” Aondona’s testimony confirms this. Additionally, a viral video during the recent incident showed a man who was attacked right at the entrance of the university’s Naraguta Campus, which houses the administrative building and most of the faculties and student residences.

Although armed security posts existed near university campuses around 2017 and 2018, HumAngle observed that most of those posts no longer exist, and security is now mostly provided by unarmed officers of the university’s Security Division. More recently, through the Tertiary Education Trust Fund, a police station was constructed at the Naraguta Hostels Gate, along the Jos-Bauchi Road, but students say it is insufficient.

When HumAngle visited the campus in June, no police officers were seen on the grounds, but an unarmed Security Division security guard was at the gate.

For Abdullahi, authorities do not need to wait for violence to break out before they start mapping how to protect the students and the rest of the university community. “If there are checkpoints at flashpoints like Bauchi Road, when a crisis starts, there will be an immediate response, ensuring that killings are avoided,” he said, adding that surveillance cameras can also be installed.  

During a condolence visit to Plateau State after the March 29 attack, Nigeria’s President, Bola Tinubu, disclosed that the Federal Government would deploy an artificial intelligence-enabled network of over 5,000 digital cameras to help law enforcement agencies combat insecurity in the state. At the time of this report, the project had yet to commence. 

The General Officer Commanding of the 3rd Division, Maxwell Khobe Cantonment, Major Gen. Eyitayo Oyinlola, visited the university during the recent incident “to assure the Vice Chancellor of the Division’s high priority of securing the University in the face of threats to the lives of its community”. But students who were on campus during the incident said little to no security was actually provided.

Younglan Taylong, the university’s Student Union Government president, did not respond to requests for comment. However, students who spoke to HumAngle, including Abdullahi, say the union was supportive during the crisis, providing information, aid, and evacuation support to students.

In the absence of protection, students have had to fend for themselves. Another student, a recent graduate who declined to give his name for fear, recalled that during tense periods, particularly in 2021, students would mobilise to act as a vigilante force around the hostels at night. 

“Sometimes, we will just carry kitchen knives, I do not even know what we were thinking,” he said.

What can be done?

For those who have spent years studying or working on the crisis, the frustrating reality is that the recommendations are not new. The Greater Jos Master Plan already includes provisions to relocate illegal motor parks, markets, and informal settlements away from critical public institutions, such as the university. Similar proposals have appeared repeatedly across various commissions of inquiry. “Many remain unimplemented,” Plangna’an said. “There is a need for greater political will to translate these recommendations into reality.”

Among the measures she and others who spoke to HumAngle advocated for are: the establishment of a Mobile Police barracks or dedicated security formation near the university; the construction of additional student hostels to reduce the number of students living off-campus; the strengthening and securing of perimeter fencing at the Permanent Site to control access and deter encroachment; and the provision of secure shuttle bus services for students living off-campus. “While no transport system is completely immune to attack, organised transportation would significantly reduce students’ exposure to risk,” she added. 

The post-conflict rehabilitation and recovery expert also calls for dualising major roads around the university and constructing an interchange at the Bauchi Road junction — a congested gateway into the state that regularly creates both mobility and security problems. Beyond infrastructure, she argues for sustained investment in peacebuilding programmes that directly involve students, university staff, and surrounding communities, including support for those living with the psychological aftermath of violence. “There are many students who continue to live with trauma from experiences they have had as victims or witnesses of violence,” she said. “These experiences can affect academic performance, mental health, and overall well-being.”

Plangna’an insists the approach must shift from reactive to preventive. “Every time violence occurs, similar recommendations are made, yet implementation remains weak,” she said. “Early warning without early response has limited value.” 

Until that changes, students and experts who spoke to HumAngle say that the university community will remain, as it has been for more than two decades, caught in the crossfire. 

Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), an international humanitarian organisation, has released its 2025 activity report for Nigeria, and the findings are sobering. The medical emergency organisation, also known as Doctors Without Borders, unveiled the report during an event in Abuja, North Central Nigeria, on Wednesday, May 13, documenting the disturbing rise in malnutrition cases in the country’s northern region.

With more than 3,500 workers delivering essential healthcare services across ten states, MSF reported treating over 440,000 children for malnutrition, more than 300,000 individuals for malaria, and assisting with over 33,500 deliveries in 2025.

This surge, according to the humanitarian organisation, underscores the fragility of Nigeria’s health system and the growing vulnerability of women and children in conflict-affected regions.

The 2025 report shows that MSF recorded more than 600,000 outpatient consultations, 48,000 inpatient admissions, and treated 341,239 patients for malaria, 38,753 children for measles, 6,123 patients for diphtheria, and 985 others for meningitis across its facilities in the region.

These findings are specific to the ten Nigerian states where MSF has been operating since 1996, including Jigawa, Kano, Katsina, Kebbi, Sokoto, Zamfara, and Cross River. The organisation says it has provided a wide range of essential medical services, including paediatric and maternal health care, treating children with malnutrition, responding to disease outbreaks, caring for survivors of sexual violence, offering mental health support, and performing life‑saving surgical interventions. 

The MSF country representative, Ahmed Aldikhari, revealed that in 2025, the organisation observed a pattern consistent with that of previous years, starting in 2022. Aldikhari stated that malnutrition is one of the year’s greatest challenges, linking it to the region’s fragile conditions, which are severely affected by insecurity that has worsened food security.

“We are seeing a vicious cycle where malnutrition is both a cause and a consequence of diseases such as measles, malaria, and diphtheria, among others, which continue to affect vulnerable communities, especially when healthcare is delayed or inaccessible,” he said, suggesting that Nigeria might soon experience the peak of the malnutrition crisis. 

“That is why we are consistently working side-by-side with the ministries of health, humanitarian affairs, budget and planning at the state and federal levels, and also, with our Nigerian colleagues to ensure that efficient services are provided, but they are not enough.”

HumAngle has previously reported on the broader impact of the crisis, stressing how displacements, insecurity, and climate change, among other natural and human-induced disasters, have compounded the problem. In July 2025, MSF, in collaboration with the Katsina State government, mobilised state and non-state actors to address the escalating malnutrition crisis in the northwestern region. 

During the 2024 MSF conference in Abuja, organised in collaboration with the North West Governors’ Forum and the Katsina State Government, stakeholders emphasised that malnutrition in the northwestern region is no longer a seasonal emergency but rather a structural crisis that requires urgent mobilisation. The governors acknowledged that insecurity and climate pressures were eroding food systems, but MSF urged greater investment in therapeutic feeding centres and preventive programmes.

Northern Nigeria continues to face a critical malnutrition crisis, with Katsina particularly affected, according to MSF’s 2025 activity report. Findings reveal that since 2021, MSF has been present in the state, with the organisation’s leadership revealing that they have witnessed a sharp rise in the number of malnourished children since responding to the growing crisis in recent years.

In 2025, MSF reported treating the highest number of malnourished children in Katsina. With the support of the state Ministry of Health, the organisation focused on preventing illness and malnutrition to reduce mortality and morbidity among children suffering from acute malnutrition.

“Katsina State has faced a chronic malnutrition crisis for over a decade, driven by insecurity, climate shocks, limited primary healthcare services, and high birth rates,” the report revealed. “Throughout 2025, MSF admitted 26,445 patients for inpatient care, provided treatment to 146,301 children through its outpatient centres, and conducted 15,387 outpatient consultations for malaria.”

In response to this, MSF established a new Ambulatory Therapeutic Feeding Centre (ATFC) in Mashi and a second inpatient therapeutic feeding centre at the Turai Yar’aduwa Hospital to handle the increased patient load during peak seasons.

Beyond nutrition in Kebbi, the report states that MSF responded to multiple infectious disease surges and outbreaks by tackling the increase in meningitis cases from February to May, while supporting the Ministry of Health facilities in Jega, Gwandu, and Aliero with logistics, medical supplies, staff training, and facility rehabilitation.

Following the escalating insecurity in neighbouring Zamfara and Niger that led to mass displacement to the Danko-Wasugu areas of Kebbi State as of June, the humanitarian organisation provided basic healthcare and distributed non-food relief kits to vulnerable households.

In Zamfara alone, MSF admitted 47,164 children to inpatient therapeutic feeding centres and provided 14,167 outpatient consultations in 2024, with numbers continuing to rise in 2025. According to Aldikhari, this increase in admissions is due to multiple overlapping crises, including conflict and insecurity in the northwestern and northeastern regions, which have displaced thousands of families, cutting them off from farmlands. 

While the 2025 activity report warns that malnutrition is no longer a seasonal emergency but a permanent feature of Nigeria’s humanitarian landscape, it also highlights the fact that the sheer scale of admissions suggests the crisis is outpacing the humanitarian response. 

Khadeejat Mohammed was only two years old when Mokwa’s gully erosion claimed her life in the Eti-Sheshi community of Niger State, North Central Nigeria. Bright, playful, and already piecing sentences together, she had just been registered for creche. “She was very smart,” Isa Sheshi, her grandfather, told HumAngle. “Even at two, she played around and was able to put sentences together. I loved her so much.”

On the day she passed away, Khadeejat had asked her grandfather for money to buy tofu, locally called awara. The tofu seller was just across the same bridge that the family had carved from felled trees. The erosion had long cut through their community, forcing residents to improvise crossings. 

“When the erosion began, we used wood to build a makeshift bridge,” Sheshi said. “But with time it got bigger, so we went to the bush to cut down 15 longer trees to create another bridge.” 

That makeshift bridge became Khadeejat’s final path. On her way back, holding the tofu in a transparent plastic bag with her elder brother, who was three years older, she slipped into the gully. 

“Her head went directly into a hollow hole filled with water in the gully,” Sheshi recounted, holding onto her picture. “She gulped that water before we could rush to the scene. When we brought her out and rushed her to the hospital, we were told she had a fractured skull.” 

She was rushed to the Mokwa General Hospital and later referred to the Federal Medical Centre, Bida. Unfortunately, Khadeejat died before the family could leave the motor park to travel to Bida.

“It’s been four years since the incident, but whenever I pass through that hole caused by gully erosion, my granddaughter’s thoughts always come to mind,” the man said.

Khadeejat’s death in 2022 was not just a family tragedy; it was a warning of what unchecked erosion has continued to do in Mokwa. 

Yet, years later, the gully remains, widening with each rainy season. Although figures of lives lost in these gullies are not publicly available, residents confirmed to HumAngle that a significant number of people have lost their loved ones in them, with some sustaining life-threatening injuries.

Despite the clear threats posed by the widening and deepening gullies, HumAngle’s investigation reveals that state and local authorities have failed to take effective action. The problem worsens with each rainy season, raising concerns among local communities. In 2024, the Niger State government secured World Bank ecological funds, specifically earmarked for erosion control projects. However, these resources have not translated into tangible solutions. 

The Federal Ministry of Information and National Orientation, led by Mohammed Idris from the Mokwa Senatorial District, announced in December 2024 that the Niger State government had secured a $10 million intervention from the World Bank. This funding is aimed at addressing gully erosion in Mokwa, an area increasingly susceptible to environmental disasters.

During his visit to the affected communities in Mokwa, Umar Bago, the state governor, confirmed that the gully erosion had posed serious threats to the communities and that “competent contractors with track records have been identified to handle the project, which will commence soon.”

The state secured World Bank funding after years of neglect to address the root causes of erosion, particularly in communities such as Eti-Sheshi, Kpege, and Anguwan Hausa.

In May 2025, just five months after receiving funding from the World Bank, Mokwa was hit by a devastating flood that resulted in the loss of hundreds of lives. This tragedy raised serious questions about why the government had not started the project, especially since they had already identified “competent contractors” for the job.

Once competent contractors have been identified, the process of publishing the contract bid is governed by law. At the state level, this is regulated by procurement laws specific to each state, which are based on the federal Public Procurement Act of 2007. Section 18 (1b and d) of the Niger State Public Procurement Law of 2020 states that, subject to exemptions allowed by this law, all public procurement shall be conducted by open competitive bidding in a manner that is transparent, timely, and equitable, to ensure accountability and conformity with the law. Based on the above, a national invitation to bid shall be advertised on “the notice board of the procuring entity, any official website of the procuring entity, at least two national newspapers, and in the procurement journal,” according to section 27(2b) of the same law. 

HumAngle did not find any instance of the state government publishing any contract bid for the $10 million World Bank ecological funds project in Mokwa regarding the gully erosion project. However, a contract bid was published in May 2025 by the state’s Ministry of Environment and Climate Change under the Agro Climatic Resilience in Semi-Arid Landscapes (ACReSAL) project, with the contract title: Construction of Storm Water Drainage Structures for Mokwa and Babban Rami Gully Erosion sites in Niger State.

They invited bidders for two contracts: construction of water-stormwater drainage structures for both Mokwa and Babban Rami, with bid security of ₦150 million and ₦200 million, respectively, for a 28-month construction period.

Further investigations by HumAngle revealed that the ACReSAL project (Agro-Climatic Resilience in Semi-Arid Landscapes) is a separate initiative from the World Bank Ecological Funds, which are commonly referred to as the Ecological and Natural Disasters Management Fund in Nigeria. Although both are World Bank projects, they serve different purposes.

While ACReSAL is a targeted World Bank loan facility for northern ecological resilience, the other is a national funding mechanism aimed at addressing nationwide disasters.

HumAngle confirmed, through field visits in February, that both the World Bank and the ACReSAL projects have not been executed. The bridge and culvert along the Mokwa-Jebba axis, damaged by last year’s deadly flood, are currently undergoing reconstruction.

When HumAngle visited the Eti‑Sheshi and Anguwan Hausawa areas in February, two of the three most devastating gully-erosion sites in Mokwa had deepened and widened, some plunging about 15 feet. Houses and even a mosque sat precariously on the edge, half‑collapsed into the earth.

Abbas Idris, the president of the Risk Managers Society of Nigeria (RIMSON), revealed that communities affected by gullies face the loss of arable land, damage to infrastructure, degradation of water quality, biodiversity loss, food insecurity, and displacement. More dangerously, erosion increases the risk of flooding, threatening lives and livelihoods.

“At the end of the day, this could give rise to conflict as a result of scarcity of land and resources, as people will be fighting over the land not affected by gully erosion,” he warned.

In March, after reviewing World Bank records for details on the Mokwa project, HumAngle submitted a request through the Bank’s information platform seeking clarification on the project and its operations.  

The World Bank responded by asking us to provide “a direct link to, or full citation of, the specific document or public reporting you referenced in your request.”  We explained that the inability to locate the specific document on its website—even after conducting a Boolean search—necessitated our request. We nonetheless provided links to public reports that referenced the funding.  

On May 4, a month after its initial response, the World Bank sent what seemed to be a generic status update, stating that the request was still being processed.

“In most cases, we can respond within twenty (20) working days from receipt of a request for information. However, we may need additional time in special circumstances, for example, if the request is complex or voluminous or if it requires review…,” they wrote.

Erosion tears school walls apart

Gully erosion in Mokwa is severely impacting the community by destroying homes and livelihoods and depriving children of the opportunity to attend school. Aisha Muhammad-Kolo, the founder of Gbastif Global Academy, the only affordable private school in the area, witnessed firsthand how erosion stripped the school bare.

“There is nobody in this house, and school is closed due to the impact of the gully erosion that has been affecting our community,” she told HumAngle. Each rainy season brought chaos. When the gullies filled with water, they burst into her compound, flooding classrooms and frightening parents. 

“People were afraid that their children were at risk, so they started removing their children from the school, which affected us greatly but also deprived the students of schooling,” she said. “This is the only private school in our community, and most parents prefer to enrol their children here because it is not only affordable but we ensure quality education as compared to our government schools.”

The collapse of Gbastif Global Academy is emblematic of how erosion has altered schooling in many Mokwa communities. Teachers struggled to keep children safe during storms, sometimes moving them into private rooms until the rains subsided. 

“Whenever it rained, and we were in session, I would have to take all the children inside my room to ensure they were safe. By the time the rain receded, it had washed off a significant part of our structures,” Aisha recounted.  

Although the school was later relocated to a safer site, the arrangement is temporary, and parents are concerned about the distance. Aisha told HumAngle that the landowner could reclaim the property at any time, leaving the school stranded. 

“I believe the impact of the gully erosion is enormous, especially on education. Also, we have been robbed of our source of livelihood and have not been able to recover,” she said. 

Her fears extend beyond the school to her own family. “I also have children, and the rainy season will soon be here. You can’t be everywhere at every time to monitor your kids. They are very young and do not understand the dangers in areas affected by gully erosion. I am afraid to lose any of my children and my house because of gully erosion,” she added.

While there are no publicly available data specific to Mokwa or Niger State, a 2024 UNICEF report reveals the scale of climate‑induced disruptions to education across Nigeria. The report found that 2.2 million Nigerian students experienced interruptions to their schooling due to disasters such as flooding and erosion, underscoring how environmental crises directly undermine learning. 

These disruptions compound existing vulnerabilities, leaving communities like Mokwa even more exposed when erosion destroys classrooms and forces children out of school.  This data situates Mokwa’s erosion crisis within a broader pattern of climate‑driven educational instability, showing that the loss of Gbastif Global Academy is not an isolated tragedy but part of a systemic emergency threatening children’s futures.  

A hospital in ruin

Mokwa General Hospital, intended to serve as an important resource for the community, is collapsing due to gully erosion and inadequate maintenance. The hospital’s buildings show clear signs of decay, including peeling paint, broken windows, and walls damaged by erosion. Some parts of the structures have already collapsed, creating unsafe areas within the compound.

Drainage channels around the hospital have fallen into deep gullies and are now clogged with waste and debris. Instead of carrying water safely away, they have become dumping grounds, worsening waterlogging and exposing patients and staff to health risks.  

The erosion has transformed the hospital environment into a hazardous zone. HumAngle observed that foundations are exposed, certain sections of the compound are unsafe to cross, and the surrounding land has eroded away. What should be a place of healing now mirrors the environmental collapse outside its walls, threatening public health and undermining confidence in essential services.

The situation at Mokwa General Hospital shows how unchecked erosion and poor ecological management are crippling critical infrastructure. 

When infrastructure such as roads, schools, and hospitals is destroyed, the consequences become catastrophic, said Abbas Idris, a risk and disaster expert, who also noted that the collapse of a hospital due to erosion could leave communities without access to healthcare, leading to preventable deaths. He stressed the importance of proactive disaster management through risk assessment and hazard categorisation.

“If there are no risk assessments, the coping capacity of the community will be very low when disaster hits them,” he warned. “Without urgent intervention, the hospital risks becoming unusable, leaving thousands of residents without access to healthcare.”  

Mokwa’s deadly deluge

In May 2025, Mokwa experienced a catastrophic flood that devastated the area, displacing over 3,000 people and resulting in more than 160 fatalities. This tragic event became the deadliest flood incident in the country that year. Entire families were wiped out as homes, schools, and farmlands vanished under torrents of muddy water. Hajara Malam Abba is one of those affected by this disastrous flooding.

For Hajara’s family, the devastation was deeply personal. “The things we lost from the flood incident in 2025 can never be recovered because we lost both lives and property,” she said. 

In their family, her elder sister bore the heaviest burden, losing 17 members of her household – 16 grandchildren and her child – in a single night of flooding. Alongside the lives lost, the family’s livelihood was swept away: six refrigerators, five grinding machines, rams, clothes, and appliances all destroyed.  

The aftermath forced them into precarious living conditions. Hajara’s sister rented another place to manage, while other family members who could not afford rent built makeshift tents on the same land where their homes once stood. 

“It’s been almost a year now, but they still sleep there in vulnerable conditions, hoping that the government will eventually intervene,” Hajara said.  “We can’t sleep in peace again because of the fear of the unknown, since the rainy season is almost here again.”

Alhaji Umar Sani, one of the flood victims, vividly remembers the morning the floodwaters came. 

“It was around 6 a.m., after we had just finished praying the Subhi [dawn] prayer, then we heard people shouting,” he recounted. “My son told us he saw people drowning in the massive flood waters sweeping through homes.”

“Before we could act, the water had reached my house. My wife, my children, and I couldn’t take anything. I was only wearing a jalabiya and trousers, while my wife wore a hijab and trousers – everything else was washed away. The water covered my house. I am grateful it didn’t claim any of our lives,” he said.

In the wake of the disaster, President Bola Tinubu approved the release of ₦16.7 billion for the immediate reconstruction of the Mokwa Bridge, which was destroyed by flooding. The Minister of Information and National Orientation, Mohammed Idris, stated this after a meeting with the Minister of Works, Senator Dave Umahi. He said the project would involve constructing a bridge with 10 spans.

As families cling to faith and resilience, scepticism lingers over government efforts as the drainage system under construction is seen as inadequate. “When the floodwater came, it was enormous. How then can this drainage contain the next flood? It ought to be bigger than this,” Hajara said.

Alhaji Umar, another victim of the gully erosion, echoed the same concern, noting that the project underway is “a culvert, not a bridge” and does not match the scale of the destruction. With over 250 people killed in Mokwa alone, residents fear the rainy season could bring another catastrophe. Idris, the risk and disaster expert, criticised the government’s reconstruction of the bridge in Mokwa, which was downgraded to a box culvert without a proper scientific assessment.

“Even in the reconstruction of the said bridge, the government failed to use experts to analyse the risk factors. The facility engineers were supposed to consider the disaster and suggest a suitable bridge model that can manage the floodwater. Instead, it was just constructed haphazardly,” he lamented.

Communities under siege

Each rainy season, the community around Mokwa General Hospital experiences severe erosion, causing families to lose their homes, crops, and peace of mind. Residents report that last year’s floods were particularly destructive, as water surged into the gullies and dangerously approached their homes. Several houses have suffered partial damage due to the erosion.

“We are not happy that this gully erosion has not been fixed,” Isa complained. “When there is heavy rainfall, the water finds its way to fill up these gullies, leaving us and our homes at risk. If the rainy season comes now, we don’t even know what will happen.”  

Ruqayyah Ismail, another resident, described how the rainy season signals fear for her and other families. “When the rain falls, the front of our house turns into a river. Everywhere is filled with water as we have to stay indoors for days with our children without crossing over to the other side of our house,” she said. 

The erosion has already destroyed her gate, and each year the water pushes further inside. Recounting a near-miss ordeal, she added: “An Okada rider had once fallen into the hole. On his way home, he slipped and fell into a ditch. He almost lost his life, but his motorcycle was found at the other end of the gully.”

Muhammed Jibril, whose family moved into their new house in 2006, told HumAngle that the erosion gradually worsened as the population grew. “From about five years ago, it became massive. Last year’s rainy season was the worst of all. We lost everything due to erosion. For more than six months, our neighbours were the ones feeding us,” he said. 

Stored food supplies, including 13 bags of maize, were destroyed alongside clothing, electronic appliances, and money. 

“Till today, we have not recovered from the disaster. I had to sell my motorcycle to build a buffer zone behind my fence to minimise the destruction,” he added.  

Over the years, the persistent erosion has reshaped the community’s daily life. For most communities, the rainy season serves as a source of growth and prosperity, but for this community in Mokwa, it signals fear and disaster.

He described climbing to the overhead tank to monitor water levels, warning his family to evacuate if the flooding became too severe. The erosion even brought down his main gate, forcing him to relocate it onto a neighbour’s property. 

“Fortunately, my neighbours understand that’s why they’ve been patient with us. Until they [government] construct a proper channel for the water to pass through, we have no choice but to remain like this,” he said.  

Jibril told HumAngle that beyond psychological trauma, the financial toll has been staggering. 

“Last year alone, if I recall the losses, it could make me cry. All of my harvests were destroyed, including sesame seeds, which were expensive in the market. In total, we lost about ₦4 million. But we were lucky not to lose any lives,” Jibril noted. 

After every flood incident, residents say people who identify as World Bank officials visited the community to take measurements and collect their details, only to remain silent afterwards. “We need assistance before the rains start. They should fix it so that we can have peace of mind. That is all we ask for now,” Jibril pleaded.  

According to the disaster expert Idris, the absence of adequate land management practices and unchecked deforestation are driving the crisis.

“Addressing gully erosion requires adequate land management practices, and if you look at Mokwa, that is absent,” Idris explained. “Deforestation has been thriving in the environment due to abject poverty, as people cut down trees for charcoal. Also, there has been little to no effort from the government to educate the community on erosion control measures.”

He called for accountability and a shift in leadership priorities.

“Unless we address corruption, unless our leaders change from their personal interests to that of the people, and unless they value the lives of those communities they are governing, we are not going to get it right.”

On April 7, HumAngle submitted a Freedom of Information (FOI) request to the Niger State government through the Commissioner for Environment and Climate Change, Hon. Alhaji Abubakar Musa. The request sought clarification regarding the $10 million World Bank-assisted fund earmarked for the Mokwa gully erosion control and also some ACReSAL projects in the LGA.  

The government has not responded to that request. This lack of response comes despite the stipulated timeframe (7 days, with an extension of another 7 days) for a reply, as outlined in Nigeria’s FOI Act of 2011.