Northern

The ring light in Amina Yusuf’s* room stood near an old white wardrobe. For months, it remained unused, except during the occasional recordings where she mimed along to Hausa love songs, glancing between her phone screen and the mirror at the other side of the room. These moments were fleeting, unsure steps in her experiment with social media, particularly TikTok.

But when the news came that Facebook had rolled out monetisation features for content creators in Nigeria, something stirred. Opportunity, like the sudden spark of light, loomed and offered a new possibility. Not fame, no – at least not yet – but fortune, or its illusion.

“As soon as I heard about it,” she said, fiddling with the edge of her veil, “I knew this was a way to earn from what I was already doing.”

She speaks with the assurance of someone who has discovered a private economy within a public world. Amina converted her dormant Facebook profile, once used to scroll aimlessly through posts and video reels, into a professional page. She followed every breadcrumb Facebook’s interface dropped: optimize your bio, post consistently, engage followers, and cross-promote from Instagram. Soon enough, the app crowned her eligible for monetisation.

And that’s when her trouble began.

In this algorithmic marketplace, virality is currency. With 190 thousand followers on Facebook, her reach was growing – thousands of views, shares, and comments flooding her posts. Amina’s strategy was simple: find trending TikTok videos and repost them. It didn’t matter whether the videos were true or false, informative or inflammatory.

“My job is just to share,” she said. “It’s the viewer’s responsibility to figure out if it’s true or not.”

“Sometimes I earn between 10 to 15 dollars a day,” she said, not with pride, but a sense of surprise. “That’s a lot of money for someone like me. I even paid my school fees with it.”

As a university student in Northern Nigeria, where classrooms are overcrowded, lectures often suspended, and lecturers underpaid, she says her digital hustle has made her richer than her lecturers.

“I earn more than them,” she said plainly. “Imagine that.” She referenced how recently a university professor revealed the dire professional conditions they find themselves in.

To digital rights activists and fact-checkers, Amina is not just a clever student seizing a modern opportunity. She is part of a growing ecosystem that profits from confusion. What she calls content, they call misinformation. Monetised misinformation.

Facebook’s monetisation in Africa, especially in Nigeria and particularly in the northern part of the country, has become a double-edged sword. On one hand, it democratizes income in a region that ranks high in poverty rate. On the other hand, it rewards spectacle, sometimes at the expense of truth. Sensational headlines, recycled conspiracy theories, emotional hoaxes: these are the new exports of a digital continent eager to be seen, eager to be paid.

Amina does not deny this. But she also does not apologise.

“I don’t make the videos,” she said. “I just share what people have already posted. If it makes people comment and watch, that’s all I need.”

Her profile on Facebook is a mixture of different videos – politics, religion, celebrity gossip, football, and everything that may generate engagements. Among this, is the amplification of information disorder originally shared by the creators of the videos. 

For example, in a Facebook post that garnered over 60 shares, she amplified a false claim that Osun State Governor Adeleke had announced Babagana Zulum would spearhead the defection of five Northern governors to the new coalition of ADC. Despite the claim being publicly debunked, the post is still on her profile.

An algorithm designed for outrage

By design, Facebook’s algorithm privileges intensity over integrity. According to the platform’s own documentation, content that provokes strong emotional reactions – anger, fear, shock– is more likely to spread. For many users in Northern Nigeria, where Facebook doubles as both a social space and a news source, this has created a chaotic digital environment where engagement is currency and accuracy is often overlooked.

“Facebook isn’t just a platform here,” said Bashir Sharfadi, a journalist based in Kano. “It’s the main source of news for millions. So when influencers post fake news, the impact is immediate and vast.”

A 2020 report by the Centre for Democracy and Development (CDD) West Africa, revealed that most of the viral posts flagged by Nigerian fact-checkers in the previous year originated from influencers who directly benefited from Facebook’s financial incentives. The rewards are tangible and tempting.

One such influencer, who regularly posts unverified videos to nearly a million followers, put it plainly: “It’s about engagement, not content.” He explained how influencers operate in coordinated communities, often through WhatsApp groups, sharing what trends, what triggers reaction. “The only reason we avoid some kinds of content, like nudity, is religious. But many others still post that too.”

The more scandalous the claim, the greater the traffic. And with traffic comes income.

But Sharfadi warns that the crisis goes beyond the individual pursuit of profit. It has become institutional: a digital ecosystem where misinformation is normalised, defended, and scaled.

“Our biggest challenge isn’t detecting lies,” he said. “It’s competing with the incentives that come with spreading them.” 

But Sharfadi has more concerns. People believe misinformation and they don’t care even after it is fact-checked.

In one recent case, a TikTok video targeting an activist named Dan Bello was re-edited and republished across Facebook and WhatsApp. Dan Bello is a popular Hausa vlogger with millions of followers on Facebook, TikTok, and X, posting mainly on accountability in governance.

The manipulated clip, falsely portrayed Dan Bello as ‘an enemy of Islam’ supporting an attack on Muslim clerics by showing him raising thumbs up on an audio attached to the video. It gained massive traction. The result: a popular cleric condemned Dan Bello publicly, sparking backlash that lingered even after the video was proven to be doctored.

“Even when the cleric apologised, people still believed he had been threatened into doing so,” said Sharfadi. “The damage had already been done.”

Another case involved one Sultan, a TikTok influencer known for posting commentary on current events. During the recent Israeli-Iran conflict, he claimed that Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu was hiding in a bunker, near death. The clip was later manipulated to feature an image of Nigeria’s President Tinubu and circulated widely.

Sultan is now in jail.

“He was arrested in Kano for something he never did,” posted his lawyer on Facebook. “There was no investigation. No effort to verify. Just a swift response to digital noise.”

The story of Sultan is a portrait of a system where the line between user-generated content and criminal liability is dangerously blurred.

Who bears the burden?

In response to the growing crisis, Meta—Facebook’s parent company—has recently taken down and demonetised dozens of accounts for violating its content policies. But enforcement remains scattershot.

One influencer interviewed for this report admitted to receiving multiple warnings. Yet his account remains active and profitable.

About what caused a restriction on his account, he admitted, “I know it’s wrong, but if I stop, someone else will do it. So what’s the point?”

Critics argue that Facebook’s moderation policies are inconsistent and reactive. Content flagged in English may be removed, while misinformation in Hausa, spoken by tens of millions, is often overlooked.

“What we see is a system where the platform benefits, the influencers benefit, and the public suffers,” Sharfadi said. “It’s not just about demonetization. It’s about influence. These pages, with their massive followings, can be rented. You pay, they publish whatever narrative you want.”

The commodification of disinformation has taken root. Several influencers are now operating as pay-for-post vendors, spreading political propaganda and conspiracy theories on demand.

Fact-checkers like Muhammad Dahiru believe that Facebook must go beyond machine learning and invest in people—moderators fluent in local languages and cultures, equipped to flag false content in real time.

“We need language-specific moderation, especially in Hausa, which is the lingua franca in Northern Nigeria,” Muhammad said. “Otherwise, misinformation will remain the most profitable game in town.”

He added, “There must be accountability. Either platforms police themselves, or governments will do it for them. And when governments control speech, history reminds us what follows.” Muhammad believes the work against misinformation is shared responsibility  “between the government, Facebook, and civil society organisations.” 

For now, Northern Nigeria’s digital public is left to sort through a feed where facts and falsehoods blend seamlessly, where a student like Amina can pay tuition with profits from misinformation, and an activist like Dan Bello can be condemned for something that never happened.

The asterisked name is a pseudonym we have used at the source’s request to protect her against backlash.

Smith adds stardust and the hope is that he can give his new teammates, now including Glamorgan’s Ben Kellaway, a little bit extra while also piling on the runs.

“He’s going to bring a huge amount to the team,” said captain and Somerset batter Tom Abell.

“His record speaks for itself, he’s a great guy and a world-class player who has done it in all formats at the very top level.

“His influence on the team will be huge. He has been the best player in the world for a good number of years and that will hopefully give everyone an extra little bit of confidence.

“Anyone wants Steve Smith in their team, don’t they? Luckily he will be playing for us.”

The Australian has passed 10,000 runs in Tests, 5,000 in ODIs and 1,000 in international T20s.

“Even Jonny Bairstow, who has played 100 Test matches, is asking what Steve Smith is like to play with,” said coach Mike Hussey.

“He will bring a lot to the team, and hopefully a lot of runs, experience and star power.”

Fire men missed out on the eliminator on net run rate in 2023 and won just two of six fixtures that beat the weather last year.

It took until the fifth fixture to get a success and Hussey does not want to be playing catch-up this August.

“All the teams are pretty strong so we are going to have to hit the ground running,” said the Australian.

“Hopefully we can play some really good cricket, get some confidence going early and then see how we go.

“I don’t know how far we can go, we are hoping to go all the way but obviously you need a lot to go your way.”

Escalating attacks in Cabo Delgado are taking place amid major cuts in international aid.

Nearly 60,000 people have fled Mozambique’s northern Cabo Delgado province in two weeks, a United Nations agency has said, amid a years-long rebellion by fighters affiliated with ISIL (ISIS).

The International Organization for Migration (IOM) said in a statement on Tuesday that escalating attacks that began on July 20 had displaced 57,034 people, or 13,343 families.

Chiúre was the hardest-hit district, with more than 42,000 people uprooted, more than half of them children, the IOM said.

“So far, around 30,000 displaced people have received food, water, shelter, and essential household items,” Paola Emerson, who heads the Mozambique branch of the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), told the AFP news agency.

Emerson said OCHA was preparing to step up its assistance in the coming days. “The response, however, is not yet at the scale required to meet growing needs,” she said, in a context of cuts to international aid by the United States and other countries.

“Funding cuts mean life-saving aid is being scaled back,” she added. The UN’s 2025 Humanitarian Response Plan for Mozambique has so far received only 19 percent of the pledges requested.

The organisation also stressed that the lack of safety and documentation, and involuntary relocations, were compounding protection risks.

The Southern African nation has been fighting a rebellion by a group known locally as al-Shabab,  though with no links to the Somali fighters of a similar name, in the north for at least eight years. Rwandan soldiers have been deployed to help Mozambique fight them.

More than 6,100 people have been killed since the beginning of the insurrection, according to conflict tracker ACLED, including 364 last year, according to data from the Africa Centre for Strategic Studies.

Cabo Delgado has large offshore natural gas reserves, and the fighting caused the suspension of operations by the French company Total Energies in 2021. The French fossil fuel giant has said it hopes to re-ignite the $20bn gas project this summer.

Human Rights Watch last month said the armed group had “ramped up abductions of children”, using them as fighters or for labour or marriage. The group said recruiting or using children under the age of 15 to participate actively in hostilities constitutes a war crime.

The average price of a house in this seaside town is much lower than the national average, making it a property hotspot for Brits looking to live by the coast

Seaside living remains a cherished aspiration for many people who dream of leisurely strolls along the beach after a hard day at work. Yet for many, this remains nothing more than a tantalising fantasy that stays frustratingly beyond their grasp.

Northumberland’s Newbiggin-By-The-Sea certainly seems to be riding a wave of popularity at the moment – and if house hunters leave it much longer they might just be priced out. The most affordable property currently advertised on Rightmove within the North East town is a three-bed end of terrace property on Lynwood Avenue, listed for auction with a guide price of £40,000. Meanwhile, another three-bedroom house on the same street is listed for sale at £69,950. Whether you’re planning a move or just curious about local property prices, our interactive map shows the house prices in each area of the country.

The typical selling price in the town stands at merely £129,063, which represents considerably less than half Britain’s average property cost of £282,000, according to statistics from last year, as per the Express. Lawrence Jones works as a refuse collector for Newcastle City Council and became enchanted with the town four years ago. He lives with his wife Michelle Jones, having moved from Shiremoor.

He said: “We sold our house and the idea was to move to Durham – but Newbiggin was the only place we could get a rental. Twenty years ago I wouldn’t have been impressed as it was a little bit rough.”

However, Lawrence now treasures his new residence so deeply that within three months of arriving, he purchased a property which he claims has rocketed in value. He added: “You walk along the promenade and everybody speaks to you. It is so friendly.”

Ian and Sally Boot are from Nottingham and were in Newbiggin for the day, visiting their son who lives in nearby Blyth. Both agree if their daughter was to also move to the area they’d take the plunge in a flash. Retired engineer Ian said: “I think it’s nice – there’s free parking, a new cafe and it’s nice up the coast in Amble and Bamburgh. Retired civil servant Sally said: “It’s quiet and that’s why we have come today. We thought we would have a quiet day and it’s nice and peaceful.

Marion Longstaff, has run business Pretty Things By The Sea since 2018 after relocating from Windermere in the Lakes. She said: “It is still cheaper than the prices in Amble – it’s a hidden gem. Southerners are definitely taking an interest. After lockdown they were coming up for a break – one couple [I met] came up for a long weekend and fell in love. They sold up their property but haven’t found a property they want here yet as they were gazumped.”

Marion says she will never leave the little seaside enclave and says the coastline is “just my medicine. ” Fellow local business owner Annie, a former mechanical engineer, originally from Manchester, has lived in the town for 35 years. She said: “I just like village life and everybody knows everybody. Everybody is very, very friendly. People come on holiday and then they love it here.”

Andy Brown runs Jackson’s Jewellers and More on the main shopping stretch which is packed with independent shops. He said: “I think the village itself has evolved and people should take note. There is a large variety of shops, all independent, as the rents and rates are all reasonable. The place is also kept as clean as a whistle and the people are beautiful.”

Andy said a few decades ago the area was perceived as “rough” but it “always had massive potential” that is finally being realised. Dawn Duddridge, a sales negotiator at local estate agent Rickard, says the market in Newbiggin is booming.

She said: “Properties there don’t hang around much, especially on the seafront. “”Often people who have been here on holiday come up from the south and buy a house outright – and have still got a decent amount in the bank.”

Cliftonville captain Kelsie Burrows has been handed a 16-match ban for an alleged ‘assault on a match official’.

The Northern Ireland international was shown a red card by referee Simon Bickerstaff after the Reds’ 2-0 win against Glentoran Women on 25 July.

The suspension is effective immediately and cover all competitions but it is understood that the club are appealing the decision, which means Burrows will be available to play in Friday’s Premiership game against Crusaders Strikers.

Team coach Brendan Lynch has been handed a three-match ban from the same game for ‘entering the field of play to confront a match official’.

The incident came after the final whistle of the victory over Glentoran which put Cliftonville right in the mix at the top of the table as they currently sit six points off leaders Linfield with two games in hand.

Cliftonville, the Irish FA and NIFL have been contacted by BBC Sport NI for comment.

Defence Ministry accuses Kurdish-led SDF of injuring four army personnel and three civilians in rocket attack near Manbij.

Syria’s Ministry of Defence has accused the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) of carrying out a rocket attack on a military position in northern Syria, injuring four army personnel and three civilians.

In a statement carried by Syria’s official SANA news agency, the ministry said the military was able to repel the attack in the countryside of the city of Manbij.

“The army forces are working to deal with the sources of fire that targeted the civilian villages near the deployment lines,” the ministry said, adding in a later statement that the military was carrying out “precise strikes”.

But the United States-backed SDF said in a statement that it was responding to “an unprovoked artillery assault targeting civilian-populated areas with more than ten shells” from factions operating within Syrian government ranks.

The statement made no mention of casualties.

The incident comes after the SDF signed a deal in March with Syria’s new interim government to integrate into state institutions.

The SDF has controlled a semi-autonomous region in the northeastern part of the country since 2015, and the deal, if implemented, would bring that territory under the full control of Syria’s central government, led by interim President Ahmed al-Sharaa.

Al-Sharaa led the lightning rebel offensive that toppled longtime Syrian President Bashar al-Assad in December last year.

Discussions over the integration of the SDF into the Syrian state had been ongoing since the fall of al-Assad, but were hampered by divides fostered over years of civil war.

The deal reached in March did not specify how the SDF would be merged with the Syrian armed forces.

The SDF has previously said its forces must join as a bloc, while Damascus wants them to join as individuals.

“While we reaffirm our commitment to respecting the current de-escalation arrangements, we call on the relevant authorities in the Syrian government to take responsibility and bring the undisciplined factions under their control,” the SDF said in its statement.

July 26 (UPI) — A lone attacker has been arrested after allegedly randomly stabbing 11 victims late Saturday afternoon at a Walmart in Traverse City, Mich.

None of the 11 stabbing victims has died, but three are undergoing surgery following the attack that occurred around 5 p.m. EDT, the Traverse City Record-Eagle reported.

The lone suspect used a folding knife in what appeared to be a random attack, Grand Traverse County Sheriff Mike Shea told the Record-Eagle.

The suspect “appears” to be a Michigan resident, Shea said during a press conference.

A group of bystanders, including at least one armed with a pistol, confronted the suspect and forced him to drop the knife while awaiting a police response, video footage posted by WZZM shows.

Michigan State Police crime lab investigators are helping to gather and analyze evidence at the crime scene, which is located in the Grand Traverse Crossing mall in the southwestern portion of Traverse City.

The stabbing victims were taken to Munson Medical Center in Traverse City, where five are in serious condition and six are in critical condition.

“We are working closely with local authorities and emergency services to ensure the best possible care for those impacted,” hospital staff said.

Traverse City is a popular vacation destination at the southern end of Lake Michigan’s Grand Traverse Bay in northern lower Michigan.

Former Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg, a potential 2026 presidential candidate for the Democratic Party, and his husband, Chasten Buttigieg, moved to Traverse City in 2022.

The city had a year-round population of 15,707 in 2023, but the population there and in nearby communities swells greatly during the summer months.

It’s known for beautiful sandy beaches, great freshwater fishing and hosting an annual National Cherry Festival that runs from the end of June through the Independence Day holiday.

Traverse City is located 150 miles north of Grand Rapids and 255 miles northwest of Detroit.

While summer temperatures in the Mediterranean continue to soar, more of us are looking for alternative, cooler coasts further north. We want to know about a great seaside holiday you’ve had on Europe’s more northern shores (from northern France to Scandinavia, but excluding the UK). Whether it was a stay at a traditional resort in Normandy, camping by a wild beach in the Netherlands or a cabin stay on a remote island off Norway or Sweden, we’d love to hear about places you’ve discovered on your travels.

The best tip of the week, chosen by Tom Hall of Lonely Planet wins a £200 voucher to stay at a Coolstays property – the company has more than 3,000 worldwide. The best tips will appear in the Guardian Travel section and website.

Keep your tip to about 100 words

If you have a relevant photo, do send it in – but it’s your words we will be judging for the competition.

We’re sorry, but for legal reasons you must be a UK resident to enter this competition.

Attack is first of its kind in months and occurs as PKK has begun disarmament, ending armed campaign against Turkiye.

An unidentified drone attack has killed a member of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and injured another near northern Iraq’s Sulaimaniyah, according to security sources and local officials.

The attack on Saturday was the first of its kind in months and occurred as the PKK has begun the first steps towards disarmament, ending its armed campaign against the Turkish state.

The drone attack hit a motorbike in the area, according to Iraqi outlet The New Region.

The mayor of Penjwen, in Sulaimaniyah, Hemin Ibrahim, confirmed that the drone targeted two people in a border village within the district, resulting in one dead, Kurdistan24 reported.

“The two individuals were riding a motorcycle when they were targeted. One was killed, and the other sustained injuries,” he told the news outlet.

Ibrahim told Kurdistan24 that the strike occurred Saturday morning.

No group or country has yet claimed responsibility for the attack.

A small ceremony was held last Friday in Sulaimaniyah in Iraq’s northern Kurdish region, where 20 to 30 PKK fighters destroyed their weapons rather than surrendering them to any government or authority.

The symbolic process was conducted under tight security and is expected to unfold throughout the summer.

The PKK announced in May that it would abandon its armed struggle in May, after 40 years of fighting.

For most of its history, the Kurdish group has been labelled as “terrorists” by Turkiye, the European Union and the United States.

More than 40,000 people were killed in the fighting between 1984 and 2024, with thousands of Kurds fleeing the violence in southeastern Turkiye into cities further north.

Turkiye’s leaders have welcomed the disarmament process, with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan stating that the ceremony last week marked an “important step towards our goal of a terror-free Turkiye”.

A Turkish parliamentary commission is expected to define the conditions for the reintegration of PKK fighters into civilian and political life in Turkiye.

Where is the finest mountain panorama in the UK? As a nine-year-old I was taken up Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) and told it was the best. Even in those days, it was a struggle to see much except the backs of other people. The following summer Scafell Pike got the same treatment and the next year we climbed Ben Nevis. I disagreed on all counts. For me, Thorpe Cloud in Dovedale was unbeatable, despite it being under a thousand feet tall. What convinced me was the diminutive Derbyshire peak’s shape: a proper pointy summit with clear space all around, plus grassy slopes that you could roll down. The champion trio could not compare.

This panorama question is in my mind as I begin hiking up Slieve Donard, Northern Ireland’s highest peak (at 850 metres), but a mountain often forgotten by those listing their UK hiking achievements. And a proper peak it is too, with a great sweeping drop to the sea and loads of space all around, guaranteeing, I reckon, a view to beat its more famous rivals.

Slieve Donard’s relative obscurity outside of Northern Ireland is not difficult to understand. During the Troubles, visitor numbers plummeted and many locals gave up country walks. “We never went to the mountains,” one tells me, from Belfast, which is only an hour away to the north. “A road sign replaced with a sniper image is not very welcoming.”

Since that tragic period, the Mourne Mountains have made a terrific comeback, appearing in several episodes as parts of Westeros (along with other locations in Northern Ireland) in the Game of Thrones TV series.

I set off from the eastern side, at a spot called Bloody Bridge – named after a massacre in the 1641 rebellion – where there are crystal clear pools in the river before it tumbles into the sea. The path steadily racks up, passing through a quarry then reaching a saddle at over 500m, where a massive stone wall heads directly up the mountain. This is the Mourne Wall, a 22-mile miracle of human labour, crossing a total of 15 peaks in the range. It was constructed between 1904 and 1922 to keep sheep out of the central Mournes, where several important reservoirs supplying Belfast were located. Now it’s the site of an annual race and a handy landmark on misty days. It’s also a stiff climb. I deliberately avoid checking the view: it’s going to be magnificent.

The maximum distance you can see from any peak can be roughly calculated by multiplying the square root of the height in metres by 3.57. That, however, is not necessarily the final answer. Distant peaks beyond the horizon will poke their tops up and variability in light refraction around the Earth means the maximum distance can sometimes be extended significantly. The official record for a ground-to-ground distance view is 300 miles, between two Argentinian mountains in 2023. My own record was a glimpse of Monte Cinto in Corsica from the Alpes-Maritimes, around 155 miles away.

I pause on the climb, puffing a bit, and bang the numbers into my phone’s calculator. At 850m, Slieve Donard’s potential view distance is around 65 miles, which should mean that most elements of the British Isles are visible on a blue-sky day like this one.

I reach the summit and climb over the Mourne Wall to stand next to the bronze age cairn. I look east. Nothing. No Scafell Pike or Yr Wyddfa, not one bit of Scotland, or the Isle of Man either. Sea haze, the curse of the hiker who didn’t get up early, is the problem, particularly frustrating on an otherwise clear day. Having said that, it is a fabulous summit, perched high above the rest of the Mournes, with superb views south and west over the whole of County Down and on into the Republic of Ireland.

I come down via the Glen River, another sparkling stream that leads me right back into the town of Newcastle, where I go directly to the beach and dive in. The view might have failed, but where else can you start by the sea, climb the highest peak, and finish four or five hours later with a sea dip?

A quick change and I head for the Percy French Restaurant in the Slieve Donard Hotel. The front door, I’m told, has a Game of Thrones connection, but it’s really Percy French that intrigues me. An Irish songwriter and wit, French was one of those characters that light up their age. A contemporary of Oscar Wilde and WB Yeats, he regularly performed in Newcastle in the late 19th century and wrote the song The Mountains o’ Mourne, but never achieved much fame outside Ireland. There’s a bronze bust of the man on a side table, and I resolve to take one of his comic couplets as my motto in the quest for the finest panorama. “I’m not as bold as lions but I’m braver than a hen/And he that fights and runs away will live to fight again.”

Next day my goal is Slieve Binnian, at 747m the third highest peak in the range, and arguably the most beautiful. It’s another blue sky, so I am hopeful for fine views.

The track to the summit follows the Mourne Wall the entire distance (about two miles) and at the top I see why locals favour this peak: the summit and ridge are lined with stunning towers of granite, the Back Castles. I scramble up to the highest point. Sea haze. Loads of the stuff, a thick purple porridge all across the eastern horizon. Slieve Donard to the north-east is impressive and the panorama of the Mourne Mountains could not be bettered, but I’ve missed that 360 once again.

I head down the coast to the town of Rostrevor, a place whose dramatic setting inspired the writer CS Lewis to dream up the world of Narnia. “I have seen landscapes,” he wrote, “notably in the Mourne Mountains and southwards which under a particular light made me feel that at any moment a giant might raise his head over the next ridge.” In the Kilbroney Park, next to the town, there’s a good cafe, Synge and Byrne, and a Narnia trail. The town itself boasts a fine high street and some stalwart traditional pubs, one of which I choose for a post-panoramic failure pint.

I ask the barman if the undertaker’s business next door is part of the pub. “It used to make the wakes easy to organise,” he laughs. “But it’s closed down now. Mind you, we kept plenty of ghosts. There’s one who throws things, but is rarely seen.” Like England, Scotland and Wales, I reflect.

Next day is my last chance. The neighbour to my cottage advises on trying Knockchree, a hill of Thorpe Cloud dimensions at 306m. “It stands a bit separate and that makes for a lovely view.” Exactly what my nine-year-old self understood. But my calculator says capable of only a 37-mile range.

Cuckoos and stonechats are calling as I make the climb through pine plantation then up heathland. At the summit I sit down. A magnificent panorama of fields and Mourne Mountains is spread all before me in vivid colour and the sea horizon is perfectly clear. I think I can make out the summit of Snaefell on the Isle of Man, a full 60 miles away, which is a triumph, but England, Scotland and Wales have certainly ceased to exist. There are, however, two ancient kingdoms within my grasp: Westeros and Narnia, and they will do.

Accommodation was provided by Sykes Holiday Cottages, which has various properties in the Mournes area, including Carol Cottage, which sleeps up to eight, from £727 for three nights. Stena Line ferries sail to Belfast twice daily from Liverpool and six times daily from Cairnryan (near Stranraer). Return fare with car from £149

Israel claims it targeted a ‘key figure’ from the Palestinian group Hamas near the coastal Lebanese city of Tripoli.

An Israeli strike on a vehicle near the northern Lebanese city of Tripoli has killed at least three people and injured 13 others, Lebanon’s Health Ministry says, in the latest breach of a ceasefire between the two countries.

The attack in the Ayrounieh area on Tuesday came as Israel intensifies its strikes in Lebanon amid Hezbollah’s weakened position, the Lebanese army’s inability to fight back and the international community’s failure to pressure Israel to abide by the truce.

The strike near Lebanon’s northernmost major city – more than 180km (110 miles) from the Israeli border – highlights Israel’s willingness to launch assaults across the country, not just in the south.

The Israeli military claimed that it struck a “key” figure from the Palestinian group Hamas without identifying the target.

A Hamas source in Lebanon told Al Araby TV that no senior official from the group was killed in the strike. Lebanon’s Annahar newspaper reported that initial reports indicated that the assassination attempt might have failed.

Hamas and other Palestinian groups maintain a presence in various areas of Lebanon, mostly in refugee camps that have housed Palestinians for decades. Tripoli is home to the large Beddawi Palestinian refugee camp.

Since the outbreak of the war in Gaza in October 2023, Israel has carried out attacks against the Lebanese group Hezbollah and members of Palestinian factions in Lebanon.

Hamas’s deputy chief Saleh al-Arouri was killed in an Israeli air strike on Beirut’s southern suburbs in early 2024.

While the ceasefire last year ended the conflict, Israel has continued to carry out strikes on what it says are Hezbollah arms depots and fighters, mostly in southern Lebanon. Israeli attacks have also targeted homes, municipal workers and civilian infrastructure.

On Monday, at least one person was killed in a suspected Israeli air attack on a van in the town of Deir Kifa in southern Lebanon.

The recent attacks were launched as United States envoy Thomas Barrack was in Lebanon for a two-day visit to discuss disarming Hezbollah.

On Monday after meeting Lebanese President Joseph Aoun, Barrack told reporters he was “unbelievably satisfied” with Lebanon’s reply to a US proposal on taking away Hezbollah’s weapons.

Barrack, a longtime adviser to US President Donald Trump who also serves as US ambassador to Turkiye and special envoy for Syria, said he believed “the Israelis do not want war with Lebanon”.

“Both countries are trying to give the same thing – the notion of a stand-down agreement, of the cessation of hostilities and a road to peace,” he said.

On Sunday, Hezbollah chief Naim Qassem ruled out giving up the group’s weapons before Israel withdraws from the areas it still occupies in southern Lebanon in violation of the ceasefire.

Soldiers died from gas exposure during a mission to recover a Turkish soldier missing in the cave since 2022.

Twelve Turkish soldiers have died after inhaling methane gas during a mission in northern Iraq, the Turkish Ministry of National Defence says.

“Four other of our heroic comrades in arms, affected by methane gas, have died … bringing the total number of victims to 12,” the ministry said in a post on X on Monday.

According to it, the incident took place on Sunday as troops searched for the remains of a soldier killed by fighters belonging to the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in 2022.

PKK has been labelled a terrorist group by Turkiye, the European Union and the United States. It fought for Kurdish autonomy for years, a fight that has been declared over now.

Nineteen soldiers were exposed to the gas inside a site once used by armed fighters as a hospital.

The condition of the remaining seven soldiers was not clear immediately. “I wish a speedy recovery for our heroes affected by methane
gas,” Turkish Interior Minister Ali Yerlikaya wrote on X.

The soldiers were conducting a sweep operation inside a cave at an altitude of 852 metres (2,795 feet) in the Metina region, part of Turkiye’s ongoing Operation Claw-Lock targeting the PKK positions in northern Iraq.

Though the gas is not considered toxic, methane can become deadly in confined spaces due to suffocation risks. The ministry has not clarified how the gas accumulated inside the cave.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan expressed his “great sorrow” over the incident and extended condolences to the families of the fallen.

Defence Minister Yasar Guler travelled to the area to oversee inspections and attend ceremonies for the deceased.

News of the deaths emerged as a delegation from the pro-Kurdish DEM party was visiting jailed PKK founder Abdullah Ocalan as part of the ongoing negotiations with the Turkish government.

The decades-long conflict between Ankara and the PKK has killed more than 40,000 people since 1984.

SEOUL, July 1 (UPI) — South Korea is exploring the potential of the Arctic shipping routes, particularly the Northern Sea Route, which is expected to reduce shipping times and costs between Asia and Europe.

The state-run Busan Port Authority noted Tuesday that it has established a dedicated team to prepare for the commercial use of the Arctic route.

The newly structured team is projected to lead the strategic development of Arctic route initiatives and oversee related policies from planning to implementation, according to the BPA.

“To address pressing challenges of Busan Port, including the Arctic Sea Route, a swift and flexible execution-oriented organization is essential,” BPA President Song Sang-Keun said in a statement.

The measure is in line with the policy direction of new President Lee Jae Myung.

Lee is a strong proponent of Arctic shipping. During a presidential rally in May, he stressed the need to stay competitive with neighboring countries, including China and Japan.

Lee was elected to become the nation’s 21st president by winning the June 3 by-election, which took place due to the impeachment of his predecessor Yoon Suk-yeol. Yoon was ousted from the post after his controversial martial decree declaration late last year.

Global warming is credited for opening the Northern Sea Route, which is expected to become commercially viable in the 2030s.

If a vessel departs from Busan Port, around 200 miles southeast of Seoul, and travels to Rotterdam in the Netherlands via the Suez Canal, the total distance is about 12,400 miles, However, using the Northern Sea Route shortens the distance to some 8,700 miles.

In his recent book, Seoul National University honorary professor Kim Tai-yoo wrote that the Northern Sea Route offers significant growth potential for South Korea.

“If South Korea can take the lead in forming a strategic alignment among the U.S., Russia, and itself — securing early access to the Arctic route and establishing key port hubs — it could position itself at the very core of the new global order the United States seeks to build,” Kim wrote.

Bello Ardo still remembers how they were sent away from Dapchi, a town in Yobe State, North East Nigeria.

It was 2015. He had just arrived with his family and herd, hoping to graze and rest after a long journey from Bauchi State. He approached the District Head, then the Divisional Police Officer, seeking permission to stay. But the community rejected them.

“They said, ‘We don’t want to see cattle here. We also don’t want to see strangers. Take your animals and leave our community,’” he recalled.

He moved southward to Ngamdu in Borno State, only to be met with hostility. “We went three days without water until the community leader intervened,” he said. 

Bello is a herder, an occupation he inherited 45 years ago. His parents were originally from Zamfara in the North West, but migrated to Kano, where he was born. He learnt to herd cattle in the once lush Falgore Game Reserve. 

By 2011, things had changed. The grass thinned, the rivers shrank, and he began migrating in search of pasture, following designated grazing routes, moving from Kano to Bauchi, then Yobe, Borno, and finally Adamawa. In each state, he made brief stops; sometimes staying just a day, and in some places up to three years. But the pattern remained the same: rejection, scarcity, and tension.

Bello is now the State Chairman of Sullubawa, a Fulbe clan known for cattle herding and spread across northwestern Nigeria. But titles mean little when the land offers no relief and the institutions once meant to support herders no longer function. The grazing routes Bello once followed stretched across the country’s northern region. They protected herders, shielded farmers, and helped maintain order. 

Those routes are gone, erased by urbanisation, farmland expansion, and state neglect. In their absence, herders searching for water and grass now stray into cultivated land, fuelling suspicion, resentment, and violence.

What happened to the routes?

There was a time when the routes had names.

Older herders, like Bello, still remember them, not as lines on a map, but as muscle memory. They could list the rivers they crossed, the forests they skirted, and the wells that dotted the way.

“The Falgore Forest was demarcated by the government,” Bello said. “Locally, we call this demarcation ‘centre.’ On the west of this demarcation were farmlands, on the east, wilderness with lush vegetation. To the north, a grazing route for cattle. This  leads to states like Bauchi and Benue.”

Leaving Kano, Bello arrived in Burra, Ningi, and then Tulu in Toro, all in Bauchi. Here, he spent three months in the Yuga Forest. Then he moved eastward, circling back to Gadar Maiwa in Ningi until he reached Darazo, still in Bauchi. From here, he spent the next 30 days migrating into Yobe.

He moved through Funai, under Ngelzarma town, and Dogon Kuka under Daura town, both in Fune LGA. He then travelled north of Damaturu to graze in Tarmuwa, south to Buni Yadi, east to Kukareta, and further on to Gashua and Nguru.

He said all these places have pastures but limited water, except during the rainy season.

Bello left Yobe in 2015 and arrived in Borno. After initial hostilities, he grazed Ngamdu, Benesheikh, Auno, and Jakana. Then, he entered villages like Dalori around the Alau Lake in Konduga. And then he entered the Komala Forest, still in Konduga. He left Borno in 2017 and migrated to Adamawa.

These were not random movements. They followed established corridors, called burtali, designed to support seasonal migration. Marked by the defunct Northern Regional Government during Nigeria’s First Republic, burtali were official grazing routes, some stretching hundreds of kilometres. They connected water points, grazing reserves, and veterinary posts, and were governed by traditional authorities and state institutions.

Herders knew where to move and when. Farmers knew which areas were off-limits during the season. Communities in between prepared for the passing of cattle and offered rest. There was friction, yes. But it was friction with the structure. Disputes could be mediated. Violations could be punished. Movement was predictable, and conflict was, for the most part, containable.

“The easiest way to identify the route is by cattle footprints,” Bello said. “It is always busy. There are also trees like dashi [hairy corkwood] and cini da zugu [jatropha], planted on both sides. The government planted some. Farmers also plant them to protect their fields.”

“Most of those routes have become farmlands, roads, or houses,” he said. “We now migrate through tarred roads and residential areas.” Even during his migration, Bello recalled that some routes were already blocked. “In some places, I followed the burtali and others tarred roads.”

In Sokoto State, Abdullahi Manuga, another nomadic herder, confirmed that most routes have been encroached upon. “When we reach a blockage, we have no choice but to go through towns or residential areas,” he said. 

This, experts say, is where tension begins. “When a route is blocked, the herder will try to find a way around it,” said Malik Samuel, a Senior Researcher at Good Governance Africa. “And in this process, animals stray into farmland or residential areas. This then leads to conflict.” 

Abdullahi explained the challenge: “With over 1,000 cattle, you cannot control all of them. One or two will stray into farmlands, often leading to clashes with farmers.”

The scale of the problem is vast. In 2018, desertification degraded more than 580,000 square kilometres of northern Nigeria, affecting about 62 million people. In Yobe, a HumAngle investigation uncovered how the shrinking ecosystem has intensified competition between farmers and herders. In Sokoto’s Goronyo and Gwadabawa, pastoralists have abandoned the Rima Dam, once a key watering point, due to drying reservoirs and farmland encroachment.

The disintegration did not happen overnight. It came in stages: farmlands slowly consumed designated routes. Grazing reserves fell into disuse. And eventually, the state disappeared from the equation altogether.

“Population has grown, while resources, land and water have not,” Malik said.

He stressed that the burtali were designed to prevent this tension. “These are the only routes known to herders. The reason behind the creation of these routes was to avoid tension between farmers and herders.”

Since 2020, more than 1,356 people have been killed in Nigeria due to farmer–herder violence, according to SBM Intelligence, a Lagos-based consultancy. Amnesty International has identified the government’s failure to intervene or prosecute perpetrators as a major driver of the crisis.

Climate migration and desperation

Like Bello, Abdullahi is also on the move.

He is originally from Jangebe in Talata Mafara, Zamfara State, and has followed a path shaped by drought, conflict, and disappearance. His reason is the same.

“Scarcity of pasture, the expansion of farmlands, and continuous rustling of our cattle made us migrate,” he told HumAngle. “Most of our animals have been rustled. The bulls in our herd are barely up to five.”

Seven years ago, when pasture began to vanish in his village, Abdullahi left. He first moved into Niger State. Then, he went from Gezoji to Tudun Biri in Igabi town of Kaduna, then he returned to Kwana Maje in Anka, Zamfara State. He moved again, this time to Mallamawa in Katsina, and then re-entered Niger State. Here, he grazed the Ibbi and Wawa Forest until forest rangers challenged him. This made him move to Gidan Kare, a village in Sokoto State, before settling in nearby Dange Shuni town.

Both Bello and Abdullahi left Zamfara. While the former travelled east, through Kano, Bauchi, and Borno, the latter moved west. Their journeys trace a human map of collapse, one that cuts across nearly half of Nigeria’s landmass.

In both men’s stories, geography is memory. But it is also grief.

Bello said that across Bauchi, Yobe, Borno, and Adamawa, formerly lush plains have turned brittle, while rivers have grown unpredictable. Rain falls heavier, less often, and in bursts that flood lowland routes.

The consequences are not only ecological. They are generational. 

Some herders are giving up the trade. Others are sending their children to work in towns. Abdullahi said he now substitutes herding with subsistence farming and being a shop attendant. But even this is a struggle. “he land is already full,” he said. “I have lost interest in grazing. I want to settle in one location and raise cattle on a ranch.”

For Bello, too, something fundamental is shifting.

“The migratory culture is dying,” he said. “It is dying because of the crisis and rejection, limited resources, and sudden realisation of the importance of education.”

He now believes that pastoralists must adapt. 

“Many herders now prefer ranching. We want to combine our traditional knowledge and modern ways to raise cattle differently and educate our children.”

What was once passed down as tradition is now being considered for survival. The land is changing. The climate is changing. And slowly, the herders are changing too.

Farmers at the frontline

“There are several farms here that have encroached on grazing routes,” said Sanusi Salihu Goronyo, a 49-year-old farmer from Sokoto. “Owners of these farms have clashed several times with herders when their animals stray. Some farmers got these lands on lease from local government authorities.”

Sanusi has farmed in the Middle Rima Valley, near the Goronyo Dam, for over 15 years. He grows rice, onion, garlic, and wheat, alternating between rainfed and irrigation farming. He started with five hectares. But unpredictable weather has made farming harder.

“Sometimes the dam overflows and destroys our crops,” he said. “One year, we lost everything we planted; rice, onions. More recently, our onion seedlings died because the soil here could not support them.” Sanusi has since expanded his farm to 20 hectares, hoping to improve his harvests.

In Bauchi, the story is the same. “The burtali has existed for as long as I can remember,” said Kamalu Abubakar, a 32-year-old farmer from Nabordo in Toro LGA. “But many of the routes have been encroached on. Even here in Toro, people who were never farmers now farm, out of hardship.”

He said this desperation often leads people to cultivate land along migration routes. “When herders come through with their animals, it leads to clashes.”

There are no longer visible signs of the burtali. The routes have faded, not just physically, but from institutional memory. “Almost everywhere is farmland now,” Kamalu said. “A few spots are left for grazing; sometimes cattle stray into farms. But some herders intentionally drive animals into fields.”

To herders, the land is a path. To farmers, it is a livelihood. What was once shared in the vacuum left by failing institutions is now contested. What was seasonal has become criminalised.

“When this happens, people take action,” Kamalu said. This “action,” sometimes, means reporting to authorities. Other times, they confront the herders directly.

Kamalu farms on five hectares of land inherited from his father, who leased it from the government more than thirty years ago. These are not wealthy farmers. They survive on small plots. A single ruined field can mean food lost, income gone, or a child pulled out of school.

That shared precarity, between farmer and herder, is rarely acknowledged in how the conflict is portrayed. Most reports focus on violence: killings, raids, destruction. But the real story often begins earlier, with broken systems, shrinking trust, and a quiet dread that builds over time.

Nguru-Hadejia wetlands in Yobe, a once critical water source for herders, have become a point of contention as water access shrinks and farmlands expand. In Bauchi’s western agricultural belt, areas like Toro and the Yankari-Katagum corridor are now recognised zones of ecological tension, where water and land are in short supply.

Sanusi said there are no functioning mediation systems anymore. “In the past, we would call the village head. He would speak to both sides. Now, no one comes”

Some communities in Adamawa State have tried to fill that gap. Bello, a community elder, explained: “When animals stray into farmlands, we get reports from the police. First, we identify the culprit. Then, if he has been arrested, we ensure the farmer is compensated. We also discipline the herder to prevent a repeat.”

Experts note that local accountability matters. “In the North East, elders take action when community members rustle cattle. They report to the police. However, in places like the North Central, leaders often stay silent. That is what leads to retaliation,” Malik said.

In the absence of authority, vigilantes have emerged. Some protect farms. Others patrol bush paths. Most are poorly trained and loosely organised. Many are young men with long grievances and short tempers.

The result is tension that simmers without resolution.

Kamalu described his fear. “Maybe one cow enters. Then someone hurls an insult. Then they come back with weapons. Or maybe they don’t. But we don’t know.”

The fear is mutual. Herders move silently, hoping not to be seen, and farmers sleep lightly during the migration season. No one trusts the other or trusts the state to step in.

The deeper costs are not only in lost harvests or stolen cows, but in stalled futures. “Our children don’t get an education,” Bello said. “We don’t have healthcare. No water, no electricity. People stereotype us. It is all because of ignorance. If we were educated, we would have equal opportunities like others.”

Still, some herders are finding alternatives.

“We bought plots of land here in Jimeta,” Bello said. “That is our community now. Our children are in school. We created a ranch to keep our cattle during the dry season. After harvest, we buy stalks from farmers and feed them. Our cattle drink from the River Benue. We use boreholes from nearby communities for our water.”

They hope to buy more land. Build a dam. Dig a borehole. Secure a future.

For now, they adapt, one season at a time.

The security gap

What happens when movement is no longer managed, and survival turns into trespass? That question haunts the herders, who try to pass unseen, and the farmers, who try to protect what little they have. It also points to a more profound crisis that does not begin with herders and farmers but ends with them trapped in the middle of a larger security breakdown.

“The population will keep growing. People will need more land to farm and more space to live,” said Malik. “The government must evolve with these trends.”

The failure to adapt has opened the door for non-state actors. In some cases, herders say the attackers are not even Nigerians. Claims of foreign infiltration, fighters from Niger, Chad, or Mali crossing porous borders, are challenging to verify, but frequently repeated. The risk, Malik warns, is that armed groups now move across the region disguised as herders, exploiting migration routes that span West and Central Africa. Nigeria’s North East, the most significant entry point for cross-border pastoralists, is especially vulnerable.

Malik explained that even internal movement is no longer predictable. Routes once mediated by district heads and grazing committees are now insecure or unmarked. Communities that once welcomed herders have grown hostile. Vigilante groups have stepped in, blocking passage, collecting tolls, or enforcing rules with force.

“We encounter terrorists, especially in Borno,” said Bello. “They rustle our cattle or demand taxes. In 2017, over 100 of our cattle were stolen. Other herders lost more. Through our association, Pulako, we contributed to helping the affected herders, two or three cattle each. But it is part of why we left for Adamawa.”

In northeastern Nigeria, the Boko Haram factions of Jama’atu Ahlis Sunna Lidda’adati wal-Jihad (JAS) and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) have embedded themselves in areas long abandoned by the state. Movement is no longer just a logistical challenge but a matter of territory and surveillance. Pastoralists must now navigate dry land, blocked paths, with armed groups asserting control.

“JAS rustles cattle and sells them in the south to fund their operations,” said Malik. “ISWAP taxes herders who graze in territories around Lake Chad. When JAS steals cattle from those herders, ISWAP intervenes to retrieve them. They even resolve herder-farmer conflicts, ensuring farmers are compensated when herds destroy crops.”

In the northwestern region, the dynamic is different. Terrorist groups have created informal taxation systems. “They extort herders, like JAS does,” Malik added. “When herders lose everything, they turn to kidnapping or robbery, or are hired by aggrieved herders to retaliate against farmers.”

We extensively documented this pattern across Nigeria’s conflict zones. In one report, Ahmad Salkida, Founder of HumAngle, who is an investigative journalist and one of the most authoritative voices on the Boko Haram insurgency, explained that herders under Boko Haram and ISWAP control are forced to pay taxes based on the size of their herd. 

“They must relinquish a portion of their livestock,” he noted. “And due to multiple factions,  they occasionally pay double, losing more than they can bargain for.”

In other parts of the region, herding communities are routinely forced to pay protection levies, coerced into supplying armed groups, or punished if they refuse, mirroring the same dynamics of extortion and control seen in the North East.

Mobility, once neutral and even protected, has become political. Herders, no longer shielded by the grazing route system, are exposed on every front. 

There seems to be no national framework for managing trans-regional movement. Until July 2024, when the Nigerian government created the Federal Ministry of Livestock Development, no institution had the authority or tools to track who was moving, where, or why.

“Past governments tried to introduce ranching settlements,” Malik said. “The Buhari administration attempted, but the public saw it as a land-grab. The problem was poor communication. People have lost trust in the state, so they misinterpreted everything. However, the deeper issue is that each region has a different conflict. The North East is not the North West. So solutions must also be different.”

The state’s absence is not passive. It produces insecurity.

Farmers form vigilantes. Herders arm themselves. Encounters that once ended with negotiation now end in gunfire.

The National Livestock Transformation Plan (NLTP), introduced to prevent this scenario, has stalled, sidelined by politics and inconsistent implementation.

“It is a good idea,” Malik said. “If implemented properly, it could resolve many of these issues.”

With each unresolved clash, local trust erodes. With each unmapped corridor, non-state actors tighten their grip. And as the climate continues to dry rivers and strip pasture from the earth, pressure builds slowly, steadily, dangerously.

What must be done

If there is one thing everyone agrees on, it is this: what exists now is not working.

“The solution must begin at the community level,” said Malik. “We need to bring back the conflict resolution systems that once worked, those local processes that helped farmers and herders find common ground.”

However, informal peacebuilding alone would not resolve a structural crisis. The scale of Nigeria’s environmental collapse and mobility breakdown requires coordinated, strategic, and adequately resourced reform.

Malik believes ranching is essential to ending uncontrolled migration and giving herders security, dignity, and economic opportunity.

“Ranching is the most effective alternative. Moving cattle across states will always spark conflict,” he said. “But if ranches are developed properly, with clinics, water, schools, and markets, those are capital incentives. They make settlement viable.”

He insists this will require more than government goodwill.

“The private sector must be involved. Let investors lease land. Let herders produce meat and milk, and let the state earn revenue. With proper management, we wouldn’t need to import beef or dairy.”

Yet trust is fragile. Malik noted how the RUGA initiative failed not because the idea was flawed, but because people were not consulted. The controversial RUGA programme, suspended in 2019, stood for Rural Grazing Area.

“There was no proper engagement. The public saw it as a land grab. The government must learn to communicate. There must be transparency. There must be accountability,” Malik said. 

He added that at the heart of the tension is something simple: survival.

“The farmer wants to plant in peace and feed his family,” he says. “The herder wants to graze and feed his cattle. When people are allowed to be heard, they often find solutions independently.”

Bello shares this vision, but with a local, seasonal approach.

“During the rainy season, the government should provide ranches for us to keep our cattle,” he said. “Farmers can let us graze on harvested fields in the dry season. Our cattle will help clear the land and leave dung for manure. Then, farmers can do irrigation farming on the ranches. If we rotate this way, both sides benefit, without conflict.”

Abdullahi agrees, but calls for sincerity: “If the government is honest about the RUGA settlement plan and implements it, this problem will go away. Also, forest rangers should treat us fairly. Don’t deny us access completely.”

From the farmers’ side, the expectations are equally modest.

“Herders should avoid people’s farms. Farmers should avoid blocking the grazing routes,” Sanusi said.

“The government should support us with fertilisers and pesticides, even if through subsidies,” Kamalu added.

The proposed NLTP is meant to address many of these issues. But it remains stalled, caught between politics and poor communication.

“If implemented well, it could solve most of the crisis,” Malik said.

The Great Northern Coalfield once provided the raw fuel that powered Britain through the Industrial Revolution. For over two centuries, coal from the mines of Durham and Northumberland was trundled down a maze of wagonways and rail lines to the coast to then be shipped to London.

The mines are long gone, but eight miles north of Durham city, relics of the north-east’s industrial heritage can be found hidden amid ancient woodland and a steep-sided gorge.

I’m familiar with parts of this area from childhood walks and teenage escapades, but my eight mile circular route connects key historical sites and finishes at a pub with links back to the Napoleonic wars.

My journey into the past begins at Eden Place, a picnic area near the village of Beamish on the site of an old terrace of miners’ houses. I set off along a disused railway path, which until 1985 was a busy line linking the Consett steelworks with Sunderland. It is also part of the Irish Sea to North Sea C2C cycle route so, in search of a bit of solitude, I transfer to a parallel track through the malevolent-sounding Hellhole woods. In fact, they are a delight as I stroll through patch after patch of pungent wild garlic in full flower.

After wending its way across fields and a couple of roads, the route arrives at Tanfield Railway – which claims to be the world’s oldest railway. Built in 1725 by the Grand Allies, an association of colliery-owning families, as a horse-drawn wagonway to carry coal from inland pits to the Tyne, it later became a rail line. Since it closed in 1964, enthusiasts have brought a three-mile section back to life, and vintage steam trains now shuttle visitors between East Tanfield station, where I am, and Marley Hill.

The station houses a tearoom, while an engine shed displays old maps that show just how rail lines used to vein the area. It’s tempting to break off from my route and take the six-mile round trip by train to Marley Hill, but I’m keen to see the most dramatic part of the walk.

A path from the car park, signposted to Causey Arch, leads into woods, and I’m soon walking along the top of a steep-sided gorge. Woodland has covered this area for centuries, and as I look down at the stream below in the gloom, it feels ridiculously remote – until the spell is broken by the hoot of a locomotive chugging along the other side of the gorge.

About half an hour after leaving Tanfield, a huge bridge across the dene (valley) comes into view. This is Causey Arch, which a noticeboard proudly announces is the oldest surviving single-arch railway bridge in the world. In 1725, the Grand Allies commissioned local stonemason Ralph Wood to span the ravine. He turned to Roman technology for his design and, when the original wooden bridge fell apart, it was rebuilt in stone. But local legend has it that, fearing a second collapse, Wood committed suicide by throwing himself off the top of his construction. After restoration in the 1980s, the bridge is still standing nearly 300 years later.

I walk across the top to join a few other hikers inspecting an old wagon on display, before heading down a steep path to the bottom of the gorge. Here, a footbridge gives the best view of the perfect arch, framed by the trees as it rises majestically 24 metres above the burn.

As I carry on walking, I begin to hear shouting; then a wall of rain-stained, yellow sandstone comes into view. This is Causey Quarry, a popular rock-climbing spot and the place where I learned the basics of rope work many years ago. I do a short traverse above the muddy ground for old times’ sake, shuddering slightly as I remember the rock antics of my youth.

Steps up a huge wooded artificial embankment lead to a much-needed stop at Poppy Coffee Pot cafe in the Causey car park. Fortified with cake, I continue along a bridleway, part of the 80-mile Tyne and Wear Heritage Way, before heading along a track called Coppy Lane and into open countryside. This eventually turns downhill, and before long the roof tiles of Beamish Hall appear, for centuries home to the local landowners.

Starting life as a fortified farmhouse in the 13th century, the current hall was built in the 1800s, and previous occupants include the family of former prime minister Anthony Eden. It is now a hotel and, as I stroll up for a closer look, its manicured lawns offer a welcome break from the rough tracks in the woods (doubles from £92). The old stables now house both a restaurant and The Coach House Cafe, which offers afternoon tea, but I feel a little too grubby to sit down to dainty cakes and sandwiches, and so continue on my route.

This now clings to Beamish burn (stream), and as I turn towards a hill I begin to hear a babble of voices, then the rattle and ding of a bell as a tram moves across the skyline. I hadn’t realised I was quite so close to Beamish open-air museum, a huge 140-hectare (350-acre) site dedicated to the preservation of life in the north-east, which was last week crowned Art Fund museum of the year.

With only the occasional dog walker for company, it is hard to imagine that in the early 1800s this area was a hive of industrial activity, boasting a paper mill and iron forges, one of which had the reputation of “casting the finest muzzle-loading cannon in England”. Soon after passing Flint mill, I enter Ousbrough Wood, a site of nature conservation importance comprising ancient trees and a conifer plantation that at one time provided pit props for the mines.

There are myriad paths through the oak and silver birch, and I occasionally take a wrong turn, retracing my steps to get back on to the heritage way route. There’s some steep uphill walking, but eventually the path deposits me on a country road. I turn left and, after passing a row of almshouses built in 1863, I arrive at the pub.

The Shepherd & Shepherdess dates from the 18th century, getting its name from two life-size painted lead figures above the original door. The story goes that these date from the Napoleonic wars, when a French blockade on lead meant these metal figures were smuggled into Britain as “works of art”, to be melted down for weaponry. These two were saved by a squire at Beamish Hall, eventually ending up at the pub.

Whatever the tale, they make a nice historical touch to this fine hostelry, complete with an open fire in the winter and a menu of sturdy pub fare. This includes lasagne, sea bass and fish and chips, as well as good vegetarian and gluten-free options. My eye, though, is drawn to the local delicacy of corned beef and potato pie served with greens, chips and gravy. Accompanied by a pint of the pub’s own cask ale, this is the perfect post-walk sustenance in Beamish country.