The Silent Exodus from Sabon Birni in North West Nigeria

Since late 2019, families fleeing relentless violence in eastern Sokoto in Nigeria’s northwestern region have poured into the Guidan Roumdji Department of the Republic of Niger, carrying little more than the trauma of survival. Sabon Birni, a once-thriving community built on agriculture and livestock trading, has now become synonymous with terrorist raids, extortions, displacement, and despair.

“On the fateful day of May 27, 2020, our community came under brutal attack by armed groups,” recalled Malam Sani Manomi, a refugee from the community. “Many were killed, and the rest of us fled to neighbouring communities of Guidan Roumdji, Niger Republic.”

Sabon Birni Local Government Area (LGA), bordered to the north by the Republic of Niger and flanked by Isa LGA to the east, has devolved into a conflict hotspot. Once known for its Gobirawa heritage and cross-border kinship with Nigerien communities, the area is now fractured by fear. Armed groups and terrorists, operating with impunity, have rendered nine of the LGAs’ ten wards inaccessible.

Just across the border, Guidan Roumdji, an arrondissement in Niger’s Maradi Region, has served as a sanctuary. Its deep ethnic and historical ties to Sabon Birni, especially among the Gobirawa, have made it a natural destination for fleeing families from not only Sabon Birni but also other areas of Sokoto, Zamfara, and Katsina States.

“Guidan Roumdji is like a continuation of Sabon Birni,” said a local chief who asked not to be named. “The same people, the same roots, divided only by a line on the map.”

From peace to panic

Sabon Birni’s slide into chaos has been swift and brutal. Proximity to Zamfara, a notorious hub for non-state armed groups, has exposed it to the spillover of violence. Between 2019 and 2025, communities have endured waves of killings, mass abductions, sexual violence, and the destruction of schools, clinics, and farms.

Extortion has become a daily reality. “Bandits impose ‘life’ and ‘farming’ taxes,” said one resident. “If you don’t pay, you can’t live or work.”

The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) has revealed that between May 2023 and April 2024, a staggering ₦1.2 trillion was paid in ransom from the North-West region. In Sabon Birni alone, reports from the Gobir Development Association indicate that over ₦160 billion was paid in ransom and protection levies between 2019 and 2024. An estimated 600,000 cattle and five million small ruminants have been rustled, while vast areas of farmland remain inaccessible.

Earlier, in July 2024, armed assailants stormed the Tsamaye community, killing people and abducting 20 others, including children. “They killed two persons and kidnapped 18 women and 2 men,” said the village head of Tsamaye.

In December, the Dan Tudu and Kwaren Gamba communities were targeted in a violent attack that left many people dead. Several men and women were abducted during the incident. 

“They rustle our livestock, rape our wives, abduct our children, and threaten anyone who speaks to the authorities,” an eyewitness of Kwaren Gamba attack said. “We live in silence, or we die.”

As attacks continue in the North West, communities remain displaced. Fearing attacks or oppressive demands from armed actors, thousands of Sabon Birni residents continue to flee to safer communities in Guidan Roumdji, leaving behind homes and livelihoods. 

Migration as survival

What began as a trickle of desperate families in 2019 has become a steady, tragic flow. By mid-2020, the UNHCR and Niger’s National Eligibility Commission had biometrically registered over 40,000 refugees in Guidan Roumdji. Tens of thousands more remain unregistered, spread across Niger’s southern regions.

“There are more Nigerians here than those officially registered,” said Hamidou, a resident of Tibiri. “They’ve scattered across communes, many are undocumented, unseen by any government.”

A turning point came on May 27, 2020, when coordinated attacks on Garki, Dan-Aduwa, Masawa, Katuma, and Kuzari districts left 74 dead and thousands displaced. The refugee population in Guidan Roumdji surged, with many settling in Tudun Sunnah village.

Describing the harrowing journey to safety, Manomi said they travelled on foot through informal routes, including Maiwa, Garin Bage, Son Allah, and the Burkusuma forest. Along the way, they learnt that similar assaults had been carried out on other communities. “While fleeing through the forest, we crossed paths with residents of Dan-Aduwa, Masawa, Katuma, and Kuzari, all desperate to survive,” he said.

Manomi’s wife, Kulu, described the journey as tragic and defined by sheer luck.

“On that day, we had no choice but to leave Garki. They burned houses and killed without mercy. We fled with nothing but the clothes on our backs, leaving our farmland behind. We trekked for hours through the bush, avoiding the roads for fear of ambush. My children cried from hunger and fear. There were moments when we thought we wouldn’t survive.”

The trend reflects the growing humanitarian crisis in many rural communities of northwestern Nigeria.

According to Manomi, their arrival in Tudun Sunnah village of Guidan Roumdji brought no relief, as they encountered scores of displaced people from rural areas of Zamfara, Katsina, and the Isa LGA of Sokoto State. “It was terrible,” he said. “People were pouring in from everywhere, escaping the violence that had consumed their villages.”

Hardship and hope in exile

Life in exile is marked by struggle. Refugees live in makeshift huts or open fields, surviving on meagre incomes from blacksmithing, petty trade, or subsistence labour. Healthcare is scarce, and disease outbreaks, including cholera, are common.

“Even here, life is tough,” said Sama’ila Mamadou, 61, who fled Dankware. “But it’s better than being killed back home.”

“When we finally reached Tudun Sunnah, we found hundreds of other refugees,” Kulu recalled. “We had no shelter, no food; only our lives. Now, we live in a makeshift camp in a nearby hamlet, sharing cramped conditions with many others who fled like us. Every day is a struggle. My husband now works as a manual labourer just to keep us going. But at least we are alive. I pray for peace, so we can return home.”

Local officials describe the living conditions as “pathetic.” Aminu Boza, a lawmaker from Sabon Birni, says he has distributed food and basic supplies out of his own pocket. “No shelter, no medicine, no toilets—an epidemic is just one rainstorm away,” he warned.

A patchwork of relief

While conditions remain harsh, there have been glimmers of support. The Nigerien government, in collaboration with UNHCR, Nigeria’s NEMA, and authorities in Sokoto, established “villages of opportunity,” — Dan Dadji Makaou, Garin Kaka, and Chadakori, for registered refugees from across the northwestern states. These camps in the aforementioned communities offer better security and more structured aid.

Yet most displaced persons remain outside this system. In towns like Tsouloulou, grassroots generosity by host communities sustains the newcomers. “People gave the little they have, such as clothes, maize, millet,” said Hussaini Shuaibu, a civil servant.

Wealthy individuals have also stepped in. Alhaji Umar Ajiya Isa donated trailers of food; Alhaji Mukhtar Shehu Shagari distributed rice and essentials.

“Since we arrived here in Tudun Sunnah, no institution or individual has given us any form of assistance,” said Manomi.

Resilience in ruins

Despite the hardship, many refugees are rebuilding. Women run food stalls, men farm on borrowed land, and youth repair phones or sell tailoring services. “We may not have much,” said Sama’ila Mamadou, a migrant from the Dankware community, “but we have each other. And we are trying.”

Back home, the attacks continue. In July 2024, Sarkin Gobir of Gatawa District, Alhaji Isa Bawa, was kidnapped and later died in captivity. The following days saw the abduction of over 150 residents. Between August and December, assaults intensified across Dan Tudu, Kwaren Gamba, and other villages.

A witness described one harrowing night: “Gunmen stormed our village, and a bride and her bridesmaids were kidnapped. We couldn’t stop them, we were helpless.”

By May 2025, attacks by the infamous Bello Turji drove thousands more from Gatawa District. Return is no longer a viable option.

“They tell us, ‘We cannot go back to a place where human life is worthless,’” said Ibrahim Maigari, a chief in Guidan Roumdji.

Future in Limbo

Most Sabon Birni refugees in Niger are unregistered, without access to education, healthcare, or legal protection. Insecurity, hunger, and disease continue to stalk them.

Calls for intervention are growing louder. “We need more than emergency aid,” said Boza. “We need security, justice, and a path back home.”

For now, however, hope clings to the resilience of the displaced.