In Nigeria’s countryside, a pervasive silence has replaced the bustle of rural life. This stillness is defined not by a peaceful serenity but by the ominous absence of activity; farmlands lie abandoned, crops decay undisturbed, and footpaths are consumed by wild growth. Residents now live in a state of constant vigilance, attuned not to missed calls but to the ominous sound of approaching motorcycles that signal danger.
Brigadier-General Lawal Bature Mohammed (rtd.), who was once seen as part of the solution, tragically became just another statistic in this escalating conflict. Known widely as Dan Gusau, he was gunned down by bandits in a brutal ambush that left him with serious injuries. His treatment took him all the way to Egypt, but the damage was too great, and he ultimately lost his life to those wounds.
His funeral took place on 26 March in Sabon Gari, Gusau, and his body was interred in accordance with Islamic customs. Individuals like him are supposed to be the protectors of agricultural land, yet in this environment, they become victims.
In last week’s episode of “The Sunday Stew,” I examined the issue of kidnapping as one facet of Nigeria’s growing security challenges. Today, we focus on banditry—this is not merely a Nigerian issue but a threat extending to global food security, as it desecrates the very heart of Nigeria’s rural grounds.
While kidnapping preys on individuals, banditry undermines the land itself. The ramifications of this rural siege impact not just Nigeria but also the fragile global supply chains.
The shift from spontaneous attacks to structured control reveals how banditry in Nigeria has matured. Initially characterized by cattle rustling and random raids, it has escalated to a systematic exercise of controlling territories.
In numerous regions of North-West and North-Central Nigeria, armed groups operate in what can only be described as “ungoverned zones” where state authority is officially non-existent. Within these territories, bandits transition from merely attacking communities to becoming entities that enforce rules and extract resources.
In these territories, banditry has assumed a medieval quality of territorial governance; it has become common for these armed groups to impose 'taxes' on subsistence. Farmers in states such as Katsina, Zamfara, and Niger must pay 'protection fees' just to plant crops and face additional charges to harvest their yields.
Noncompliance often leads to violent retribution—raids, kidnappings, or even the obliteration of entire villages. This is not civic taxation; it is a brutal scheme enforced through intimidation and backed by violence.
Recent agricultural studies indicate that approximately 2.5 million hectares of cultivable land remain fallow due to security threats. Entire growing seasons have been lost, not due to natural calamities, but because of rampant insecurity.
For farmers in Nigeria, the land has become a battleground. They must make a choice to stay and risk death, pay to sustain the extortion, or flee and abandon everything they own, resulting in widespread displacement as rural communities move to urban areas or into internally displaced persons camps, where their futures look bleak.
The situation is notably dire in Zamfara, where banditry and illegal mining share a symbiotic relationship. At times, the bandits are more than just agricultural thieves; they act as gatekeepers to mineral resources. The governance of land now entails managing both agricultural outputs above ground and illicit mineral extraction below. This dual economy—with agricultural fraud while simultaneously extracting resources—has established a powerful dynamic that complicates resolution efforts.
This model isn't confined to Zamfara; its reach extends to the Federal Capital Territory and adjoining states like Niger, Nasarawa, and Kaduna, evolving into a sophisticated conflict economy.
Reports from security agencies, including the EFCC and the Ministry of Solid Minerals, reveal that these armed factions have moved beyond relying on kidnappings and rural taxation. They now manage and levy taxes on mineral mining as an additional revenue source.
The Federal Government has identified illegal mining as a vital facilitator of banditry. Minister Dele Alake pointed out that many bandit assaults are not random but are driven by efforts to seize mineral-rich lands from local communities.
Communities in parts of the FCT, such as Kwali, Kuje, and Bwari, have been forced to evacuate; as these regions fall to lawlessness, illegal mining operations flourish, entirely unchecked.
Security analyses from late 2025 reveal that upwards of 60 percent of bandit camps in North Central are situated near illegal mining sites, illustrating the strategic alignment of violence alongside resource extraction.
This is not incidental but rather a calculated method—using violence as a precursor to extraction.
Illegal mining now serves to financially empower banditry through multifaceted mechanisms: armed groups forcibly occupy mining locations and compel artisanal miners to operate under duress, with the extracted ores sold without oversight.
Additionally, mining cartels pay bandit leaders for operational security, ensuring unimpeded activity while avoiding confrontations with rival factions or law enforcement.
In certain border regions, minerals like gold and lithium are exchanged directly for light weaponry, circumventing traditional financial systems and complicating the tracing of these exchanges.
The crisis has reached a point where banditry generates significant food insecurity. Nigerian farmers face overwhelming expenses, and entire communities have been ravaged of productive capacity. What drought can do through nature is now replicated through human-inflicted violence, leading to disproportionate scarcities, mass displacements, and famine, but with an essential difference: this is a crisis of our own making, which makes it one we hold the power to resolve.
The formation of a self-perpetuating, closed-loop economy exists, where natural resources finance insecurity, and insecurity in turn safeguards resource exploitation. The mineral-rich regions surrounding Abuja have emerged as critical points of this evolving dilemma.
In Niger State, areas known for rich gold deposits have transitioned from simple cattle rustling to the occupation of mining sites, enabling bandits to procure more advanced weaponry and logistics.
In Nasarawa State, a recent uptick in lithium mining has drawn illegal operations, with security forces uncovering various sites where conflict minerals are extracted, subsequently funding local armed organizations.
Remote areas along the Bwari-Tafa route in the FCT serve as crucial transit locations for mineral consolidation, eventually destined for urban markets or illicit exportation.
These regions form a link of insecurity, connecting rural violence to global and national revenue concerns. The economic ramifications are profound, with Nigeria reportedly losing about $9 billion annually due to illegal mineral exports.
To combat this, the Federal Government established a dedicated Mining Marshal Corps in 2025, tasked with securing mining operations and disrupting illegal practices. Unfortunately, these enforcement units face substantial challenges as many illicit mining sites are entrenched in deep forest territories, fortified by robust bandit camps and operational bases.
Such occurrences exemplify a state struggling to maintain order in territories where criminal economies have already taken root.
As previously pointed out in The Sunday Stew, while many nations in the Sahel suffer from famine due to natural factors—primarily desertification—Nigeria's plight arises predominantly from human actions. Banditry, seen as a self- imposed crisis, gives rise to intense hunger as agriculture suffers, leading to whole communities stripped of their ability to sustain themselves.
What nature accomplishes through drought is replicated through violent methods, resulting in similar outcomes: scarcity, dislocation, and hunger but crucially differ because it is an entirely manufactured crisis, thus solvable by our measures.
Currently, Nigeria's food inflation, measuring unusually high, stems directly from this chaos. This disruption translates to declining agricultural productivity, leading to severe shortages that drive price hikes and, consequently, diminished purchasing capacity for families.
This ongoing cycle precipitates acute economic hardship, hunger, and a vulnerable population. The direct correlation between banditry and escalating food expenses in 2026 has transitioned from mere disruption to a rigid structural tax imposed on Nigerian households.
Despite some reduction in general inflation, the intense cost of food remains persistently elevated due to chronic insecurity in the leading food-producing regions across Nigeria.
Taxes, such as 'protection payments' and 'harvest levies' forced upon farmers, pass their burden on to consumers, who ultimately face soaring retail prices driven by a problematic supply chain.
Current prices in Abuja illustrate this painful reality: rice ranges from ₦75,000 to ₦90,000 for 50 kg; maize sits between ₦60,000 and ₦70,000; and beans between ₦70,000 and ₦85,000.
In a nation where food prices are surging, these costs signify not just numbers but stark indicators of a tightening economic survival margin.
For both the Nigerian government and the global community, understanding that food security transcends climatic issues to encapsulate security sovereignty is crucial. If kidnapping symbolizes the venture capital aspect of this crisis triad, then banditry emerges as its real estate strategy.
To dismantle this siege, Nigeria must pursue economic autonomy—safeguarding the agricultural value chain, deploying surveillance technologies, and reclaiming local governance of agricultural lands. The quiet stranglehold that banditry holds on Nigeria’s food supply and the gradual decay of rural existence highlights a dire reality: a nation unable to safeguard its farms is unlikely to secure its future.
Join me next week for the third installment: “Part III: The Ideological Ghost and the War for Nigeria’s Soul.” Trust remains an invaluable treasure. Stay informed.
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