The heartbreaking murder of Malam Bashar Sani, a senior administrator at the College of Education, Maru, is yet another grim reminder of the tragedy consuming Northern Nigeria.
Despite paying more than ₦25.7 million in ransom—alongside motorcycles, phones, and airtime—to secure the release of his abducted family members over several years, he was eventually killed by the same bandits he had repeatedly appeased.
For years, these criminals targeted his household: abducting his two wives, his younger brother, and later kidnapping him, his wife, daughter, and several neighbours. Each time, the family mobilised resources, sold assets, and begged for help to meet the bandits’ escalating demands. Even after paying ₦20 million and later providing additional motorcycles, they were told to “wait for further instructions.” Unknown to them, Malam Bashar had already died in captivity from torture and untreated injuries. His wife and daughter returned home; he did not.
This tragedy is not isolated. It reflects the deepening insecurity in Zamfara and across the North, where communities are trapped in a vicious cycle of ransom payments, extortion, and violence. Entire villages have been deserted. Others now pay levies and taxes to bandits just to farm, work, or sleep in peace. Families mortgage their homes, auction their belongings, and launch desperate crowdfunding appeals to rescue loved ones.
What is even more disturbing is that many of these atrocities are committed by individuals who speak our language, share our faith, and come from familiar cultural backgrounds—yet behave with a level of brutality that defies humanity. It is no longer tenable to pretend that these criminals are ghosts or outsiders alone. The North must confront the painful truth: our own people are deeply involved in this carnage.
In January 2018, I wrote an article titled “Still on Murderous Fulani Kidnappers”, where I examined how individuals identified as Fulani became entangled in violent kidnapping—an occupation previously associated with militants in other regions. Police reports at the time showed suspects confessing to rape, murder, and extreme violence. Here is a smooth, coherent paragraph version of your points:
In that article, I raised questions that still demand answers today: how pastoralists abandoned their traditional livelihood for kidnapping; who supplies them with the sophisticated weapons they wield; why they kill even after collecting ransom; how they acquired the skills to operate like trained militias; and, most importantly, how communities and government can jointly put an end to this madness.
Years earlier, at a 2014 international conference on pastoralism, it was warned that terrorists were disguising themselves as herders to exploit farmer–herder tensions. Recommendations for proactive security measures were made, but they were never fully implemented. Today, the consequences are evident.
The conflict has evolved far beyond grazing disputes. It is now driven by economic desperation, weak security structures, and the infiltration of organised criminal networks—many operating near lucrative mining sites across the North-West and North-Central. Maru Local Government, for instance, hosts gold and lithium deposits that have attracted illegal miners and criminal opportunists.
While the establishment of the Federal Ministry of Livestock Development is a step forward, it must be matched with clear land-use policies, mapped grazing routes, and modern livestock systems, such as ranching and livestock-tracking technologies, to reduce clashes and curb cattle theft. Strengthening rural security through community policing, early warning networks, and tighter border control is equally essential.
Dialogue remains important, but past peace deals have repeatedly failed. Banditry must be confronted at its roots by restoring state presence in remote areas, rehabilitating repentant offenders, and dismantling ransom networks. Communities must support security agencies by forming vigilance groups and sharing intelligence.
But beyond government action, the North itself must wake up. No foreign power will save us. No external military presence can solve what is essentially an internal crisis. Outsiders may express concern, but they cannot defend our villages, protect our farms, or rescue our abducted relatives. That responsibility lies with us.
Traditional rulers, religious leaders, community elders, youth groups, and civil society must unite to reclaim our communities. At the same time, rural youth need real alternatives to crime, such as skills training, micro-credit, and agribusiness opportunities.
The North cannot continue outsourcing its survival. Neither Donald Trump, nor his allies in Washington, nor any foreign troops have a genuine stake in the security of Northern communities. Stability will not be imported from abroad. The North’s salvation will come from within — or it will not come at all. We must confront the monsters in their own styles, mercilessly, fearlessly, courageously, and, if necessary, brutally too — not in lawlessness, but in the unwavering defence of our people, our dignity, and our future.
We must protect our communities, demand accountability from leaders and security agencies, and refuse to surrender our land to criminals who speak our language yet betray our faith and values.
There is a verse in the Holy Quran that I have returned to often in these dark times:
“Fear a tumult which will affect not only those who caused it, but also the innocent among you.” (Qur’an 8:25).
That tumult is already here. If we fail to confront banditry collectively—beyond the rhetoric —the cycle of violence will persist, and more innocent lives like that of Malam Bashar Sani will be lost.
The question now is whether we will act before more innocent lives are lost.
Our destiny is in our own hands. And the time to act is now.
Yushau A. Shuaib, an Author and PR Practitioner, yashuaib@yashuaib.com
