Banditry in Rural Katsina: Fear, Debt, and the Struggle of Victims and Families

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Banditry in Rural Katsina: Fear, Debt, and the Struggle of Victims and Families

Banditry in Rural Katsina: Fear, Debt, and the Struggle of Victims and Families

We had multiple peace discussions with these outlaws and even provided them with funds for security not too long ago. We offered money during the initial meeting, yet they returned for a second time asking for more.

Dust covers every surface in Ungwar Maga. It clings to the leaves of the guinea corn, the mud-brick walls of the huts, and the weary expressions of men sitting in the shade, whispering quietly. However, the dust does not erase financial obligations; these debts were incurred by locals who handed over money to criminals in exchange for their abducted family members.

For Danlami Shehu, the dust has cleared from his throat, leaving his voice exhausted—like soil that has been overused for many years. He is a man who defines his life by planting seasons, by rain, by the community that God has provided. Now, he defines his life by the money paid in ransoms.

"We are attempting to sell our farmlands," he stated on 26 October, when this reporter met him in Dayi, a village located within the Malumfashi Local Government Area. Katsina State. The discussion centered on his 23-year-old nephew, Joshua James, who came back home three days prior, 18 days following his abduction. Despite Mr. James being back with his family, he did not experience a sense of freedom. None of his family members felt free, as freedom now carries a new, oppressive cost in the rural areas of Katsina.

"We are selling our farms to return the funds we obtained from various individuals," Mr. Shehu stated.

In the rural areas of Katsina, land is not just a basic resource. It serves as the record of the residents' lives. Passed down from their parents, it represents the sole genuine wealth that families own. It acts as security for their children's future. It is their sense of self, deeply rooted in the earth and offered in prayer. And now, it is the one thing the James family has left to set ablaze.

Mr. James was taken on October 5th. Following 18 days of being held against his will, he came back home in a damaged state, and his family remains tied to the funds they borrowed to get him back.

"Some considerate neighbors also helped us with minor contributions," explained his uncle, Mr. Shehu. The community, already exhausted, had given whatever it could. However, generosity does not yield returns.

Everything we possess is the farmlands. We are waiting for the harvest to finish so we can sell the crops.

The term "harvest," typically symbolizing hope, now feels like a looming deadline. Lenders are not nameless bankers; they are neighbors, friends, and local merchants who are also facing difficulties.

Some individuals who provided us with loans are now demanding repayment," Mr. Shehu stated. "We have pleaded with them to be understanding. However, after selling everything to settle our debts, what will we rely on for survival?

The question lingered in the arid, 3 p.m. atmosphere—the very same air that had carried the feared noise three weeks prior.

The family had already been living under the weight of fear. They had become accustomed to watching the road and listening for the sound of an approaching motorcycle. Therefore, when the bandits came for James, it was not a random occurrence. It was the fulfillment of a long-anticipated event that had been hanging over his family for years.

We had multiple peace discussions with these outlaws and even provided them with funds for protection not long ago," Mr. Shehu stated. "We donated money during the initial meeting, but they returned for a second time asking for more.

The neighborhood has two voting stations and roughly 1,000 residents. All the adults were required to pay taxes. "At times, we each give ₦10,000 as a security fee. Around 300 to 400 individuals managed to cover the cost. The amount we pay varies based on their requirements. Occasionally, we each pay ₦3,000 or ₦4,000."

The abduction

The family's most recent hardship started approximately 3 p.m. on October 5th in Unguwar Maga, Malumfashi. It was a clear, sunny day, and he was seated in a field close to the family's hut, his gaze fixed on his phone.

As he heard the rapid, repetitive noise of a coming motorcycle, he didn't glance up right away.

"I believed it was someone from our region," he told the reporter in Dayi, his voice still carrying the remnants of that expensive mistake.

But the noise did not disappear. It intensified, then divided. When he lifted his gaze, they were upon him.

They surrounded me. Five individuals, three of whom were heavily armed.

Mr. James's initial reaction was to conceal his phone.

I believed they were the bandits our community had a peace agreement with," he said. "Those individuals only show up to take our phones.

This time, the visit was of a different nature. "They asked for my phone. I handed it over to them," he stated.

Afterward, they checked his pockets and discovered ₦1,150. They took ₦1,000 and then issued their commands.

They requested me to accompany them. They had me get on one of the motorcycles and quickly covered my face with a cloth.

The call

Back at the compound, fear spread rapidly. Mr. James's mother, Hajara James, and his uncles kept calling his phone, but it went unanswered.

As night set in, the family's urgent calls kept lighting up his phone, which was now in the possession of a bandit. When the bandits finally called back, they made their ransom request: ₦2 million right away, or he would be taken deep into the woods, with the ransom amount increasing.

For the family in Unguwar Maga, ₦2 million was an unattainable amount — a figure that had no relevance to their daily life.

The outlaws lacked tolerance.

At 6 PM, they concealed his face once more.

"I begged for compassion. However, they claimed my community was responsible for not providing the ₦2 million," he remembered.

The cruelty market

As Mr. James ventured further into the woods, his family was engulfed by another form of darkness. The kidnapping of a fifth family member set off a frantic, desperate effort.

"Three separate groups of robbers demanded money from us," said Mrs. James, the mother of Joshua James, to PREMIUM TIMES, her voice shaking.

Every time we provided funds to a group, another would arrive, claiming they were the ones caring for Joshua.

The initial payment — ₦350,000 — was given to "negotiators," individuals who had facilitated the original, unsuccessful peace agreement. They accepted the funds and assured his release. Nevertheless, no action was taken.

Through the forest

"We had multiple falls from the bicycle during the trip," Mr. James remembered. After some time, one of the robbers stopped to take a break. Upon returning, he gestured towards Mr. James.

He inquired if I was capable of riding a motorcycle. I responded that I could, though not very proficiently. He urged me to take the wheel, placing his gun against my back and warning me that he would shoot me if we crashed once more.

After that, they arrived at a river.

It had poured heavily on that day," Mr. James mentioned. "The water came up to my chest and was moving swiftly.

A robber on a fresh motorcycle went ahead, diving into the water.

After moving across, the bicycle would not start. The thieves, now wet, placed their guns on the shore and tried to restart the engine. It was of no use.

Mr. James later discovered that the motorcycles had been obtained through a ransom from the families of individuals they had previously kidnapped.

They requested me to roll it while they followed behind. Eventually, we arrived at a village and entered a compound where we encountered an old woman. They shone a flashlight on her to check if she was young or old. Upon realizing she was elderly, they asked her to fetch a mechanic and told her to hurry.

They started a fire and asked me to join them by it. They gave me bread, but I refused in a courteous manner. After that, one of them inquired, 'Are you a Christian?'

"I said yes."

The outlaw laughed. "He claimed my people were wealthy, yet they keep moving from church to church seeking more funds. I informed him that we aren't rich and don't have much money."

He responded, 'No issue. Once we arrive, you'll witness the others we've taken—almost 30 in total.'

The technician arrived and repaired the bicycle.

"They handed the woman ₦500," Mr. James stated — a payment to keep her quiet and for her assistance.

We reached their secret base at midnight, a rocky formation located far within the woods.

There, I observed the other captives bound in chains—23 of them, all gathering around a fire to warm up after being battered by the rain.

When we arrived, they turned their light on the prisoners, asking if anyone recognized me. They replied no. They also directed the light towards me and inquired if I knew any of them. I responded no.

Then they bound one of my legs as they had done to the others.

Life beneath the rock

This served as Mr. James's residence for the following 18 days—a patch of exposed soil where they "remained under the sun and rain." Not far from the camp were two villages, Yar Centre and Tsamiya.

We were unable to try to flee since they were present everywhere," he stated. "Even groups that had peace agreements with them would reveal anyone attempting to escape.

Those communities had peace agreements with the outlaws as they were overpowered and unable to fight back. This is why the outlaws were able to act freely in their vicinity.

The region is part of the Kankara Local Government, and I also learned that the forest connects Niger State with Kankara.

"Every detainee has a particular supervisor. Their leader, who managed my case, was known as Nasiru," he said to PREMIUM TIMES.

Living on Gaza leaves

The daily routine in the camp revolved around hunger and anxiety. The prisoners slept outdoors, "under the sun and rain." Their meal consisted of garin tuwo dawa (guinea corn flour), which was crushed but not filtered. "They provided it to us twice a day."

When I arrived, it was already over, so for two days there was no food. During these periods, the prisoners subsisted by consuming the leaves of a wild tree called Gaza leaves. At times, we ate Dinya or Tafasa leaves if we managed to locate them.

"We noticed this particularly when they underwent procedures. They might be away for three days," Mr. James revealed.

Left to watch over the prisoners was a boy around 15 years old and a young man. "These two never participated in missions."

The beating

After roughly a week, the discussions came to a standstill. The robbers now demanded a Honda motorcycle along with the cash ransom. Mr. James's family, who had already been deceived, pleaded for compassion.

The family eventually sent the motorcycle, purchased for ₦1.17 million, but requested leniency concerning the ₦2 million cash request. This angered "Oga Nasiru."

"One day, they contacted my family, handed me the phone, and began hitting me with sticks while I was talking, warning me they would break my bones. That's how I got these injuries and dislocations," he said, indicating his knee.

They intentionally beat and injured him to show us that he was in peril," interrupted Mr. Shehu. "His kneecap was damaged; some of the wounds required stitches.

The family eventually paid the ₦2 million cash request. However, the blackmail did not end there.

"They requested two Android phones priced at ₦150,000 each," Mr. Shehu stated.

Freedom, but not free

Those who saw him upon his return realized he had endured great suffering," Mr. Shehu remembered. "He couldn't walk. No matter where he needed to go, we had to carry him—even to the bathroom.

Following Mr. James's return, the family chose to leave Unguwar Maga.

We had to flee because they were harassing us every day," said Mrs. James. "We dispersed into various communities in search of peace.

They were keeping track of the days we went to church. We had to stop the church service. Individuals suggested we should leave.

After the interview with the James family, the reporter learned that bandits had come back to demand a ₦1 million fee from the James home in Unguwar Maga. This payment was required for the family to collect their agricultural products.

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