Malam Fatori, Nigeria - It’s been more than 10 years since Isa Aji Mohammed lost four of his children in one night when Boko Haram fighters attacked their home in northeast Nigeria’s Borno State.
Maryam, who was 15 at the time, was killed alongside her brothers Mohammed, 22, and Zubairu, who was only 10. Yadoma, 25 and married with children, who had returned home to her parents’ house for a visit, also died in the attack.
“We ran with nothing,” said 65-year-old Isa, standing on the parched soil of his farm in the Lake Chad village of Malam Fatori, to which he recently returned. “For more than 10 years, we slept in relatives’ homes. I felt like a stranger in my own country.”
Before the deadly attack, Isa, a farmer, produced hundreds of bags of rice, maize and beans annually, enough to feed his family and sell in markets in neighbouring Niger.
After that night, he fled and spent the next decade in displacement camps across the border.
But last year, he joined thousands of other former residents who have relocated back to Malam Fatori and other towns as part of a resettlement
programme initiated by the government.
The village sits on the edge of Nigeria’s northeastern frontier, close to the border with Niger, where the vast, flat landscape stretches into open farmland and seasonal wetlands.
A decade ago, homes there were intact and full, their courtyards echoing with children’s voices and the steady rhythm of daily life. Farms extended well beyond the town’s outskirts, producing grains and vegetables that sustained families and supported local trade.
Irrigation canals flowed regularly, and the surrounding area was known for its productivity, especially during the dry season. Markets were active, and movement between Malam Fatori and neighbouring communities was normal, not restricted by fear.
Today, the town carries the visible scars of conflict and neglect, with much of it lying in ruin.
Rows of mud-brick houses stand roofless or partially collapsed, their walls cracked by years of abandonment. Some homes have been hastily repaired with scrap wood and sheets of metal, signs of families slowly returning and rebuilding with whatever materials they can find.
The farms surrounding Malam Fatori are beginning to show faint signs of life again. Small plots of millet and sorghum are being cleared by hand, while irrigation channels – once choked with sand and weeds – are gradually being reopened.
Many fields, however, remain empty, overtaken by thorny bushes and dry grass after years without cultivation. Farmers move cautiously, working close to the town, wary of venturing too far into land that was once fertile but has long been unsafe.
For returnees like Isa, walking through these spaces means navigating both the present reality and memories of what once was. Each broken wall and abandoned field tells a story of loss, while every newly planted seed signals a quiet determination to restore a town that violence nearly erased.
Between ‘two pressures’: Boko Haram and the army
For the Borno State administration, the returns are a success. “There are 5,000 households of returnees in Malam Fatori, while the town’s total population now exceeds 20,000 people,” Usman Tar, Borno State commissioner for information and internal security, told Al Jazeera last year.
As we toured the town, the security presence was visible. Armed patrols, checkpoints and observation posts were stationed along major routes and near public spaces, reflecting ongoing efforts to deter attacks and reassure residents.
Families interviewed said they were subjected to frequent security checks and strict movement controls, measures they understand as necessary but which also disrupt daily routines and limit access to farms, markets and neighbouring communities.
Residents and local officials say the threat remains close. Fighters from Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), another armed group active in the area, are believed to be operating from swampy areas approximately two kilometres from the town, using the difficult terrain as cover.
Although the town itself is under heavy military protection, surrounding areas continue to experience attacks, kidnappings and harassment, particularly along farming routes and access roads.
These persistent security incidents reinforce a climate of fear and uncertainty among returnees. While many families have chosen to remain and rebuild despite the risks, they say the proximity of armed groups and the ongoing violence in nearby communities make long-term recovery fragile.
“Here in Malam Fatori, we live under two pressures,” said resident Babagana Yarima. “Boko Haram dictates our safety, and the military dictates our movement. Both limit how we live every day.”
Farmers wait up to eight hours at military checkpoints when transporting produce. Curfews prevent evening farm work. Access to agricultural land beyond the town requires military permits or armed escorts.
“Insecurity and military restrictions limit access to farmlands, forcing farmers to cultivate smaller areas than before,” said Bashir Yunus, an agrarian expert at the University of Maiduguri who also farms in the region.
Fishing, previously a major food source and income generator from Lake Chad, has become dangerous and requires permits to leave the town boundaries.
“Movement beyond the town’s boundaries now requires military permits. Militant attacks in isolated areas continue,” said Issoufou.
The United Nations has raised concerns about the government’s resettlement programme, citing potential protection violations. Mohamed Malick, UN resident and humanitarian coordinator in Nigeria, said during an interview with journalists in Maiduguri that “any returns or relocations must be informed, voluntary, safe, dignified and sustainable”.
Malick added that the return of refugees to Malam Fatori and other insecure areas must be carefully evaluated against established safety and humanitarian standards, and must only take place if conditions allow for basic services and sustainable livelihoods.
‘A man without land is a man without life’Settled back on his land, Isa wakes before dawn each day, leaving his home in the quiet hours before the town stirs.
He walks to the fields that once yielded fertile harvests, now choked with weeds and debris. The land that once fed his family and supported their livelihood now demands relentless effort just to coax a small crop from the exhausted soil.
With each turn of the hoe and careful planting of seeds, he is determined to reclaim a fragment of the life that was disrupted by conflict.
He also participates in community farming initiatives, joining neighbours in collective efforts to restore agricultural production for the returning population and aid the town’s slow recovery.
However, the area he personally cultivates is far smaller than what he once managed, constrained by limited access to tools, seeds and water, as well as by the lingering insecurity in the region.
”A man without land is a man without life,” he said.
Most families in Malam Fatori now eat only twice a day, a sharp contrast to life before the conflict. Their meals typically consist of rice or millet, often eaten with little or no vegetables due to cost and limited availability.
Food prices have risen dramatically, placing further strain on households already struggling to recover. A kilogramme of rice now sells for about 1,200 naira (approximately $0.83), nearly double its previous price, making even basic staples increasingly unaffordable for many families.
Fish, once plentiful and affordable thanks to proximity to Lake Chad, have become scarce and expensive. Insecurity, restricted access to fishing areas, and disrupted supply chains have severely reduced local catches.
At the local market and at aid distribution points, women queue before dawn, hoping to secure small quantities of dried fish, groundnut oil or maize flour when supplies arrive.
Deliveries are irregular and unpredictable, often selling out within hours. Many women say they return home empty-handed after waiting for hours, compounding daily stress and uncertainty about how to feed their families.
Local health workers warn that malnutrition remains a serious concern, particularly among children under the age of five.
Basic services remain inadequate across town. Roads are poor, and
schools and health clinics operate with minimal resources.
“Security risks and inaccessible routes through surrounding bushland continue to restrict humanitarian access, preventing aid agencies from reaching several communities. Basic services such as clean water, healthcare and quality education remain inadequate,” Kaka Ali, deputy director of local government primary healthcare, told Al Jazeera.
Community rebuilding efforts continue
Despite ongoing challenges, residents of Malam Fatori are steadily working to rebuild their community and restore livelihoods disrupted by years of conflict.
Across the town, women have organised themselves into small cooperatives, producing handmade mats and processing groundnut oil for household use and local sale.
Fishermen, once central to the local economy, now operate cautiously in small groups in line with security regulations. Along riverbanks and storage areas, they repair damaged canoes and carefully mend fishing nets that were abandoned or destroyed during the conflict.
At the same time, teams of bricklayers are reconstructing homes destroyed during the violence, using locally sourced materials and shared labour to rebuild shelters for returning families.
The town’s clinic, staffed by six nurses, is overstretched. Vaccinations, malaria treatment and maternal health services are rationed. Power outages and equipment shortages compound the challenges. But it is a lifeline.
At Malam Fatori Central Primary School, children from the town and surrounding communities are being taught with the few resources available.
There are only 10 functional classrooms for hundreds of pupils, so some learn outdoors, under trees or in open spaces. There is a shortage of teachers, so some educators brave the conditions and travel long distances from the southern parts of Borno State.
In another, more unusual arrangement, soldiers stationed in the town occasionally step in to teach basic civic education and history lessons.
While not a replacement for trained teachers, community leaders say their involvement provides pupils with some continuity in education. The presence of soldiers in classrooms, they say, also reassures parents about security and underscores a shared effort to stabilise the town and rebuild essential services.
‘This land contains our future’
Amid all of the returning and rebuilding, security remains a dominant feature of daily life in Malam Fatori.
Soldiers remain stationed throughout the town, at markets and other public spaces to deter attacks.
Meanwhile, former Boko Haram members who have enrolled in a government-led deradicalisation and repentance programme also assist in protecting farmers working on the outskirts of the town, helping to rebuild trust between civilians and security structures.
Abu Fatima is a former Boko Haram fighter who joined the repentance programme. “Troop patrols are constant, curfews dictate daily life,” he said about the security arrangements in Malam Fatori.
Although residents welcome the security provided by the soldiers’ presence in the town, “many say they feel trapped – unable to fully rebuild the lives they had before Boko Haram, yet unwilling to abandon a homeland that defines them”, he said, echoing the tension felt by many returnees.
Bulama Shettima has also lived through the personal cost of the fighting that has devastated northeast Nigeria. Two of the 60-year-old’s sons joined ISWAP, a tragedy that left the family with deep emotional scars. After years of uncertainty and fear, one of his sons was later deradicalised through a government rehabilitation programme. This has allowed his family to heal and reconcile. Coming back to Malam Fatori is also part of that.
“Returning wasn’t about safety,” he said. “It was about belonging. This land contains our history. This land contains our grief. This land contains our future.”
Today, Bulama is focused on rebuilding his life and securing a different future for his children.
He works as a farmer, cultivating small plots of land under difficult conditions, while also running a modest business to supplement his income.
Despite his losses, Bulama places strong emphasis on educating his other children, saying that their schooling is a form of resistance against the cycle of violence that once tore his family apart. It will also allow them to grow up with choices, he says.
As many displaced families remain in Niger or live in limbo in Maiduguri, fearing a return to towns where armed men operate not far away, those now in Malam Fatori consider it a move worth making.
For Isa, the decision to return represents a calculated risk.
“We are caught between fear and order,” he said. “But still, we must live. Still, we must plant. Still, we must hope.”
