A chilling wave of terror has gripped communities in North-Central Nigeria as a new militant group, known as the Mahmuda Group, emerges from the shadows, leaving a deadly trail across Kwara and Niger States. In what appears to be a well-coordinated and escalating campaign, the group recently launched a brutal assault on local vigilantes in the Kemanji area of Kaiama Local Government, killing over 15 people, including community defenders and villagers.
Operating from within and around the vast Kainji Lake National Park — a sprawling territory that spans both Kwara and Niger States — the Mahmuda group has transformed once-peaceful forest communities into zones of fear and lawlessness. Villages such as Kemaanji, Tenebo, Baabete, Nuku, Nanu in Kaiama LGA, and several others in the Yashikira District of Barutein LGA, now live under the thumb of these armed militants. The group has also overrun parts of Babana and Wawa District in Niger’s Borgu LGA.
Locals describe the group as heavily armed and well-organized. Their leader, in a chilling voice note circulating among the affected communities, issued threats, boasting of their control and warning of further bloodshed. The militants have killed, kidnapped for ransom, and imposed a shadow government on the territories they dominate. The group, reportedly a splinter from the Shekau faction of Boko Haram, now claims to fight for a Sunni Islamist cause and calls itself the Mahmuda or Mallam Group.
What began as clashes with local loggers and hunters has now evolved into a full-blown occupation of the Kainji Lake National Park, where the militants have embedded themselves deeply. After being expelled from Mokwa LGA by former Niger State Governor Muazu Babangida Aliyu over alleged links to Boko Haram, the group relocated several times before establishing a stronghold in the park. Years later, they now run what many residents describe as a parallel society.
In this alternate regime, the militants collect zakat (dues) from herders, charge farmers levies for land use, and even force locals to work on their farms as unpaid labor. Kidnappings are frequent, and ransom payments are now a grim reality. The group has outlawed alcohol, imposed harsh religious codes, and settled disputes in place of traditional legal systems. Herbalists suspected of aiding vigilantes are hunted down, while illegal mining operations flourish under militant control.
Despite growing concerns, many in the region believe that authorities are either unaware of the group’s growing power—or worse, are deliberately looking away. With control over nearly 4,000 square kilometers of territory, Mahmuda’s grip tightens with each passing day, making the situation more complex and dangerous.
The locals’ desperation has reached the point where even vigilante groups are forced to cooperate with the militants in some cases to retrieve kidnapped victims. Ironically, the Mahmuda group has at times hunted down rival bandits and their local collaborators, executing them or collecting ransoms, further entrenching their influence in a region where the state appears absent.
As uncertainty and fear continue to consume affected areas, one thing remains clear: Mahmuda is no longer just another militant outfit — it has become a full-fledged power structure in North-Central Nigeria, one that challenges the very sovereignty of the Nigerian state. Whether the government will rise to the challenge or allow this shadow regime to deepen its roots is a question that looms ominously over the region.