By Salihu Mohammed
Residents of Kaiama and surrounding communities are still grappling with the horror of the February 3, 2026 attack on Woro, an assault whose brutality has left deep physical and psychological scars. In the several-hour raid, more than 200 people were reportedly killed, about 176, mostly women and children were abducted, and properties worth millions of naira were razed by heavily armed terrorists.
The scale and coordination of the attack shocked not only the immediate victims but the wider Kwara North axis, reopening painful questions about insecurity, state capacity, and the growing presence of armed groups in forested areas. Within 24 hours, the Kwara State Governor visited Woro and announced the approval by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for the immediate deployment of an army battalion to the area.
Days later, Vice President Kashim Shettima visited Ilorin to condole with the people on behalf of the Federal Government, though many residents felt the visit should have been directly to the affected community.
This was followed by a visit from the Deputy Inspector-General of Police. Government officials expressed condolences, promised relief materials for victims, and announced the constitution of a seven-man community committee. While these gestures were acknowledged, many residents argue that condolences and post-attack visits cannot substitute for decisive, sustained security action.
Beyond the immediate tragedy of Woro lies a deeper and more troubling reality: the steady transformation of Kainji Lake National Park from a symbol of conservation and eco-tourism into what many now describe as a sanctuary for terrorists.
From Conservation Dream to Security Nightmare
Kainji Lake National Park was originally established in 1968 as the Kainji Lake Game Reserve and upgraded to a National Park in 1979. Covering about 5,341 square kilometres—roughly 534,100 hectares or nearly one million standard football fields, it is one of Nigeria’s largest protected areas, stretching across parts of Niger and Kwara States.
The park was created to conserve wildlife and natural ecosystems within the Kainji Lake basin, protect forests and savannahs from degradation, preserve biodiversity for future generations, support scientific research, and promote eco-tourism. It was also intended to help maintain ecological balance along the River Niger corridor, with human activities regulated through clearly defined core and buffer zones.However, decades after its creation, the same vastness that once made the park an ecological treasure has become a major security challenge.
Human Interaction and Porous Boundaries
Given its enormous size, constant interaction between humans and the reserve has always been inevitable. Communities within and around the park depend on it for livelihoods. Farming, grazing, fishing, hunting, lumbering, and trading are routine activities in the buffer zones, while parts of the reserve serve as access routes for traders and smugglers moving goods to and from neighbouring Benin Republic.
Over time, these interactions created porous entry points that are difficult to monitor effectively. What began as subsistence and economic engagement gradually evolved into unregulated access, weakening enforcement and surveillance. This environment, residents say, made the forest attractive not only to traders and herders but also to criminal and extremist elements seeking concealment, mobility, and operational depth.
Terrorists in the Forest
Multiple community sources trace the visible emergence of terrorist activities in and around the park to about seven years ago, although there are indications that armed groups had infiltrated the forest several years earlier. During that period, they reportedly conducted surveillance, studied the terrain, and established informal networks within surrounding communities connected to the reserve.
Like insurgents operating in other forested regions of Nigeria, the groups exploited the park’s remoteness and the limited security presence across its vast expanse. To assert control and instill fear, they launched attacks on security personnel and civilians who attempted to interfere with their activities. Their earliest and most consequential targets were park rangers.
Tasked with protecting the reserve and its resources, the rangers were repeatedly attacked, ambushed, and intimidated. Eventually, many abandoned their duty posts, effectively ceding large portions of the forest to the armed groups. This withdrawal marked a critical turning point, granting terrorists de facto control over significant sections of the park.
With lawful authority weakened, the insurgents began regulating access to the forest. Locals seeking to farm, fish, hunt, or harvest forest products were reportedly forced to pay cash or provide supplies. The terrorists determined who could enter or exit the forest and when. In effect, they replaced state authority with coercion and fear.
Kidnappings, Threats, and the Mahmuda Era
As their control expanded, so did their criminal activities. Targeted kidnappings, intimidation, and threats were reported across communities along the Kwara and Niger axes of the reserve. Individuals suspected of cooperating with security agencies or resisting terrorist influence were singled out.
Much of this period coincided with the rise of a notorious figure known as Mahmuda, believed to be a key leader within the forest. Under his watch, insurgent operations reportedly became more organised, coordinated, and economically motivated. His reported arrest by security agents was initially welcomed by communities, raising hopes that the tide was turning against the armed groups.
Instead, many residents say the violence intensified.
A More Violent Turn
Following Mahmuda’s absence, insurgent groups appear to have adopted even more aggressive tactics. Possible explanations include internal anger over their leader’s arrest or the arrival of new armed groups seeking influence within the forest. Whatever the cause, the shift has been stark and deeply troubling.
Residents report increasingly brazen operations carried out in broad daylight. In some instances, armed men openly preached extremist doctrines in nearby communities; teachings widely condemned by Islamic scholars as baseless and contrary to Islam.
During or after such preaching sessions, the insurgents were said to exchange contact details with unsuspecting members of the communities, a strategy believed to be aimed at luring vulnerable individuals into heinous activities, including recruitment, logistics support, intelligence gathering, and other forms of collaboration.
These preaching tours reportedly occurred in several settlements, with plans to extend to others, including Woro, before the February 3 attack.
Some analysts have described the Woro massacre as “not accidental,” arguing that it followed a pattern of intimidation, radicalisation attempts, and calculated violence designed to assert dominance, silence resistance, and punish communities perceived as uncooperative.
Communities Question the Status Quo
With insurgents entrenched in parts of the park, communities are now openly questioning the current structure, size, and management of Kainji Lake National Park. This questioning is not born of ignorance or disregard for environmental conservation. Many residents have actively resisted illegal logging and environmental degradation over the years and acknowledge the ecological value of the forest.
Rather, the concern is that the park’s enormous size has become a security liability in a country already struggling with overstretched security resources and multiple conflict theatres.
Some community members are calling for the concession of sections of the reserve for regulated farming and economic activities, arguing that reduced forest density could limit terrorist hideouts while improving livelihoods. Others advocate sustained military operations, including targeted bombardment of identified terrorist camps, followed by ecological restoration.
There are also strong calls for the establishment of permanent military bases within or near the park to ensure continuous security presence, rather than episodic deployments that often follow major attacks and fade with time.
The Lingering Question
A difficult question continues to hang in the air: if Nigerian security forces required years to meaningfully access and degrade insurgent strongholds in the Sambisa Forest, estimated at about 518 square kilometres, how long will it take to secure Kainji Lake National Park, which spans more than 5,000 square kilometres?
This question is not intended to sound defeatist or pessimistic. Rather, it underscores the urgency for a realistic, sustained, and well resourced strategy that balances conservation objectives with the fundamental responsibility of the state to protect lives and property.
For the people of Woro, Kaiama, and dozens of other communities living around Kainji, the issue is no longer theoretical. Until the forest is reclaimed from terror, a reserve meant to protect life in all its forms will remain a source of fear for the very people living in its shadow.
