Rakiya A.Muhammad
At just nine, Zahra’s world was shattered by a bandit attack that stole her father and her home. Now a teenager, she quietly shoulders her family’s hardships, her invisible wounds etched deep within.
“Bandits killed my father. He went to buy Sallah things for us, and they met him on the way, and killed him,” Zahra recalls. Her narrative highlights how children understand the upheaval around them, what they internalize, and how their young minds cope with ongoing trauma.
“We had to run. Mother held us tight as we ran for our lives, leaving everything behind,” Zahra continues, her voice soft but steady.
Zahra is one of many displaced children in Sokoto State, Northwest Nigeria. Their young eyes have witnessed tragedies that have left them with deep scars.
Fleeing & Seeking Refuge
Zahra recoils at sudden sounds, searching for her mother—quiet evidence of the overlooked emotional aftermath children face in displacement.
Escaping violence, displaced families find only fragile safety and scarce hope in incomplete shelters.
Zahra’s family finds temporary refuge in incomplete, abandoned buildings, moving repeatedly as they search for safety.
Reflecting further, Zahra says, “We escaped through forests, city streets, and into abandoned buildings; we sleep where we can. Often, we go hungry.”
Struggling for Survival
With nothing left, Zahra and others beg for food. Their childhood, once filled with play, has been replaced by silence, but their resilience remains.
Across the Sokoto metropolis, Zahra and other children beg at corners, hands outstretched, scavenging for food and discarded items.
“I usually beg to get what we would eat, because even when my mother does some petty business, it’s not enough,” she reveals.
“ I have seven younger ones, so I go to beg and buy food before we can eat.”
Hafsa, 11, is another child in displacement. She says, “Nothing seems pleasant anymore. When we go to beg, people glare and shout at us. Once, someone slapped me just because I tapped him to ask for alms.”
She further reveals, “Sometimes we will push our younger ones, who are 3, 4, 5 years old, to step forward and do the begging because people show them more compassion than older ones like us.”
Behind each child’s quiet agony stands a caregiver, clutching fragile hope while battling rising fear. Some nights, a mother stands vigilant over her children, her heartbeat pounding with questions no parent wants to face: ‘Do I risk their safety tonight, or their hunger tomorrow?’
She wonders aloud in the stillness of the night. Such choices weigh heavily as these silent battles continue in the shadows, unseen by most, yet deeply felt by those who bear the burden.
For many displaced mothers, such as Inna Aisha, the greatest worry is for their children. “Our children have been left behind other children, with no education or skills. They go begging and stay up late seeking help. We usually have to go in search of them,” says one of them.
“We know they are in vulnerable conditions, but what can we do in the absence of anything? They have to go a-begging.”
Repeated Displacement
Repeated displacement and constant uncertainty now define Zahra’s world, overshadowing her childhood and dreams, illustrating the ongoing cycle many face.
Safety is fleeting. As owners reclaim their properties, these children and their families face yet another displacement.
For Zahra and other children caught in the tide of displacement, their temporary abodes are both refuge and reminder of loss.
“We thought we found refuge, but now we’re back on the move. One of our greatest needs is for them to have a more stable dwelling,” Inna Hadiza, one of the elderly IDPs, chips in.
“The owner of the uncompleted structure says he has sold the house, and we have to move; one of our greatest needs is to have a more stable dwelling.”
Zahra feels the sting of being forced out again. Each eviction erodes her security and deepens her invisible wounds.
“Every time we leave, I wonder if this will be the last place,” Zahra says. “Sometimes I don’t remember anything but all the struggles and upheavals… and us, moving again and again.”
“Will things ever go back to normal? Zahra ponders, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing on her young shoulders.
Seeking Support
For IDPs in the Guiwa area, stable housing is a primary need.
“What we want now is for the government to assist us with a place; we are very many in this Guiwa area. We also want our children in school,” Inna Aisha urges.
Sokoto Governor Aliyu reiterates a deep sense of responsibility and compassion, reaffirming his commitment to supporting and rebuilding the lives of those affected by any form of disaster in the state.
As part of moves to fulfil this pledge, the state government acquired a property in the Ramen Kura area that had been home to hundreds of IDPs for several years under the care of a compassionate private individual. The state government is also building 100 houses for the displaced persons in the Illela local government area.
However, findings indicate that many displaced persons in other parts of the state continue to experience repeated displacement and ongoing challenges.
Sokoto state government data show more than 70,000 displaced persons across the state’s 23 local government areas, with children totalling 35,000, which is half of the state’s displaced population.
Many displaced children report they have not yet benefited from government education, skills training, or empowerment programs.
Zahra voices her hopes: “My dream is to teach, to light up our people’s paths. All I want is to keep learning—to have my education back.”
Yet another teen, Yahanatu, says, “My wish is to go to school. I want to become a doctor to help the community. “
At Ramen Kura IDP camp, hundreds of children endure a harsh reality. While a majority say they are yet to be put in school, many serve as family providers, selling petty things to care for their mothers and siblings. Trapped by these fences, they have no opportunity to dream beyond them.
For them, every sale counts. They sell what little they have to feed their families.
Every day, 13-year-old Sumaya, one of the displaced children at Ramen Kura IDP, braves the streets to hawk sachets of water—each bag of 20 sachets worth N250, sold for N300. For all the efforts, that’s just N50 per bag. Bag after bag, day after day, the cycle continues.
Sumaya laments, “I don’t like to hawk water, I want to go to school.” Sumaya was attending school before their displacement. Now, unfamiliar with hawking, she pleads with her mother, “I don’t want to hawk,” but her mother, her voice heavy, says, “I am helpless.”
The large number of children still awaiting support highlights an urgent need for coordinated and immediate action to address their ongoing hardships.
Many of the children wish the root cause of their displacement could be addressed and that they could return to their villages.
“When we were in our hometown, we were attending school. Life was good, “Zahra says, her voice quivering with longing.
“I wish things could be as they once were, for us to go home and breathe easy, to taste the comfort of normal life again.”
Right to Protection
Abdulganiyu Abubakar, Chief Executive Officer of Save the Child Initiative (STCI), describes the issues affecting displaced children, especially the deplorable situation of children roaming the streets of Sokoto, as very pressing.
“They are issues of the moment, they are issues affecting children, their families and communities,” he says.”
“A walk around the streets of Sokoto will show you how vulnerable children are. So, it’s very worrisome; there are issues that the government and society at large need to pay attention to.”
He calls on the government to activate all security and non-kinetic measures to ensure that children receive social protection.
UNICEF reported that by 2024, 48.8 million children worldwide had been displaced by conflict and violence, showing the global scope and urgency of addressing this crisis.
It describes the suffering of displaced children as unacceptable and preventable,
“Far too many encounter danger, detention, deprivation, and discrimination on their journeys, at destination or upon return,” UNICEF states.
“It doesn’t have to be this way… Every child has the right to protection, care, and all the support and services they need to thrive.”
Social welfare expert Rahma Ahmad notes that children experiencing displacement often feel a profound sense of loss and insecurity.
“They need stability, understanding, and love, which adults can offer even in challenging circumstances,” she stresses. “Even small acts of kindness can make a difference.”
She shares a touching story of a volunteer who, during a routine visit to one of the makeshift shelters, noticed a young boy sitting alone.
The volunteer approached him, offered a small, handcrafted toy, and gently placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The boy looked up, a flicker of a smile breaking through his otherwise solemn expression.
Rahma calls for more compassionate, child-centred approaches in addressing displacement, ensuring that their voices and feelings are acknowledged and nurtured.
