Empowering displaced communities: humanitarian responses to food insecurity and livelihood challenges in north-east Nigeria

In September 2024, heavy rains caused the Alau Dam to overflow, triggering the worst flooding Maiduguri had seen in decades. The National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) estimated that over 400,000 people were displaced in Maiduguri alone, including more than 150,000 children who were forced into overcrowded camps without adequate food, shelter, or water.

At the time, I was managing a wet-feeding initiative along with other humanitarian programmes. The images remain vivid: mothers wading through knee-deep water, children strapped to their backs, holding onto plastic bowls. Many had gone days without food. Yet, when they finally received a hot plate of food, I could see relief and gratitude wash over their tired faces.

Moments like these remind me that humanitarian aid is not just about calories or rations. It is about dignity, hope and resilience in places where displacement, conflict and climate shocks have stripped people of their livelihoods.

The context: displacement and food insecurity in the BAY states

More than 14 years of armed conflict have left north-east Nigeria facing a profound and protracted humanitarian crisis. More than 2 million people are currently displaced across the Borno, Adamawa and Yobe (BAY) states due to insurgency and insecurity.

In Borno State, many families have lost access to farmland and now live in internally displaced person (IDP) camps or crowded host communities, heavily dependent on aid. Food insecurity is widespread across the BAY states: Borno alone has a Global Acute Malnutrition rate of 10.2% among children under five. Millions of children across the north-east face acute malnutrition, and rising rates of food insecurity indicate many local government areas are likely in IPC Phase 3 (Crisis) or higher.

Climate change compounds these challenges. Seasonal floods destroy homes and crops, while erratic rainfall disrupts farming cycles. Local markets, already weak, suffer from inflation and insecurity. Families with little purchasing power are unable to afford food staples, leaving them more vulnerable.

Amid this, humanitarian organisations such as ZOA, International Rescue Committee (IRC), Save the Children, FRAD Foundation, UNICEF, Future Empowerment for Development Initiative, and those with funding from the World Food Programme – Danida, Mission East, the Nigeria Humanitarian Fund (NHF), amongst others – are striving to provide food, restore livelihoods, and strengthen community resilience. Through my work with these interventions, I have witnessed both inspiring progress and painful gaps.

Food insecurity: daily struggles of IDPs

For displaced families in Bama, Monguno, Maiduguri, and other parts of the northeast, food insecurity is not just a statistic, it is a daily struggle for survival. Parents live hand-to-mouth, often forced into desperate measures to feed their children. Some risk their health by boiling wild leaves they know nothing about, simply to silence hunger. Others stretch a single ration over three days, fully aware it is never enough.

One story that will forever stay with me is of a woman I once met in Maiduguri. She was four months’ pregnant when her community was attacked, forcing her to flee with her four children and her husband. Not long after they arrived at an informal camp, her husband abandoned her because he could no longer bear the shame of being unable to feed his family. As she poured out her story, tears streamed down her face, and mine too. That day, I emptied my pockets to help her, though I knew it was only a drop in the ocean. She was just one among thousands of women carrying the same heartbreaking burden due to food insecurity.

Another tragedy unfolded in Monguno: a newly arrived IDP, exhausted from walking long distances to escape an attack, died from malnutrition shortly after arrival.

Food distributions remain a lifeline. During the Maiduguri floods, the wet-feeding programme I managed gave families sustenance and dignity. I saw how respectful treatment of crisis-affected people by agencies like ZOA, UNICEF, INTERSOS and IRC rebuilt trust between communities and aid providers.

Still, aid alone is not enough. Food rations often arrive late, are inadequate for large households, and distribution sites can be overcrowded, exposing women, children and people with disabilities to risks. Food aid saves lives, but it does not solve the root causes of hunger. Again and again, families tell me the same thing: we want livelihoods, not just food.

Livelihood challenges: breaking the cycle of dependence

For most displaced people, livelihoods remain out of reach. Insecurity has cut off access to farmland, while host communities already struggle with scarce resources.

Women and youth face the toughest barriers. Many survive through petty trading or casual labour, often earning less than ₦1,000 a day (around $0.70), barely enough to afford one meal. Others, out of desperation, turn to harmful coping strategies such as early marriage, child labour, or transactional sex.

I still remember a conversation with a middle-aged man in Monguno. His words have never left me:

Ishaya, many of us are not receiving food or livelihood support. How do you expect us to feed our families? Just yesterday, I felt so ashamed. My bicycle tire was flat, and I needed money to repair it. I asked my 17-year-old daughter, and she gave me ₦7,000 [about $5]. I know she is not working, and I fear she got the money through bad means. But what could I do? ₦7,000 is a big amount. I can’t even remember the last time I held that much myself. And it is not only my daughter. Ishaya, if you stay here until 7 p.m., you will see how young girls, even younger than her, walk around with men.

Listening to an elderly man, old enough to be my father, admit so openly that he knew his daughter was likely earning money in harmful ways and yet felt powerless to stop her was heartbreaking. His story captured the painful reality of how desperation, driven by food insecurity, has eroded the dignity of families and forced them into choices no parent should ever have to make.

He is able and willing to work but lacks start-up support. His story reflects the barriers faced by thousands: limited access to seeds, tools and fertilisers; dependence on erratic rainfall due to lack of irrigation; and poor access to financial services. Markets are weak, disrupted by insecurity and high transport costs. Rebuilding their lives seems almost impossible without outside support.

Lessons and recommendations: building stronger, resilient communities

Over the years of managing humanitarian projects across north-east Nigeria, I have come to see patterns that repeat themselves and lessons that should guide the way we work if we truly want to break the cycle of dependence and help families rebuild their lives.

One of the strongest lessons is the importance of community involvement. Programmes that are designed and implemented with displaced people always achieve more sustainable results. Communities know their own priorities, and when they are part of shaping solutions, they take ownership of the outcomes. Too often, decisions are made without their voices, which risks leaving people marginalised. I have learned that meaningful participation from the very beginning must remain a guiding principle. For instance, in Gongulong community of Jere Local Government Area, we introduced poultry production with funding from the NHF. Initially, we provided chickens of the Noiler breed to households, but through community feedback, it became clear that rather than more chickens, a hatchery (incubator) would help them scale up and increase their income. When the equipment arrived, the question of where to place it and who should manage it caused tension. Instead of imposing a solution, we facilitated discussions with the community, and they unanimously agreed to place the hatchery under the management of an existing village savings and loan association group. The decision created collective accountability. Even more inspiring, they used the solar system powering the hatchery to start a small phone-charging business, providing a much-needed service in a village without electricity. This shows that when communities are allowed to lead, they don’t just sustain interventions, they expand them in innovative ways.

I have also learned that dignity must remain central to humanitarian action. Aid is not only about helping people survive; it is about how that help is delivered. Respectful treatment, clear communication and safeguarding are not optional extras, they are essential. Strengthening accountability mechanisms so that communities can voice their concerns and influence programming is key to keeping dignity at the centre.

Another pressing lesson relates to agriculture. Farming constitutes nearly 70% of livelihoods in the region, but insecurity has drastically reduced access to land. Where land is available, it must be used wisely. I believe the way forward is to promote modern and climate-smart agricultural practices, including the provision of high-quality seeds, tools and equipment. Only then can families fully utilise the little farmland they can access, adapt to erratic weather, and produce enough to move towards food security.

Sustainability also requires close collaboration with stakeholders, especially government institutions and community structures. No humanitarian project lasts forever. If local systems are not strengthened, the impact will fade once donor funding ends. Working with government and aligning with state development plans is the only way to ensure long-term change.

Equally, I have seen how critical it is to have robust monitoring and accountability systems. Without these, productive assets often end up being sold in markets, rather than being used to build livelihoods. This is a common issue in Borno, and one that we must address by building stronger follow-up and support structures.

Finally, NGOs working in this region must recognise the importance of integrated programming and timely transitions. There must be a clear understanding of when to shift from emergency response to early recovery and, eventually, to development. Once peace is restored in a community and markets begin to function, organisations should reprogramme, scale up to the next phase, or gradually withdraw. Capacity-building is an essential part of this process. Investing in women, youth and other groups through vocational training, business development support and market linkages prepares communities to stand on their own. In truth, north-east Nigeria needs a shift away from short-term aid towards long-term resilience, a shift that ties vocational training, agricultural empowerment and microfinance to broader state recovery strategies.

Conclusion: a path forward

Humanitarian aid has been a lifeline for displaced communities in north-east Nigeria. I have seen with my own eyes how a single plate of food can restore hope to a mother who has gone days without feeding her children. Yet, aid alone cannot solve the deep crisis of food insecurity and broken livelihoods. What people desire most is not endless assistance, but the chance to stand on their own feet again.

My years of working in camps and host communities have taught me that food assistance and livelihood support must go hand in hand. Food keeps families alive today, but livelihoods give them the dignity and strength to face tomorrow. When farmers are provided with seeds and tools, when women are trained in business skills, and when young people are given opportunities to lead, hope begins to return.

I still carry with me memories from the Maiduguri flood response in 2024. Amidst the chaos of rising waters and hungry families, I watched how dignity mattered just as much as food. The orderly, respectful way in which agencies engaged with displaced families rebuilt a measure of trust, even in the middle of despair. It reminded me that dignity in crisis is not a luxury, but a necessity.

But there is another lesson I cannot ignore: resilience cannot grow where there is conflict. As resources become scarcer and needs continue to rise, peacebuilding and social cohesion must be woven into every programme we design. If we fail to integrate these elements, even the best livelihood project risks fuelling tension instead of fostering recovery. True resilience comes not only from food and livelihoods, but also from communities that can live together in peace.

The challenge for us as humanitarian actors is therefore clear: every plate of food, every seed distributed, and every livelihood restored must be a step toward long-term recovery, stability and peace. The road ahead will not be easy, but I believe it is possible. With dignity, inclusivity, resilience and peace at the centre of our actions, displaced families can move from surviving crisis to rebuilding their futures.

Ishaya Wutashina is a humanitarian aid and resilience expert and disaster risk management and climate adaptation leader. He is currently working with ZOA International Nigeria as Project Manager.