 |
| Herd of cattle trampling a flattened maize field in Ogun State |
Olugbenga Toki still hears the crunch of maize stalks under heavy hooves. In Arugbokosun village, near Idera in Ogun State, he planted a one-acre plot of maize and cassava to feed his family and sell at market. By mid-May, after weeks of tending seedlings and paying for labour, he thought he was on track to cover his planting costs. Then unknown herdsmen arrived with more than 100 cattle. In a single afternoon, every standing plant was gone. Toki’s losses came to over ₦200,000 in seedlings, labour and land fees. He dared not report the raid. He fears the herders will return, this time with guns.
“I spent my life savings on that ground,” he said, voice trembling. “When I saw the field, nothing was left—just cow dung and broken machetes. We all cried, but who will listen?”
His was not the only farm hit last month. Scores of smallholders across Obafemi/Owode, Ijebu-Ode and Abeokuta reported similar incidents. On Ajebo Road, farmer Biodun lost his half-acre cassava plot for the second time. Women in Araromi-Ibese pleaded for protection after herdsmen crushed their maize. In Imeko-Afon, local hunters clashed with herdsmen in January, leaving one villager dead. Through it all, Toki said, farmers keep silent. They know that speaking out brings more destruction.
Nigeria’s maize and cassava staples are at risk when grazing laws fail. Ogun State passed an Animal Grazing Regulation and Cattle Ranch Establishment Law in 2021 to outlaw open grazing and force herders into ranches . But three years later, enforcement is spotty. The State Assembly has repeatedly urged the governor’s office to roll out implementation guidelines and empower security agencies . As of June, not one ranch had opened.
In the meantime, farmers bear the brunt. Ogun remains a major cassava producer, delivering over 4.5 million metric tonnes in 2022 alone, more than any other state in Nigeria . Maize output is also rising under federal and state empowerment schemes. Last year, Governor Dapo Abiodun launched a program to support 2,400 smallholders across 1,200 hectares in maize, cassava and rice. Farmers invested only 25% of input costs while the federal government covered the rest .
Yet these gains vanish when cows roam free. In Obafemi/Owode, one farmer estimated more than 500 cattle swept across 30 acres of cassava over a single weekend . At five hectares near Ilupeju Ibaro, herds trampled an entire maize field, almost sparking a communal clash before police intervened .
Nationwide, farmer-herder violence leaves scars on both sides. Between 2020 and 2024, Nigeria recorded 359 violent incidents tied to farmland disputes, resulting in 2,347 casualties . Last year alone saw 467 casualties in 61 such clashes, chiefly in Nigeria’s Middle Belt . A recent SBM Intelligence report tallied over 2.2 million displaced and 542 killed since 2019 in farmer-herder crises . And in late May, four villages in Benue State saw 42 people killed in raids blamed on itinerant Fulani herders .
Climate change and population growth have shrunk grazing routes. Rivers that once marked dry-season passes now run low. Urbanization has swallowed former pasturelands. Herd sizes have doubled since the 1980s, from 9.2 million to more than 20 million nationwide . Cattle herds push deeper into farm belts in search of pasture.
The federal government created a Ministry of Livestock Development in 2024 to coordinate grazing reserves and ranch establishment . It drafted a National Livestock Transformation Plan, including designated RUGA settlements. But millions of herders remain nomadic. Poor funding and local resistance stall progress on ranches and grazing corridors.
Experts argue that only a mix of policy and community engagement can calm tensions. Mercy Corps mapped hotspots across Adamawa and Taraba, recommending conflict-mitigation projects, shared water points and grazing associations . Others call for mobile veterinary clinics, pasture leases and clearer land tenure rules.
Meanwhile, farmers in Ogun call for swift action. They urge security patrols on farm-to-market roads, community liaison officers in each local government and prompt prosecution of trespassers. They want an emergency relief fund to replace lost seeds and seedlings. Last month, they petitioned the state government for a ₦500 million compensation scheme.
“No one can farm in fear,” Biodun said. “Our children go hungry if this continues.”
Despite the gloom, some see hope. In Ijebu-Ode, a pilot ranch for 100 cattle opened in March under private-public partnership. It offers grazing fees, veterinary care and water troughs. Early reports suggest fewer stray cattle incidents nearby. The governor’s office said it plans four more under the same model.
Farmers like Toki watch such pilot schemes warily. They want to see fences, patrols and clear rules before believing change is coming. They need peace to plant, tend and harvest.
Until then, every stalk of maize or rope of cassava offers both promise and risk. When cows return, those crops—and the dreams they carry—disappear overnight. And once more, an entire community is driven into silence by fear.