How erosion havoc destroys homes, farmlands in Kano community

In Mesar Tudu, a rural farming community in Gezawa Local Government Area of Kano State, every rainfall is a warning.
Each downpour sends water rushing from surrounding settlements into homes, carving deeper gullies, collapsing mud walls, and swallowing homes and farmlands that have sustained families for generations. What should be seasonal rain has become a recurring threat to lives, property, and livelihoods.
When the clouds gather, residents do not think of harvests or relief from the heat. They think of collapsing homes, disappearing farmlands, and whether the next downpour will finally take what is left of their community.
For Yusuf Abdulwahab, a 72-year-old resident with two wives and 15 children who has lived all his life in Mesar Tudu, erosion has already taken almost everything he depended on. A farm he had cultivated since he was 18 years old disappeared after years of relentless flooding and erosion.
Mesar Tudu, located about 40 kilometres from Kano metropolis, sits on low-lying terrain that receives runoff from upstream villages, including Bujawa and Kaurawa Yan’Hudu. When rain falls, water gathers, stagnates, and surges through the community’s sandy soil with increasing force.
What appears today as a quiet rural settlement is a landscape under slow collapse.

When it rains, residents say the community becomes nearly inaccessible. During a visit on 7 June, this reporter navigated dried flood channels and deeply eroded pathways that residents say become impassable during heavy rainfall.
The farms are gone, replaced by flattened erosion channels filled with sand carried by floodwater.
“I lost my farm completely,” Mr Abdulwahab said quietly, sitting in front of a house that erosion is now threatening.
“It started like a normal heavy rain. I used to do both rainy-season and dry-season farming because my farm was large, about four acres. I planted maize, millet, guinea corn and groundnuts.
“First, it swallowed half of the farm. I managed the remaining portion for more than 10 years, producing only enough food for my family. But the annual flooding continued until erosion eventually consumed the rest, five years ago. This happened to many other people in the community, too.”
He paused and looked toward the broken edges of his home.

“Now it is eating at my house. I am old and have no means to relocate. I have a large family to care for.”
He said he once filled sacks with sand and placed them around his house to slow the advancing erosion.
“The rain washed everything away,” he said.
Now, he rents farmland in a neighbouring community to survive.
“I am old now. I do not know what will happen to my family after I die.”
Across the community, similar stories repeat.
Mansir Bello, a 35-year-old farmer, said his family lost a two-hectare farm.
“We contributed money to build embankments with blocks and cement, but it did not stop the water,” he said.
Others have been forced to leave entirely.
“My house had four rooms. The erosion took them one after the other until everything collapsed,” said Yahaya Sa’adu, a 70-year-old father of nine.
“I had to move with my family to a single rented room in another community.”
Hassan Ahmed, a teacher, said he relocated from the community after his house collapsed.

“It was only three months after my wedding that my house collapsed,” he said.
“I had to move to Gezawa town and rent an apartment. It was a very painful experience for me and my wife. I have not recovered from it.”

Also, Ramatu Muhammad, a 25-year-old mother of two, said she lost both her house and farmland five years ago.
“My husband also lost his farm. We now live in a relative’s house and struggle to feed our children,” she said.
“During every rainy season, we live in fear because the destruction keeps getting worse.”
She recalled how floodwater uprooted a giant tree near the community last year.
“We could do nothing except carry our children and run. It happens every year. It is terrifying.”
Her appeal to the government was simple.
“Please come and see our situation. If nothing is done, we may lose everything.”

A community carved by water since 2003
Residents said the erosion crisis began more than two decades ago.
“It started with one heavy rain in 2003. After that, everything changed,” said Tijjani Bello, a 60-year-old lifelong resident.
He explained that Mesar Tudu sits on sloping terrain below Bujawa and Kaurawa Yan’Hudu villages.
“There is no drainage system. When it rains, water from those villages flows down and gathers here. Sometimes it stays for hours or even a full day before moving.”
What followed, he said, was a cycle of destruction.
“Since that first incident, it has never stopped.”
According to him, Mesar Tudu was once level ground.
“This place was not like this before. It was a level area. What you see today started after that first incident.”
He said a small dam once existed but failed, removing what little protection the community had against floodwater.
Since then, erosion has intensified.

He estimated that more than 16 farms have been lost, while countless animals have been swept away during floods.
“We cannot even count the animals anymore,” he said.
To verify residents’ claims, this reporter visited Bujawa and Kaurawa Yan’Hudu and observed where runoff from both settlements converges before flowing into Mesar Tudu. No drainage infrastructure was seen along the route.
Women and children at the centre of danger
For women in Mesar Tudu, erosion is not only an environmental problem but a daily safety risk.
Hafsatu Ado, a mother of five, described how a deep erosion pit has formed in front of her house.
“As women, we are usually the ones at home while our husbands are away. I have small children, and whenever it rains, I become afraid,” she said.

“It does not matter whether the rain is heavy or not. Once it rains, we are in trouble. If I am in the kitchen and my children step outside, they can fall into the hole.”
She recalled that her sister once fell into the pit and had to be rescued by neighbours.
Hafsatu said the erosion has also affected her livelihood.
“I used to sell kunu, but during the rainy season, nobody comes because water fills the holes in front of our house.”

For Sahura Adamu, the crisis became personal in a tragic way.
She said her brother died after falling into an erosion-created hole while visiting her.
“Since losing my brother, I no longer have peace of mind whenever it rains,” she said.
“I also have small children. Sometimes it is difficult to control them. I am always afraid they may wander outside.”
The impact extends beyond individual households.
Economic activity slows during the rainy season as roads become impassable and residents struggle to move around safely.
Homes and farms collapsing, families displaced
Across Mesar Tudu, residents say erosion has displaced more than 50 households and numerous plots of farmland.
Abdullahi Yusuf, Mesar Tudu community leader, described the scale of destruction as devastating.

“More than 50 households have been affected, and many have relocated to Gezawa town and are now renting apartments,” he said.
“For farms, we cannot even count them anymore. The erosion is eating our community, and we fear it may eventually consume the entire place.”
He said community members previously tried to protect themselves.
“We contributed money, bought cement and blocks and built embankments. It slowed it for a while, but the water returned stronger,” he said.
He added that the small dam, which once helped control runoff, collapsed.
“Now there is nothing to stop the water.”
The community leader said residents have repeatedly reported the situation to authorities over the years.
“We have written letters. Government officials have come to see the place. But nothing has been done.”
A visit to the community revealed deep erosion channels cutting through homes and farmlands. Some houses now sit dangerously close to the edge of collapse.
Residents also said erosion has uprooted trees and destabilised others. This reporter observed exposed tree roots in several locations, indicating significant soil loss.

Some houses have lost their entrances completely, forcing neighbours to share access routes through adjoining compounds.
“In some areas, you have to enter one house to reach another,” said Mr Bello.
He added that motorcycles and vehicles can no longer access most parts of the community.
“Only one narrow road remains in the community.”
“Reported to authorities, but help has not come”
Tijjani Muhammad, chairman of the Mesar Tudu Community Development Association, said the community first wrote to the Gezawa Local Government chairman on 5 December 2024, and later submitted another letter to the Kano State Watershed, Erosion and Climate Change Management Agency (KN-WECCMA) on 16 March 2026, requesting intervention.
The community showed this reporter copies of both letters submitted.
However, the letter copies seen by this reporter did not bear any official acknowledgement stamp.
Mr Muhammad added that the residents also attempted to address the problem themselves.
“We contributed money and bought cement, blocks and sand to build embankments, but it still did not stop the erosion.”
Government responds
PREMIUM TIMES contacted the Chairman of Gezawa Local Government Area, Muqadas Bala, but he didn’t respond to this newspaper’s enquiry.
Also, when this reporter visited the Kano State Watershed, Erosion and Climate Change Management Agency (KN-WECCMA), officials said they were not aware of the erosion problem in Mesar Tudu.
The agency’s director of Environment and Climate Change, Hamisu Binyamin, said communities facing erosion must formally report such cases before the agency can intervene.
“Communities must submit complaints through recognised associations,” he said.
“The agency will assess the site and determine the appropriate intervention or refer severe cases to larger programmes such as the World Bank-supported ACReSAL project.”
However, he maintained that the agency had no record of Mesar Tudu’s complaint and insisted that the community must resubmit their petition.
The gap between the community’s account and institutional records highlights weaknesses in documentation and disaster response coordination.
Budget allocations and unanswered questions
The agency’s position comes at a time when Kano State has allocated substantial resources to environmental management and climate resilience.
Budget documents released by the state government show that the Ministry of Environment and Climate Change received ₦18.4 billion in the 2026 fiscal year for environmental and climate-related programmes.
The Kano State Watershed, Erosion and Climate Change Management Agency (KN-WECCMA) was allocated ₦2.69 billion, while an additional ₦500 million was approved for complementary erosion works across the state.
Yet, residents of Mesar Tudu say they have not seen any intervention in their community despite years of complaints and visible destruction

A significant portion of erosion-control work in Kano is linked to donor-supported initiatives, such as the World Bank’s Agro-Climatic Resilience in Semi-Arid Landscapes (ACReSAL) programme, which has funded interventions across several parts of Kano State.
In 2025, the state awarded an ₦8.5 billion contract for the Bulbula and Gayawa gully erosion control project in Ungogo and Nassarawa local government areas.
While such projects continue elsewhere, Mesar Tudu remains without intervention.
Climate studies show that extreme rainfall events are becoming more frequent, while poor drainage amplifies their impact in vulnerable communities.
At the federal level, both the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMet) and the National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) have repeatedly identified Kano State, including Gezawa LGA, as a high flood-risk zone.
Residents say these warnings have not translated into local protection.
“We hear alerts every year, but when the rain comes, it still destroys everything,” says Mansir, a farmer.
Experts say this gap between forecasting and action leaves communities exposed despite known risks.
Expert warns of worsening erosion
An environmental scientist at the Federal University Dutse, Nurudeen Muhammed Shehu, said the situation in communities like Mesar Tudu reflects a broader pattern of increasing erosion risks linked to intense rainfall, poor drainage and land-use changes.
He explained that the region is increasingly experiencing short-duration, high-intensity rainfall events that generate large volumes of runoff and accelerate soil erosion.
“When you combine intense rainfall with sandy soil and no drainage system, erosion becomes inevitable,” he said.
He added that upstream land-use changes, including vegetation loss and cultivation, may also be increasing runoff downstream and concentrating destructive water flow in low-lying communities.
“The absence of proper drainage systems is what turns vulnerability into disaster, but this is preventable with basic engineering interventions.”
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He warned that if nothing is done within the next three to five years, more homes and farmlands in Mesar Tudu could be lost, forcing additional families from a community many have called home for generations.
However, he stressed that solutions exist—including drainage systems, gully stabilisation, tree planting and watershed management but require coordinated government intervention before the damage becomes irreversible.
A community waiting for intervention
In Mesar Tudu, erosion is no longer an occasional disaster. It is a permanent presence reshaping land, homes, and lives.
For a community that says it has lived with the crisis for over two decades, hope now rests on whether the government response will finally match the scale of destruction already visible on the ground.
For residents, the fear is not only about what has already been lost, but also about what the next rainfall will take.
“We are not safe anymore. Every rainy season, we wait for what will disappear next,” the 72-year-old Mr Abdulwahab says.
“This reporting was completed with the support of the Centre for Journalism Innovation and Development (CJID).”
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