In Maiduguri, Nigeria, the entire local economy is suffering from the freeze on humanitarian aid.

In Maiduguri, Nigeria, international aid budget cuts and, even more tragically, the immediate suspension of humanitarian efforts by the United States are not only affecting development aid programs. The local economies that support these efforts are also being hit hard. The city of Maiduguri, in northeastern Nigeria, is a perfect example.

For a decade, it has served as an operational center from which humanitarian aid can be deployed. The primary beneficiaries include victims of the rural uprising orchestrated by the jihadist group Boko Haram , which has forced nearly two million people to flee their homes and plunged millions more into poverty.

A thriving service sector—from taxis to security companies to importers—serves the needs of more than 280 humanitarian agencies dependent on the United Nations or NGOs. As a result of public policies that prioritize candidates from the region in humanitarian recruitment, a class of well-paid graduates dependent on the sector has emerged, a minor antidote to the mass unemployment facing the entire country.

Maiduguri, once used as a base by Boko Haram, has since undergone a major makeover. New hotels, traffic-clogged streets, and housing developments all point to a safer life for its residents, in an economy that has benefited greatly from the arrival of aid workers and programs.

“The growth of the last eight or nine years, the liveliness of the markets, the volume of imported goods, all of this comes largely from our sector,” explains a humanitarian official, who asked to remain anonymous so he could speak freely. “Without this, the economy would have experienced the same stagnation as other cities in the North [which are much less dynamic than the rest of the country].”

Significant capital has indeed been committed: the United Nations launched an appeal in January for $910 million [€809 million] to help the 3.6 million people in dire emergency situations in the northeast, out of a total of 7.8 million vulnerable people. Between 2021 and 2024, the humanitarian funding required exceeded $3.4 billion [€3 billion], even though, in reality, donations have not reached this threshold.

The United States Agency for International Development (USAID) played a key role: in addition to major global institutions like the WHO and the World Food Programme, it also funded numerous local projects focused on health and nutrition. The abrupt shutdown of its activities earlier this year wiped out these initiatives and hit the most vulnerable populations hard. But with these measures, the lives of the laid-off employees were also turned upside down.

Daniel Hassan, 32, was previously a project manager for the Supertouch Kindness Foundation (SKF), a USAID-funded NGO that supports people with disabilities. His abrupt layoff in February torpedoed his career prospects and his family's income. Despite obtaining his bachelor's degree in 2017, he struggled for several years to find full-time employment. Landing a position at SKF was "life-changing," he says.

“Everything changed: our income, our social status, and even the meals the family could afford.”

Hassan earned 380,000 naira [211 euros] a month, five times the minimum wage. “I was able to pay off a lot of bills and debts,” he says, but losing his income was “a real psychological shock,” especially since his family relied exclusively on him.

The budget cuts have shaken Maiduguri's entire economy, with businesses that had flourished to meet the burgeoning demand from this class of higher-paid employees at the forefront. Today's Super Store is a perfect example: starting as a small grocery store in the 2010s, the brand has grown into a leading supermarket chain attracting expatriate workers. Today, it is in its death throes. “Whatever happens, the massive contribution of NGOs will not be forgotten,” explains Mohammed Suraj, the brand's director. “Our success was also built thanks to them.”

Despite the country's economic difficulties and prolonged power outages, Today's Super Store recorded annual profits ranging from $744,000 to $864,000 between 2019 and 2022, he recalls. However, they took a hit in 2024: as other humanitarian disasters erupted elsewhere in the world, aid sent to Nigeria began to scale back. However, the situation became critical in February, when drastic cuts by USAID took effect. “Before, I received 15 emails and almost 50 phone calls a day [from caterers and other merchants doing business with NGOs]. Today, almost no one contacts us anymore,” laments Mohammed Suraj.

The real estate market has not been spared from the slump. Demand generated by the establishment of NGOs has driven up rental prices, and landlords have given priority to newcomers who can pay in foreign currency. As a direct result, many locals have been unable to keep up with the rising prices. For nearly a decade, Mohammad Musa rented his land to an international NGO, which built offices there. The lease ended in February, and “the consequences are already being felt in the wallet,” he says. In addition to the loss of income, he can't find anyone to rent the offices to given the low local demand for such facilities.

Last year, Borno State [of which Maiduguri is the capital] collected the equivalent of $18 million [€16 million] in revenue, a record high that exceeded the target by 46%. This revenue is now at risk, as is the level of services the state will be able to provide to its citizens. “As the institution responsible for collecting state revenue, we are aware of the loss that the departure of NGOs, both international and local, represents,” laments Ardo Buba, secretary general of the Borno State Revenue Service (Bo-IRS), which is responsible for collecting taxes and duties.

Laying off employees will drastically reduce employee contributions, he explains. The government could also rely on various taxes: 10% on office and residential rentals, and 5 to 10% on NGO fees and their procurement costs.

Despite this revenue, the government has always had a schizophrenic relationship with humanitarian actors. Governor Babagana Zulum has harshly criticized the sector, which he says fosters a certain dependency and fattens organizations “that are not accountable . ” “Humanitarian aid is dwindling, and Zulum will finally get what he wanted,” analyzes our anonymous source. “There will be no one left to crack down on, but unfortunately, the hardest hit will be precisely those we were helping.”

Before Boko Haram emerged, Borno State was a regional economic powerhouse, and its markets, particularly for livestock, attracted traders from neighboring countries such as Chad, Niger, and Cameroon. It was through these markets that billions of dollars' worth of smoked fish caught in Lake Chad transited to the south of the country.

To compensate for the loss of jobs and income in the humanitarian sector, Abdulaziz Mala, a researcher specializing in the Lake Chad region, believes the government should revitalize its agriculture and prioritize local trade channels. This strategy is supported by other countries bordering the lake, the African Union, and the United Nations Development Program (UNDP). “Now that traffic restrictions have been lifted on the main roads, many [rural] markets are active. So, if the government manages to maintain peace in these regions, they will help stabilize the national economy.”

The battle is far from over, however: Boko Haram—or more precisely, its most powerful offshoot, the Islamic State in West Africa—is once again on the warpath. There have been repeated attacks on military installations, and killings of people returning to their ancestral lands after living in refugee camps in Maiduguri are on the rise.

Last month, Zulum sounded the alarm: attacks and kidnappings are occurring “almost every day” and the authorities are “losing ground.” This week [of May ¹ ], the military command of the northeast was replaced by Abuja, which is concerned about the deteriorating security situation. The fear is that Boko Haram and the Islamic State will continue to advance and plunge the northeast into the same instability as a decade earlier, thus causing a mass rural exodus and worsening food insecurity. And this time, given the dwindling humanitarian sector and the impoverishment of public finances, the response to the human catastrophe would be even less effective than before.