For many Nigerians, forests once represented wildlife, farming and nature conservation. Today, however, they are increasingly becoming hideouts for kidnapping gangs. From the forests of the North-West to the reserves linking Oyo, Osun and Kwara states, criminal groups have found what the Nigerian state has struggled to secure—vast, ungoverned spaces that provide ideal cover for organised crime.
The recent abduction of pupils and teachers in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State is more than another heartbreaking kidnapping incident. It is yet another warning that Nigeria’s forests are fast becoming the country’s newest security battleground.
As an indigene of Ogbomoso, I received the news with deep sadness. Security reports indicated that the kidnappers escaped through forest routes connecting Oyo with Kwara and Osun states, with some of those routes leading towards the Old Oyo National Park. That detail is perhaps the most important part of the story.
Public attention naturally shifted to rescuing the victims. Governor Seyi Makinde met with affected families and the Soun of Ogbomoso, His Imperial Majesty Oba Ghandi Afolabi Olaoye, Orumogege III, who remained actively involved in engagements with both state and federal authorities. President Bola Tinubu ordered security agencies to intensify rescue operations and approved the deployment of forest guards. Religious groups organised prayers, civil society groups protested, and parents demanded answers. The immediate priority was rightly the safe return of every child and teacher.
Beyond the rescue efforts, however, lies a much bigger problem. Nigeria’s forests are gradually becoming the operational backbone of a growing kidnapping economy. This criminal enterprise is sustained by ransom payments, informants, arms suppliers, negotiators and safe hideouts that allow kidnappers to operate almost like organised businesses.
A disturbing pattern has emerged across the country. Kidnappers operating in Ekiti often disappear into forests bordering Osun. Criminals along the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway retreat into the Omo and Oluwa forest reserves spanning Ogun and Ondo states. In Kogi, gangs exploit forests stretching into Nasarawa, the Federal Capital Territory and Edo State. In Kaduna, Niger, Zamfara and Katsina, forests have evolved from temporary hideouts into permanent operational bases where hostages are kept, negotiations are conducted and attacks are coordinated.
What Nigeria is witnessing is the emergence of a vast network of insecure forest corridors—large, poorly governed territories that criminal groups now understand and control better than the security agencies tasked with protecting them.
Sambisa Forest remains the clearest example.
Originally established as a game reserve in Borno State, Sambisa became Boko Haram’s operational headquarters after the group lost control of Maiduguri in 2013. Its dense vegetation, difficult terrain and weak government presence made it an ideal sanctuary. Over time, it transformed into a training camp, logistics base and detention centre for kidnapped victims, including many of the Chibok schoolgirls. It eventually took years of costly military operations to reclaim parts of the forest.
Sambisa also highlights one of Nigeria’s biggest security failures. Before Boko Haram became fully entrenched, hunters, traders and surrounding communities had reportedly noticed armed camps, illegal taxation, restricted access to farmland and unusual movements of armed men. These warning signs pointed to the gradual takeover of the area, yet there was no coordinated response or reliable reporting system. By the time government intervention came, the forest had already become a stronghold for insurgents.
That lesson is relevant to Ogbomoso.
Old Oyo National Park is not Sambisa, and it would be inaccurate to suggest the two situations are identical. However, history has shown how quickly neglected forests can become centres of organised violence when warning signs are ignored. The real lesson is that preventing insecurity is always easier—and cheaper—than trying to recover lost territory.
Nigeria’s forests were originally created as national assets. Old Oyo National Park, which covers more than 2,500 square kilometres, was established to preserve wildlife, protect cultural heritage and support rural livelihoods. Similar objectives guided the creation of Kainji Lake National Park, Kamuku National Park and numerous forest reserves across the country.
Today, many of these forests are gradually turning into governance vacuums that criminal groups continue to exploit.
Although the National Park Service is responsible for protecting national parks, it remains underfunded, understaffed and primarily equipped for conservation rather than counter-kidnapping operations.
State forestry departments have also suffered years of decline, while the police and military understandably focus much of their attention on highways and urban centres. Sustained operations inside forests require specialised training, local intelligence and long-term deployment—capabilities conventional security agencies often struggle to maintain.
As a result, local hunters, vigilante groups and regional security outfits such as Amotekun have become increasingly important. They possess valuable knowledge of forest routes, water sources, caves and seasonal pathways that rarely appear on official maps. Yet this local expertise has not been fully integrated into Nigeria’s broader security strategy.
The result is a widening governance gap that organised kidnapping networks continue to exploit with alarming efficiency.
