- November 2025
Communities repeatedly displaced by floods in Nigeria are not passive victims. They are relocating, supporting each other and innovating to adapt, efforts that deserve recognition and better support amid intensifying climate impacts.
Every rainy season, communities brace for the now-familiar threat of flooding. In recent years, recurrent seasonal floods have devastated large swathes of Nigeria, from riverine villages in Kogi to the creeks of Bayelsa and farmland belts in Jigawa. In 2022, the country suffered its worst flooding in a decade, inundations that affected 4.4 million people and forced more than 2.4 million from their homes.[1] Even lesser floods uproot thousands annually, especially in low-lying communities along rivers like the Niger and Benue. Lacking consistent institutional support, residents of flood-prone areas have devised their own ways to survive and adapt.
One common strategy is self-initiated relocation. Many families preemptively move valuables and loved ones to higher ground or nearby towns when severe rains are forecast. In some cases, whole communities have gradually migrated away from riverbanks after consecutive floods. Such moves are usually organised informally – for example, villagers might pool resources to transport people by boat or truck to safer locations. Without government relocation schemes, these grassroots evacuations can mean the difference between life and death.
Mutual support systems during crises are equally important. Those who remain behind often shelter neighbours in sturdier buildings on higher land. Host communities in drier areas take in displaced relatives and even strangers, offering shelter, food and small jobs – a dynamic of people helping people that springs from solidarity. During devastating floods in Mokwa (Niger State) in 2025, for instance, local youth groups formed impromptu rescue teams. They helped evacuate the vulnerable and ferried families to relief camps when official responders were overwhelmed.[2] Such community initiatives and teamwork have repeatedly filled gaps left by slow external assistance.
Communities also engage with early warning information in practical ways. Nigeria’s agencies issue seasonal flood outlooks and alerts, but these warnings only save lives if they reach and motivate local people. In areas with good radio coverage, residents tune in to weather forecasts and pass on urgent warnings through village leaders or mobile phone networks. Where available, community volunteers (including Nigerian Red Cross members) help disseminate alerts and organise evacuations, translating technical warnings into local languages and actionable advice. These efforts reflect a growing understanding that timely information can be as critical as physical relief supplies.
Finally, many at-risk communities have adapted their physical environment and routines to live with flooding. Over years of recurrent floods, residents have learned to elevate and reinforce their homes. In some flood-prone villages, families literally live above the water: they have built raised platforms in their houses and move up to these lofts when floodwaters arrive.[3] People navigate inundated streets on canoes, makeshift rafts or wooden walkways, maintaining a semblance of daily life until the waters recede. Others improvise flood defences by piling sandbags, digging drainage channels or clearing debris from waterways when storms loom. Such measures are modest and often temporary, but they illustrate how local knowledge and ingenuity are being used to reduce harm. Community elders recall traditional warning signs – for example, unusual animal migrations or river level markers carved into trees or riverbanks that indicate previous high-water levels which help them gauge when flooding is imminent and decide when to relocate – that still complement modern forecasts. In effect, those on the frontlines of Nigeria’s floods are drawing on any tools available to protect their lives and livelihoods.
Underlying challenges shaping decisions
While local resilience is remarkable, it unfolds within harsh constraints. Structural challenges – from insecure land tenure to deep poverty and policy gaps – shape the decisions available to displaced people. These underlying factors often limit community initiatives to short-term coping rather than long-term solutions.
One major challenge is land insecurity. Many flood-affected families live on marginal lands: riverbanks, wetlands or informal settlements that are highly exposed to floods. They may not hold formal title to their land, which leaves them vulnerable both to natural hazards and to eviction without compensation. If a community decides to relocate to safer ground on its own, they face uncertainties about ownership and rights in the new location. In some instances, displaced people who settle on unused lands have later been forced off when the legal owner or authorities lay claim. This precarious tenure situation makes it difficult for people to permanently move away from danger. Instead, many return to the floodplain after each disaster, rebuilding in place even when they know the risk – because at least there they have some claim to land or housing. As Nigeria’s population grows and land pressures increase, competition for safe sites is intensifying, further constraining options for resettlement.
Poverty is another critical factor. Most communities hit hardest by floods are low-income rural or peri-urban populations with few savings or assets. For them, relocating is not a straightforward decision as they have to weigh up the economic consequences. Moving to a new home on safer ground requires resources to purchase land or rent housing, to transport families and belongings, and to establish livelihoods afresh. Those resources are usually out of reach. Likewise, investing in flood-proof infrastructure (such as concrete houses on stilts or elevated grain storage) is often impossible for low-income households without external support. As a result, people make pragmatic choices to cope with what they have. For example, a farming family might choose to stay near the river despite annual floods because that is where their farmland is; moving could mean losing their income entirely. In this way, poverty forces trade-offs between physical safety and economic survival. It also means that when floods do hit, the poor suffer disproportionately: they often lack insurance, savings or access to credit to recover, trapping them in a cycle of vulnerability.
A further challenge is the limited and uncoordinated institutional response, which leaves gaps that communities must try to fill. Nigeria’s emergency management framework spans federal, state and local agencies, but in practice it has struggled with fragmentation and inconsistent support. The National Emergency Management Agency (NEMA) routinely warns states about anticipated flooding and urges preventive measures, yet implementation on the ground is uneven. Local officials may ignore alerts due to lack of funds or political will, and disaster preparedness plans are often rudimentary or non-existent. Early warning information, for instance, does not always filter down to remote villages in time. According to Nigeria’s Hydrological Services Agency, efforts to prevent and adapt to flooding have long been “fragmented and reactive,” typically “left to humanitarian responses at the last minute”. [4] This reactive mode means that many communities only see officials after the damage is done, arriving with blankets and food but no lasting solutions.
Policy gaps exacerbate this problem. Nigeria endorsed a National Policy on Internally Displaced Persons in 2021, recognising climate-related displacement and calling for better prevention and durable solutions.[5] However, coordination and funding to implement such policies remain weak. Disaster management responsibilities are not clearly delineated across government levels, and climate adaptation has yet to be fully integrated into local development plans. The result is that displaced people frequently fall through the cracks. For example, there is no systematic programme to relocate communities out of high-risk flood zones, nor to support them in rebuilding on safer land. Instead, relocation tends to happen ad hoc, if at all. Similarly, relief aid often addresses immediate needs but not the underlying vulnerabilities. Displaced families might receive food and tents for a few weeks, but then be left on their own to rebuild in the same hazardous location.
These structural issues limit the choices that people have when facing displacement. Often, their only viable options are ones that trade one risk for another. If they stay in place, they risk lives in the next flood; if they move to a crowded displacement camp or an urban slum, they might escape high water but face loss of livelihood, social ties and dignity. It is telling that even after horrific floods, many survivors express a desire to return home quickly – not because it is safe, but because it is home and they lack alternatives. Without addressing land access, poverty alleviation and coordination between relevant authorities and actors, community coping strategies can only go so far. Local ingenuity keeps people alive, but it is stretched to its limits by these broader forces.
Agency and dignity in uncertainty
Despite the constraints, people exercise agency in how they respond to climate displacement and acknowledging this agency is both ethically and practically important. Far from passive victims, Nigerian flood survivors are active decision-makers: they weigh their limited options, make calculated trade-offs and take collective action to safeguard what they value. Recognising this reality is key to designing support that reinforces rather than undermines their efforts.
Agency in this context can be seen in small but meaningful acts of choice. It is evident when families decide, on their own terms, when to evacuate and what to carry with them. It appears when community members organise a meeting to demand that local authorities repair a broken dam or dredge a clogged river channel. It is also reflected in the pride people take in rescuing neighbours or recovering reusable materials from the wreckage of their homes. These actions demonstrate a determination to retain control over their lives, even amid chaos. They are expressions of human dignity – a refusal to be defined solely as helpless victims of disaster.
At the same time, the agency that displaced people can exercise is constrained by circumstances largely beyond their control. There is an ethical imperative for government and humanitarian actors to expand the realm of choice available to those at risk. Practically, this means any interventions should start by listening to the affected communities. Policies and programmes will be more successful if they are informed by the experiences and priorities of the people they aim to help. For example, if a community is reluctant to move from a floodplain, there may be cultural, economic or historical reasons for it – perhaps the land is ancestral or vital for their livelihood. Understanding these perspectives could lead to solutions that respect people’s attachment to place (such as embankments or elevating homes), or at least lead to relocation plans that come with appropriate compensation and community input.
Supporting agency also means investing in what communities are already doing right. External assistance can amplify local strategies by providing resources and expertise. For instance, since host families generously accommodate displaced people, aid agencies and government programmes could offer those hosts some support – whether food, cash or materials – to ease the burden and encourage this solidarity to continue. Community early-warning and response teams, already active in many locales, could be trained and equipped as an official part of disaster management, bridging the gap between national systems and the grassroots. When flood survivors rebuild, providing them with technical guidance or grants to rebuild more safely and stronger can transform a purely reactive recovery into an opportunity to reduce future risk. These approaches treat affected people as partners with agency, not just beneficiaries.
It is also important to be cautious about romanticising resilience. The fact that Nigerian communities adapt resourcefully does not absolve authorities of responsibility. On the contrary, it calls for more accountable governance that works in tandem with citizens. The courage and creativity of those at the frontlines of climate impacts should be met with an equally committed effort to address structural problems. This includes accelerating initiatives like the National Adaptation Plan (NAP) – which outlines how the country will adapt to climate change in the medium- and long-term – to systematically reduce disaster risk.[6] It also means improving policy coordination – for example, ensuring that early warning information is not just issued nationally but is translated into local action plans with clear roles for state and community actors. A climate security approach centred on human security would prioritise safeguarding people’s livelihoods and rights in the face of recurrent hazards, not just physical protection.
Ultimately, affirming displaced people’s agency is about upholding their right to a say in their own future. Whether deciding to rebuild or relocate, they deserve to be consulted and to lead lives of dignity, not perpetual dependency. As climate uncertainty grows, Nigerian communities will continue to navigate difficult trade-offs. Policymakers, humanitarian workers and donors can best help by supporting the choices people are already making and by widening the range of good choices available. That means recognising local initiatives as the first line of defence, strengthening them with better infrastructure and services, and crafting inclusive policies that give those most affected a voice. In this way, the resilience and resourcefulness of ordinary people can be the cornerstone of a more effective and humane response to climate-induced displacement in Nigeria.
Taofik Oyewo Hussain
Research Fellow, Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution (IPCR), Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Abuja, Nigeria
taofik@ipcr.gov.ng
https://www.linkedin.com/in/taofik-hussain-oyewo-26127316/
[1] Temidayo Abass, ‘Mapping Flood Risk for Nigeria’s Internally Displaced People’, Undark Magazine, 4th May 2023
[2] Monday Ogar, ‘“We Couldn’t Wait”: How Villagers Became First Responders in One of Nigeria’s Deadliest Floods – Prime Progress NG’, Prime Progress, 7th July 2025
[3] American Red Cross, ‘Nigeria: Q&A from the Flood Zone’
[4] Vivian Chime, ‘Nigeria’s Deadly Flood Exposes the Need for Climate Adaptation Plan’, Climate Home News, 6th June 2025
[5] Federal Republic of Nigeria (2021) Nigeria: National Policy on Internally Displaced Persons
[6] Ministry of Environment and Government of Nigeria (2020) Nigeria’s National Adaptation Plan Framework