An Arab foreign fighter in recent ISWAP media, published some time earlier this year.

Below is every part of Adnan Absi’s memoirs of the Boko Haram insurgency and its transformation into ISWAP. It begins with his decision to go to Nigeria as a reform-minded foreign fighter and ends with his desperate escape to Sudan from Abu Bakr Shekau’s purges against IS loyalists. In the course of Adnan’s narrative, we learn about how the Islamic State message came to Boko Haram, the structural reforms that effectively changed the group into ISWAP, the mis-leadership of Shekau, and the emergence of the civil war between Boko Haram remnants and ISWAP. Many of the events described by Adnan have been corroborated by defectors in interviews with Vincent Foucher. Indeed, several key events and even Adnan himself (identified as “Abu Ayyub”) were first mentioned in Foucher’s analysis of Abu Bakr Shekau’s final testament.1 However, a number of questions about the narrative and the true identity of “Adnan Absi” remain–these will be the subject of another piece.

As with his Iraq memoirs, Adnan originally wrote the memoirs across twenty-eight entries on social media. I have grouped the entries into sets of four to five for each part below. The sub-headings for the parts are my own, meant only to summarize the content. The introduction below is taken from the formatted book version of the series, which was released this past June.

– Rob

Adnan’s Introduction

When I realized that life held a layer beyond the one I was living–and that a life of frivolity and amusement ill-befits one who seeks honor and dignity–I resolved to become a building block of my ummah. So I searched the great works of history, and set sail upon the sea of the sciences of the Qur’an, seeking enlightenment and guidance from its light. Then I chose this path that I have trodden.

Since combat was not, in itself, my aim–but rather the return of people to the true faith through every lawful means in Islam–I decided in 1435 AH (corresponding to 2014 CE) to migrate to Nigeria. There, I joined the group known in the media as “Boko Haram”–formally Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunna lid-Da’wati wal-Jihad–whose leader, Abu Bakr Shekau, is known near and far among the nations of the earth.

I set out with the intention of da’wa and reform, prior to any fighting, so that there might be a safe haven for oppressed Muslims fleeing the persecution of the Christians of Nigeria. I witnessed the massacres in the city of Jos and elsewhere, and I observed a group in Borno State that had risen to establish an Islamic state, and yet–despite the sincerity of their objectives–committing acts contrary to the rulings of Sharia.

After much research into the history of the region, I felt an ever-growing desire to fulfill the duty of religion and support [din wal-nusra], just as the Prophet (peace be upon him) had said: “Support your brother, whether he is the oppressor or the oppressed [dhaliman aw madhluman]” (narrated by al-Bukhari). Supporting the oppressed means warding off the injustice inflicted upon him, whereas supporting the oppressor means restraining and preventing him from wronging others.

Before the reader lies my story in West Africa, presented so that history may serve as the best guide upon the path of reform and the resurgence of Islam–that we may learn from the errors of the past and advance along the path of truth. May every reformer know that success begins with a sincere step.

– Adnan Absi

Table of Contents

1. Part 1: A Journey to the Realms of Boko Haram

2. Part 2: The Personality and Misleadership of Abu Bakr Shekau

3. Part 3: The Conquest of Baga and the Abduction of the Chibok Girls

4. Part 4: Continued Reform Efforts and Tensions within Boko Haram

5. Part 5: The Rapid Demise of Boko Haram

6. Part 6: Escape from Nigeria and the Birth of ISWAP

Habib Muhammad Yusuf aka Abu Musab al-Barnawi, leader of ISWAP

We have finally reached the last entries of Adnan Absi’s West Africa memoir. He begins by telling the moment when he was summoned by Shekau to meet for an urgent meeting. On his way back to the Sambisa, Adnan recounted the previous day’s losses, during which a Commander Bana Umar nearly retook the town of Bama but could not because Shekau constrained the supplies available to him. Upon meeting, Adnan immediately sensed Shekau’s suspicion of him and noted his seeming irrationality, as Shekau was supposedly unaware that thousands of Boko Haram followers had flocked to the capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin, to fight in its defense. This was despite his speech calling for precisely such a mobilization. In this final part of Adnan’s narrative, Shekau has become the clear villain, while the “heroes” are unsurprisingly the IS loyalists like Adnan, Aliyu, and Abu Musab al-Barnawi.

In their conversation, Shekau expressed his deep mistrust of the commanders, saying that he felt a conspiracy being formed against him. Adnan tried to convince Shekau otherwise, but Shekau angrily retorted with an ultimatum: Either Adnan side with Shekau or he would be exiled (and likely worse). Adnan complied and decided to bide his time. As he waited, another Boko Haram commander mysteriously died. The mystery was soon solved by Aliyu, who revealed to Adnan that Shekau was assassinating numerous Boko Haram commanders. For this reason, Aliyu had fully split from Shekau, warning Adnan to be wary for his own life. Shortly thereafter, Shekau summoned Adnan for another special meeting, during which he revealed that he had dismissed Aliyu, Abu Musab al-Barnawi, and others–and that he wanted Adnan to join his new shura, or leadership council. He justified their dismissal on the grounds that they communicated with IS-Central in Iraq without his knowledge. He added that were Adnan to reveal this to anyone else, then the act would constitute fitna, meaning “strife” or “sedition,” and thus be grounds for execution. Adnan’s hands were tied.

Note that Adnan’s narrative portrays IS as not only the aggrieved party, as it did not initiate hostilities, but the innocent party, as it did not urge Aliyu and Barnawi to rebel against Shekau. In other words, the takeover of Boko Haram by IS loyalists was a bottom-up initiative from reform-minded veterans of the movement who sought to course correct–or so the narrative suggests. This matches the historical record, per Vincent Foucher:

I have indicated elsewhere that despite the frustration that the IS may have felt vis-à-vis Shekau for reasons quite similar to Al-Qaeda, it was not the IS that engineered the 2016 split. The move was taken by Nigerian jihadi unhappy with Shekau’s record. Aliyu himself had been a forerunner, and Shekau had had him executed because he saw him as a rival with dangerous capacity. […] Only after having exhausted all options did the IS throw its lot behind the dissenters, announcing Yusuf as its wali for West Africa in August 2016.1

As it turns out, several other details of Adnan’s fallout with–and eventual escape from–Shekau were first reported to Foucher by Boko Haram defectors (discussed further below).

Returning to the narrative, Adnan reports that after his meeting with Shekau, he returned to his quarters to find Aliyu, Barnawi, and another unnamed commander waiting for him. Adnan explained what Shekau had told him, while the others inform Adnan that Shekau had privately accused him of being a spy. Recall that Shekau had had similar outbursts about Adnan before. Unsurprisingly, Adnan spent the following night fearing for his life, and went at dawn to request Aliyu’s permission to leave. Aliyu seemingly rebuffed him, so Adnan attempted to escape on his own but failed. Upon his return, hoping to get Shekau’s own permission to leave, Adnan stumbled again on Aliyu, who revealed that he had secretly permitted Adnan’s earlier escape attempt. However, by that morning, Shekau had dismissed both Aliyu and Barnawi, endangering not only them, but Adnan as well, as he now lacked their protection. Since the rank-and-file were not yet aware of the dismissal, Aliyu’s word temporarily still carried authority, so he gave Adnan a letter authorizing his exit from Boko Haram’s territories. This letter would be the key to his escape from Nigeria back to Sudan.

With the help of a Boko Haram-aligned smuggler, Adnan hastily fled to Cameroon. He was met with local Arab tribes, whose presence allowed him to blend in. This detail fills some gaps on how Arab foreign fighters might go to and from Nigeria. The final “checkpoint” prior to Boko Haram (or ISWAP today) would be these jihadi-friendly Arab tribes in Cameroon. Although not mentioned by Adnan, Boko Haram had always had an Arab contingent. Its first Arab fighters were not Adnan and his cohort of Sudanese jihadists, but Arabs native to Borno State. These Arabs are related to the Diffa Arabs of Niger and the Baqqara (or “Baggara”) Arabs of Chad and Darfur. Adnan likely relied on jihadi-aligned smugglers among this continuum of Arab tribes to return to Sudan. This same network is likely the main pipeline through which IS in Sudan sends fighters from the Middle East to join ISWAP in Nigeria.

After a close encounter with a military patrol, Adnan made his way to N’Djamena, capital of Chad. There, he joined a clearly well-established network of Boko Haram operatives, who initially thought that Adnan was a representative of Aliyu–which, in some sense, he was. This highlights Boko Haram’s wide influence in the region. This might be another data point for the Salafist International. Once in a relatively safe area, Adnan began making plans to escape to the Levant, presumably to join IS-Central’s ranks. He calls this a “very difficult but not impossible undertaking,” meaning that IS had not yet set up a reliable pipeline between the Middle East and West Africa. However, the presence of Abu Ali al-Anbari in Libya means that some reliable logistical network had been established between there and IS-Central. This was likely the foundation for the current network headed to ISWAP.

In N’Djamena, Adnan received a call from Aliyu, who informed Adnan that he, Abu Musab al-Barnawi, and others had escaped from the Sambisa after a failed attempt on Aliyu’s life. This escape from the Sambisa was reported to Vincent Foucher (op. cit.), who noted that among the escapees was likely Abu Musab’s brother, Abba Yusuf aka Abu Rumaysa, whom we met in Part 2. According to Foucher, other notable members of this group were “Abu Fatima, the top jihadi leader in Alagarno forest, Abubakar Mainok [aka Abu Bilal al-Minuki, recently killed this year in an Africom raid – Rob], the top jihadi leader in the Tumbun area of Lake Chad and Mamman Nur [aka Muhammad Nur], a popular preacher and long-time adversary of Shekau” (op. cit.). Foucher’s portrayal of Muhammad Nur does not accord with Adnan’s narrative, which does not describe any rivalry between Nur and Shekau.

In any case, after Aliyu’s call with Adnan, Shekau issued a statement, excommunicating Adnan and accusing him, alongside Aliyu and Abu Musab, of conspiracy. By this point, news had also already arrived in N’Djamena that Aliyu had been dismissed, ending Adnan’s temporarily protected status and placing him back in grave danger. Interestingly, Adnan was informed by a local operative sympathetic to him, suggesting that there was a pro-IS lobby among Boko Haram’s branches outside its core territories. Adnan then changed his plans from going to the Levant to returning to his native Sudan. He does not explain how, but he managed to flee N’Djamena and reach the Chad-Sudan border, where he received news of Aliyu’s assassination by soldiers sent by Shekau. This overall narrative matches that reported by Foucher: “Eventually, Shekau’s critics organised the hasty exit of the Arab visitors, an episode which further heightened the tensions within the movement and paved the way for the 2016 split. Aliyu himself was key in that exit, and this was one of the reasons why Shekau had him killed” (op. cit.). Adnan’s narrow escape would be the final part of his long career as an international jihadist.

After the assassination, Shekau captured Barnawi and other key pro-IS figures, before conducting a brutal purge against numerous Boko Haram commanders whom he suspected of sedition. Adnan then raised a formal complaint about Shekau to IS leadership. Upon reaching home, he learned that IS had initiated a trial against Shekau, which led him to release Barnawi but keep his and other commanders’ families as hostages lest Barnawi organize any rebellion. Eventually, IS-Central dismissed Shekau and appointed Barnawi as emir of ISWAP. Adnan does not explain the exact course of events that led to this, but Foucher (op. cit.) does:

And even while the IS found Shekau a difficult partner, it was not too pleased with the split. It called for reconciliation and it suggested new institutional arrangements to solve the matter. Al-Baghdadi in person held a three-way call with Shekau and Yusuf to try and sort things out. The IS put Habib Yusuf [aka Abu Musab al-Barnawi] to test, asking him to demonstrate his faction’s military capacity before acknowledging him. The IS brokered a ceasefire between the two factions and arranged for Shekau to release the relatives of ISWAP members who had been imprisoned [corresponding with Adnan’s account – Rob]. Only after having exhausted all options did the IS throw its lot behind the dissenters, announcing Yusuf as its wali for West Africa in August 2016.

Adnan also reports that IS had tried to compromise with Shekau to no avail. The dismissal unsurprisingly enraged Shekau, who subsequently issued a statement excommunicating all residents of Maiduguri and Barnawi in a bid to prevent defections to his fledgling forces. Shekau also attempted to stay in IS’s good graces by claiming persistent loyalty to IS but not Barnawi. He maintained this narrative right until his final testament, where he seems to believed that the IS Caliph had been “misled” by ISWAP.

Upon being appointed as emir, Barnawi formally pledged loyalty, or bay’ah, to IS, which led thousands of Boko Haram fighters to leave the Sambisa to head to the Northern and Lake sectors. This, too, is corroborated by Foucher, who reports of “dissenters running for cover to Lake Chad, pursued by Shekau fighters” at the time of the open split. Fighting between the two sides escalated, with Shekau–as the villain of the narrative–stooping to ever lower tricks, such as killing more of his own commanders, siding with the army against ISWAP, and even taking ISWAP women as slaves. This would be in character for Shekau, but it is worth keeping Adnan’s bias in mind. The most intense fighting eventually ended with Shekau blowing himself up in 2021 to escape capture or execution by the rapidly approaching ISWAP fighters. It is here that Adnan’s memoirs of the jihadist insurgency in West Africa finally conclude.

Entry #26

20 February, 2026

The Allure of Money
The Beginning of the End

Abu al-Mundhir was my friend, and I loved him for the purity of his heart and his honesty. Yet, he was stern at dawn that day when he told me that the Imam wanted to see me alone at that very moment. I set out on my motorcycle, my mind entirely occupied by yesterday’s events, when a commander on one of the fronts had advanced and nearly reached the town of Bama, which had been occupied by the tyrants, only to retreat to secure further supplies. Commander Bana Umar–a courageous and shrewd man, the emir of the Bama region–had captured spoils [ghanima] and ammunition, so Shekau sent for all of it. He left no one with anything but their own personal stockpiles. The commander was left wondering how to advance! He sent a request to the Imam for reinforcements to launch an attack and retake the road to Bama. The Imam’s reply was: “Take the spoils and advance again!”

All along the road from my tent to the Imam’s headquarters, I found nothing to dispel my bewilderment. I entered upon his council to find him calm and smiling. “Please, Abu Ayyub, have a seat,” he said, gazing intently into my eyes, as if trying to read what lay beneath my words. I said to him, “O Imam, things are unfolding in a way that will make it impossible for us to defend even the Sambisa itself. Do you not see that the people, after your call to mobilize, set out on foot from the town of al-Bahrayn toward al-Fatah al-Mubin without any weapons? What are they to do if you do not provide them with arms?” His reply only deepened my confusion: “No one told me that they had done that, and I do not have enough weapons for them...”

We spoke with complete frankness until he said to me, “Abu Ayyub, I do not trust all the commanders, for I ordered them not to be away from me for more than two days. Yet, look at the Emir of the North–six days have passed and he hasn’t come to me. I have no idea what he is doing behind my back. How, then, can I leave my weapons to them? They might well leave me here unarmed and take everything.” I replied, “O Imam, they are all your sons. They love you, and none of them would ever act against you. If only you would tell them what is in your heart, things could be set right. By hoarding weapons and ammunition, we stand to lose everything, and the tyrants [tawaghit] will come here.” Anger suddenly appeared on his face as he said, “I sent for you to ask a clear question: Are you with me, or shall I give you money so you can go wherever you please?!”

I realized then that he was testing me, so I replied, “O Imam, had I wanted money, I would not have come here. Rather, I will stay with you but separate from everything else. He said, “Very well.”

I left with a heart filled with grief. What could I do? It seemed nothing would change, and the commanders would not tell me what was transpiring between them and the leadership of the state. Fearing for my own safety, I decided to live as a lone Muslim within the lands of Islam and to work in trade in what remained of the towns in the North.

As days passed, we lost yet another commander without knowing how he had been killed. Then, the Emir al-Jaysh came to me and said, “I want to tell you something so you can be on your guard. I know everyone the Imam killed and everyone who killed on his behalf. I used to believe he was in the right–and had he ordered me to act, I would have obeyed–but I swear to God, I have repented to Him for all the wrongs I committed under the Imam’s orders.” I was so relieved that I forgot my own troubles. Commander Aliyu–the Emir al-Jaysh and a memorizer [hafiz] of the Quran–was one of the finest mujahidin I had ever met. He warned me, “Be wary of the Imam for your own sake.”

In the middle of one night, the sound of anti-aircraft fire rang out. I hurriedly woke up and rushed toward the area of ​​the clashes, but found nothing. I was with a number of the brothers as we searched for the source of the sound. One of them told us that the tyrants had advanced toward Beta on the edge of the forest and that the Imam had gone out personally. The night passed without an attack. There were only shots fired into the air without any advance.

The Imam summoned me once more. This time, everything was clear. “Abu Ayyub, I will tell you news, which, if you reveal it, would cause fitna [‘strife’ or ‘sedition’].” As he spoke these words, it was as if I could see all the world’s evil gathered in his eyes. I was utterly terrified for my life. I recalled the words of Aliyu, the Emir al-Jaysh. I replied with a smile that masked my fear, “Certainly, O Imam, it is impermissible for me to reveal secrets.” His expression brightened, and he said, “I have decided to dismiss the Emir al-Jaysh, [Abu Musab] al-Barnawi, and several other commanders. You shall be among my select few.” My heart seemed to stop. I felt that death was drawing near, yet not in righteous battle.

Entry #27

23 February, 2026

A Jewish Spy
The Dismissal of the Commanders

“They ask the State [Dawla] in Iraq about matters on which I have already issued legal rulings. I do not trust them now, nor in their communications behind my back.” Thus he began explaining his reasons to me, stating that he wanted me in his shura and that my allegiance should be to him, so as to imply that the muhajirin stood with him. This way, it could be said that the Muhajir Abu Ayyub “supported” Shekau in what he had done–meaning the evil of the [commanders’] dismissal. I tried to dissuade him from his decision, suggesting that the matter could be resolved through dialogue. I reminded him of their years of loyalty and obedience to him, but it was not a decision open to debate. He ended the conversation by saying, “Abu Ayyub, if you tell anyone, this constitutes fitna…”

I wished I had been an unknown muhajir soldier in the lands of Islam, having never met Shekau–that commander whom I once loved even before making hijra to him, for his severity towards the disbelievers and his formidable might. Upon meeting him in person, my love for him only deepened as I listened to him and saw sincerity in his eyes. Yet, when we delved into matters of siyasa al-sharia [“Sharia-based governance”], da’wa, and religion, that pious, God-fearing Imam transformed into a different person in my eyes, treating me as though I were his enemy. One of the commanders (a relative of his) had told me before I met Shekau that the Imam was humble before knowledge [‘ilm] and strictly observed the limits [hudud] set by God, ready to recant from an error once he knew of it. It was this high opinion that gave me the temerity to speak openly with him. However, it seemed that Shekau decided to put an end to what he saw as defiance against his fatwas, and chose to dismiss the commanders at a critical moment and to curtail my movements.

I returned to my quarters to find people waiting for me: the Emir al-Jaysh, Shaykh Abu Musab, and another commander. From their expressions, I could tell they were waiting for me to share what the Imam had said. I was torn between the fear of the unknown and the urge to tell them–for the matter was grave and its consequences immense–yet I knew I could not violate my pledge based on my own judgment, and that breaking it meant death. Commander Abu Aisha spoke first: “Well, what did the Imam say to you? You don’t look like your usual self, it must be something new.” I began explaining to them the need to show goodwill toward the Imam, to visit him, and to soothe his spirit, for he was like a father to them. I told them that the Imam had spoken to me about how he was displeased with them, so they needed to go and renew their allegiance to him.

Astonished, Abu Aisha said, “SubhanAllah, you are defending him?! Yet, just last night, he gathered us to say that the Jews had sent you here to corrupt our religion!” O God, what is this? Am I dreaming? I looked at Barnawi and the Emir al-Jaysh, hoping they would deny what I had heard, but they confirmed it. They told me, “The Imam has entered a state where we fear for your safety.”

I spent the night reflecting on how things had unfolded since I had come here. Many things had changed by the grace of God. The cause had been championed by the commanders–foremost among them the Emir al-Jaysh and Shaykh Abu Musab–who heeded the words of the scholars and spearheaded this transformation. If, in Shekau’s eyes, I was the cause of this, then they were my partners in it, and so after their dismissal, I too would not be spared. Perhaps my fate would be that of the two commanders, Mustafa Shad and Ali Kaka, may God have mercy on them.

I went to the Emir al-Jaysh at dawn, asking his permission to leave, for I did not want to be treacherously killed by a fellow Muslim. He told me not to go, promising to protect me. I said to myself, “He can no longer protect even himself, for he does not know the Imam’s true intentions.” With God’s help, and with my standing among the soldiers, I set out with one of the commanders, making my way from the Sambisa toward the Cameroonian border. I tried to use my relationship with a merchant to cross the border, determined not to remain in the Land of Shekau, fearing that the soldiers would turn against me should the Imam dismiss the commanders and order my arrest. All my attempts failed, so I decided to return to the Sambisa, as leaving without the Emir al-Jaysh’s help was impossible.

I returned on a motorcycle and went straight to the Imam’s headquarters, intending to tell him I wanted to leave, hoping he would be pleased and let me go. The personal guard received me and went to inform Shekau of my arrival, but just minutes later, I saw him returning with the Emir al-Jaysh Aliyu. He entered the tent with panic in his eyes and hastily urged me, “Why did you come back? I knew you had slipped out at night and had opposed it because I thought I was protecting you. But now, the Imam has informed me that he has dismissed both me and Barnawi. News hasn’t spread yet, so I urge you to leave fast, now! If the Imam sends someone to kill you, it will be ‘Fifi’ (referring to Shekau’s special guard). Be on your guard…” He then gave me a letter addressed to commanders in a border zone, authorizing my departure on a special mission.

I left in a race against time. I held my trust in God that I would soon escape the plotting of this man. For I had come solely to support the faith, and by God’s grace, it was done. I did not think that he could undo the change–to which, after all, he had initially consented–in the mindset of his soldiers. I recalled the dream that a shaykh had interpreted for me, foretelling my escape from Shekau and from the ruler of my country. If the vision held true, I would return home unharmed. And so I resolved to press on.

Entry #28

25 February, 2026

The Final Episode
Justice Is the Foundation of Leadership

At the break of dawn, I crossed the border into Cameroon with a smuggler, carrying a small amount of money in the common currency of Francophone countries (CFA). There were others with me, but I was the only one with a light complexion. I had assumed everyone here would be black and was anxious [that I would stand out]. However, after traveling a few kilometers, we passed through a village where the inhabitants had features I had not expected: fair-skinned and speaking an Arabic dialect that I could barely understand. The driver told me they were Muslim tribes of Arab origin. Glory be to God! “And Jihad is the tourism of my ummah.”

The smuggler had eyes and ears along the route, whom he would question as we passed by them. Yet suddenly there emerged a military vehicle from among the trees carrying a group led by an army officer. The officer flagged us down and ordered us out for search and questioning. These were difficult moments. I expected the smuggler to intervene as the officer repeatedly asked questions in French while we remained silent. Then, the officer turned to me and asked, “Do you not speak English or French?” I replied in French that I did, so he ignored the others and asked me, “Who are you, and why are you in such a dangerous place?” I tried to invent a story about getting lost and being robbed by a gang and so on, but he wasn’t convinced. Seeing the smuggler trembling with fear, I thought, “This is the end for us.”

Finally, the officer ordered one of his soldiers to take the driver to their military vehicle and instructed another to drive our car and follow behind to the army post. I hurriedly spoke to the smuggler, saying, “Do something!” He replied, “It’s all over, they’re taking us to our deaths. He suspects we’re Boko Haram!”

As we were driving toward the army headquarters, the smuggler’s assistant was with us in the car and kept trying to convince the soldier to accept a bribe. Suddenly, the military vehicle ahead of us stopped. The smuggler approached us, visibly agitated, and asked, “Do you have money? We need 1000 CFA.” He told us we would be allowed to return if we paid, so we handed over everything we had. We made our way back, hardly able to believe what had happened, for God had answered our prayers.

I joined the brothers in N’Djamena [capital of Chad], and no one knew I was fleeing Shekau. Everyone thought I was an emissary from the Emir al-Jaysh on a special mission about which they did not know. I began making arrangements to make hijra to the Levant, a very difficult but not impossible undertaking.

A few days later, the Emir al-Jaysh called me and said, “I have escaped the Sambisa with Abu Musab and some other commanders. Shekau sent someone to kill me in my home, but the guards were awake, so I survived. We are now in the north.”

Shekau released an audio statement in Hausa accusing me of treason and conspiracy to seize power and the Imamate, allegedly with the participation of the Emir al-Jaysh and the knowledge of Barnawi. He also issued a fatwa declaring me an apostate and revealing my location, thus sanctioning my blood. Word had not yet spread beyond the Sambisa when I first learned of it, but word of Aliyu’s dismissal had already reached N’Djamena. Someone who cared for me broke the news and advised me to remain silent, as everyone there was awaiting new orders.

Realizing I was not yet out of danger [lit. “had not yet survived”], I abandoned plans for hijra to the Levant and decided to return to my homeland. For the path to Paradise requires moments of introspection, and I did not wish to meet God with potentially unlawful blood on my hands, let alone be forced to defend myself against my own brothers.

I slipped out of the headquarters in the Chadian capital unnoticed by any of them and made my way to the border. Then I bade farewell to those lands with a heart weighed down by great trials and exhausted by grief, for on the day of my departure, news reached me of the treacherous killing of the muwahid lion–the heart of the State in Nigeria, the leader of genuine change, the devout worshiper, the repentant mujahid, and the memorizer [hafiz] of the Book of God: Emir Aliyu (may God have mercy on him). He was assassinated at the hands of Shekau’s soldiers sent to kill or capture him. And such was his fate, as chosen by God.

I left the land of jihad with a wounded heart, for Shaykh Barnawi and some of the brothers had fallen captive to Shekau, whose raving madness [janun] made him paranoid about everything. He killed Mullah Umar and his deputy–who had led the conquests and battled the Crusader army of Cameroon–as well as Commander Abu RPG–who, had he served the tyrants, would have had the rank of General and been in charge of military manufacturing in any state. Shekau killed and he killed–more than ten of the finest commanders in all–to crush what he perceived as rebellion against him, using a different pretext for each murder.

I raised my complaint first with God, and then with Dawla’s leadership, where supreme authority over the matter lay. I sought redress for myself and on behalf of the martyrs who were killed in cold blood. News of Shekau’s trial reached me only after I had reached my homeland. Shekau released Shaykh Abu Musab but held his mother, wife, and children as hostages in the forest, with their movements restricted–as was the case for the women of the other commanders–to ensure that Barnawi would not attempt a rebellion against him. For Abu Musab’s standing within the group was great, as he is the son of the founder, Shaykh Abu Yusuf, may God have mercy on him.

The decision finally came to dismiss Shekau from the leadership of the Wilaya and appoint Barnawi as his successor. While the charges of murder were not proven in a worldly court, he was dismissed for violating Dawla’s directives and rulings. Mad with rage, he declared his creed [aqidah], famously stating that he knew of no Muslim in Maiduguri for the past century. To ensure that he did not lose the soldiers whom he had raised on hearing and obeying [al-sama’ wal-ta’a] the Emir–and for whom following Barnawi was therefore mandatory–he expelled Barnawi from the fold (of Islam), accusing him of excusing polytheists (meaning, excusing those who do not declare entire populations to be disbelievers).2 Likewise, he ingratiated himself with Dawla, saying that he remained committed to his pledge of loyalty [bay’ah] but refused to follow an apostate.

Thus, the Emir of the North and the Lake accepted Barnawi’s bay’ah, and thousands of fighters began streaming from the forest and other locations into the Northern and Lake regions. Shekau therefore began seizing and perhaps even executing anyone who thought of leaving the forest. And so a new phase in the Borno region began with a short-lived conflict. Although Dawla had sought to avoid a confrontation with Shekau–who doggedly refused to accept his dismissal–he had betrayed them twice.

On one occasion, when the army was besieging them from three directions in the Timbuktu forest, he prepared to attack from the fourth flank, but one of his commanders challenged the move, arguing against it. The morale of his followers wavered after Abu Zunayrah rebuked Shekau, insisting that, despite their disagreement, the others were still their brothers. So Shekau killed him, and for the first time, he announced the killing of one of his commanders in a speech to his soldiers, declaring that he had killed him for the sake of the religion [din], adding, “And I have killed others before him for the sake of the religion!”

Then came the final blow: he attacked the wives and children of the brothers in the Lake region, while the brothers were away fighting a battle. He took them captive as one takes captive [i.e., as sabaya] the women of apostates. It was then that Shaykh Barnawi and his commanders resolved to attack the Sambisa and bring Shekau, along with his remaining followers, to justice for all the murders they had committed. Then the world witnessed what came next: When surrounded, Shekau refused to surrender, and so he detonated his explosive vest, killing both himself and his guards, thus closing a chapter whose pages had been filled with innocent blood–we reckon it so. And I say nothing but that which pleases God.

My connection to the West Africa front was severed because I was removed from the ranks, and all communication with me was prohibited unless I were to return under orders from higher command. Yet, I succumbed to the same affliction that befell many like me: laziness and a love for ease–compounded, perhaps, by old age and the physical toll of repeated imprisonments. And so I finally decided to record for history the events that transpired and the reasons behind our failure to achieve victory in West Africa, and how correcting the course of jihad demands a price, however steep. I pray that the ensuing events align with what we cherish, for every sincere muwahid rejoices at the implementation of the Law of God [Shar’Allah] upon His earth.

From Iraq to here, these twenty years and more, perhaps God will grant me the joy of forgiving my sins through a single word I have written–one that might benefit someone who would one day rise to become a leader.

I entrust you to God, with Whom no trust is ever lost.

– Adnan Absi

Abu Bakr Shekau gives a speech

The next five entries of Adnan Absi’s memoir describe the beginning of the end for the “Kingdom of Shekau.” He begins by recounting the initial successes of the reforms discussed in the previous part. Administrative regions were created and other reforms were carried out, but Shekau grew increasingly paranoid and appointed a deputy to surveil the ranks. This would come to greatly endanger Adnan.

A close call came when Shekau recorded a shocking statement declaring the people of Niger to be disbelievers. The Media Emir asked Adnan for his advice on handling the statement. Adnan immediately ordered that it be edited to omit these remarks then published. Shekau later found out and summoned both, seemingly to explain their actions, much to Adnan’s panic. He then found out that Shekau had forgiven him and the Media Emir for this infraction. Commander Aliyu later revealed that he and several other commanders had spent the entire prior night convincing Shekau not to execute Adnan, arguing that Adnan had made a well-meaning error. Relieved, Adnan then suggested appointing an official spokesman to prevent Shekau from issuing similarly extreme statements. Thus, Abu Musab al-Barnawi became Boko Haram’s spokesman. His first statement in this capacity was to urge displaced residents of Baga to return to their homes, including those who had once fought Boko Haram. Note the positive image of Abu Musab being portrayed here and especially the contrast with Shekau’s irrational leadership.

With reforms seemingly back on track, Boko Haram came under attack by the combined forces of Nigeria, Niger, Chad, and Cameroon. Despite the unfavorable odds, the jihadists managed to not only repel the military advance but launch a counter-offensive that inflicted great losses. They then began an offensive to seize the town of Michika towards the south of Boko Haram’s territories. It was at this time that Adnan discovered a new campaign to destroy the city of Maiduguri. He learned of it from a Commander Abu Ruqayyah, who is said to be the Emir of Military Workshops. Abu Ruqayyah expressed his great discomfort with the campaign, as it would slaughter many Muslims residing in the city. Adnan pressed top theologian Muhammad Nur on the campaign, but was rebuffed, being told that Shekau had set his mind to attacking Maiduguri.

The stated reason is the difficulty of fighting there in the past, but Shekau’s animosity towards the residents of Maiduguri was likely rooted in a personal grudge. He spent much of his youth in the city, working tirelessly to save up the funds necessary for an Islamic education. This was Shekau’s only way out of his family’s dire poverty, and he slept many nights on the streets and doorways of Maiduguri, spawning within him a ferocious hatred of Nigerian society.1 His apparent revenge was to assemble Boko Haram’s most valuable military resources to destroy the city. Adnan reports that he and other foreign fighters did not take part in the fighting, but many fighters–including his friend Abu Ruqayyah–do not survive. Then Adnan experienced an enigmatic vision that he interpreted to mean that Boko Haram, or the “Kingdom of Shekau,” would suffer terrible losses and that he would escape Shekau’s clutches. Not long afterwards, the losses began and rapidly accelerated, and so commenced the downfall of Boko Haram under Shekau’s leadership.

As the losses compounded, Shekau took to the pulpit in the Boko Haram capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin, to deliver a rousing speech declaring general mobilization. Here, we get a glimpse of Shekau’s talent as a speaker and how this seeming “buffoon” was able to terrorize Nigeria for so many years. Thousands of locals flocked in from all across Boko Haram’s now-former territories to listen to Shekau speak. They soon took arms to defend this “state,” such as it was, and died by the hundreds in battle. As their defenses weakened, Shekau ordered fighters to withdraw and to raze the towns they left behind. Eventually, Shekau himself took to the field to fight the allied military forces to defend the town of Beta. Adnan reports that this was the first time that Shekau had fought in the field since first entering Sambisa Forest, implicitly portraying Shekau as a detached leader whose poor decisions brought disaster. Indeed, one fighter told Adnan that the losses seemed to mean that Boko Haram had to restart the jihadist project in Nigeria from the beginning.

Amidst the terrible battles, Adnan and Abu Musab al-Barnawi went up to a mountain to receive a message from a leader of Al Qaida in Islamic Maghrib (AQIM). This suggests that reliable lines of contact between the two had already been in place for some time, which is notable as, by this point, IS Central had excommunicated AQ. Friendly relations persisted in West Africa for several more years.2 Adnan reports that the AQIM leader’s message extended his regards to Boko Haram and offered to support them in battle out of ideological duty, regardless of factional disputes. The exact nature of the offer is not explained, so it is unclear whether AQIM intended to send fighters to Nigeria or to open a front elsewhere. Given that Boko Haram had sent a group of fighters to AQIM in Mali, it is likely that AQIM was offering to send its own group of jihadists. This point to the existence of a robust logistics network between Mali and Northeast Nigeria. However, Abu Musab al-Barnawi was suspicious of the offer due to AQIM’s hostilities to IS-Libya. It is notable that in neither the events described nor as the present-day narrator does Adnan denounce potential cooperation with AQIM or directly accuse them of duplicity–suggesting that he might still see a path to reconciliation with AQ.

In any case, in internal discussions on the mountain, Adnan, Abu Musab, and others agreed that responsibility for Boko Haram’s misfortunes lay squarely at Shekau’s feet. At this point in Adnan’s narrative, Shekau has become an unambiguous villain, jeopardizing Nigerian jihadism despite the “heroic” efforts of Adnan and other pro-IS figures–such as the current ISWAP leader Abu Musab.

Entry #21

3 February, 2026

Surviving an Assassination
The Official Spokesman

Things began to move forward, and the state entered a new phase: administrative departments were established, regions were demarcated, and governors were appointed for each area. Many practices we had previously disapproved of disappeared, and the figures spearheading these changes were the Emir al-Jaysh [Aliyu] and Shaykh Abu Musab [al-Barnawi]. These were radical transformations, and Shekau began to feel that a plot was being hatched against him, leading him to view everyone with suspicion. He trusted no one–not even his closest associates–and was meticulous about hand-picking his bodyguards. He always maintained a trusted commander–distinct from the Emir al-Jaysh–to carry out special missions and serve as his eyes and ears among the rank-and-file soldiers and commanders.

Then came that day. Shekau was known for periodically issuing statements to the media on various occasions, yet he hated nothing more than the prospect of elections. He would always fight against them, constantly plotting to derail the process whenever an electoral campaign began. He justified this by saying, “I aim to save the people from shirk!” But this time his statement was directed outward, discussing Niger and various affairs and events concerning the ummah. It was, in my view, a disastrous speech. And so my friend Abu Sulayman [al-Sudani], the media operative, informed me about the recording and asked me to listen to it so I could give advice before its publication, as the ansar were very afraid to reject or edit Shekau’s words... Then I listened to him say, “O people of Niger, you are kuffar!...” among other things.

I told the media officer, “Delete this”–and he deleted it immediately–“and then this,” and so on, until it became a short statement. Then I told them, “Do not tell Shekau anything, just publish the rest of the recording. When he hears it on the news, they will say there is a new recording, while he will believe things are going as planned.” I convinced them that what we had done was a way to stop evildoing without causing any trouble, for branding the entire Nigerien people as disbelievers in this wholesale manner defies the truth.

The recording was indeed broadcasted, and Shekau did not know what it contained. A few days later, a messenger from Imam Shekau came to summon me. I assumed it was a routine matter, but I was surprised when I entered his presence to find the Emir of Media sitting before him like a small child. He told me to sit, saying he had a grave matter to discuss. The Emir al-Jaysh had followed me to Shekau’s headquarters, and through the tent flap, I could see him pacing back and forth outside. After a few brief moments, Shekau said to me, “I have been informed of what you did with my recording, but I have forgiven you.” It was a lightning bolt over my head, but I quickly composed myself and demanded fairness, saying, “O Imam, who told you?! You must hear my side just as you heard his–that is the Judgement of God [hukmallah]!” He replied that it was Abu Zunayrah, the Emir of Media. I said, “Wasn’t he the one who published your recording and edited it with me? How could he do that and then inform you only after it was published? Wouldn’t it be just for him to share the responsibility for what I did?”

He replied, looking at Abu Zunayrah, “He knows that I love him, and I have forgiven both of you.” I said to him, “No, by God, not until you know why I did that, so you are fully aware that I am not deceiving you or falsely attributing claims to you. O Imam, you said such-and-such–did you really mean to declare the people of Niger as kuffar?! Yet you told me that not everyone outside the State is a disbeliever–is that not so?” He said yes, acknowledging my words, but explained that he did not mean the people of Niger, but rather the tyrants of Niger. I told him, “That is why you must let the Media Emir review your speeches without hesitation.” By the grace of God, the meeting concluded, and I left him as he laughed with me, apparently pleased.

As we set out for the capital, the Emir al-Jaysh said to me, “He would have killed you today, but I spent the night, along with some other commanders, convincing him that you are merely a humble [miskin] Arab muhajir who meant no harm by your actions, and that what you did was actually out of love for him... and on and on, until his anger subsided. When he sent for you, I hurried after you, for his decisions are unpredictable. Praise be to God, who granted me success in convincing him.”

It was a harrowing day and fear began to consume my soul. I did not know who was conveying news to Shekau, and I knew that these reforms were becoming too much for him, and that the response might be harsh. After deep reflection, I proposed to the Emir al-Jaysh and Shaykh Abu Musab al-Barnawi that for the sake of public interest, we stop Shekau’s statements in a way that showed wisdom and gentleness to him. For there were those outside Africa who criticized his strange remarks in his recordings, perhaps calling him deranged. Likewise, he made statements that did not serve the cause of jihad in Nigeria.

I explained my point of view to them:

Your demands have nothing to do with House Saud and their ilk. Let us not provoke those whom it serves no purpose to provoke. Our cause here is, first and foremost, to save Muslims from the actions of Nigeria’s Christians and atheists. These massacres must be halted by force, and we must establish a strong state of our own–one that shelters oppressed Muslims and rules by the Law of God [Shar’Allah]. We shall then call upon Muslims to make hijra. At that point, the tyrant of Nigeria would come to us in submission, seeking to negotiate to prevent us from reaching Christian areas. All of this requires you to have a spokesman who is eloquent, knowledgeable, and popular.

The leaders consulted among themselves and set out to convince the Imam of the need for appointing a spokesman, as every state and group has one. They persisted in their efforts until he selected Abu Musab al-Barnawi for the role.

Entry #22

7 February, 2026

The Counter-Offensive
The Land of Dreams

The first decision that the official spokesman made without consulting Shekau was to grant amnesty to all the residents who had fled when the brothers arrived in Baga, as well as to those who had previously taken up arms against them, on the condition of repentance [tawbah]. This shift prompted French and American media to speak of a significant change in the rhetoric of Boko Haram.

One morning, I set out dreaming of living on this land, marrying, and engaging in trade. I went looking for ways to make a living through commerce and agriculture, only to realize that we lacked many of the essentials of a state. Roads needed to be safe and paved–even if only with packed earth–to facilitate the flow of trade from Cameroon or Niger to this region. Crops required people to harvest and sell them. Historically, the peoples of Chad, Niger, Cameroon, and Nigeria relied on the catch of the lake’s fish and the bountiful produce of the Borno plains–a fertile, flat expanse crisscrossed by waterways.

I had hoped that Shekau would give permission to develop these cities and towns, doing as the Messenger of God had done (peace and blessings be upon him). For he sat in Madinah, establishing governance, forging bonds among its diverse population, and exercising patience with the hypocrites–yet warning of them, while they feared him. He acted solely in defense until he had consolidated his position. Only then did he set out to call people (to the faith), wielding his sword against those who stood between him and the Call of God [da’watullah].

I know the tyrants will not leave us be–but they need time, as do we. After a full day’s tour, I returned filled with hope and optimism. I went to the Emir al-Jaysh to share my thoughts: “Why shouldn’t we pursue these matters? Shekau possesses much wealth to support the idea, and trade between us and our neighbors is permissible. We currently need one another in worldly affairs, so we may profit from their need for our harvests and fish.”

“But,” he said to me, shattering the idea from its very foundation,

O Shaykh, if we let the brothers busy themselves with this, then worldly attachment will enter their hearts, and they will abandon jihad, as in God’s warning to the believers [muminin]: {Spend in the cause of God and do not let your own hands throw you into destruction [by withholding]. And do good, for God certainly loves the doers of good} [Quran 2:195]. And you know that this warning was issued when they turned to farming. The Muslim treasury, rather, should be sustained by ghanima [spoils of war], fay [assets acquired without combat], and zakat…

I replied, “So let the call go out for the common people to come and develop this land, so that its blessings may emerge.”

The African Four-Power Alliance [Nigeria, Niger, Chad, Cameroon], backed by Israeli and French air support, decided to launch a ground offensive against the brothers’ territories. But it received a surprise blow within the town of Bosso in Niger, located on the shores of Lake Chad, resulting in heavy losses.

Joint forces from Chad and Cameroon entered the Cameroonian town of Fotokol, which is separated from Gamboru (the brothers’ eastern outpost) by a small river spanned by an old, 100-meter-long bridge. They advanced with great fear as residents fled the town. I was nearby, and the commander summoned me. He was a devout man, much given to silence, who never laughed openly as to show his teeth but merely smiled. He took me on a tour with his deputy to consult me ​​on his defensive strategy. I suggested placing battle flags near the river in a way that made it appear as though we were trying to hide them from the enemy’s view; this would lead the enemy to mistake them for the brothers’ positions. This tactic was intended to create a diversion because the enemy knew the brothers never lowered their flags, keeping them displayed at their strongpoints, as they considered lowering them an act of cowardice.

The commander had prepared everything for them, and the city lay in profound silence, with everyone awaiting the moment of the first shot.

The following afternoon, while we were testing a new weapon on the outskirts of the city, far from the border, we heard the sound of a helicopter approaching. We quickly hid the weapon and sat watching from under the trees. It was a Cameroonian helicopter entering the city’s airspace from the southeast before rapidly exiting. It reminded me of American tactics in Iraq prior to an attack. It was a way of testing the waters [lit. “feeling out the pulse”].

It came as a surprise to both the tyrants and me when the brothers launched a sudden attack on Fotokol, inflicting burning, killing, and destruction upon the enemy force, which was forced to retreat. The brothers quickly returned to Gamboru, and news of their actions spread, intensifying external pressure on these mercenaries to enter Nigeria.

I returned to al-Fatah al-Mubin, still dreaming of seeing the downtrodden–those currently being slaughtered by Christians in Africa–living in safety on a land ruled by Sharia. For such a dream requires immense effort and the solidarity of the people of truth [ahlul-haqq].

An attack was launched on the town of Michika on the southern frontier, and their Defense Minister announced substantial incentives if the army advanced toward the capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin.

Entry #23

13 February, 2026

Vengeance or a State?
Tactic of the Imam

He was a young man from Kano–no older than twenty-five–tall and powerfully built, with a magnetic personality that compelled you upon first meeting him. Cultured and well-informed about global affairs, he embodied the qualities of a leader. Such was Commander Abu Ruqayyah, the Emir of Military Workshops. He had originally been sent by Shekau with the group that trained in Mali, only to later return and rebel alongside Abu Khalid al-Barnawi. He was captured but subsequently freed during a special operation–carried out by Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunna lid-Da’wati wal-Jihad [Boko Haram] against a major prison–after which he rejoined the mothership. Despite his qualifications, this history of rebellion meant he was never appointed as a regional commander. My relationship with him began from the very first days of when I arrived.

Commander Abu Ruqayyah came to me one morning to tell me he was about to head out for a massive battle, yet he was hesitant. He was to be in charge of the largest howitzer, and the orders were to fire it indiscriminately at Maiduguri–for the Imam wanted to burn everything down. I asked him, “Are there no Muslims in the city?” He replied, “To me, yes! But the Imam says they side with the tyrants.” I went to Shaykh Muhammad Nur to inquire about this, and he told me, “This is a decisive battle for Shekau, and there is nothing we can say.”

I sent a request to a scholar for a fatwa relevant to this situation, namely, indiscriminate shelling upon a densely populated city. All my attempts to persuade the Emir al-Jaysh and other leaders to refrain from indiscriminate shelling had failed, as the Imam had mobilized all of his forces to enter Maiduguri. I overheard one commander mention 200 rockets, another speak of howitzers being loaded, and a third tell me about car bombs. The force advanced from multiple axes that day. I did not participate–indeed, only the ansar took part. They entered the city, catching the army and all other forces off guard, and the brothers seized control of most of the city. I even thought the operation was over, given the reports of ghanima and the capture of over 100 tanks.

The tide of battle suddenly turned, dictated by purely ground-level realities, and the brothers’ forces began to withdraw amidst intensifying shelling from both sides. Air power played a decisive role in the conflict, given that the air force comprised a coalition of several nations. The fall of Maiduguri represented a catastrophe for all involved. After a few days, everyone returned–except for my companion, Abu Ruqayyah, who had gone on to meet his Lord, may He have mercy upon him.

Before the brothers returned to al-Fatah al-Mubin, I was marveling at the capabilities they possessed–after all, Maiduguri is one of the six largest cities in Nigeria, with a population of two million–yet the explanation soon became clear to me. That evening, while conversing with Emir al-Jaysh Aliyu, and one of the other leaders, I sensed they were keeping something from me–as if they were waiting for me to leave so they could discuss it. I feared it might be a sharia matter that would distort some of the good that we had reached. I mentioned to them that I sensed there was news or an issue troubling them. Aliyu replied with a calmness tinged by sorrow: “Gamboru has fallen into the hands of the taghut...” I recited the istirja’ [“To God we belong and to Him we shall return”] and praised God, though the pain was severe. I responded, “God has wisdom in all things.”

He fell silent for a moment, then said to me, “And the tyrants have entered Michika too.” I could not contain myself and exclaimed, “How, brother?! How?! Both at once, what is happening?!” He replied with his usual calm, “The Imam withdrew the men from the two front lines to launch an assault on Maiduguri, leaving the fronts vulnerable. Even the largest howitzer was moved to the new offensive.” Stunned by the horror of the news, I spoke without thinking: “Do not obey him, this is madness...” The commander was taken aback by my words and replied with strong disapproval, “What is this, Abu Ayyub? How could we disobey?!” Regaining my composure, I sought God’s forgiveness and told him, “By God, I simply could not bear it. I was shocked by the Imam’s thinking–after all our discussions about holding the towns, and after he had led me to believe he was convinced, we are now, just like that, abandoning two front lines in a single day for the sake of this Maiduguri...”

He said to me, “The Imam cares only to annihilate those in Maiduguri, for it was the place where we had fought the hardest for the sake of our faith.” Everyone returned, and the brothers withdrew from Gamboru to Dikwa, thereby losing 100 kilometers along the Cameroonian border, as well as a 20-kilometer stretch from Michika toward the capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin.

Then came a strange dreamlike vision–a message from God and a reassurance to this humble [miskin] servant. This is what we shall continue discussing tomorrow, God willing…

Entry #24

15 February, 2026

The True Vision
Righting of Wrongs

It was a strange vision, as in a dream: I saw myself in a large room, and in the middle was a massive, high, and wide bed. Laying on the bed was Imam Shekau and sat beside him was Emir al-Jaysh Aliyu. I greeted them both and then sat near the Emir al-Jaysh. Then Shekau began speaking to me, asking, “Where have you been, man? Why have you stayed away from me?” I replied, “The Emir al-Jaysh prevents me from coming to see you.” He then took my hand and stepped down from the bed to speak with me privately. Suddenly, he became very short, while I remained my normal height, so I had to lower myself toward the ground to speak with him face-to-face, marveling at what had just happened. He proceeded to complain to me about everyone while speaking in a friendly, ingratiating manner. Such was my strange vision.

At the time, I found no one to interpret it for me, nor did I imagine a day would come when Shekau would order my execution, for he used to claim to love me for the sake of God. But the interpretation of the vision was: “The Kingdom of Shekau will shrink greatly and I will escape from him.”

The phase of collapse began, with towns and cities falling in record time, so rapidly that even the tyrants were astonished. Their leader declared that Boko Haram must have a plan, as the army’s advance could not possibly be that swift. I will not dwell on the battles and their ferocity, but I will reflect on the fall of these areas and the reasons behind it. As one of the commanders put it: “It is as if God wants us to start anew, following repentance [tawbah] and the righting of wrongs inflicted upon His creation.”

We shall meet again tomorrow.

Entry #25

19 February, 2026

The Islamic Maghrib
Fall of the Capital

Many areas here and there fell into the hands of the Alliance, and withdrawals invariably occurred due to a lack of equipment and the severing of supply lines. Shekau’s method was particularly bizarre: the weapons stockpile was hoarded in the forest, and not a single round could be released without his knowledge. And so when ammunition ran out, you could not simply replenish it–you had to return to the Sambisa forest, obtain permission, and then head back to the battlefield. Such were his orders ever since the assassination of previous Emir al-Jaysh [Aliyu’s predecessor].

I recall a battle for a town located 100 kilometers from al-Fatah al-Mubin. I saw the brothers hauling a wheeled howitzer to support the fighters, more than 10 hours after they had requested reinforcements–an extremely long time in the span of an urban battle. This all led to withdrawals until the fighting reached the edge of the Sambisa Forest and al-Fatah al-Mubin itself was besieged. Though it was the smallest town, it was beautiful and strategically located on the forest’s edge, just 15 kilometers from the Cameroonian border. It was then that Shekau delivered a fiery speech, rallying everyone to defend al-Fatah al-Mubin.

Several scattered areas remained under the control of the mujahidin, but everyone could reach the capital al-Fatah al-Mubin. I was standing with some of the brothers, listening to Imam Shekau’s address about general mobilization and his exhortation to the Muslims. It was delivered in Hausa, but I could hear the people shouting “Allahu Akbar” as his powerful voice rose. And so, everyone poured out from everywhere–thousands arrived from various towns on foot, most of them unarmed, responding solely to God and His Messenger by obeying the Imam’s summons to mobilize. It was unlike anything that I had ever witnessed.

The battle intensified, with tanks serving as the primary weapon on the field. The tyrants lost several of them to individual inghimasi [suicide infiltration] operations, carried out by brothers armed with satchel charges akin to suicide belts. One of them would chase a tank on foot, and the driver, thinking him mad, would turn toward him. Then came the surprise... I saw one leap onto a tank barrel as if it were a toy, then–BOOM–that was it, the matter settled.

But they could not be steadfast for long. Then Shekau ordered the city burned, and so it was set ablaze, and the brothers withdrew to their final stronghold near the forest: the town of Beta [in Borno].

The north was completely cut off, and from the east, only one main road remained. The Timbuktu forest area–west of the Sambisa Forest, separated only by the asphalt road connecting Maiduguri to the town of Biu in the south–remained steadfast.

The Emir al-Jaysh came to inform me that the Imam had decided to personally take to the field for the first time during the battle to defend the town of Beta. Surprised, I asked, “Had he never gone out [in battle] before?” He replied, “No, he has not left the forest since entering it, except once when he performed the Friday prayer at the Great Mosque of al-Fatah al-Mubin after its conquest.” That night, I set out with the Emir al-Jaysh and Shaykh Abu Musab toward Mount al-Shabaka (as we called it). While we were there, the leader of Al Qaida in Islamic Maghrib sent a message to the Shaykh expressing his affection and regard for the Shaykh’s father [Muhammad Yusuf]. He asked the Shaykh to convey his greetings to Imam Shekau, and said that supporting the faith required they stand with us in this military campaign, with whatever they possessed. At that time, they were better armed than the brothers.

The Shaykh handed me the message, and I read it. Frankly, I was overjoyed and said, “Perhaps God would use this to unite the mujahidin worldwide and forge an alliance of mutual support among them.” However, the Shaykh asked him, “Do you realize that we are currently aligned with the Islamic State?” He replied, “Yes, I know, but you are our brothers, and you need us.” I asked him why he did not agree to have them assist us, and he answered, “I must first seek permission from the State, as the matter carries great consequences. They claim that we are their brothers, but in Libya, they label the brothers as ghulat [‘extremists’], even though we share the same religion. I fear this might be an attempt to infiltrate our ranks.”

The leaders began consulting one another about their predicament, and they agreed that the root cause was Shekau’s disastrous military decisions, stemming from his indifference toward losing territory and his distrust of everyone, as he had taken to spying on most of the commanders, of which they were well aware.

Then came the day I shall never forget for as long as I live–the day that Imam Shekau sent a messenger to me in my forest tent, summoning me to come alone, without telling anyone.

ISWAP commander Abu Salamah al-Manghawi gives a speech to rally his fighters, c. 2019

The next five entries of Adnan Absi’s West Africa memoirs provide further details on the significant reform efforts and resulting tensions within Boko Haram. He begins by sharing the story of Abu Abdul-Rahman al-Sudani, yet another veteran Sudanese jihadist who joined Boko Haram’s ranks. Abu Abdul-Rahman was particularly experienced in administrative and management affairs, so he devised a plan to restructure the inner workings of Boko Haram’s “state.” In Adnan’s telling, everything in this state was micromanaged by Shekau, the “Imam,” without whose permission nothing took place. Given the group’s vast territories, Abu Abdul-Rahman proposed dividing it into administrative regions, each ruled by their own governor, acting according to instructions that Abu Abdul-Rahman would write. In parallel, Shekau would become the overall emir, setting general policies of the “state” in coordination with a newly-formed Shura Council, while implementation of the policies would be the responsibility of the regional governors. Abu Abdul-Rahman also proposed a training course to professionalize Boko Haram’s army, which apparently numbered 40,000 in all, with 20,000 under arms. These reforms were reportedly highly successful, but not without facing significant pushback from Shekau. Before examining Shekau’s response, it is worth interrogating the broader narrative of Abu Abdul-Rahman and the other Sudanese foreign fighters whom Adnan mentions.

In the course of his memoirs, Adnan is telling a certain story about the role of Sudanese jihadists in establishing ISWAP, the most powerful branch of Islamic State. At core, Adnan reports that they were essential to its formation. The veracity of his claims is of secondary importance to the claims themselves. That is to say, Adnan is telling this story for a specific reason, and seeing that his memoirs have been released as a formatted book, this reason is likely authorized by the IS media office. Sudanese jihadists’ apparent contributions to ISWAP boost the profile of Sudanese jihadism–and therefore, of Sudan itself–in the IS imagination. This comes in the wake of several high-profile IS statements, particularly in al-Naba newsletter, about the necessity of jihad in Sudan. This, in turn, is a function of Sudan’s growing strategic importance to the global IS network. The IS cell operating in the country is an essential logistics hub, as it is the main gateway for Middle Eastern IS operatives to enter Africa and head onward to other IS branches, especially ISWAP and ISGS.

It seems that the subliminal message in Adnan’s stories of his fellow Sudanese fighters is to spotlight the need for jihad (led by IS) in Sudan: “If there is such a great pool of talent, then surely the IS project would succeed there!” It’s worth recalling that the narrative was originally published on Adnan’s (now-deleted) Facebook page, where he often commented about other issues. A prominent subject was his native Sudan. He frequently highlighted the terrible trials afflicting his country. This, too, would act as subtle propaganda about the need for a Sudanese jihadist project (under IS leadership). His page provided the moral justification–Sudan’s plight–and the practical case–the existing Sudanese talent pool. Furthermore, given its immense development since the events of Adnan’s memoirs, ISWAP’s role would not be as a simple recipient of foreign fighters, but also a training ground for them. After Sudanese fighters played such a big part in developing ISWAP, they might just as well join its ranks to later develop an IS branch back in Sudan. Jihadist knowledge transfer would therefore come full circle.

Let us return to Adnan’s memoir. Adnan brought Abu Abdul-Rahman’s proposals to Shekau to discuss over food, which was apparently highly unusual. Shekau was initially apprehensive (likely suspicious) but he invited Emir al-Jaysh Aliyu to join the discussion. Eventually, Shekau was convinced, and he authorized Aliyu to define the different administrative regions and to establish a training course, to apparently great success and warm reception from the troops. Afterwards, Aliyu revealed to Adnan that Shekau did not share his meals with anyone because of an attempt on his life, which took place during previous reform attempts.

According to Aliyu, Shekau had sent a number of Boko Haram fighters, under the command of “Abu Khalid al-Barnawi,” to train with Al Qaida in Islamic Maghrib (AQIM). The exact means by which the fighters joined AQIM’s ranks is not explained, nor is their journey to Algeria, but it is yet another data point of a vast jihadist logistics network spanning Africa. In any case, this training course reportedly transformed this group, and they returned with a letter describing their conditions for rejoining Boko Haram’s ranks. The two most conditions were the formation of a Shura Council and allowing Muslims to be excused for major sins or acts of disbelief on the grounds of ignorance (al-udhr bil-jahl). Shekau rejected the demands–he especially opposed the Shura Council–and the two sides grew hostile to one another, with Abu Khalid’s group then attempting to assassinate Shekau. This incident intensified Shekau’s paranoia, and seemingly contributed to his decision to reverse the creation of administrative regions by appointing Aliyu as the emir above the governors. Adnan and Aliyu mitigated this decision by creating a joint council of governors, where they could independently make decisions without Shekau’s supervision. One gets an impression of Shekau’s megalomania (or the image of it that Adnan is portraying). Note that this move helped set the foundation for a post-Shekau future, representing a major step in the eventual formation of ISWAP.

After this reform, Adnan headed out for a mission in a town renamed to al-Bahrayn, where he met the emir and learned of his brutal reign. Adnan was initially charmed by the emir, so he left him to roam through the town and observe ordinary life among locals. In conversation, one local informed him that the town emir had executed ten residents on charges of apostasy for merely possessing identity documents, much to Adnan’s shock. The emir was subsequently arrested, suggesting that there were reform-minded operatives at the ground level across Boko Haram’s territories. Adnan then interrogated the emir during his detention and found that he shared Shekau’s ultra-extremist ideology. In one especially shocking exchange, Adnan asked the emir why the town of Banki was seemingly empty of residents. The emir proudly admitted that he had expelled the population because they had fled during the initial Boko Haram conquest. In his eyes, they had effectively committed apostasy by fleeing the coming reign of Sharia. The residents had escaped to the adjacent Cameroonian town of Limani, so the emir chased them there as well, which eventually left even Limani largely empty.

Adnan reports that such brutality left him greatly dismayed, as it oppressed ordinary Muslims and even endangered Boko Haram’s fighters from neighboring states and abroad. He requested a hearing with Shaykh Muhammad Nur, where he made the case that identity documents and other basic matters of nationality or citizenship do not constitute grounds for excommunication. Nur rejected Adnan’s argument, but the debate was brought to unnamed highly learned scholars–seemingly operating abroad and already in touch with Boko Haram–who agree with Adnan. This led to a new fatwa that forbade the execution of Muslims for holding identity or citizenship papers. This enraged Shekau, who categorically rejected the ruling. Commander Aliyu hastily covered for Adnan, but Shekau makes clear his hostility to the Sudanese reformer. Aliyu and Abu Musab al-Barnawi (who makes a cameo appearance) then privately told Adnan that they would circulate the fatwa without Shekau’s knowledge, and use their seniority to enforce it. This was another step in the eventual formation of ISWAP.

Adnan then takes a digression to discuss doctrinal matters, before recounting the Cameroonian President’s purported attempt to enter a truce with Boko Haram. In Adnan’s telling, the offer came from an emissary dispatched right as Boko Haram deployed a large army for battle. Commander Aliyu met and privately discussed with the emissary, before returning to Adnan and the others. Aliyu then revealed that he spoke with Cameroonian President Paul Biya over phone. During their conversation, Biya allegedly offered to withdraw Cameroonian forces on condition of a truce. This is quite difficult to believe, as I find it highly doubtful that Paul Biya himself would negotiate with anyone from Boko Haram. Whatever the case, Aliyu did not take the truce, saying he needed time to think. For his part, Adnan urged Aliyu to take the truce with the aim of breaking the regional alliance against Boko Haram.

Around the same time, a similar truce proposal came from Niger. Shekau authorized an attack on the Nigerien town of Diffa both out of principle and to preempt Aliyu from potentially taking the truce. Note Shekau’s paranoia and ultra-extremism. The charge on Diffa leads to a simultaneous attack on Cameroonian forces, terminating any potential truces with both countries. Adnan and Aliyu are both shocked, as they were alarmed that Shekau’s attack might jeopardize Boko Haram’s “state” and their efforts to build it. This prompts the formation of a Shura Council to quickly determine the right course of action–and most importantly, how to ensure Shekau’s compliance, setting the stage for his eventual ouster. The meta-narrative here seems to be that, unlike IS, Shekau lacked strategic thinking and suppressed it within Boko Haram–but ISWAP has continued his policy of opposing truces with all “infidels.”

Entry #16

22 January, 2026

An Assassination Attempt
Formation of the Diwans [Administrative Offices]

The arrival of this 24 year-old young man marked a major victory. Abu Abdul-Rahman al-Sudani was fluent in English and skilled in management and administration. He was well-experienced in organizing training and skill development, having worked extensively in this field and served with a renowned charitable volunteer group in my country. Furthermore, he was a hafiz [memorizer of the entire Quran – Rob], well-versed in matters of aqidah [creed], and possessed a tender heart and good nature–or so I consider him, but God is his Judge. I mention his story so that the muwahid may take as an example those hidden figures who gave their part and passed on, known only to God and a few of His servants.1

After settling in, he visited me to propose an idea about something that the other brothers had overlooked. The organizational structure of the group’s reign (Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunnah lid-Da’wati wal-Jihad) was rudimentary and had not yet absorbed the changing realities on the ground. They governed cities, villages, and rural areas under the absolute rule of a single man who controlled every matter, large and small, effectively acting as the Imam, the Wali [governor], and the Emir of every region, with military commanders serving under him in each sector. While the hisba [religious police] handled administration, not a single bullet was fired, nor was any change made anywhere across these territories, without the Imam’s prior knowledge. “As a result, growth, development, and the provision of public services stagnated, making life in these areas unattractive. People prioritize their worldly lives–save for the few to whom God has shown mercy–so who would come to listen to your message under such conditions?” This was how Abu Abdul-Rahman discussed the matter with me.

He said further: “I am ready to train them in administration and to develop a plan for state governance and dividing the regions. Governors or administrator would be appointed for each region, with me providing the specifics of how each governor manages his territory. Let Shekau be the leader of the state, and together with his Shura Council, they would set only the general policy in governing all the regions.” I took his words quite seriously and sent a request to meet the Imam.

While I was waiting for the arrival of the Imam to me, the guards brought me food. I told the guard I would wait for the Imam so we could eat together, but he said, “No, he is running a bit late and won’t be eating, so go ahead and eat.” I decided to wait, believing it was proper courtesy, as one does when visiting someone’s home. When the Imam arrived, he greeted me with his usual warmth. After a brief conversation about the state of the Muslims and the fight against tyrants [tawaghit], I mentioned that I had been waiting for him to eat. His expression suddenly changed upon hearing this, leaving me surprised and somewhat concerned. I wondered to myself, “Did I say something upsetting?” His face soon returned to its usual composure, and he managed a slight smile. “I have already eaten,” he said, placing the plate of food before me. I insisted that he join me, and he ate alongside me to honor my request. Meanwhile, the Emir al-Jaysh [referring to Commander Aliyu] passed by outside the tent, looking as though he had seen something remarkable, as if he had never witnessed it before. I always paid close attention to every detail of my visits to the Imam, for they were a compass in understanding the situation.

I told the Imam the story of our friend, the administrative expert. Convincing him was difficult at first, then he sent for the Emir al-Jaysh to join in our discussion. Eventually, he agreed to entrust the Emir al-Jaysh with this matter–that is, the division of regions–and to establish a training course. It was a reform that came to everyone’s ears with peace and coolness, especially the students of science and hisba, because they are at the forefront of public affairs. The work began immediately with great enthusiasm. The regions were divided and the army was counted, numbering 40,000 in total, with those specifically under arms to be at most 20,000.

Upon returning to al-Fatah al-Mubin, I asked Commander Aliyu why he had looked so surprised when I was sharing a meal with the Imam. He told me that the Imam does not eat with anyone outside his own home because he has not trusted anyone since the attempt on his life. I asked, “What?! An assassination attempt–by whom?!” He replied, “That is a long story, you can ask him about it yourself.”

I kept pressing Commander Aliyu for details about the incident until he told me:

A group from our ranks had been sent by the Imam for joint training with Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghrib. After completing their training and enhancing their capabilities, they returned to the group here–but they were not the same as when they left. Their leader, Abu Khalid al-Barnawi, sat with the Imam and made certain demands–summarized in a written letter–which the Imam rejected. Abu Khalid had brought funds as a gift and support for the group, but he refused to hand the money over to the Imam unless the latter conceded on the points they had discussed. A rift subsequently developed between them, leading Abu Khalid and his followers to break away from the group. It was after this that the attempt to assassinate the Imam took place.

Entry #17

23 January, 2026

The Shura Council
Killing over Citizenship Papers

At daybreak, when Shaykh Muhammad Nur stepped out, I followed him to ask if he knew anything about the incident involving Abu Bakr Shekau and Abu Khalid al-Barnawi. He informed me that reliable information was with the Emir al-Jaysh and that the correspondence between Shekau and Abu Khalid was kept on file.

Abu Khalid and his group had sent written correspondence to Shekau, detailing their demands and the nature of the dispute between them. I had asked the Emir al-Jaysh to obtain this document. A few days later, a guard came to tell me the Emir wished to see me. I went to him, and he handed me the paper. As I recall–at least regarding the key points–it addressed the following: First, they explained that while they agreed with him on some matters, they disagreed on others. They outlined the conditions under which they would continue to serve under his command:

• The issue of al-udhr bil-jahl [excuse of ignorance]:2 They held a view contrary to Shekau–who did not accept ignorance as a valid excuse–though I do not recall the specific details of their argument on this point.

• The issue of Shura [consultation]: They demanded the establishment of a Shura Council presided over by the Imam, while he did not consider this necessary.

There were several other points that I have since forgotten, but they all concerned matters of aqidah.

The most significant point in this memorandum was the Shura Council, which Shekau saw as a call for change, while others saw it as a necessary religious [shar’i] matter. Upon reading the memorandum, I found the requests to be logical and deserving of nothing more than dialogue, as they were matters subject to legitimate public debate. However, the situation with Shekau did not unfold that way…

This matter did not occupy much of my thoughts, for things here moved fast and major events were plenty. Not a day went by without a battle, whether offensive or defensive, or a new development, be it in the media sector or on the military front.

Regarding administration, Brother Abu Abdul-Rahman came to consult me ​​about a program he had devised. I reviewed his plan, found it excellent and realistic, and thus supported and encouraged him. A training course began in the capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin, and another subsequently began in the city of Gombaru. Throughout, I heard the Ansar [i.e., Nigerian] brothers praising and encouraging the work that Abu Abdul-Rahman al-Sudani was doing.

After the regions had been divided and a governor appointed for each, we were surprised by a decision from Shekau appointing the Emir al-Jaysh as the Emir over all these governors–an apparent attempt to circumvent his own previous ruling. However, when the Emir al-Jaysh informed me of this, I urged him to make the change merely nominal: Leave the governors in their posts and establish a joint council for them to coordinate among themselves, independent of Shekau. The Emir al-Jaysh agreed, for the matter was in his hands after God.

I set out with a group of brothers on a mission to a location 200 kilometers from the capital for a small assignment. Upon completing our task, I found myself in the home of the emir of the town, in a place the brothers called al-Bahrayn. He was a man with a beautiful voice for Quranic recitation. He would often recite aloud, and I often sat and listened. I grew deeply attached to this emir, drawn by what appeared to be his profound love for the Quran.

One day, I went out to the market. Everyone had come to know me, as I was the only Arab in town and the only muhajir living with the emir of the town. I wandered through the market to observe the people–how they lived and how trade was conducted–and to see how they interacted with the Cameroonians, given the town’s location near the border. I wanted to gauge whether they liked the emir, and to distinguish between the soldiers and the ordinary civilians. I gathered this information to gain insight and understand how things worked there.

In a building outside the market, I met a student of Sharia knowledge who was responsible for the hisba. He asked me to sit and chat for a while, inquiring about the situation of the brothers on other battlefronts. He then spoke about the town emir and my opinion of him before asking me a direct question: “What is your view, O Shaykh, on obtaining citizenship or a passport?” I told him what I believed, and he replied, “Did you know that the town emir executed more than ten men in the town square simply for possessing identity documents like citizenship papers or passports?” I was deeply shocked. I recalled how he had seemed like such a cheerful man. Could it really be true that he had killed ten Muslims because they held identity documents, as if this was evidence of their apostasy?! I said to him, “May God reward you with good. God willing, I will advise them.”

Entry #18

26 January, 2026

Apostasy by Flight
Changing the Fatwa

Orders were issued to remove Agha (“Little Shekau”), the emir of the town of al-Bahrayn–and the conqueror of the border town of Banki (adjacent to Limani, Cameroon)–from his post. He had previously killed ten town residents for [alleged] apostasy because they possessed citizenship documents. He was detained at the hisba headquarters, and I decided to visit him to ask about the executions, his ruling regarding those individuals, and the basis for that ruling. After obtaining permission, I went to see him alone. He was initially pleased by my visit, but his voice rose in anger when I questioned him. He said, “I heard the President of Cameroon say that he and every Cameroonian are equal, as they all hold Cameroonian citizenship. Don’t you see that anyone who accepts such a statement is a disbeliever?!”

I paused briefly before replying, waiting for his anger to subside, then asked, “Do the Muslims in Cameroon accept what he says?” He replied, “Yes, anyone who obtained citizenship effectively agreed with the words of that tyrant.” His tone then grew harsher, so I was afraid to continue the conversation. I tried to change the subject, saying, “I was told you are the commander who conquered Banki. It is a beautiful, quiet town, yet it has few inhabitants, mostly in the outlying villages. Why do people abandon such a wonderful place?” He answered with chilling indifference, “I drove them out when they went to Limani in Cameroon–they are apostates.”

I took a deep breath and tried to steel my nerves. I will never forget that day, for I was deeply saddened by the loss of so much due to such destructive rulings. I asked him, “Why call them apostates?” He replied with his characteristic coldness, “They hate the Law of God [Shar’Allah]–and that constitutes apostasy. They fled when we stormed the city and went to the land of the taghut in the Cameroonian town of Limani. We came to implement Sharia, so doesn’t that imply they do not want God’s Law? And so I pursued them there, and now, no one dares even enter Limani itself.”

I returned from al-Bahrayn weighed down by deep anxiety–where was I to begin? [Abu Musab] al-Barnawi was the first person I met at the guesthouse. I asked to speak with Shaykh Muhammad Nur and others regarding the issue of official identification documents, as the matter was of grave importance. My request was granted, and I explained to the Shaykh that “our brethren in Chad, Cameroon, Niger, and Nigeria–all of whom labor for the sake of God [fi sabilillah]–possess such identity documents. So what, then, is the ruling concerning them? Furthermore, consider those who arrive as muhajirin by plane, carrying passports: Do you view all of them as apostates, too, who must repent upon arriving? What is the specific basis of disbelief [manat al-kufr] in these documents, and is the situation in Nigeria the same as in the other regions?” It was a dialogue that yielded no satisfying answer other than the assertion that such documents constitute an acknowledgment and acceptance of a citizenship rooted in disbelief.

Everyone agreed to present the matter to one or two scholars known for their legal [fiqh] knowledge and piety. The result was a clear breakthrough [fatah mubin].3 A written message arrived that convinced everyone to halt the executions over identity documents. But Shekau was not convinced, and he flew into a furious rage. Yet, the Emir al-Jaysh–fearing that I might be harmed–denied to Shekau that I had overstepped by issuing the fatwa. He claimed instead that the ruling had originated from abroad and that they were merely consulting me on it. Shekau’s anger subsided, though he later summoned me to warn against discussing the issue further. He told me, “The brothers–and indeed any monotheist–have no need for these nationalities and passports. Travel and migration can be achieved simply by paying money, for the tawaghit are slaves to money.” He spoke with the confidence of someone who had traveled and roamed the world without a passport. For the first time, I saw a malice in his eyes, as if he were concealing it behind carefully chosen words.

The Emir al-Jaysh and Barnawi informed me that they would act upon the new fatwa and would not inform Shekau, as the orders came from the military leadership, and Shekau did not meet the soldiers. By the grace of God, the written fatwa was circulated across all regions under the orders of Aliyu, the Emir al-Jaysh. It met with both acceptance and opposition, yet no one dared to defy it at the time.

Entry #19

27 January, 2026

Some Clarifications

First Point

Regarding identity documents such as passports and citizenship: I have examined the origins of this concept and found it within United Nations guidelines. It is defined as a method for a state to tally its population, identifying the individuals who hold rights against the state and to whom the state owes obligations. It serves as a census tool, irrespective of an individual’s loyalty to, or dissociation from, the ruling government and its constitution. This explains why tawaghit place such importance on citizenship and passports, as it ensures that each of them can fulfill their responsibilities with regard to other nations.

Based on this clarification, one finds that most countries do not require any declarations or actions that one could call kufr as a condition for obtaining citizenship papers. Instead, the requirement is simply to prove, through the testimony of male kin (such as a father or paternal uncle), that you were born in the country, that your father was also born there (belonging to the same tribe, etc.), and to swear to the accuracy of this information. The process for obtaining a passport is even simpler.

As for naturalization, that is another matter entirely, quite different from our story in West Africa. The views of scholars on naturalization are well-documented and publicly available. This is relevant because some countries of asylum require an oath or a written declaration pledging respect for their constitution and so forth. Those wishing to know the details should consult the treatises scholars have written on the subject. There is absolutely no act of inherent kufr involved in obtaining the citizenship of a country. Anyone wishing to understand the ruling on takfir bil-lazim4 should consult sincere scholars of jihad. And God is behind the Intention, and He guides to the Path.

Second Point

Regarding schools and the takfir leveled against students and teachers, the basis for this charge of disbelief [manat al-kufr] according to them was as follows–

First, the National Anthem:

Nigeria, we hail thee,
Our own dear native land,
Though tribes and tongues may differ,
In brotherhood we stand
Nigerians all, are proud to serve
Our sovereign Motherland.

Our flag shall be a symbol
That truth and justice reign…

These words are translated from English. The problem for Shekau and those shared his view–and this was the majority of his commanders and troops–was a single word: “serve.” Shekau told me that (in his view) they were saying, “We worship Nigeria.” When I asked Shaykh Muhammad Nur about it, he explained, “The word is open to interpretation, so it could mean this, or it could merely mean ‘we serve Nigeria,’ yet we see them glorifying this anthem and venerating the flag, with students standing before it every morning, reciting it.”

Second, there are blasphemous statements in the curricula, as in geography and history, such as the claim that the Earth revolves around the Sun, while the Sun is stationary and at the center of the galaxy; yet the Quran states: {And the sun runs [on course] toward its stopping point...} [36:38]; and the Hadith of the Messenger of God (peace and blessings be upon him) mentions that the Sun travels and prostrates beneath the Throne. Thus, what they teach contradicts the Quran and the Sunnah, including their teaching that the Earth is spherical...

Third, these schools defy the doctrine of al-wala’ wal-bara’ [“loyalty and disavowal”]. My initial discussion with them centered on the lyrics of the anthem, noting that they are open to interpretation and that the translation should reflect the intended meaning.

Regarding the issue of teaching views that constitute kufr and the concept of al-wala’ wal-bara’: I have read that these matters are forbidden [haram] but do not amount to disbelief, and this is the situation of one student is not necessarily the same as another’s. To avoid making unfounded claims about God’s will, we consulted the shaykhs. They explained that the situation varies from one country to another, noting that in Nigeria, the matter is adjudicated by scholars who understand the specific realities on the ground. Ultimately, however, we all agreed–with the exception of Shekau–not to target schools and universities, as they do not constitute a faction possessing military might [dhat shawkat]. Instead, we should call them to the faith, just as Abu Yusuf [i.e., Muhammad Yusuf], may God have mercy on him, used to do.

I was trying to persuade them to open alternative schools where curricula would be revised, and scientific and shar’i studies, beneficial to Muslims, would be developed. However, they did not favor the idea for various reasons. Perhaps, in time, God will inspire them toward what is best…

They subsequently received directives from the State [Dawla] not to target schools, and they initially complied, but then Shekau resumed targeting them and taking sabaya once more, without Dawla’s knowledge–which ultimately led to his dismissal.

These matters must be articulated and adjudicated by well-grounded scholars so that we do not wander aimlessly and fail to fulfill what God wills for us. There are Sharia rulings and fatwas–pertaining to Sharia-based politics [siyasa sharia] and the interests of establishing a state governed by Sharia [dawlat al-sharia]–that are beyond the knowledge of individuals like myself or the rank-and-file mujahidin. Rather, it is the scholars of jihad–for they are the ahlul-hall wal-‘aqd5–who hold the final say on these issues. And whoever among the scholars remains seated during this vital duty of the age should know that he is a main cause for the delay of victory.

And I ask God to accept our efforts and to forgive me and those who supported me if we ever erred.

Entry #20

30 January, 2026

Tears of a Muhajir
The Cameroonian President’s Truce

The brothers had gathered in the staging area, all occupied with preparations for the battle and the advance toward the enemy. It was to be an offensive mission. While I was speaking with one of the brothers, a messenger from the army commander arrived, summoning me to his presence. I went and found him standing silently beneath a large tree with a Senegalese muhajir, whose eyes were brimming with tears as he pleaded, “I do not want to get married, I want to go out with them. I implore you, for the sake of God, do not turn me away.”

The emir looked at me and said, “O Shaykh, say something to him... This brother has prepared his home, his wife is ready, and he was set to consummate the marriage tonight. Yet, upon learning of this battle, he insisted on going out, saying he could not bear to remain a newlywed tonight while the brothers are in combat. I keep asking him, ‘What fault is it of hers? Why leave her when she is all prepared? The battle is proceeding without you, and the mission requires nothing more than what we have already arranged.’...” I replied, “By God, I have no words to say... If this is your decision, then it is a matter of hearing and obeying [al-sama’ wal-ta’a]. Let him seek his reward from God regarding this marriage. Perhaps God will grant him something better than this...”

The army marched out, and the brother watched as he bade farewell, tears in his eyes. I said to myself: “Glory be to the One for whom the souls of certain people yearn–people whose bodies are among us, yet whose spirits are in the heavens.”

The Cameroonian President sent an emissary with a truce proposal, seeking a “cessation of hostilities,” as they put it. I was with Shaykh Muhammad Nur at the guesthouse when a stout yet cheerful and calm man entered. He said, “Salam,” and sat down to wait. Shortly after, the army commander [al-qaid al-jaysh], Aliyu, arrived, welcomed the man, and then took him outside for about two hours or so. He returned looking visibly changed, as if deep in thought. I immediately asked him, “What is the matter, brother?” He replied, “I was speaking with the President of Cameroon!” “What?!” I asked, astonished by his words.

He told us that this man was an envoy from the other side, carrying a special mobile phone through which he had spoken to the Cameroonian President. The President was proposing a truce and peace–offering to withdraw the army ten kilometers from the border as a gesture of good faith–but on the condition that the brothers do not enter Cameroonian territory and that all hostilities between the two sides cease. I asked him, “And what did you say to him?” He replied, “I gave him no answer. We will consider the matter before responding, as we have prisoners in Cameroon whom we want back.”

I told him, “I hope that you and the Imam would agree to this so that we could break up this alliance. After all, each of them looks out only for themselves. Why not break their ranks? Doing so would make it easier to defend the remaining areas.” He replied, “I do not trust their pledges. I believe they are seeking a truce merely to better prepare for a confrontation with us, so I’m inclined to say that we will not agree.” I said nothing further, as they are the ones most familiar with the situation on the ground. It is their land, and they know best how to deal with these tyrants.

A few days later, one of the commanders approached Shekau to inform him that the President of Niger was also seeking a truce. To preempt any possibility of the Emir al-Jaysh agreeing to such a deal, he asked Shekau to give him weapons to launch an attack on the city of Diffa in Niger. Neither this commander nor Shekau sought to cease hostilities with any taghuti government, believing that a truce would only serve the enemy’s interests.

And indeed, we were all surprised in the capital by a fresh attack on Diffa, rendering the two nations’ efforts futile. The commander of the sector bordering Cameroon pounced on a large Cameroonian army camp, wreaking havoc, seizing a massive Howitzer and heavy weaponry, and returning unscathed.

The Emir al-Jaysh Aliyu informed me that these were Shekau’s orders–issued without consulting him–so he was just as surprised by the operations as everyone else. This created a tense atmosphere between Aliyu and the Imam. A new phase of military overreach began, forcing a pause to reorganize our affairs. I sensed that matters were veering toward military escalation on the Imam’s part. This risked provoking a return of the Four-Power Alliance against us, precisely when we were laying the foundations of an organized state–a haven where Nigerians could migrate to escape the oppression of Christians and their collaborators. And so it became necessary to convene a meeting between the religious scholars and military commanders to determine the Sharia-compliant course of action, issue decisions through shura [consultation], and ensure the Imam’s adherence to them.

Abu Bakr Shekau, the clever buffoon of Borno

In these next five entries, Adnan Absi reveals many fascinating details about Boko Haram’s inner workings, particularly about military reforms and the abduction of the Chibok schoolgirls. He begins by telling us his attempts to reason with Abu Bakr Shekau’s ultra-extremism. In particular, he raises the thorny question of whether Boko Haram did in fact excommunicate Muslims who lived outside its domain. Shekau categorically denies this allegation and claimed that he would issue a religious ruling, or fatwa, clarifying his position. According to Adnan, this decision greatly mitigated the brutality of the Boko Haram insurgency. Adnan then brings up Boko Haram’s hostility to Nigerian nationality papers, such as passports, but Shekau angrily dismisses the matter. One gets the impression that Shekau was growing increasingly irritated at this Arab foreigner’s challenge to his authority.

We next learn about Boko Haram’s adoption of advanced information technology. The jihadists discovered that the Nigerian Army intended to assault Baza, so Adnan and another commander went ahead for a reconnaissance mission. Adnan uses a drone to surveil the Army’s positions. Previously, Boko Haram leadership had forbidden the use of wireless communications and drones, but at the urging of Adnan and Senegalese foreign fighters, the group changed its position. The Nigerian Army was therefore caught by surprise when the jihadists begin to use wireless technology in operations. Adnan also alludes to the development of Boko Haram’s heavy weapons capabilities. They had captured tanks but lacked much knowledge on their operation, so Adnan applied his experience from Baghdad, and even more importantly, he called a friend who was once an officer in a secular army. Here, Adnan comments on the strategic benefits to proselytizing among military officers. Note the knowledge transfer from Middle Eastern veterans to West Africa–this will recur.

We’ve already alluded to the presence of Senegalese jihadists in Boko Haram’s ranks, but there were other foreigners as well. Adnan mentions a batch of jihadists who arrived from Darfur in Sudan. This would match narratives, per Vincent Foucher, that Adnan was the first Arab to join Boko Haram’s ranks, before soon being joined by a group of Arabs–in this case Darfuri Sudanese–who came some months after his arrival. In separate conversations, veteran Nigerian jihadists have confirmed to me the existence of cohorts of Sudanese jihadists who joined Boko Haram–many of them were hardened veterans, including of Iraq like Adnan. A recurring issue for Boko Haram’s new Arab members is the language barrier. Severe difficulties arising from it, such as friendly fire, soon leads them all to resolve to learn the local languages right away.

One particularly prominent Sudanese jihadist was Abu Sulayman al-Sudani. This fighter arrives during Boko Haram’s final preparations to conquer the city of Baga, the last still-free strategic city on the Nigerian side of the Lake Chad basin. The city had not yet been conquered because it was the main base for a joint force of Nigerian, Chadian, Nigerien, and Cameroonian soldiers. It was amidst such preparations that Abu Sulayman arrived in Nigeria. Of Sudanese nationality and Fulani ethnicity, he grew up in Arabia before joining Boko Haram at age twenty-five. Adnan describes Abu Sulayman as the mastermind behind Boko Haram’s rebranding as ISWAP and the media revolution that followed. He closely supervised the training of media operatives all across the organization’s territories. Abu Sulayman was therefore essential to spreading the political, strategic, and ideological message of Islamic State to Boko Haram’s cadre. Note again the knowledge transfer from the Middle Eastern jihadist heartland to West Africa, this time in media.

Boko Haram’s preparations bore fruit, and the jihadists successfully conquered the city, but in the process, they abduct nearly 300 schoolgirls from Chibok. This made Boko Haram a deeply reviled household name across the world–I recall hearing about the abducted girls in school at the time. Adnan’s term for the abducted girls is as grotesque as it is telling–sabaya. The word refers to captive women and girls who are potentially subject to sexual enslavement.1 The question of the Chibok girls proved to be highly controversial even within Boko Haram leadership. It was at this moment that Adnan entered the debate from which Boko Haram took its name–whether Western-style education [Boko] was indeed religiously forbidden [Haram].

The controversy was precipitated by a Senegalese foreign fighter forcibly marrying one of the schoolgirls. This led Adnan to query Muhammad Nur, a prominent religious authority in Boko Haram, as to whether all of the girls were truly non-Muslims. Nur answered that by entering the schools, the girls had become “polytheists.” Adnan adamantly argues against this view, but finds that he lacks the adequate scholarly expertise, so he sends a call for help to jihadist scholars. The allusion is fascinating, as it points to an active international jihadist intellectual forum where fighters could send urgent queries. It seems that this forum was not strictly or even majority-aligned with Islamic State, but “pan-jihadist,” which again suggests the existence of the Salafist International. It’s also worth recalling that Adnan (and the other Sudanese fighters) arrived in Nigeria on his own initiative, not as part of a formal IS mission.

In any case, some days later, one jihadist scholar answered Adnan, writing that secular schools were impermissible, but enrolling in them did not constitute an act of disbelief. Most relevant to Adnan, the scholar wrote that taking the Chibok schoolgirls as sabaya was impermissible. This discouraged Boko Haram fighters from forcibly marrying (or worse) the schoolgirls. The religious ruling was then followed by a formal directive from IS-Central, which forbade raids and attacks on schools, while still urging locals to reject enrollment. Then, Adnan and other university-educated jihadists began to push for the opening of “sharia-compliant” schools in territories ruled by Boko Haram. Their efforts failed in the face of unanimous opposition.

The question of who constitutes “sabaya” recurred once more when Adnan met a man said to be a captured spy at a regional Boko Haram headquarters. The local commander claimed that the spy had been operating among local women, one of whom was among the “sabaya from Baga.” Adnan then asked whether the woman was a Christian or “apostate,” to which the confused commander answered that the wife of a spy or an opponent of Boko Haram is automatically deemed sabaya, regardless of whether or not she is Muslim. Once again, Adnan attempted to “moderate” Boko Haram’s ultra-extremism, urging that Muslim women be spared such treatment. His interlocutor promptly ended the discussion, saying that he won’t change his mind unless he hears it straight “from the scholars of the [Islamic] State!” Adnan therefore resolved to find a definitive fatwa and head back to the Sambisa, presumably to confront Shekau himself on this matter.

Adnan’s efforts finally bear fruit. He again reaches out to a jihadist scholar abroad, who provides a comprehensive and final fatwa on several controversial matters. Adnan then presents the fatwa one by one to Commander Aliyu, Abu Musab al-Barnawi (who briefly appears here), and other prominent figures in Boko Haram until all agreed. This ultimately led to the release of most of the Chibok schoolgirls and the end of the practice of taking Muslim girls and women as sabaya. Christian girls were “freed” on the condition of converting to Islam, but they were forbidden from returning to their families. The fatwa also halted the razing of towns and markets, and the relentless slaughter of Muslims outside Boko Haram’s realms.

Yet Abu Bakr Shekau himself remained intransigent. He rejected the fatwa, saying that he would not abide by it–even though IS-Central sent formal directives categorically banning the practice of taking Muslims as sabaya. To this, Shekau angrily replied that being in West Africa, he was not obligated to obey Islamic State’s Iraq-based leadership. Despite this, Adnan’s persistent efforts had led to major reforms within Boko Haram. However, news of the reforms were deliberately hidden from the public–and even went unrecorded in the first place–so as to avoid Shekau’s wrath and to maintain organizational security.

Entry #11

8 January, 2026

A Mountain of Snow

I rode my motorcycle alone toward the forest, all manner of worries running through my mind. How would I tell the Imam that I wanted to discuss the ruling [hukm] regarding those who leave the territory of the new state, which he ruled, for the land of the tyrant [taghut]? Had I been an apostate before my hijra? I prayed to God to inspire me with the right argument and to guide the Imam’s heart. I reached the forest and the first gate alone. The guards stopped me, and one explained that, since I was unaccompanied, entry required permission from the army commander. One of them left and returned with the necessary permission. Taking this as a sign that the path was being made easy for me, I resolved to proceed with my discussion with the Imam, come what may.

One of the Imam’s aides welcomed me with his customary warmth and said, “I will inform the Imam of your arrival, as he is not yet aware of it.” He returned after a long while to tell me that the Imam had instructed him to host me until he could find time for me. The day passed, and I was told to sleep in the tent, as the Imam had sent word that he would meet me the following morning.

That night, I had a brief yet wondrous dream: I saw myself building a mountain out of snow–a task that was effortless and simple–and the mountain was huge and vast. I was happy in the dream. Upon waking, I felt in my heart that a great undertaking would be made easy for me, and I sensed that the Imam would respond well to me.

After the dawn prayer, the Imam would sit to teach the Quran in a gathering attended by men, women, and his own family–a session he never missed unless due to illness (as he once told me). After the lesson, he greeted me warmly–as was his custom–saying, “O Abu Ayyub, we love you for the sake of God, so do not stay away from us for too long!” I rejoiced, feeling that today God would bring triumph.

So we sat talking, and I began to ask him questions, as if they merely came up in the process of learning. I asked, “O Imam, some people claim that anyone living in the land of taghut becomes an apostate for failing to emigrate, even if they might have a valid reason for staying. Do you hold this view?” He replied, “No, no, I do not hold that view. How could one be considered an unbeliever when God–Glory be to Him and Exalted is He–has said: {Indeed, those who believed, emigrated, and strived with their wealth and lives in the cause of God, as well as those who gave them shelter and help–they are truly guardians of one another. As for those who believed but did not emigrate, you have no obligations to them until they emigrate. But if they seek your help in faith, it is your obligation to help them, except against people bound with you in a treaty. And God is All-Seeing of what you do.} [Quran 8:72]?”

I was astonished and taken aback, so I quickly said, “Imam, there are those who attribute this very view to you! Could you not inform the people that this is not your position and issue a fatwa? The matter is serious. I heard of soldiers who divorced a woman from her husband because he had gone to Maiduguri for trade. They told her she was no longer lawful to him, divorced her from him, and married her off to another man.” He replied that he had said no such thing and stated that he would issue a fatwa to clarify the matter.

Courage struck me to continue the conversation about the matter of identity documents, so I asked him, “And what is the news of these documents that people use for travel…”–then he angrily interrupted me before I could finish. He said, “Did you know, Abu Ayyub, that the British included something insulting to Muslims in the design of these passports?” I replied, “No, I haven’t seen Nigerian passports.” He proceeded to describe the passport cover and its emblem: “They depicted two horses attempting to reach a bird in mid-air but failing to catch it. By the bird, they meant themselves, while the two horses symbolized the Islamic conquests, implying that we would never attain their status nor inflict harm upon them. That is what they depict, we neither accept nor endorse it. Nor do we believe in Nigerian nationality, and obtaining the passport constitutes an acknowledgment of nationality by its holder...”

He spoke angrily as I listened. I said to him, “O Imam, please bear with me. If you would allow me to send for the scholars of jihad to issue a fatwa and join the discussion with you...” He replied, “Only if they come here to me–otherwise, do not speak to me of this matter again.”

I fell silent for a moment, then said, “Let us leave that aside for now and talk about such-and-such...” I intended to soothe his anger so as not to lose his openness to receive my visits.

I returned bearing good news for the army commander: He could now publicize the Imam’s worse without dispute–and it was a day in which the sparing of blood and the preservation of honors began. Yet I still wondered: From where, then, had that fatwa originated earlier? Or whether the Imam had retracted it without informing them?…

Entry #12

11 January, 2026

End of the Language Problem

News arrived that the tyrants [tawaghit] were attempting to advance from the Baza front. Reconnaissance aircraft began making daily rounds over the city to monitor the movements and gatherings of the brothers. I accompanied one of the commanders to Baza one morning and used a reconnaissance drone to survey the positions of the Nigerian Army.

The army was unaware of the extent of the military changes among the brothers. The use of [digital] technology–specifically wireless communication devices and drones–had previously been prohibited, and internet usage was restricted. Therefore, the Nigerian Army did not expect the use of a reconnaissance drone to film enemy territory. Even for the brothers themselves, this was a wondrous development–the fruit of immense effort. Together with some muhajirin from Senegal, I had managed to shift certain mindsets, leading to the adoption of wireless devices to link their positions.

When we spotted the enemy at Baza, the commander ordered me to strategically position the tank to repel the attack. I climbed onto the tank and entered the commander’s compartment–my first time doing so–thinking I might find something to read inside that would explain how it workd. I sat next to the operator, who began explaining the mechanics to me, until he reached a certain point and said, “And this button, I don’t know what it does… And this screen is showing a signal that I don’t understand!” I replied, “Neither do I, but we’ll get help from a friend, God willing. Since these issues don’t seem to obstruct the tank’s operation or the effectiveness of its shells, let’s just park it under these trees–the way I used to see them do in Baghdad.”

I reached out to a friend–a former soldier with artillery experience–and he told us what was needed. Thus I came to see that focusing on inviting [bida’wat] the members of these secular armies might well produce someone through whom God would open up the great cities [amsar].

Upon returning to al-Fatah al-Mubin, I asked the army commander about the artillery unit, who was responsible for tank training, and how the brothers had learned to operate them. He told me, “We will take you on a short trip to the city of Madyan–formerly known as Bama–which is where we captured our first tank and its crewman. We made him train the brothers in exchange for his life, and he did so. However, before we found him, we had already seized twenty tanks in a major battle at the very gates of Bama. Unable to use them, the commander ordered them burned so the opposing army could not reclaim and use them. Days later, the city was captured, and we took that man prisoner, a man who knew everything there was to know about tanks. Now, the remains of those tanks serve as spare parts for maintenance, as we have since acquired a different batch of tanks.”

One evening, the army commander came to me and told me that they were now heading out with reinforcements to Baza. The Nigerian Army had begun an attack with aircraft, helicopters and infantry, so we all set out from the headquarters. Between us and Baza, there was 100 kilometers on a good road. It was the first battle since I had entered Nigeria.

I was unaware that muhajirin from Darfur had arrived here, but they spoke neither Hausa nor Fulani. The battle intensified as commanders issued orders to the troops. I was not in the thick of the fighting, nor did we reach Baza, as the brothers had withdrawn to the next town, Michika, before reinforcements could arrive. I met one of the muhajirin the following morning in Michika, and he told me, “We didn’t understand a thing. They were shouting instructions in Hausa, so we didn’t realize a withdrawal was underway. We followed one of the ansar behind the mountain, only to find the tawaghit [enemy forces] in front of us. The brothers then flanked them, leaving us caught in the brothers’ line of fire... It was a harrowing night. The fog and smoke hindered our movement, and the language barrier made it impossible for us to grasp the flow of battle, but God eased the burden for us.” I told him, “We must all learn the local language, otherwise our participation will be a heavy burden for them and a calamity for us!”

I went to meet the regional commander and ask him why the withdrawal was before our arrival when the battle had not lasted long. He spoke English more fluently than Arabic. He said to me, “Unfortunately, I did not tell you that we did not implement the proposal to place anti-tank weapons on the mountain. And the attack came from that area, unfortunately, and that is why we lost the tank. The matter was surprising, so we chose to withdraw and reposition again.” We discussed for a while, and his deputy said to me, “Frankly, Shaykh, the commander did not understand your previous words. He was too embarrassed to tell you that he did not understand your language, as he is not fluent in Arabic. So when the attack occurred, he said, ‘If only we had done such and such…’–I knew that on that day he had passed over your proposal without understanding what you meant.”

Entry #13

13 January, 2026

The Conquest of Baga
The Supported Chadian Raid [Ghazwa al-Tshadi al-Mad’um]

I knocked on the door, asking for permission to enter. He said, “Come in, Abu Ayyub.” Upon entering, I found a young man in his thirties who appeared troubled, as if there had been a long conversation. Commander Aliyu took me out of the room, and once we were seated together, I asked him, “That young man seems worried, is there anything I can do to help?” He replied, “No, this commander has come from the north seeking authorization to launch an attack on the city of Baga.”

I asked him, “What is this city?” He replied, “It is a strategic city situated on Lake Chad. It is the only area around the lake that lies outside our control. The tyrants in this city cut off our supply lines, and they are intent on keeping the route between Baga and Maiduguri beyond our reach.” I asked, “If that is the case, why don’t you authorize an operation against it?” He answered–his gaze drifting upward as his mind wandered–“That city serves as a base for an alliance of four armies surrounding us: Nigeria, Cameroon, Niger, and Chad. The battle will not be easy, as several previous attempts have failed.” Then his tone shifted, as if he were speaking with renewed hope: “Yet, I see such determination and resolve in this commander–it is as if he will actually pull it off, by God’s permission.”

We finished our conversation, and after attending to the business that had brought me there, I went to the media office. By the grace of God, the muhajir brother Abu Sulayman al-Sudani had arrived in the land of jihad A young man in the prime of his life–belonging to the Fulani tribe and no older than twenty-five–he was a media expert who had grown up on the island [jazirah] of Muhammad [i.e. Arabia] (peace and blessings be upon him). His arrival was a breakthrough [fatah] in itself. We met at the media office, where the Media Emir welcomed him with great humility. Recognizing his expertise, they granted him full authority, and the subsequent media revolution–spanning everything from the naming of the province [wilaya] (“West Africa”) to the minutest details of quality and content–was driven by his efforts.

We went to our headquarters and engaged in a heartfelt conversation about our dreams here–that this land of tawhid might become a refuge for the “strangers” [ghuraba]. He told me he would be conducting a media training course for all members of the media offices in the wilaya. He was optimistic, having witnessed their sincerity and love for knowledge.

One morning, I heard the sound of takbir near the entrance, accompanied by the famous nashid of the [Islamic State’s] Ajnad Foundation–“Alhamdulillah”–blaring from the vehicle of Abu Musab, who was accompanied by Commander Aliyu. I rushed over, along with others, to find out the news. He told me, “Allahu Akbar! By the grace of God, he has done it! We seized Baga by the might of the sword, and the Coalition soldiers fled!” A battle that lasted only a single day, led by this lion-hearted leader commanding a force of no more than 500 fighters from the people of monotheism [ahlul-tawhid] against four armies.

It was an event that the region’s tyrants would never forget. Large numbers perished in the battle–some drowning in the lake while fleeing, others killed at the hands of the mujahidin. The spoils from the water alone included thirty military boats. The young commander sent one-fifth [khums] of the spoils to the governor in a procession that no tyrant dared to intercept. Thus, the map of control was consolidated–stretching from Damasak in the north to Michika in the south, and from Banki in the east to the Timbuktu Forest (Buni Yadi) in the west–placing this entire territory (spanning 400 kilometers in length and 200 kilometers in width) under the undisputed rule of the brothers.

Meanwhile, the story of the sabaya [that is, female captives potentially subject to enslavement – Rob]2 from Baga ignited a wave of controversy across the region. Women in N’Djamena took to the streets in demonstrations, demanding that the Chadian president intervene militarily to rescue the girls from–as they put it–the clutches of Boko Haram.

Entry #14

16 January, 2026

Chibok, the Endpoint
Sabaya

That morning, I was looking for a place that sold bread, having heard of a baker who made bread similar to what we eat. The brothers do not eat bread with their meals, but instead treat it like sweets to be enjoyed with green tea. It was a culture vastly different from my own, yet not difficult to adapt to. While walking along one of the main roads, I witnessed a beautiful sight, rarely seen in the lands of the tyrant. There were dozens of women, reminiscent of the description given by Aisha Umm al-Muminin (may God be pleased with her): “The women of the Ansar went out as if crows were perched upon their heads due to their woolen cloaks.” Their garments had long strands that trailed along the dust of the earth. Astonished, I asked where they were going at that hour, only to discover they were heading to a lesson given by Shaykh Muhammad Nur, one of the most famous shaykhs of jihad in the region. It was a lesson attended by some 600 women in this wondrous spectacle.

One of the Senegalese muhajirin decided to marry a girl from Chibok who had been held captive and had embraced Islam. This event was the beginning of a legal [shari’i] discussion between myself, Shaykh Muhammad Nur, and one of his students.

I asked the Shaykh about the girls of the Chibok school: “Were they all Christians or were there any Muslims among them?” He told me, “They are all polytheists.” After a discussion about the incident of the attack and the abduction of the schoolgirls, I understood that some of them were Muslims, but by entering these schools, they supposedly became polytheists, so they were all sabaya.

Our discussion began about the factors of unbelief in these schools. It was heated at first because the Shaykh found it grave that I should discuss or cast doubt on the unbelief of those who enter the schools. I told him that the debate had two aspects, not just one. First, there was the issue of establishing the ruling on schoolgirls, and second, the issue of the legal [shari’i] policy of targeting and imprisoning such people who are nominally affiliated with Islam. Shaykh Muhammad cited the famous book by Shaykh Bakr Abu Zayd, The Colonial International Foreign Schools: Their History and Dangers, and recounted its contents to me. I found myself unable to offer a rebuttal, so I suggested, “Let us consult someone with greater knowledge and expertise, what do you say?” He agreed, saying, “I have no objection so long as they are from the mujahid ‘ulama.”

I could not sleep that night, as I kept wondering, “Which scholar would agree to write a study on this issue for me?” I pondered whether such a study would alter the brothers’ habit of raiding schools and universities, or if I would ultimately be compelled to address the potential harm involved from the perspectives of siyasa al-sharia [Sharia-based governance] and da’wa [proselytization].

Several days passed before one of the scholars–may God grant him insight and write him among the rank of righteous reformers–responded to me. I had explained to him the extreme sensitivity of the matter, as it involved the taking of young women as sabaya–women whose status was unclear, leaving us unsure whether they were truly sabaya [that is, “rightly” abducted – Rob] or wronged women [madhlumat]. The Shaykh dedicated himself to researching the issue and shared his findings with us. In brief, he did not sanction taking them as sabaya. While he maintained that enrolling in these schools was religiously impermissible, he noted that there were major legal doubts regarding the claim that mere enrollment constituted an act of disbelief [kufr]. Although I do not recall the Shaykh’s exact words now, his ruling dissuaded many of the brethren from taking these young women as sabaya. Subsequently, a State [that is, Islamic State] directive was issued prohibiting attacks on these schools–as they were not considered military targets–while still urging people to shun them.

Alongside some university-educated brothers, I attempted to persuade the army commander to adopt the idea of ​​opening schools in the areas under our control, so long as the curricula were modified. We possessed knowledge that had played a significant role in establishing the State [Dawla]. We needed only to purge the schools of false doctrines, to spite the tyrants, and to show people that we were not opposed to education itself, only to the elements within it that constitute disbelief. Everyone rejected the idea, so I set it aside, hoping that God would set a day for it.

One of the army commander’s bodyguards came to me, asking me to report to the staging area where the brothers would set out for raids. I went to meet the army emir. He led me into a room where a young man in his twenties was bound in chains. I asked, “What is this?!” He was a captured spy, who had been operating within a network that included women–or so the young man confessed, adding that among these women was one of the sabaya from Baga. I asked the commander to step aside with me, and in shock, I asked, “Brother, are there Christian women or female apostates in Baga?” He replied, surprised by my question, “The sabaya there are the wives of the tyrants [tawaghit] who fled, and the wives of certain spies–had she not been like him, she would not have lived with him.”

Several years earlier, I had read about this matter and learned that the wife of an apostate does not become an apostate merely by being his wife. Rather, it is her cooperation with or support for him in his apostasy that would make her an apostate. I told him as much, but he replied, “Only if I hear it from the scholars [ulama] of the State [Dawla, referring to Islamic State]!!”

This conversation occupied my mind daily, but I decided to go to the source of the first and last word on it–to the fatwas. I would set out for Sambisa, armed with yet more evidence for all these matters.

Entry #15

18 January, 2026

A Series of Blessings
Two, Three, and Four

This time, I attempted a different approach to changing this fatwa. The matter is a subject of disagreement among some, and issuing a final verdict requires a scholar whose word carries weight–and I am not a scholar, but I am a carrier of knowledge for those who need it. I asked a Muslim scholar–whom I regard as active in the field–to record a detailed ruling on the matter. He did so–may God reward him on behalf of Islam and Muslims–and I presented it to the Emir al-Jaysh [Aliyu] alone, then to [Abu Musab] al-Barnawi, then to... and so on, to each commander individually.

I knew that, for them, the matter was already settled, based on the views of Ibn Taymiyya (may God have mercy on him). Despite the existence of differing opinions (with most being against taking sabaya), I had read in the commentary on Sahih Muslim that the Companions [Sahaba], after initially taking captive the women of Banu Hanifa, ceased the practice of enslaving the women of apostates. My concern, however, was that this issue had severely tarnished the image of jihad in the eyes of an Ummah that had been without the rule of sharia for over a century.

The Emir al-Jaysh decided to adopt the prevailing scholarly view. He told me, “I will order everyone–in the spirit of obedience–to bring me all the sabaya from Baga and the other women of the apostates, and I will release them and see to their well-being.”

By the grace of God, Commander Aliyu fulfilled all his promises, and everyone complied with him–except for the Imam. He refused, stating, “I side with the other view, and I will not relinquish the authority I hold.” Directives arrived from the State [Dawla] stating that they did not sanction the enslavement of apostate women and that their sharia policy prohibited the practice, even for those who deemed it permissible. But he refused to comply. Without issuing a public statement, he simply summoned the Emir al-Jaysh [Aliyu] and informed him that, being in West Africa, he was not bound by the policies of those in Iraq.

This was [still] a welcome development for me and for the muhajirin and ansar who were students of knowledge [‘ilm]. The silence had been painful for them as they longed for this change–yet everything has its appointed time. Some of the women chose to remain with the brothers, who then married them off and provided for them. As for the Christian sabaya, the practice was to free any woman who converted to Islam, marry her off, and pay her dowry if she wished to wed one of the brothers–but she could not return to her family.

These shifts were not publicized in the media because they involved sensitive, behind-the-scenes matters. Nor did the brethren bother documenting them, as doing so might have provoked the Imam and led to an undesirable outcome. Thus were changed the most important policies that had been harming our da’wa and our jihad in West Africa: the burning of markets and towns (with the exception of villages belonging to hostile Christians [nasara al-muharibin]); the plundering of the wealth and lives of those who left the Dar al-Islam (where sharia reigns); and, finally, the decision to cease taking the women of apostates as sabaya and to release those women whom the brethren had previously held as captives.

I used to marvel at how many of the brothers had one or even two wives–despite the youth of some and despite the raging war against us–and wonder how they managed to balance combat with having two wives. I received an answer from a young man not yet twenty, who told me, “My wife is the one who chose her co-wife for me. Here in Nigeria, polygamy is something women accept with complete ease and simplicity. In fact, sometimes the wife herself asks you to do it.” Such is their culture!!

One evening, while I was with the Media Emir, he suddenly asked me, “Don’t you want to get married?” I replied, “Yes,” in all sincerity. He said, “If you wish, I could marry you to my daughter tonight.” By God, I was truly taken aback. A look of surprise must have appeared on my face, and I felt embarrassed. Did he have a daughter of marriageable age, at this stage in life, and would he marry her to someone older than her own father? How wonderful these people are, and how simple their lives! He added, “I have three wives, so don’t be surprised.” He laughed, and I laughed too, turning it into a moment of light joy until the subject was left behind. Such is their life–like something from the era of the Companions. Simplicity, spontaneity, and adherence to whatever reached them regarding the Messenger of God (peace and blessings be upon him) or their understanding of his Companions. Despite any errors they might make, there is a basis for everything they do, and if their understanding is flawed, it stems merely from a lack of knowledge and a scarcity of scholars.

Abu Bakr Shekau, the notorious leader of Boko Haram

In the next five entries of the narrative, Adnan Absi finally meets Abu Bakr Shekau and learns of his (mis)leadership of Boko Haram from the time after Muhammad Yusuf’s rebellion to when Adnan arrived in Borno. Upon meeting Shekau, Adnan reports that he was nothing like the madman he seemed in clips broadcasted by international media. Rather, “Imam Shekau” was remarkably charismatic, eloquent, and with much gravitas. This is no exaggeration, as I recently learned from a well-informed Nigerian source. It is worth unpacking this at length, as it provides essential cultural context to Boko Haram.

Shekau’s ridiculous antics on camera–such as those in the clip further below–were a carefully crafted persona that tapped into a specific theatrical style in Hausaphone culture. The style is loosely analogous to absurdist comedy. As my source put it:

It’s hard to explain, but if you are from the villages or in the streets or motor parks of Hausaphone societies, or you listen to traditional Hausa poetry and music, you would get it. Think of it this way: “What I’m saying is serious, but see, don’t be taking me too seriously, because everything is a joke, and yet we all die!”

Irony is the main comedic device here, and it was the essence of the character played by Shekau. This character is instantly recognizable to Hausaphone Nigerians–and even members of societies across the Lake Chad Basin, such as in Niger, Chad, northern Cameroon, and parts of Sudan–and it was a central part of Shekau’s cult of personality, and thus Boko Haram’s appeal. His strangely comedic diatribes were pure theater performance for several audiences at once: locals in Borno, other Nigerians, and the world. Off camera, he was reportedly much more serious and eloquent–though this trait is apparent even in his comedy, as Shekau’s true theatrical talent was in his Hausa wordplay, specifically when insulting his enemies.

Consider the following case. A highly prominent Nigerian military official in the war against Boko Haram (later ISWAP) was the now-retired Brigadier General Sani Usman Kukasheka, a major foe to Shekau. He signed off every statement–whether video, audio, or written–with “BG Kukasheka” or “General Kukasheka.” One day, Sani Usman falsely announced Shekau’s death, ending it with his usual signoff. This incensed Shekau, who subsequently released a video statement lambasting the Nigerian government in his characteristic style. He singled out then-President Muhammadu Buhari, then-Chief of Staff Tukur Yusufu Buratai, and especially General Kukasheka, on whom he poured insult after insult. Shekau ended the tirade with the rhyming couplet, “Sani Kukasheka, Allah Ya Shekaka!” This last phrase is Hausa street slang–apparently unrecorded in any official dialect–and I’m told it roughly approximates to, “May Allah bless your life with confusions.” The couplet went absolutely viral on the Hausaphone street, with countless Hausa youth now saying it to each other. General Kukasheka was extremely embarrassed to see his name turned into a punchline, so from that moment onward, he was forced to simply go by “Sani Usman.” In that sense, “General Kukasheka” was no more, and it was all down to Shekau’s clever theatrics.

It is here that the multilayered strategic function of Shekau’s theatrical persona is most clear. First and most simple, it increased his and Boko Haram’s appeal to local audiences and helped detoxify their image, something especially important as the insurgency grew ever more brutal. Second, Shekau humiliated the Nigerian government by not only refuting its claims of his death, but by making a well-respected defense official look like a complete fool. Shekau’s seemingly buffoonish personality only added insult to injury. If this “buffoon” could outsmart the Nigerian government in both combat and rhetoric, then who was the true buffoon? Third, Shekau’s ridiculous antics led international audiences to not take him seriously, thus decreasing international pressure on the Nigerian state. Shekau’s antics were therefore a central component of Boko Haram’s war against the government.

More broadly, it was always much more plausible that Shekau’s strange behavior was simple performance than a sincere expression of madness. Indeed, it betrayed a remarkable degree of social intelligence. After all, how could a true madman keep the Nigerian state on its toes for over twelve years, while waging a devastatingly effective insurgency? Shekau did not even die at the hands of the Nigerian Army, but in a battle with his rivals from ISWAP. Evidently, he was much cleverer than he seemed. A similar case was Idi Amin. Mahmood Mamdani has observed that Amin used ridiculous theatrics to craft a cartoonish persona that played into his international opponents’ racist underestimation of him. With both Amin and Shekau, macabre comedy was meant to confuse and deceive, and it worked masterfully. Shekau was an unhinged maniac, but not the one he played on camera. His mania was expressed in the thousands of innocent lives senselessly taken on his orders.

Which brings us back to Adnan. In one of his meetings with Shekau, he asked why Boko Haram razed towns and markets, leaving nothing in their wake. Shekau reportedly answered that if Boko Haram developed these settlements, then it would incentivize the Nigerian state to retake them, whereas burning them down means that there’s nothing to retake. A shockingly cynical calculus that unnerves even the veteran jihadist Adnan, but he apparently convinces Shekau to abandon the tactic. Earlier, Adnan reports that among Shekau’s earliest recruits was a former bandit. One wonders whether a lingering bandit mentality affected Boko Haram’s methodology…

A key step in Adnan’s efforts to change Boko Haram is his trip to the abandoned town of Gamboru. Adnan finds the town eerily empty, with everything left untouched as if the population had simply vanished. It is at this time that he meets a certain Abu Rumaysa. This individual is Abba Yusuf, one of Boko Haram founder Muhammad Yusuf’s sons. The other son (and Abba’s brother) is the current ISWAP leader Habib Muhammad Yusuf, aka Abu Musab al-Barnawi. Here, Abu Rumaysa appears as young man no older than twenty, and he tells Adnan that his attempts at change are doomed, putting his own life at risk.

Adnan’s unease intensifies when he meets a Boko Haram military leader, Commander Aliyu, who tells him a sordid tale from the group’s history. Much of Boko Haram’s territorial conquests were reportedly under the leadership of two figures, Mustafa Shad and Ali Kaka. These two men had been with Boko Haram from the earliest days of its insurgency and they were said to be responsible for bringing the message of the Islamic State to Shekau. Yet, Shekau had them both executed on the dubious charges of sedition (or fitna), based on their decision to distribute war spoils without his permission. Here, we see another aspect of Shekau’s mania: His murderous hunger for power. Most narratives and sources report that as his authority grew, he went further and further off the deep end. This was rooted in his extremely difficult upbringing and youth. But that’s a story for another time. I’ve gone on long enough, so let’s turn now to Adnan.

NOTE – 19 June, 2026: I had originally written that Abu Rumaysa was Habib Muhammad Yusuf, aka Abu Musab al-Barnawi. This was incorrect, as Vincent Foucher has pointed out in an excellent thread contextualizing Adnan’s narrative. I have now corrected the error. I strongly urge readers to read Vincent’s thread.1

Entry #6

27 December, 2025

The Tale of a Muhajir
Meeting the Imam

He arrived early, knocking on the door and calling out, “Abu Ayyub, are you ready?” We had arranged to meet the Imam that day. He arrived in a military vehicle accompanied by his personal guard, picked me up from the headquarters, and we set off. As we drove, I gazed out the window at a landscape that compels one to reflect: Towering mountains with rugged terrain, alongside valleys and flowing waters that cut across the flatlands, all imbued with the warmth of a nature that glorifies its Lord. A sea of ​​green blanketed the horizon, a living canvas proclaiming, “How magnificent is this land when it submits to the rule of God!”

My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the emir, reiterating his welcome and expressing his delight at meeting the first Arab muhajir to meet the Imam deep within the forest, a place where only the highly fortunate could approach the leader’s headquarters. I was nearly flying with at the prospect of this meeting, for I had so often watched this commander on enemy screens, roaring defiantly and firing his weapon into the air in such a strange manner–a warning to the tyrants of the Earth! We reached the first military outpost inside the forest. After a brief exchange between the emir and the guards, we moved on, leaving them behind with smiles directed at me, even though none of them spoke Arabic. After an hour of travel, during which I lost all sense of our direction, we arrived at the fourth gate.

Perhaps the most famous and characteristic clip of Abu Bakr Shekau, the “Arnani video”

Their leader was a young man with a cheerful demeanor, yet he possessed a sense of dignity and a quiet reserve that drew one toward him. Upon learning that I did not speak Hausa, he addressed me in fusha [Modern Standard Arabic], and said, “I will go and seek permission from the Imam.” He then sped off on his motorcycle. We sat inside a tent, waiting, only to be surprised by the return of two motorcycles–with Shaykh Abu Bakr [Shekau] himself riding one of them! It was an incredible meeting, for the man is not as you see him on screens, nay, he is far more commanding in person and eloquent in speech.

Hospitality was within that tent. I marveled at his generosity and his repeated exclamations, “May God reward you with good, for you have left Iraq to come support us,” uttered with such astonishment that I felt as though I had accomplished something monumental. Yet, in my own eyes, I saw myself as falling short, seeking salvation before my Lord regarding the question, “What have you offered for the sake of God’s religion?”

I found the man living far removed from communications technology and forbidding those around him from using it, which made securing his location easy, though it would have been incredibly difficult for people like us. He told me that he eagerly sought religious knowledge [‘ilm al-shar’i] and wished to sit and learn in the presence of the sincere scholars of Jihad. I told myself to be patient and not rush to ask him about the hair-raising2 reports circulating about them. Wisdom dictated waiting for a suitable moment for such a conversation.

We discussed the state of Muslims worldwide. He told me he was in contact with Shaykh Abu Basir al-Wuhayshi (leader of Al Qaida in Yemen) and Abu Musab Abdul-Wadud (leader of Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb). He expressed his admiration for Shaykhs Baghdadi and Adnani, and his desire to enrage the disbelievers across the Earth to uphold the honor of the faith. He spoke to me about the grave, death, and his memorization of the Quran–intended to be his companion in the afterlife–continuing to preach to me until he wept, moving me to tears as well. I left him in a state of utter astonishment: This man–whom people view as a monster that lays waste to everything in its path, and whose bounty has reached millions of dollars, making him the second most wanted man globally after Baghdadi–was weeping out of fear of God’s punishment and the dread of an evil end! From where, then, did those controversial fatwas come–fatwas that stirred such debate among jihadist scholars, let alone those who stayed behind [i.e., non-combatants] and the Muslim masses?!

But there is certainly more to this conversation... Praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds!

Entry #7

29 December, 2025

The Burning of Markets

When Shaykh Abu Yusuf–the founder of Jama’atu Ahlis Sunnah lid-Da’wati wal-Jihad [i.e., Boko Haram] (may God have mercy on him)–was killed, and his students and followers were scattered across the land while the hand of the tyrant struck with killing and imprisonment, the decree of God came to pass: The tyrant’s own actions became the very cause that would one day set the entire land of West Africa ablaze beneath his filthy feet!

Shaykh Abu Bakr Shekau gathered a small group of students of the martyred Shaykh Abu Yusuf (we consider him so). Among them was a young man whom God had guided to repentance after a past of banditry, and so had become a monotheist [muwahid] seeking knowledge [‘ilm]. He suggested to Shekau, “Shall I show you a place that the tyrant cannot reach, and where we cannot be harmed, by the grace of God?” That place was the Sambisa Forest, a fortress of tawhid and the foundation of the movement. And so Shekau and his companions went there and began a secret campaign to recruit monotheists [muwahidin].

Shaykh Abu Bakr Shekau became the architect of this new phase, reuniting the scattered monotheists. In the meanwhile, attrition operations continued in various cities. Whenever Shekau heard of a mujahid brother, he would send someone to bring him into the fold. Eventually, thousands of monotheists had gathered around him, marking a period of seclusion, training, and religious study that lasted over a year without any offensive operations.

During this period, the Imam–as everyone called him–devoted himself to studying the works of the two Shaykhs Ibn Taymiyya and Ibn al-Qayyim (may God have mercy on them) and the Najdi imams. From this study, he derived guidelines that he taught to his students, soldiers, and commanders, which became the group’s new methodology.

This is what I heard directly from the Imam and the commanders–the very people who lived through this experience–when I asked them about the origins of this theater following the killing of the martyred Shaykh Abu Yusuf (may God have mercy on him).

The first issue I encountered was the razing of cities and markets, something every newcomer like myself witnessed. I asked the Emir al-Jaysh [top commander of the Army]–a memorizer of the Book of God, with a voice that captivated minds, and unmatched in cunning and bravery–why they burned the markets. He explained that these were the Imam’s directives, which he carried out in obedience to God through obedience to the leader, even if he personally thought otherwise. He told me that if I had an opinion, I could present an argument for it, provided I shared my thoughts with him first.

So I told him that burning markets caused great harm through the loss of wealth; that destroying Muslims’ property was impermissible without just cause; and that such assets could instead serve the public good, helping to sustain people’s worldly lives and demonstrating that religion does not forbid worldly prosperity. Our dialogue was fruitful, and he encouraged me to meet the Imam again and raise the matter with him.

On a quiet day, after dhuhr prayer, I sat listening to a lesson by Shaykh Muhammad Nur, a student of the founder Shaykh Abu Yusuf. He spoke Arabic as fluently as Kanuri and Hausa, with the eloquence of an accomplished scholar. His words captivated me as he spoke about the heart–sometimes in Kanuri, sometimes in Arabic–and I realized he knew about this stranger [gharib].3 He shook my hand and took me to his home, which was filled with books and students of knowledge. It amazed me. After the welcome, I asked him, “O Shaykh, how is it that someone like you exists, yet we hear nothing from you in the media?” He then began to recount his remarkable story.

I set out after fajr prayer, making my way through the forest toward the Imam’s quarters. This time, I was accompanied only by the guards, as the meeting promised to be lengthy and the Emir al-Jaysh was busy. I found that everyone was aware of my arrival, welcoming me at every gate until I finally stood before the Imam in the very same tent, hearing him greet me with the words, “Welcome, Abu Ayyub.”

Entry #8

1 January, 2026

The Journey of Reform Begins

Before I went to meet the Imam, the Emir al-Jaysh had instructed me to not let the conversation exceed ten minutes, though I did not understand why.

“Welcome, Abu Ayyub,” he said, embracing me with a smile and inviting me to sit on a simple cushion, for everything here was modest, even though he possessed everything. Taking the initiative, I asked, “Would you allow me, O Imam, to share some stories with you by which God has benefited me?” He replied, “Speak, for I love you for the sake of God and would love for you to visit me every day. I will instruct the Emir al-Jaysh to allow you to come see me without restrictions, as I love hearing news of our brothers in Iraq and of the mujahidin everywhere.”

I deliberately recounted to him how the jihad unfolded in Somalia and how they acted when they governed the cities; then I told him about Iraq and the Levant. I kept sharing these stories while his face beamed with joy at the conquests and the subjugation of the disbelievers, until I reached the point I wanted to make. I said to him, “But, O Imam, I noticed that you do not do as they did–reforming towns and cities and inviting people to live under the rule of sharia. Instead, you burn down the markets, leaving nothing but the brothers of jihad. And when I asked about this, I was told, ‘These are your directives, may God preserve you.’”

He fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you want the worldly life for them?” I replied, “No, that is not my aim.”

Then he said, “If God grants us a territory and we develop it, the tyrant covets it and seeks to reclaim it. But if we raze it, he loses his incentive and leaves us be, so we need not guard it and can move on to another place.”

I was briefly taken aback by this response, but God inspired me with a reply to dispel this line of thinking. I addressed him saying, “O Imam, did the Messenger of God (peace and blessings be upon him) do this when he conquered a city or a town? On the contrary, he did the opposite: People lived under the rule of Islam, and the oppressed migrated to the Abode of Hijra to live a good life. You call upon the people of Nigeria to reject the taghut and elections–but where are they to go? Let us defend every town liberated by the mujahidin, where a Muslim can live, trade, farm, and sleep in safety. This is the sunnah of the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) and the way of all people of jihad [ahlul-jihad]. Indeed, you have an example in those you admire within the lands of the Islamic State.” By God, no sooner had I spoken that God opened his heart, and he said, “That is a valid point, and I will inform the Emir al-Jaysh of this.”

I nearly embraced him out of sheer joy, but I remembered that every people have their own customs and that he commanded great reverence, so I contented myself with praying for him and thanking him for his patience with me.

Upon leaving, I met the Emir al-Jaysh outside the tent. He had been waiting anxiously, so he said to me, “You sat for a long time.” When I told him what had transpired, his face beamed with relief. He explained, “I was simply afraid that he might become angry with you during the discussion–for no one can sway him once he says ‘no’–and since he does not fully grasp Arabic, I had urged you not to exceed ten minutes. Otherwise, an excess of words might have provoked a decision we would not like” After I had left the Imam and spoken with the commander, the Imam sent for me again, saying, “Tomorrow I shall come to him.”

I asked the Emir al-Jaysh for permission to visit some of the frontier outposts [ba’adh thughur] and sit with the members of the hisba, hoping that God might open for us doors that were closed. I foresaw great matters that required deliberation before the brothers would go on to conquer new lands.

Entry #9

5 January, 2026

The Blast of Gamboru [al-Sayha al-Qambaru]4

My visit to the southern frontier of the brothers’ territories began in the town of Baza. Along the way, I passed through towns of exquisite beauty, built in the English style, nestled amidst dense trees, valleys, and a mountain range stretching along the eastern border. Terrifying in their height, they comprised an impenetrable fortress against any attempt to cross toward the lands ruled by the mujahidin. Whenever I asked the name of a town, I would be told its original name, followed by, “But we have changed it to such-and-such,” as they had assigned every city and town a new name that was either Arabic or Islamic in origin.

Upon reaching Baza, I met the commander there. I found that he did not speak Arabic but was fluent in English. We discussed the layout of the tyrants’ final defensive lines and the positioning of our own defenses, exchanging insights. From this frontier position, I realized that it was impossible for the army to advance toward us along this route. The battle for liberation had been a disaster for the government forces, leaving them to abandon over ten tanks and retreat dozens of kilometers to the south. I then toured the town. It was beautiful, and everything remained exactly as the residents had left it, even the market. The brothers had taken nothing from it except food. Even the fruit on the trees lay fallen on the ground or hung from the branches, untouched, as if no one even glanced at them. I wondered, “Where are the residents?…” Everyone here was a soldier, so I thought to myself, “Being a frontline position, the town may have been evacuated of its civilian population.”

On my way back, I passed through another town–the birthplace, I was told, of a government Emir al-Jaysh who had offered a reward to any officer who could retake it from the brothers. Its people were Christians, so pigs still roamed its valleys and the nearby mountain slopes. I asked my companion, “Why do you not harvest the crops? We constantly pass by abandoned fields.” He replied, “We don’t need them.” Glory be to God–if they do not need it, then why do they not sell it to the neighboring regions? I returned to the capital with a head full of questions, feeling that the situation could be vastly improved, if only they would heed advice…

After the asr prayer, I went looking for him. They said to me, “He is the boldest of the brothers, and a leader in the push for reform. He is Abu Rumaysa, the son of the martyred Shaykh Abu Yusuf (we consider him so), a young man no older than twenty years of age.”

When I first saw him, I didn’t realize who he was–not until we spoke. By God, my admiration only deepened for Abu Yusuf, who had fathered such an eloquent lion–a young man whose words never failed him. I posed all my questions to him, describing what I had witnessed: “When I entered Gamboru, I found everything exactly as people had left it, with even their dining utensils remaining untouched. I even came across a tailor’s shop where the fabric was still on the machine and the thread was still in the needle, as though the Blast [al-sayha] had suddenly come upon them. What is going on here?!”

He replied, “I will tell you about our situation and the Imam’s situation, so that you may be on your guard. You have no idea that you are risking your very neck!”

His words astonished me, I asked him to explain further. He said, “Reform is forbidden here. No one dares to contradict a word the Imam says, for to do so is to commit rebellion against him, and that could cost you your head.” He said this with a laughing smile on his youthful face, and I found myself laughing along with him. I told him, “Don’t worry, just yesterday, the Imam backed down on the issue of razing cities.” He remained cheerful, though his laughter grew as he advised me, “Don’t be hasty, and don’t be excessive in criticism. That is my advice to you.”

I returned home with a heavy mind, wondering, “Is this young man truly offering me sound advice, or is he simply afraid of change?”

Entry #10

5 January, 2026

The True Leader
The Struggle of Fear

From the very first day I entered the capital al-Fatah al-Mubin, a question had been on my mind: Who is the commander behind these triumphs? Is it the Emir al-Jaysh standing before me, Commander Aliyu, or the Imam, or perhaps someone I have yet to see? I set the question aside until the moment Abu Rumaysa warned me against criticizing or arguing too much with the Imam, and cautioned me about the potential consequences. That is when I decided I needed answers to all my questions before taking any new step.

I requested an audience with Emir al-Jaysh, Aliyu. His guards told me to wait a moment, as he was busy but would be done soon. As I sat there, I reflected on the necessity of learning Hausa so I could truly live among these brothers. I could not speak with everyone to understand the unfolding events. I constantly needed someone nearby who spoke Arabic or English. This situation meant missing out on a great deal of good, and most importantly, the chance to participate in battles. After all, how could I possibly comprehend the commanders’ orders and directives during the course of battle?

The commander came out to me smiling, “Abu Ayyub, welcome, welcome!” We sat and chatted, but I could not resist and asked him, “How did you manage to conquer these areas in just one year?” I asked this as if I already knew he was the commander behind the conquest, yet his reply was a strange tale, one that was meant to remain untold, unknown even to the soldiers. It was the story of the heroic emir, Commander Mustafa Shad, and his deputy, Ali Kaka (may God have mercy on them both)–men who waged these campaigns with the cunning and valor of a muwahid who recognizes no such thing as the impossible.

Commander Aliyu went on, recounting the details of everything, from the early battles to conquer the forest, back when Sambisa was their only refuge, to the expansion of their conquests as far as the border city of Mubi in the eastern mountains. The Emir al-Jaysh (may God have mercy on him) had pursued the tyrants so relentlessly that he nearly reached Maiduguri, the capital of Borno. That is how I heard the story of this lion of a man, and I had long wished to meet him. I asked what had happened and how he met his martyrdom, and the answer came as a shock: “The Imam killed him.” Yes, you heard that right: the Imam killed him, alongside his deputy!

The reason for his execution was that he distributed a portion of the soils [ghanima] without the Imam’s permission. He was thus deemed to have usurped the Imam’s authority and thereby sown discord [fitna] within the ranks–an offense punishable by death under the Law of God [Shar’Allah]. The evidence cited was the hadith of the Messenger of God: “Whoever comes to you while you are united under one leader, seeking to break your ranks or split your unity, then kill him.” The Imam informed his inner circle, including Commander Aliyu, and they spread the word among the troops that he and his deputy had been martyred on a mission, so as not to demoralize the army. The two were the true commanders behind all the conquests and were beloved by the soldiers. Furthermore, Mustafa Shad was the one who had urged the Imam to pledge allegiance and join the Islamic State led by Shaykh Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, and he had fostered this sentiment among his troops.

I heard all of this from the Emir al-Jaysh, Aliyu, while shock and sorrow mingled within me, along with the nagging question: What would become of me if I continued to bring about reform?!

Muhammad Yusuf, founder of Boko Haram, after his arrest and moments before his execution

We meet Adnan Absi once again, this time as a member of the jihadist insurgency in Nigeria. He begins first by setting the stage for his eventual journey, or hijra, to Nigeria. Right away, we learn fascinating new details about Adnan’s jihadist career. In the years after Iraq, Adnan had apparently lived in New York City, but he does not explain how this remarkable move to the “City of Dreams” happened. Did he get help from the Salafist International? It’s possible that “Adnan Absi” is simply a persona for multiple individuals, but the writing style is very similar to his Iraq memoirs. In any case, Adnan then provides context for the jihadist insurgency in Nigeria, explaining the origins of Boko Haram with the preaching of Muhammad Yusuf and his rebellion in 2009.

With that context, Adnan explains what led him to migrate to northeastern Nigeria. One of his friends sent him an audio message from a Boko Haram leader, asking Middle Eastern jihadists to send aid, particularly seasoned foreign fighters, to Nigeria. Adnan then decided to go, although he reports that his friends cautioned him against joining Boko Haram due to its infamous brutality, which, here is euphemistically called their “unique positions.” As for the actual journey, Adnan reports that he traveled to Borno by boat, suggesting that he traveled from the east–either Sudan or the Middle East–and sailed over Lake Chad. Upon arrival, Adnan is warmly greeted by local jihadists, who are highly enthusiastic about receiving an Arab jihadist.

The entire episode points to significant logistical links between Boko Haram and Middle Eastern jihadists. It is only in recent years that the presence of Arabs in ISWAP (the main successor to Boko Haram) has gained media attention, but this narrative would mean that Arab fighters were present over a decade ago. Adnan’s physical travels to Borno could not have been possible without sophisticated networks operating across Africa, which would be another data point of the Salafist International’s existence and geographic footprint.

Adnan reports Boko Haram’s significant authority in the territories it controls, contrasting it to the jihadist struggle in the Middle East. He travels openly by car for several hundred kilometers, visiting several large settlements. In one, he is greeted by a major Boko Haram leader, who speaks to him in Arabic. The problem of the language barrier comes up several times in these entries. Interestingly, Adnan reports that the Boko Haram leadership primarily spoke Arabic or English amongst themselves.

NOTE: As with the “Crusader Invasion of Iraq,” the serialized structure of Adnan’s narrative is preserved. Each entry is dated to its original publication.

Entry #1

1 December, 2025

Nigeria, the Land of Monkeys [Ardh al-Qurud]1

I never imagined that I would one day set foot in the jungles of Africa, after having once lived in the City of Dreams, New York. But such is this strange and wondrous life, and such are the fates that drive you where God wills…

I prayed to God to protect me in those moments of despair and in those most desolate of places, where there is none to watch over me but the Eye of God, the prayers of my parents, and whatever fate holds in store.

The towers fall at pivotal moments in the ummah’s history, and I witness flames rising into the skies of the City of Dreams. Who are these strangers [ghuraba]?!

Then the years pass, and I myself have become a stranger [gharib], dwelling in a place that strikes terror into the hearts of some, but remains the most magnificent in my own: Deep within the Sambisa, the Land of Monotheists [muwahidin].

Between these two extremes lies a story difficult to tell. And yet, we shall tell of you, Nigeria–which means the “Land of Monkeys”–and we shall tell of men who knew no such thing as the impossible, for they realized that dominion over all things rests solely in the hands of God, and so, in His name, they set forth across the Earth.

Entry #2

2 December, 2025

The Land of Sacrifices
From Preaching to Combat

The voice of Shaykh Muhammad Yusuf (Abu Yusuf) rang out as he addressed his students: “Do not be deluded by your great numbers, for when the trial comes–and the trial is inevitable–it will become clear who among you has remained true to God.” Thus spoke the Shaykh during his final lecture, delivered before an audience of more than two thousand students and disciples. He anticipated that the Nigerian government would begin to deal with his institute in a different manner–perhaps through violence and force of arms–viewing this as consistent with the way [sunnah] of God when it came to those who bear the call [da’wah]. And the Shaykh, may God have mercy on him, spoke the truth.

I was with the Shaykh’s nephew, traveling from al-Fatah al-Mubin toward the forest, as he recounted to me the story of the day he brought back a spent shell casing–fired by soldiers at the Shaykh’s students–to show the Shaykh, so that he might realize that the battle had begun. Upon seeing it, the Shaykh, may God have mercy on him, said, “O God, grant me the blessing of martyrdom; for this is what I have always hoped for.” Shortly thereafter, the Shaykh was taken prisoner and then killed while in captivity, may God have mercy on him. More than two hundred of his students were killed alongside him–may God have mercy on them all–in the streets of Maiduguri, right in front of the cameras, while the entire world watched and listened. The army then burned down the educational institute and scattered the muwahidin across the land. This took place in the year 2009. Thus, the Shaykh’s mission [da’wah] in the path of God [fisabilillah] spanned seven years–years filled with the tireless call to the Way of God.

Several names emerged from among the students of the Shaykh (may God have mercy on him), yet Abu Bakr Shekau was the most fortunate of them, for it was through his hands that God ordained the inception of the first jihadist organization in the land known as Nigeria.

Within this movement, he gathered the surviving followers of the Call of Shaykh Abu Yusuf, subsequently embarking upon a path of both preaching and jihad.

How did his call to armed struggle come about?

Who stood alongside him during its nascent stages?

Why did he choose to retreat to the wilderness after Maiduguri became too constricting for them?

And did he, in fact, follow in the footsteps of the movement’s founder?

Regarding these and other questions, we will continue to provide answers…

Entry #3

8 December, 2025

The Other Face of Africa

A friend sent me a brief, poignant message, one that struck deeply with those who understand the true nature of Islam and served as a challenge to anyone who read it. It was a letter of reproach from the depths of the Borno forests, sent by one of the shaykhs of Jama’atu Ahlis-Sunnah lid-Da’wati wal-Jihad [the official name for Boko Haram – Rob]. He asked, “Why do you not make hijra [i.e., migrate] to us, the non-Arabs, instead of directing all your support toward the lands of Iraq and the Levant, the lands of the Arabs? We are your brothers, and we are in need of scholars, fighters, and experts in every field...” This was part of a [larger] conversation that prompted me to change my destination to the land of Borno–to the men of sincerity (or so we reckon them).

I knew little about this blazing front. I had only heard that its leader was among the most internationally wanted figures by the enemies of Islam.

Well-wishers came to warn me against going, as this front had become notorious for certain unique positions that diverged from the mainstream Jihadi current. I began gathering information from both truthful and lying media alike, studying their stated ideology from their own texts to discern the truth, and consulting trusted religious scholars [ahlul-‘ilm] on the matter. I then resolved to play a role in supporting them through da’wah and to make hijra in response to the call, with God as the Helper and the Guide to the Truth.

I embarked on my journey, already possessing enough experience in the arena of jihad to forge my path with a clear sense of purpose, by the grace of God.

We took the sea route after harrowing adventures. The hearts of hypocrites [munaifiqin] and tyrants [tawaghit] tremble at the mere mention of Boko Haram, so every step had to be taken with caution. My skin color was the greatest obstacle along the way, yet God smoothed out every difficulty for me. Throughout the journey, I wondered, how would I enter the Land of Lions? Was it only forests, mountains, or plains? Would I be masked or would my face be uncovered? And how this, and how that?…

The shore came into view in the distance, and on the horizon, I glimpsed a towering mast reaching toward the sky, bearing the Banner of Monotheism. I could hardly believe my eyes as the leader of the expedition told me, “We have reached our destination.”

I was burning to set foot upon this pure land that had submitted to God, Lord of the Worlds, through the jihad of men who had sold their lives to Him. We were welcomed by young men who spoke only Hausa and Fulani, but I did not need to understand their language to feel the warmth of their greeting. What joy was in their eyes upon my arrival, as they said to my companions, “Is this an Arab?!”

One sensed that everything here glorifies God, free from the authority of tyrants [tawaghit] and in servitude to the Master of the entire universe. The brothers drove me to the town of Gamboru, a place of natural beauty, simple architecture, and a sparse population. There, I beheld men who feared not death but loved it more than life itself, for in their eyes, the yearning for martyrdom seemed almost to speak aloud.

Entry #4

11 December, 2025

The Capital, al-Fatah al-Mubin

In the first few hours after arriving in the town of Gamboru, I did not realize that the Cameroonian town of Dikwa was separated from us by only a small river and a bridge no longer than 100 meters.

Night fell, bringing with it the perils known to those standing guard [ribat] at the frontiers [thughur]. Random shelling began, launched from across the Cameroonian border toward Gamboru. The sounds of launch and impact were so close, it felt as though they were happening right where we stood. Small-caliber mortars were used, while the DShK machine gun reigned unchallenged as the mistress of the night. I noticed that the brothers remained unconcerned, displaying a remarkable calmness. I had initially assumed an attack on the city was underway, but one of them, who spoke Arabic, quickly explained the situation, “Don’t worry, Shaykh, this happens every night, yet, by God’s grace, without any casualties. The tyrants do this to deter us from attacking them, and they avoid targeting anyone far from the bridge or the river.”

Yes, this was a new front for me, unlike Iraq in every respect, from the style of combat and the mindset of the monotheists [muwahidin] to the nature of the enemy–everything here was new! At dawn, I met the city’s emir, a young man in his thirties. At a mere glance, you knew that he was the leader, yet when he spoke, one truly understood the meaning of the saying, “He who humbles himself shall be exalted by God.”2 He sat asking me about the journey, about the brothers in Iraq and Syria, and the condition of the Muslims. Joy and happiness radiated from his eyes before his tongue even voiced them. I was among the first muhajirin of Arab origin to join them, and I became the talk of the people. I was puzzled by their keen interest in Arabs until one of them explained, “It is because you speak the language of the Qur’an, a language we love, and because we love the Islamic State.”

I set out on a journey to a destination unknown to me at the time. They said to me, “The Imam wants you!” It was a momentous thing for the Imam to summon one, for he was not merely a leader, but a spiritual father and a teacher. It was he who had united their scattered ranks, and it was at his hands that they came to have a state.

The journey spanned over three hundred kilometers, and I was astonished by what I witnessed: This entire region was under the authority of the muwahidin, Glory be to God! I had not known about any of this. I had only heard they were present in the forests and certain villages. Tet there I was, traveling safely across hundreds of kilometers. Hausa was the common language, though some also spoke Kanuri and Fulfulde, of which I could understand nothing until I had lived among them.

We arrived at the city known as al-Fatah al-Mubin, the capital of the monotheists. The emir of the army welcomed me, accompanied by a group of brothers, men with faces radiant like the full moon. Truly, I deem them illuminated by the light of faith [nur al-iman]. I got to know them and told them of my experiences. They were eager to hear every detail, great and small, about Iraq in particular, and the Levant in general. Had the choice been theirs, they would have chosen to migrate to the land of Iraq, where the arena of jihad was established–such was the nature of their devoted souls. I felt a sense of humility, even embarrassment, for I was not worthy to represent the monotheists of Iraq, but it was the decree of God.

I familiarized myself with the city’s landmarks, and, at night, visited the quarters where the muhajirin were staying. I had not heard the sound of gunfire all day–something I was very unaccustomed to, given that in Iraq, wherever the brothers were, fighting was sure to follow. Yet, this was the life of established authority and statehood–quite a new life for me! We prayed fajr at the mosque, followed by a brief address in Hausa from Shaykh Muhammad (their senior scholar). I understood nothing of it, but he quickly switched to Arabic to explain what he had said. I then found myself feeling like an ajami [a non-Arab, literally meaning “mute” – Rob] in the face of his eloquence. The Shaykh welcomed me, then I returned home.

At sunrise, the house shook so violently I thought a missile had struck us. I rushed outside to look but found nothing. Then the answer came from my neighbor: “That is the armored battalion testing a tank in the mountains–a tank captured as war booty [ghanima].” I laughed, along with the other muhajirin with me, at the simplicity of it all, telling him, “It’s no problem, brother.”

Entry #5

16 December, 2025

Glimpses

My entry into the areas under the rule of the brothers in Borno State coincided with a new victory, far from the capital al-Fatah al-Mubin. It was an event that shook the tyrants there: The brothers’ seizure of the city of Damaturu, located west of Maiduguri. It marked the first time a major city had fallen into the brothers’ hands, with the army withdrawing in a state of total collapse.

I was surprised when, after just three days, the brothers withdrew. At the time, I did not grasp the nature of the war here nor the reality of these cities. It later became clear to me that the withdrawal was prompted by the difficulty of maintaining control over the city and managing the situation. The city was vast, much too large for the size of the force that had captured it and beyond the brothers’ capacity to administer the entire area under their rule. The scale of the conquests had exceeded all expectations, making the decision to withdraw one of the toughest and most significant they had to make, yet it was a decision whose wisdom was indisputable to any rational person.

The language barrier was one of the most difficult challenges, for the prevailing languages ​​were Hausa, then Kanuri. However, the leadership knew I did not speak them, so they assigned brothers who were fluent in both Arabic and English to assist me, thereby facilitating communication. The Imam and the leadership within the emirate spoke either Arabic or English.

The territory under the brothers’ control was vast, stretching from the border with Niger in the north to the town of Baza in the south, and from the border with Cameroon in the east to a point 200 kilometers to the west, excluding the city of Maiduguri, which lay outside their control. The area possessed all the essentials for life.

“Training photos of the graduation of a group of mujahidin at the military camp of Commander Abu Yahya al-Muhajir (may God accept him).”

This page has gained many new subscribers since my last major correspondence with “Flow,” so some readers likely will not know who he is. “Flow” is a Malian supporter of Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), Al Qaida’s enormous branch in the Sahel. “Flow” has belonged to the Salafi Jihadist movement in West Africa for decades, dating back to the Groupe Salafiste pour la Prédication et le Combat, the predecessor of Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghrib (AQIM). He has intimate knowledge of West African, especially Sahelian, jihadism. “Supporter” is an imperfect label for him, as “Flow’s” many years with the movement means that he has gained considerable social authority within the JNIM umbrella. In his words: “I am your brother in God from the Islamic Maghrib. I worked with the brothers in the organization [AQIM] and then with JNIM, but ultimately, I am just an ordinary common Muslim. May God reward you greatly.”

“Flow’s” knowledge even goes beyond AQ and West Africa. When we last spoke at length, he told me, “Dear friend, I am a well-known individual and not unknown at all. Even many of Dawla’s [IS] elements in the Sahel–and some people in the Levant–know me well.” This was not an idle boast: Shortly after the collapse of the Assad regime, “Flow” informed me that Hurras al-Din fighters were present in the fateful HTS offensive–something respected journalists later confirmed. Over our many conversations, “Flow’s” insights have been routinely corroborated, oftentimes months later by major professional bodies like the UN. I urge readers to go through my various batches of correspondence with “Flow” to appreciate just how valuable his insights are. There is no better source to understand the Sahelian jihadist reality. As for this current batch, the content is, as always, fascinating and revealing, particularly about JNIM’s views of Mauritania and its presence in the south of Mali. Most of his comments speak for themselves, so I have limited my own editorializing to only providing context.

Due to the intensity of the conflict in the Sahel, contact with “Flow” is sporadic, so it is unclear when we will again correspond.

January Correspondence

11 January

On clashes with ISGS

The brothers will not sleep on injustice, God willing. All the brothers’ battalions are extremely busy in the war zones of the Sahel and West Africa, but God willing, the day will come when the brothers from every province and every battalion will unite to utterly annihilate the Kharijite heretics. God willing, patience…

Older readers will note that “Flow” has grown noticeably more hostile to IS compared to his views in the past.

On JNIM’s strategy of local expansion

The leaders of the group have a strategic mindset that deterrence or preemption is rooted in the presence of a support base and factions that support the group. This gives the group a significant political presence. When we entered Nigeria, there was some issue with the apostate bandits. As soon as we sent them warning messages that the brothers would respond to them with great force, they fled and were deterred.

On JNIM defections to ISGS

This is untrue. We are on the ground and have never heard of it. The battalions operating with JNIM are well-known, as are their commanders and soldiers. Whoever makes such claims should inform us who defected and when! It is merely propaganda emanating from ISIS’s internet supporters, hoping to create a division in the ranks of the brothers.

This did not age very well given the defection of Commander Sa’ad (aka Sadou) in northeast Burkina Faso about a month later in early February.

Ex-JNIM (now ISGS) commander Sa’ad aka Sadou Samahouna

Sadou expressed his many grievances with JNIM across two audio recordings. In the first recording, per Brant Philip:

1. He accuses JNIM leaders of not applying Shariah (Islamic law) in its totality, despite him urging them to in several meetings with other senior JNIM and AQIM leaders, who found excuses in “politics and lack of ability” despite them “not hesitating to collect zakat from Muslims.”

2. He says the JNIM accusation of IS-Sahel being “kharijites” is unfounded and has “no basis in the Qur'an or Sunnah.”

3. He said he did not leave to IS looking for fame or money, because he was already “well-off” in the ranks of JNIM, and he only defected because he saw that the Islamic State's “actions matched with their words.”

4. He accuses JNIM of negotiating peace deals with Benin and Ivory Coast, which he deems as not “befitting to a Muslim to seek reconciliation with apostates.”

Regarding the final point, Hasret Kargin reports that Sadou “states that his superiors instructed him to negotiate with Benin, that agreements with Ivory Coast had already been concluded and that [he] traveled to the Boucle du Mouhoun [in Burkina Faso] to meet with Ivorian intelligence officials.” This would illustrate a highly alarming degree of JNIM control over Boucle de Mouhoun, neighboring the Macina in Mali, alongside considerable regional clout. Sadou’s allegations of a JNIM non-aggression pacts with Benin and Ivory Coast are highly plausible, as I said in my recent interview with Arnauld Kassouin. However, it seems that the embarrassment of this affair led JNIM to suspend the pact and resume attacks mere days after Sadou’s defection. JNIM struck Benin again several days later. Sadou evidently got what he wanted. In the second recording, also per Brant Philip:

He doubled down on his accusations against JNIM for not applying Shariah, bringing up concrete examples such as how if someone stole, whether a JNIM fighter or a person living in their territory, they would not cut his hand, but would instead imprison him or kill him. He saw this as contrary to Islamic law.

He also mentioned the example of the adulterer: if one of the JNIM fighters were to commit adultery and was not married, he would be left alone; if he was married, he would be lashed 300 times, which, according to him, was agreed upon by the AQIM leadership. He adds that he was patient for some time due to their promises of applying Shariah, before reaching the firm conviction that their slogans were empty.

On the truce with Benin, he said that he attended a meeting with seven JNIM leaders of various regions where they were told that a truce was concluded between the group and Benin; this reportedly came from the AQIM leadership. According to his own account, there were some “disagreements” regarding this truce because they were already fighting Benin and did not feel the need to conclude a truce, but were “pressured” [by AQIM] to accept it anyway.

He then says that what piqued his anger, on top of not being able to continue the expansion in Benin, was that the JNIM leader in Fada N'Gourma ordered their fighters to guard the border with Benin so that IS-Sahel could not enter and attack Beninese forces and expand in the country. According to him, this was one of the major reasons which pushed him to defect to the Islamic State.

As for the recent attack by JNIM in Benin, which came only a few days after he “revealed” the truce between the two, he said this was a deliberate act to respond to his accusations and a way to show non-commitment to the peace agreement.

Lastly, he denied the accusations against him that he left for financial gain, stating that he had 50 million CFA Francs on him belonging to the group before his defection, which he handed over to the overall leader in eastern Burkina Faso. He also had his battalion's share of the ransom paid by the UAE for the liberation of the Emirati prince last year. That share was 65-130 million CFA Francs, which was also at his disposal; if what he wanted was money, he would've taken it with him, but he left it as a symbol of his pure intentions.

He ended the statement by saying that what motivated him was a conviction that formed within him after a long wait, as he was hoping for the application of Islamic law, and when the opposite became clear to him, he packed up and left.

Meanwhile, an individual claiming to have once served under Sadou released his own account of the circumstances of the defection. This narrative is much less noble, per “Abbasi:”

According to the audio recording, Sadou was plotting a mass defection within JNIM, stockpiling weapons, ammunition, and financial resources, while attempting to persuade several fighters to join him. However, his plan was uncovered, and he ultimately ended up defecting alone, accompanied only by his bodyguard [this is false – Rob].

In the same recording, the speaker mentions Sadou’s criticisms of certain high-ranking JNIM officials. According to the testimony, Sadou is reportedly one of the least active commanders, having never initiated an attack himself and participating only in offensives launched by other commanders.

Sadou reportedly participated nonetheless in the major offensive at Diapaga. Capitalizing on the victory, he filmed a propaganda video; however, it was rejected when he requested that it be published by Az-Zallaqa, the media arm of the JNIM, a response that left him furious.

According to the same testimony, Sadou is widely known to be in debt. Several individuals claim that he owes money to a great many people. In the region where he operates, he is also said to have gone through numerous marriages and divorces. Some sources even claim as many as twelve.

In summary, the testimony indicates that Sadou attempted a mass defection. Despite his criticisms, he did not participate in combat; he is described as someone who enjoyed the high life–having had as many as twelve wives–and who accumulated numerous unpaid debts.

NB: This information is derived from a 20-minute audio testimony attributed to a fighter who claims to have served under Sadou’s command. I have included only the most significant details. At the end of the recording, the speaker called upon other fighters to come forward and testify regarding the Sadou case.

Sadou’s defection was more successful than this speaker reports. He was able to bring with him several dozen fighters, making this the largest JNIM defection in years.

On an attack on a Chinese-owned mining facility

China controls most factories [here], and the masses are already complaining about Chinese overreach. Some believe that the brothers’ strikes on some factories and companies affiliated with China will lead them to lose public support. This is untrue, for most people are already severely harmed by the destructive Chinese presence in the economy.

13 January

On JNIM’s expansion into Nigeria

God willing, we are coming to every corner of Africa. I mentioned this [expansion into Borgu region] several months ago and I still remember it… The Borgu region has become a stronghold for the brothers, even though it is very far from our traditional strongholds in eastern Fada N’Gourma. Praise be to God, Lord of the worlds!

“Flow” is referring to our previous correspondence last spring, where he briefly mentioned expansion into Borgu of Niger state (not to be confused with the Niger Republic) in Nigeria. Local sources report that traveling there, especially on the Wawa-Babana Highway, is highly inadvisable on weekends, market days, and general night-time due to the presence of jihadists.

On the “Aribanda” region in Mali south of the Niger River

These areas contain several battalions, not just one. Most of the battalions, along with groups from Burkina Faso, have been merged under the name of the Aribanda Province in Mali.

The JNIM branch in this region is colloquially called Katiba Serma, led by Hamza al-Shinqiti. It is comprised of local Fulani, alongside foreign fighters from Mauritania, Libya, and Niger. This Katiba is reportedly responsible for most abductions carried out by JNIM.

One relatively well-known Sahelian analyst is Muhammad Ayyub Ayyub of Mauritania. His comments on skirmishes between AQ and IS led “Flow” to angrily say:

This person is using the same tactics on social media that we know from the apostate Mauritanian intelligence service. By the way, spies from the apostate Mauritanian intelligence have fallen into the hands of our security apparatus, and ironically, they were discussing the same topics as Muhammad! Strange, isn’t it?

19 January

On war with IS

Some of our esteemed brothers have also been contacting me for some time now regarding the recent movements of ISIS in Mali and elsewhere. These are sporadic movements which they believe will halt the progress of our brothers. However, their true objective is to initiate a war of attrition against us, thereby weakening our position with regards to the Sahelian regimes. There is no doubt that ISIS attacks against us in the recent period have increased to an intolerable level. However, among the greatest strengths of JNIM leadership–and this is well-known to those of us who have been on the scene since 2006–is that they do not act on impulse or anger, nor are they ever merely reactive. Quite the opposite!

Acting in anger is a grave sin, especially since ISIS has gone so far as to attack and kill our brothers, then claimed victimhood, saying that we are the ones attacking them! This is truly astonishing. I have encountered many enemies, but I have never found any more treacherous or deceitful than this rogue organization. They attack and kill you, then claim that you attacked them! It is unbelievable.

However, the best course of action in this theater today–especially after the recent blessed victories on all fronts, thanks be to God–is to avoid that confrontation at the present time, of course. This is the decision of the leadership, especially Hajj Iyad [Ag Ghaly]. Therefore, you see complete silence from our side. But rest assured, brothers, that avoiding an open war with the treacherous ISIS organization at this time is of utmost importance. We are engaged in major open warfare with the regimes of this region, and our forces are spread across vast geographic areas. Any tampering with this deployment means that we will destroy that have been attained thanks to God.

The treacherous ISIS organization is trying to exploit the major war between us and the regional regimes. Therefore, denying the opportunity to this malign group–by not being drawn into a war of attrition that will leave nothing in its wake–is, in my humble view, one of the most important achievements of the leadership, especially so since all the brothers want this war.

The great decisive battle will one day come. We are eager for it to take place under circumstances that serve us, not the rogue ISIS organization. Then, God willing, all those have wronged us will know the terrible fate that awaits them.

Therefore, I say to these brothers and others, you must be patient. The achievements in the West African arena are quite grand, praise be to God. The brothers are advancing daily, the youth are joining us, and our group has become powerful to a hitherto unforeseen degree. The da’wah caravans are traversing all countries [here]. All praise is due to God!

21 January

“Exclusive photos of the graduation of a batch of mujahidin at the camp of Commander Yahya Abu al-Hammam (may God have mercy on him) in the state of Timbuktu).”

On this recently formed JNIM training camp

The camp of Commander Yahya Abu al-Hammam is in the Islamic province of Timbuktu. It is named after the deputy of JNIM, who was a member of the council of AQIM and one of the most prominent members of the group. This proves the falsehood of some who have not ceased to lie against and slander us. I say to all the brother that, God willing, we remain on the covenant, and we will neither delay nor give up in fulfilling it.

“Flow” was primarily commenting on claims that JNIM was drifting away from Al Qaida.

On purported Mauritanian intelligence plots

The renegade Mauritanian intelligence spies–those wretches frequently use these tactics:

• Sowing discord between Katiba Macina and other groups within the movement, knowing full well that JNIM leadership strictly forbids such rhetoric and all distinct movements in the Sahel have been dissolved

• Attempting to create strife between the brothers in Mali and the brothers in Algeria

• Asking what is the benefit of the relationship between the group [JNIM] and the parent organization [AQ] or the Algerian branch [AQIM], for this harms the group’s interests due to terrorism lists

• Harping on about the dispute between us and ISIS, and repeatedly raising these topics even though the group forbids it

It’s interesting that “Flow” blames the third point–about rumors of severing JNIM’s relations with AQ–on Mauritanian intelligence. This point has appeared in previous correspondence, and I had been under the impression that it was a primarily French psyop. It seems that JNIM views this as a Mauritanian scheme, suggesting that France may have picked it up from there.

On jihadist networks in Mauritania and efforts to release prisoners

Some time ago, I came across a clip of Khadim Ould Semmane, the leader of Ansar Allah al-Murabitun in Mauritania, praising Abu al-Fadhl [Iyad Ag Ghaly] in a poem on occasion of hearing news that he is working to release prisoners. Are you aware of the circumstances here? The truth is that, since his own sentence, Hajj Iyad has held a keen interest in the issue of prisoners, especially after the founding of Ansar Dine. Then came the most important attempts when the deal with France was signed years ago. The man made sincere efforts through several intermediaries to resolve the issue of Islamists in Mauritania, and he promised to us that Mauritania would receive nothing from JNIM in return.

When those efforts took place, Hajj Iyad was speaking as a tribal Muslim man from the notables of the region because the Mauritanian government uses the excuse that Al Qaida killed its soldiers [to not directly speak with JNIM – Rob]. Despite that, the Mauritanian government did not response to those mediations. Amazingly, we sought to secure the release of all Islamist detainees, even the followers of ISIS. In the end, the man warned the Mauritanian government that failing to resolve the issue of the Islamist detainees meant that there was a ticking time bomb now threatening the peace and security of Mauritania because this issue sows hatred among Muslim youth.

Indeed, with God as my witness, no one has exerted as sincere and dedicated efforts for the Islamists in Mauritania as Hajj Iyad, may God preserve him–not even Al Qaida [meaning AQIM]! That organization suffered a deficiency in this matter and had no leverage over the Mauritanian government.

22 January

On JNIM’s presence in Sikasso

Indeed, the establishment of Katiba Khalid bin Walid in Sikasso represented a strategic turning point in the southern regions, especially since past operations were limited to small numbers entering Sikasso from Macina region. However, the military leadership must be flexible, for yes, the Sikasso arena is a stronghold of the regime in Bamako.

If you are a commander, you must possess some flexibility in addition to courage. The matter of establishing battalions [kataib] deep within enemy territory is one of the most important strategic matters that should occupy a commander’s mind. A breakthrough in enemy strongholds means delivering a terrible blow to the enemy, thus taking the battle to their own turf. This is a great achievement.

By the way, Katiba Khalid is comprised not only [of fighters] from Mali, but also Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, and even Guinea. Further, among the katiba’s most prominent achievements are raiding dens of dancing and debauchery in the heart of the city [of Sikasso]. On one occasion, security guards were killed. Now, in reality, people inside the city wear the hijab and refrain from drinking alcohol and dancing.

The Malian Army, the Russian legion [Wagner / Afrika Korps], and the Dozo donkeys launched dozens of military operations in the Sikasso region of southern Mali, destroying the infrastructure of Katiba Khalid in Sikasso. This gave us severe headaches. Today, thanks be to God, the battle extends to the gate of Sikasso and even into Sikasso itself.

On JNIM’s popularity in West Africa

Some people speak strangely indeed. Sometimes they accuse JNIM of being agents of Algeria, sometimes of Mauritania, and sometimes–most bizarrely–of France. There is not a single shred of evidence for any of these lies. They refuse to acknowledge the truth: The group has significant popularity in the region.

The remarkable thing is that I have been imprisoned in Algeria and Libya, and I have met different kinds of people, whether Fulani, Tuaregs, or Arabs. I found that all viewed the group JNIM with respect and appreciation. Then the priests of the tyrants [referring to local regimes], the supporters of communist Russia, or the Kharijite extremists [referring to IS] come along and say that the group is an agent!!

24 January

On Iyad Ag Ghaly’s ambition

In 2012 [after AQIM’s conquest of northern Mali], Mokhtar Belmokhtar, Yahya Abu al-Hammam, Nabil Abu ‘Alqama, and Abu Musab Abdel Wadoud all believed that we had done our part and should not go further–indeed, that we should be satisfied with just northern Mali. The man who rejected this idea and believed that the brothers should continue [the conquests] was Iyad. This is known to everyone who lived through those events.

JNIM is now in the far west of Mali, not Kidal or Timbuktu [as in those days]. In 2012, in Kidal, I hear with my own ears from Hajj Iyad that “We will go to Bamako and various African countries, God willing. This is not confined solely to northern Mali.” God is witness to my testimony. No man in the history of jihadist movements has ever had such ambition, knowing no limits, like Iyad Ag Ghaly. In 2012, he spoke strangely, astonishingly even, and those outside Mali–had they heard Iyad back then–would have said he was a madman. I still say, and will always say, that Iyad is an extraordinary man. Hearts lay in the hands of the Most Merciful, yet this is the reality.

On ethnic troubles and Iyad’s role in addressing them

There were battles and enmity that would not fade with time between the Fulani and the Bambara, and between the Tuareg and the Bambara. Enmity, bloodshed, and historical injustice felt by the Fulani and the Tuareg towards the Bambara. If someone had said a decade ago that all these groups would unite against the central government, people would have called him mad. Yet Iyad brilliantly succeeded in that!

What transpired during Iyad’s tenure is truly extraordinary, especially given the nature of this region. Had anyone else achieved such a feat, he would have undoubtedly stepped forward daily to boast of this accomplishment. Yet this success is not a credit to Iyad but rather to God. Nevertheless, Iyad is a man who seeks neither media spotlight nor official titles, nor does he chase after worldly gain. Indeed, these qualities may very well constitute the man’s most formidable weapons.

It was a Bambara commander, Abu Hudhayfah al-Bambari, who announced and led JNIM’s terrible campaign against fuel imports in southern and western Mali. In the fall, “Flow” had commented, “The truth is that General Abu Hudhayfah al-Bambari, known as Nabi Diarra, is the true ruler of Mali. The man has great fame, and today his popularity is greatly increasing.” Diarra is known to argue and discuss politics with non-jihadist interlocutors in the public.

The latest JNIM operational infographic (pictured above) marks a major decline in material damage inflicted upon the Malian Army (FAMa). This decline is despite significant activity in the Malian west and south, where JNIM has been rampaging for months, but especially in recent weeks. The reason is a shift in targets. JNIM has deprioritized directly attacking FAMa units and installations, and has commenced all-out economic warfare by targeting industrial sites, particularly mines, and trade routes for trucks. On 3 September, the organization announced a total blockade on fuel entering Mali, leading to attacks on fuel truck convoys throughout western and southern Mali. My fellow analyst Brant Philip (whom I recommend following) has mapped out the devastating scale of this blockade below:

At the time of writing, 25 September, the blockade still continues. Indeed, trucking firms have begun striking deals with JNIM to protect their trucks, directly undermining the Malian state’s authority. This directly matches “Flow’s” reports of JNIM’s strategy–that is, a grinding guerrilla war to suffocate the large cities–which has been described at length in previous posts on this page. Still, given such momentum, one may ask why JNIM does not stage more consistent raids of major cities? On 16 September, “Flow” answered:

The problem in Mali is more complex than that [major offensives on cities]. Major cities have Turkish drones, which could cause catastrophic losses to any group attempting to storm these cities through direct large-scale operations. Therefore, the best path is intelligence operations within those cities and a siege that leads to the fall of the Malian state. This requires years. And God knows best.

The fuel blockade certainly fits the bill, as does recent abductions of Emirati nationals south of Bamako. In sum, JNIM is scaling down combat operations in Mali to escalate the economic war on the state and steadily erode its capabilities across the country.

However, there is another, equally troubling dynamic to this scale-down of combat engagements. It likely indicates a renewed campaign in Burkina Faso. When tracking JNIM’s operations, one can notice a certain tempo. This past spring, JNIM hammered Burkina Faso. Then, in the summer, it scaled down Burkinabe offensives and dramatically escalated Malian engagements. It is now again decreasing its combat footprint in Mali, which may indicate a new offensive in Burkina Faso. On 23 September, Brant Philip reported that:

JNIM has been deploying reinforcements to the Boucle de Mouhoun region in Burkina Faso, coming from Mali, in recent days, the insurgents were especially sighted in the Sourou province and on the Benena - Djibasso axis, partly controlling civilian movements across the border.

Boucle de Mouhoun was a critical front during the spring campaign in Burkina Faso, and it was fought primarily by Malian JNIM fighters. Reportedly thousands of operatives descended from Mali, especially the Macina region, to fight the Burkinabe Army. That they are returning may portend a new offensive, which I privately assessed some weeks ago.

On 15 September, another fellow analyst, Charlie Werb of The Africa Insight (whom I also recommend following), asked me about my estimates of JNIM’s manpower in Burkina Faso, including any sub-groups. Below is my answer (with light grammatical edits), which covers my analysis of JNIM’s campaign tempo:

There’s a few things to consider which make this tricky to answer. My overall estimate for JNIM is ~25,000 – 30,000 full-time fighters, primarily located in Mali and Burkina Faso. I don’t believe these fighters are neatly divided between the two–that is to say, there likely isn’t a fixed number permanently deployed to either.

I concluded this due to JNIM’s variable operational tempo in Mali and Burkina Faso. Back in the spring, things were extremely hot in Burkina Faso but had relatively calmed down in Mali. Then, once the spring campaign seemingly concluded, Mali became extremely hot for the summer. This suggested that JNIM was deploying most of its manpower in one or the other country at a time and alternating. I suspect their overall strategy is to send the bulk of their manpower to either Mali or Burkina Faso, hammer the country for months while keeping skeleton networks in the other, then send that manpower to the other and repeat.

This is all to say that I do not think there can be a clear estimate of their total manpower in Burkina Faso because this figure fluctuates depending on campaign timing. Instead, I would suggest giving a range of values, with the low end being their bare-minimum manpower and the high end being their peak mobilization. With this in mind, here is my loose estimate:

• Low End: 5,000

• High End: 15,000 – 20,000

There remains the question of sub-groups. My info here is based on my highly informed Malian source “Flow.” There are two essential JNIM sub-groups in Burkina Faso, Katiba Muslim and Katiba Hanifa, which considerably overlap with each other. Katiba Muslim operates in the North and East of Burkina Faso, especially Fada N’Gourma. It reportedly also operates in Benin and Togo. Katiba Hanifa operates in the North and Niger. There are reportedly battalions operating specifically in the Burkinabe south but their names are unknown. I would guess the total overall manpower of these Katibas to be 15,000, whereas other Burkinabe Katibas are roughly 5,000. This past spring, it seems that Katiba Muslim and Hanifa both operated in the rest of Burkina Faso while JNIM’s Malian battalions (especially Katiba Macina) flooded into Boucle de Mouhoun where it fought a brutal campaign.

That said, I urge readers to be skeptical and to make their own assessments. Correspondence with “Flow” is sporadic, so I will clarify these matters with him next time we speak–keep an eye out for new batches of correspondence. For a brief preview, he told me about a new Bambara JNIM commander:

The truth is that General Abu Hudhayfah al-Bambari, known as Nabi Diarra, is the true ruler of Mali. The man has great fame, and today his popularity is greatly increasing.

This individual has recently conducted public debates–all in the Bambara language–with even non-jihadist interlocutors. Cables from West Africa will return…

JNIM militants standing atop a monument dedicated to the Alliance d’Etats du Sahel in Diapaga, 13 May, 2025.

The latest batch of correspondence from “Flow” covers a wide variety of topics, some entirely new and some already discussed but with new details. As usual, many of “Flow’s” claims are corroborated, though skepticism is still encouraged. There is too much to cover in the introduction but in a word, the situation in the Sahel is extremely severe. The formation of a powerful AQ-aligned jihadist emirate in the Sahel is highly plausible. I expect there to be a serious attempt at it by 2030 at the latest. The details below help explain why.

March Correspondence

5-6 March

On a purported agreement between JNIM and FLA

We have achieved victory, thanks be to God, Lord of the Worlds. The FLA movement repented from its errors and accepted the project of implementing the Islamic Sharia. It abandoned pagan secularism. We did not make any [ideological] concessions at all, except our agreement that the people of a region are the ones who will take charge of this matter, and that it is not necessary for them to be subordinate to us. This is not a problem for us.

Some may say, “what is the victory in that?” I say, the political authority. Today, the group [JNIM] is imposing itself as the legitimate ruler of the region. Indeed, the [separatist] movements are the ones who come to it [JNIM], not the other way around.

This is not a merger in the real sense. We can call it successful dialogue. The most important thing is that the FLA movement agreed to Shaykh Iyad’s conditions. Any violation will result in the agreement being annulled. As I mentioned before the political status of JNIM is that it rules the front, thanks be to God, and everyone either pledges allegiance to it or cooperates with it.

“Flow’s” claims on FLA’s subordination to JNIM were partially corroborated. The Eid al-Fitr meeting of JNIM’s top leadership curiously included an emissary from FLA. This emissary was none other than Abbas Ag Intalla, whom “Flow” had previously reported was expelled from FLA due to his jihadist ideological leanings. Intalla’s apparent return to FLA as a prominent figure would suggest that the (quasi) jihadist wing of the movement has become too strong to expunge, forcing them to re-instate Intalla to his position. Furthermore, that an emissary from FLA was present in the meeting is suggestive on its own. Were FLA strong enough to ignore JNIM, no emissary would be present. This would match “Flow’s” report here that FLA has largely subordinated itself to JNIM. In a recent statement, Intalla has used jihadist-esque rhetoric to denounce Turkiye’s support for the juntas and their “massacres of Muslims”–a striking echo of JNIM. However, the exact content of the agreement remains unconfirmed. We do not yet know if the FLA has agreed to enforce Sharia.

Deception operations

We do not raise national flags, but this [the use of them] is for camouflage and concealment. The brothers also carry the flags of Burkina Faso and Mali and wear these countries’ national uniforms. All this is for camouflage.

This comment was in response to my observation that in some videos, JNIM fighters were sporting Malian and Burkinabe military uniforms, which is unusual for a jihadist movement. In the months since this exchange, JNIM fighters have used their stocks of uniforms to infiltrate cities and towns for attacks, most recently in Timbuktu.

Macina’s central role in JNIM

Macina is a region, not merely a battalion, and it has people from all of the wilayat [“provinces”]. Even the brothers in Timbuktu province have an effort in Macina. And everyone works under the umbrella of JNIM.

“Flow” previously called Macina one of JNIM’s “social incubators,” giving it special importance to the organization not only as an operational hub, but as a crucial social base. Organizationally, it seems that at least in Mali and perhaps in neighboring regions of Burkina Faso, JNIM “provinces” are branches of the central region of Macina, which serves as the “mother ship.” This would fit the Macina’s historical role in JNIM, as the agrarian question here is particularly pressing, which is central to JNIM’s appeal to the Fulani.

12 March

JNIM’s relationship to AQIM

Brothers, JNIM is led by the organization’s shura council located in the Maghrib because all of the group’s emirs are members of the shura council in the Maghrib. I recently asked one of the brothers who immigrated from North Africa: “What prevents us from repeating the Syrian experience1 here? It would mean wasting 20 years of work.”

He told me: “It is impossible for Julani to come to the Sahel.2 We are very close to Abu al-Fadhl (Shaykh Iyad, emir of JNIM), and we have not seen any indication of this from him. Indeed, Abu al-Fadhl has ambitions even greater than the ambitions of the [other] shaykhs of the organization.” He told me that this man wants to establish Islam in all of Africa, not merely in Mali or even the Sahel. This was his answer.

As for the frequent rumors about separation [between JNIM and AQ], I believe that these are journalistic efforts. The reason for them is the great blessed expansion of JNIM and the group’s possession of eight emirates (that is, wilayat) in more than five countries and its possession of thousands of fighters, thanks be to God. Everyone sees that it has gone beyond the stage of mere organizations, and that is why they [journalists] are working hard [against JNIM].

Clarification: The Shura Council is located in Algeria, but it has expanded into the African Sahel after the organization was able to link its areas in Algerias with its areas in the African Sahel. I do not mean the state of Morocco [Maghrib].

As for Morocco itself, the organization has no jihadist activities due to the tight security group. Anyone [in Morocco] who pledges allegiance to the organization [JNIM] either goes to the African Sahel or to Algeria.

As is well-established on this page, JNIM is not a merely Sahelian organization. Its influence spans West Africa, and its ambitions are massive, which makes the lack of media coverage on it all the more puzzling–you can get away with anything in Africa…

In any case, there is much to unpack here. First is JNIM’s tight organizational and ideological links to Al Qaida, which is the result of over two decades of jihadist efforts. “Flow” has repeatedly made clear that no separation is possible, in no small part due to the fanatical commitment of Iyad Ag Ghaly, whose political biography is worth briefly discussing.

Ghaly has always been a prominent Tuareg leader, but he was initially a secular separatist before becoming an AQ-aligned jihadist. He had fought in several major Tuareg rebellions, the largest of which was the 1990-95 revolt. In 1996, the Tuareg movements entered a ceasefire with Bamako and Ghaly normalized relations with the government, becoming a prominent official and liaison with militants. In the 2000s, he regularly negotiated with jihadists (including AQIM), particularly when it came to hostage releases. Over time, he built strong relationships with key AQIM commanders (for example, his own nephew was in AQIM). In parallel, Ghaly independently came under the influence of Islamism, specifically due to the Tablighi Jama’at school, which he encountered while serving as a diplomat in Saudi Arabia. During this time, he became a strict Muslim and strident Islamist, eventually making contact with jihadists residing in the Kingdom some time around 2010. This move greatly alarmed Ghaly’s employers, so he was recalled to Bamako. He soon left the government and re-entered the militant world. By this point, we can say Ghaly had become an active jihadist.

In late 2011, Tuareg separatists and notables met to form a new Tuareg militant organization.

Present at that meeting was the veteran rebel Iyad Ag Ghaly, who reportedly lobbied unsuccessfully to become the overall leader of the MNLA but rejected in fear of his extreme form of Islamism, as he petitioned for a sharia-compliant Azawad, causing problems for the clan. It is within this context that Ansar Dine was then created. Alongside several Tuareg elders and former rebel leaders who were not put off by Ag Ghaly’s desire for a sharia-compliant Azawad, Ag Ghaly formed his own group, Ansar Dine, sometime between November 2011 and January 2012.3

In most narratives, Ghaly’s formation of Ansar Dine is presented as an essentially opportunistic move due to MNLA’s refusal to appoint him as leader. While this likely played some part, his ideological jihadism was central to the failed leadership bid. In the previous part of this correspondence, “Flow” noted that in 2012, Ghaly insisted on enforcing sharia throughout Mali, a more radical position than even other AQ leaders. Recall that among Ansar Dine’s demands during negotiations was the implementation of sharia as the law of Mali in exchange for Ansar Dine ending its militancy. Already back then, we can see Ghaly’s Pan-African ambitions, now further illustrated by “Flow.” In contrast to Julani, whose career has shown steady moderation (IS to AQ to HTS to now), Ghaly’s career has shown steady radicalization (secular separatism to radical Islamism to AQ jihadism). This is one significant deterrent against JNIM’s separation from AQ.

That such rumors ever even took root is quite puzzling, so it is worth examining where they came from and what possible motives are behind them. “Flow” cryptically blames “journalistic efforts” without much elaboration. This is likely a reference to Wassim Nasr, journalist for France24 and the most prominent proponent of these rumors. To briefly step back, aside from his work on the Sahel, Nasr is known for his work on HTS and Syria.

Wassim Nasr was the first Western journalist to personally meet and interview Abu Muhammad al-Julani, and he is quite supportive of Western engagement with HTS. In jihadist circles, Nasr is (perhaps not unjustly) viewed as a Western spy or at least serving Western interests in “domesticating” jihadists and subordinating them to the West. His relations with HTS are often cited as evidence. Whether he is actually in the employ of the DGSE is separate to whether he is furthering their aims regarding jihadism–which he is. Nasr has repeatedly urged close Western engagement with the new Syrian government (led by HTS), arguing that they are reasonable actors who can be brought into the fold. Most recently, he praised the Trump administration’s decision to greenlight the integration of foreign fighters into the new Syrian army. The essential condition for any of this was HTS’s separation from AQ and distancing from the global jihadist movement writ large.

To return to the Sahel, I suspect that in peddling rumors of potential separation between JNIM and AQ, Nasr hopes to encourage more opportunistic elements of JNIM to break off and fall under Western orbit, thus repeating the HTS experience. In a fascinating recent talk, US Ambassador to Syria Robert Ford discusses an MI5-led program to bring jihadists into the Western fold. In his preparations to meet Julani, he mentions that he had spoken with someone who had already met the HTS chief. I suspect this “someone” was Wassim Nasr, whose connections to the national-security ecosystem are well known. He has repeatedly contributed to CTC Sentinel, is research fellow at the Soufan Center, and is a generally highly-regarded jihadism expert.4 It is plausible that Nasr (and perhaps others) sees a similar opportunity in the Sahel as in Syria, and hopes to exploit it. Bringing JNIM into the Western fold would mean that the US and Europe have one less front to worry about in the future. In an increasingly multipolar war, there is less room to combat non-state actors like jihadists. It would therefore be prudent to “domesticate” them before they become too much of a threat. For my part, I consider any efforts to do so in the Sahel to be utterly doomed. JNIM are enthusiastic members of the global AQ network. I do not expect Iyad Ag Ghaly to trim his beard and wear a suit like Julani–or rather, Ahmad al-Shara’.

Lastly, we come to “Flow’s” fascinating reference to “JNIM’s eight emirates in more than five countries” and the organization’s networks in Morocco. The five countries are Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Benin, and Nigeria. The distribution of the eight wilayats is unclear. My speculation is that three are in Mali (Macina, Timbuktu, Kidal), two in Burkina Faso (north and east), one in the Niger-Benin-Nigeria axis, and I’m unsure about the other two. One may be in Algeria, given “Flow’s” striking reference to it as a potential destination for foreign fighters (in this case from Morocco). This is surely with the knowledge of the DRS, again highlighting the curious non-aggression pact between the Algerian state and JNIM. What exactly motivates this? Simple, both sides know that the other can inflict enormous damage and has no interest in declaring war if conflict can be avoided. Furthermore, Algeria has never had very friendly relations with Mali, so it is unconcerned to see the state suffer a jihadist insurgency, so long as the jihadists know not to attack Algeria (which they do). Furthermore, FAMa’s massacres of Tuaregs encourages Algerian Tuaregs to mobilize to defend their kinsmen. The DRS has no interest in interfering with this, so it permits such organizing.

April Correspondence

6 April

On JNIM’s media team

Today’s media team is made up of Tunisian brothers. The problem with filming is technical, not lack of qualified personnel. Filming in northern Mali is extensive because of the availability of technology. The rest of the wilayat are far from the center of the community and do not have advanced equipment, so they film with what they have available. May God bless all of our brothers.

Indeed, some brothers complain to me about Az-Zallaqa Foundation, that it is not adequately performing the necessary role in covering events through the media. Of course, Az-Zallaqa Foundation is not independent. Rather, it is under the direct authority of the security apparatus, which completely controls it. Further, the Az-Zallaqa team is very small, only two brothers from Tunisia.

When tracking the overall quality of JNIM’s media, one can observe a decline since the early period when AQIM itself was more prominent. The original media foundation was call Al-Andalus Foundation, and its releases were very stylish. It was reported that the media team for Al-Andalus was also composed of Tunisians, perhaps the same ones running Az-Zallaqa today…

9 April

On JNIM’s strategic use of media silence

This [silence] is currently [in effect] in the Sorou Valley because JNIM has committed a terrifying massacres against the supporters of the heretic Traore and the VDP. They do not want these terrifying massacres to come to light. Instead, they want to work silently, as there is little remaining in Dedigo region, until it is completely expunged of Traore’s supporters. And God knows best.

This presaged the recent escalation in JNIM’s severe reprisals against communities perceived to be government-aligned. This perception is based on the impressment of local men into the VDP either for military service or for labor to build rudimentary military fortifications. Villagers are often faced with the impossible choice of obeying the VDP and risking JNIM’s wrath or vice versa. We will address an especially severe case further below.

16 April

On JNIM’s battles with ISGS

Commenting on images from 2021 of JNIM defectors to ISGS:

Thank God, all of them were killed, including their leader Maza, in the Tatkarat and Fatli areas. Indeed, at the end of last year, the remaining ISIS [Da’ish] groups in Aribanda pledged allegiance to JNIM, thank God, and the presence of ISIS in Aribanda ended.

Watch the [media release of the] Battle of Tatkarat in Aribanda, May 2024. The operation of the special forces squadrons of JNIM and the killing of ISIS emir Maza of Aribanda. See also Az-Zallaqa Foundation’s November media report documenting ISIS leader Abu al-Izza and his group’s pledge of allegiance to JNIM–in Aribanda, of course.

The Battle of Tatkarat was originally known to JNIM through its spies inside ISIS which led it to mobilize an entire battalion. Imagine an entire battalion of JNIM’s forces in Aribanda, mobilized for that battle: hundreds of motorcycles and a small number of vehicles in May 2024.

Yes, JNIM did indeed penetrate ISIS strongly, which enabled it to win one of the most important battles in Aribanda, the Battle of Tatkarat. Then the ISIS leader of Aribanda himself and his companions were killed in Fatli. After that, the ISIS groups dispersed and in November, Abu al-Izza and his men pledged allegiance to JNIM. They appeared in the Ramadan and Eid publications of JNIM in Aribanda.

Years ago, when ISIS was present in the Macina, Shaykh Amadou Kouffa gave the ISIS members there only seven days to leave. When they did not respond, they were all exterminated. The same thing happened with the Azawad movements [in the Macina] last year. The Macina region cannot tolerate the presence of any other group in the heart of its regions.

This narrative illustrates the circumstances that led to the published defection of the ISGS squadron to JNIM. It also explains the difficulties ISGS has had in penetrating most of Mali. I asked “Flow” to elaborate on his reference to FLA in the Macina:

This is trivial news. There is not a single FLA group in the Macina, for JNIM expelled them a year and a half ago. Before the roads to Bamako is the Macina and the province of Sikasso. There is no FLA [here] at all, but the supporters of the Azawad movements want to attribute any victory to them.

It is impossible for the FLA to exist in the Macina because JNIM has expelled it with great force. As for the issue of the siege of Bamako, it is logical if JNIM wanted to do so. They are already surrounding the capital. Abu Hudhayfah al-Bambari mentioned something like this in the past. They may also bombard the capital with mortar shells if the Malian government does not stop its crimes.

Indeed, what is easier than a siege is to bombard Bamako with mortars and locusts [drones]. I believe this stage is coming if the Malian Army does not withdraw from the north and center.

Its notable that Abu Hudhayfah is Bambara, which is traditionally viewed as the state-bearing ethnicity of Mali, indicating the junta’s lack of legitimacy and JNIM’s increasing appeal beyond Fulani and Tuaregs.

27 April

Again on JNIM’s structure

[In descending order] It has a shura council, wilayat emirs, battalion emirs, and company emirs. The battalion consists of several companies. The one who participates in military operations is usually the company emir and his men. The company emirs are quite extreme, while from the battalion emirs all the way to the shura council, their approach is that of Shaykh Atiya [that is, Atiyatullah al-Libi] and Dr. Ayman [al-Zawahiri].

Those who lead the military activities of JNIM–that is, the field combat–are the company emirs and they are young. The wilayat and battalion emirs participate only in specific battles.

On the new phase of the insurgency, specifically in Burkina Faso

The group is already present on the outskirts of the capital Bamako and even within it. Its military capabilities have increased in areas surrounding the capital through the Khalid bin Walid Battalion in Sikasso Province. The roads of Segou, Sikasso, Kayes, and Koulikoro to the capital are all under the direct influence of the group’s brigades in the Macina, but there are facts on the ground that must be considered.

Today, the group is actually storming the military gates at the entraces to the major cities in the Macina, that is, on the outskirts of the capital. However, the major battle the group is waging today is in Burkina Faso, and huge reinforcements have arrived in Burkina Faso from Mali.

The battle in the Boucle de Mouhoun area, for example, did not intensify and flare up until after the arrival of huge columns of military reinforcements from Aribanda and the Macina to Burkina Faso, specifically to Boucle de Mouhoun. You may have heard about what happened in Soro and elsewhere [referring to massacres].

Indeed, the ongoing battle in Boucle de Mouhoun is one of the most important battles of in the African Sahel since our mujahid brothers arrived here. It is no less important than the 2012 Battle of Kidal due to the geopolitical status of the region, which links thousands of fighters in the Macina to thousands of fighters in Burkina Faso.

Therefore, the Burkinabe Army sought to resolve this axis in its favor, sending its own forces and launching a major military campaign in Boucle de Mouhoun. However, the jihadist war against the Burkinabe Army intensified, and fresh forces arrived from Mali, including hundreds of vehicles [trucks], hundreds of motorcycles, and hundreds of soldiers. The army and its supporters were crushed in Boucle, thanks be to God.

The reinforcements that arrived in Boucle and the Boucle battalions that were already present in the area received crystal clear instructions to use overwhelming military force in this battle; indeed, to carry out field executions of Burkinabe Army personnel and VDP gang members, to never take prisoners, and if prisoners were taken, to liquidate them all.

This is in response to the crimes of the Burkinabe Army and the VDP militia. Also, during the military campaign launched by the Army, the group retreated from many of its strongholds, which were seized by the Army, who then declared victory. It was therefore necessary to use overwhelming force to destroy the Burkinabe Army deployments in Boucle.

Indeed, the military reality today in Boucle de Mouhoun is that JNIM is quite close to the city of Dedigo itself. There are military operations on a daily basis. The guerrilla war has no specific timeline, but the reality on the ground is clear to everyone.

This correspondence preceded the massive May wave of JNIM attacks on Burkinabe towns and settlements. On one day, JNIM struck eight different towns. The most severe attacks were against Diapaga and Djibo, where JNIM went so far as to actually seize these towns. Indeed, in the raid against Diapaga, locals reported the presence of a former mayor of a nearby town–he was now a JNIM militant, indicating just how much the government has degraded. In those attacks, fighters wearing Malian uniforms were seen, corroborating “Flow’s” claim that Malian fighters are flooding into Burkina Faso.

For May, JNIM claimed to have killed ~830, almost double the death toll in April, which was itself over double the reported death toll of March. The violence is rapidly escalating with no end in sight. During these previous months, there was highly relative “calm” in Mali, but JNIM’s victories in Burkina Faso have enabled it to shift resources back to Mali. Just this week, over 100 FAMa troops were killed and over 20 were captured in a massive raid on Boulikessi. A similarly severe raid took place in Dioura. Militants from Burkina Faso were reported to have partaken. The immense significance of the Macina - Boucle de Mouhoun axis is abundantly clear given these operations.

Speaking of, “Flow” again provides color to ongoing events, particularly atrocities. His information about government massacres and JNIM’s harsh reprisals was, as usual, corroborated, this time by Human Rights Watch, which reported that the Burkinabe Army orchestrates major massacres of Fulani villagers in coordination with the VDP.5 Interestingly, local Burkinabe media indirectly confirmed the substance of the report, albeit with a very pro-government spin.6 JNIM’s policy of reprisal massacres is quite “Zarqawist” in spirit as it intensifies the cycle of violence and ethnic polarization, bringing more and more Fulani into its ranks while degrading the government’s legitimacy and power. At the same time, the group calls on international organizations to denounce the junta for its atrocities, reflecting a more populist approach akin to that of Atiyatullah al-Libi. This dynamic will be explored elsewhere.

On JNIM’s new sectors

Brothers, for months we have been hearing news about new groups of brothers in Nigeria, that they are operating in several regions and that internal photos of these brothers have been published. But honestly, we did not pay attention to this.

The Ansaru group [of northwestern Nigeria] was dissolved and today their name is JNIM. They are part of the sector covering the Niger region, Benin, northern Nigeria, and the Kaduna region of Nigeria.

I wish to speak on the subject of Nigeria, but I cannot discuss it in detail. But frankly speaking, JNIM has a very strong presence in northern Nigeria and the border areas between Nigeria, Niger, and Benin. The Ansaru group was dissolved and merged with JNIM’s groups in that region. The emir of Ansar became the emir of this axis.

Ansaru participated very effectively in the battles of Benin, Dosso, and the border areas. It also has a presence in Nigeria. Now there is no group called Ansaru. It has been dissolved and a single axis has been formed. You may have seen the attack by the Burga State against Benin last week–this attack proves all of this.

Nigeria has long been in the sights of Sahelian jihadists. Analysts have been warning for years that JNIM and ISGS will soon enter the country in force, and that precautions must be taken.7 It seems that the Sahelian crisis is now expanding into Nigeria, making it the latest “littoral” state to be afflicted. It is plausible that JNIM will open a war front in Nigeria in the next 6-12 months.

All bracketed notes are my own.

January Correspondence Continued

29 January

On JNIM’s recent proselytization campaigns:

The body that performs these [proselytization] tasks is the Da’wah and Hisbah Committee. Of course what distinguishes Koulikoro is its proximity to Bamako. My humble opinion is that JNIM is seeking to mobilize an army in the areas surrounding Bamako to besiege it when appropriate. And God knows best. By the way, these mosques in Koulikoro [depicted above] are among the main mosques.

On jihadist ideology in JNIM:

Most of the leaders of JNIM brigades are extremists, but most of the leaders in the Shura Council are on the path of Shaykh Atiyatullah al-Libi [top Al Qaida leader from the 2000s]. Indeed, not only that, before Ansar al-Islam in Burkina Faso united with JNIM, the JNIM branch in Burkina Faso was weak, yet it was highly critical of them [Ansar].

JNIM was very critical of some Ansar al-Islam groups in Burkina Faso, and it forced the emir of Ansar at the time to expel some because they did not follow the approach of Shaykh Atiyatullah al-Libi. The group’s jurists and members of the Shura Council see Shaykh Atiya as their role model. As for the group’s brigades, they are very hardline like Al Shabaab.

On the juntas’ poor strategic thinking and Wagner’s crimes:

The solution [for the juntas] is to negotiate with the jihadist movements, not to fight against them as the coup regimes do.1 Every crime committed by Wagner mercenaries leads to raising the stock of jihadist movements. Of course, Wagner entered Mali with a green light from America, and everyone knows that. The Muslims who are being subjected to massacres because of Wagner’s crimes see America as the cause.

In short, every crime Wagner commits in Mali increases Muslims’ hatred for this vile and worthless international community, for Muslims see Wagner killing them at the will of this vile international community. This is the new variable in the African arena that did not exist before the days of Shaykh Usama bin Ladin.

Historically, counter-insurgency either takes the form of physical extermination (even genocide) or painful reconciliation with the “insurgent” constituency. Wagner and the juntas in Mali and Burkina Faso have pursued the former course, and they are suffering the consequences. That these massacres and abuses enrage the affected populations is little surprise. What is highly alarming is that these massacres provide ample evidence for JNIM’s international jihadist ideology in these same populations. In other circumstances, these grievances would remain essentially local or national. Here, they are being injected with a radical global perspective. “Flow’s” claim that America authorized Wagner’s entrance is false, but it is notable that he believes this and that others apparently believe it too. This popular rage is fusing with a complete rejection of the international order–that is to say, it is being politicized to devastating effect.

JNIM’s thinking on Palestine:

“Flow’s” comments on the international community led me to ask about the genocide in Gaza, which is the most glaring failure of this “vile international community” today. His answer provided fascinating insights into JNIM’s worldview:

The Muslims of the Sahel hate the Jews intensely, and the situation has become even worse after the horrific massacres in Gaza, which no human being with a shred of mercy in his heart can accept. Women and children have been crushed, and I say that the victory of the jihadist movements in the Sahel would be a great blow to the Jews.

Indeed, the Jews and the Americans know this, and that is why America tried, through Africom, to intervene in Benin and Togo to increase pressure on JNIM. All of these movements believe in the necessity of supporting the Muslims in Gaza and Palestine with weapons, and the necessity of fighting with them against the Jews and the Americans, but these jihadist movements have not yet achieved victory.

There is a great revenge awaiting the American people and the European peoples. I still hold my humble opinion that a day will come, and God knows when, when thousands of Americans and Europeans will be killed without the slightest compassion for them after the crimes that they have committed.2

I asked how JNIM intended to send such support.

Very easily: By smuggling. There are smugglers who can transport weapons to Libya (that is why Africom, the Jewish donkeys, are in Libya), then from Libya to Egypt, and then into Gaza. That is why the European Legion was also established in Libya. However, this requires liberating Libya and liberating Egypt from the Dubayat Gang,3 Haftar, and Sisi’s gang.

On junta territorial control and Ukrainian presence in the Sahel:

They control major cities only. Also, controlling major cities is due to the presence of Wagner mercenaries, who have great experience [in urban affairs], and also because of the drones. If JNIM accepts Ukrainian support, Wagner will be destroyed very easily, but it has completely refused to enter this path.

This comment shocked me, so I asked if there really were Ukrainians in the region, to which “Flow” replied with this highly parapolitical answer:

Yes, of course. The Azawad [Tuareg separatist] movements have received assistance from Ukraine in several areas, such as drones, jamming devices, and others. The Azawad movements have gained significant international political support, the goals of which include using these movements against Wagner and the Russians, and fighting JNIM when necessary.

This was told to me by supporters of the Azawad movements. They are very reliable and have participated in battles. The biggest evidence of this [international support] is that they expelled Abbas Ag Intala from all positions, and he became worthless [to them] because they said that “we”–that is, the Azawad movements–“have international support and we have nothing to do with terrorism and that Abbas has a relationship with [JNIM leader] Iyad Ag Ghaly.”

There is much to unpack here. First, the Ukrainians have been apparently deputized by the West to support Tuareg separatists against Russian operatives in the region. What is extremely striking is that “Flow” adds that they will fight JNIM “when necessary,” suggesting that this is not their primary aim despite JNIM’s much greater influence in the region than Wagner and Russia. Western patronage of Tuareg separatism has a long history dating to bizarre colonial-era racial fetishism for Tuaregs as a lighter skinned people “resisting rule by the black man.”4 Second, at lower ranks, these separatist movements overlap with JNIM, which can be observed in joint attacks on Wagner and the Malian Army. That Tuareg separatist movements feel it necessary to purge JNIM sympathizers in its ranks suggest that the problem is greater than it seems at first glance. Third, JNIM views the West with immense suspicion and prosecutes its war without Western support.

31 January

Again on jihadist ideology in JNIM:

All of the JNIM brigades are very extremist and most of the brigade commanders follow the approach of Shaykh Zarqawi, but they are obedient to their leaders. The General Emirate–that is, the Shura Council–the emirs of the provinces and perhaps the top leaders of the battalions are not as extreme as the emirs of the companies. We can say that they follow the approach of Atiyatullah al-Libi.

Neither party [JNIM or AQIM] believe in the [Muslim] Brotherhood’s or the nationalist approach. Even Shaykh Iyad [Ag Ghaly]–this man that some people think is a nationalist–since 2012, he has refused to be satisfied with northern Mali [that is, Azawad]. He used to say that jihad is an individual obligation and that we must liberate all of Mali and all the lands of Islam, even though the emirs of Al Qaida–i.e., the Emirate of the Sahara at the time–were of the view that northern Mali should suffice.

I ask “Flow” about AQ leader Sayf al-Adl’s recent statements, such as his praise for Western anti-Zionist students, which suggest a more moderate ideology.

Sayf al-Adl is not a religious or legal reference. Sayf al-Adl is a strategic reference and planner for the group’s military action. His political talk is one thing, his military planning another. The military plans in the Sahel and Somalia,5 their general outlines are almost the same as Sayf al-Adl’s plans, with some changes required according to the unique environment of each theater.

Sayf al-Adl said that jihadist should engage in guerrilla warfare and not control cities, nor should they engage in decisive or all-encompassing battles against armies. He said that jihadist should get closer to the people and reduce martyrdom operations, etc. Anyone who intimately knows the jihadists knows that their military activity is an application of Sayf al-Adl’s words.

When the movements of Western students who supported Palestine are praised, this is merely a political position. However, the leadership of JNIM previously called on Western peoples to revolt against their rulers in order to stop interfering in the Sahelian countries during the days of the French occupation of Mali. If the Westerners had come out and done that, it would have been mentioned and praised.

When the Yellow Vests incident happened in France, we saw how the leadership of AQIM exploited it. Before that, Shaykh Usama (may God have mercy on him) called on Western peoples to reject the position of Western governments regarding the war against Islamic ummah and called for a truce with global infidelity. These are purely political positions that have only this dimension.

On rumors of separation between JNIM and AQ, as claimed by journalist Wassim Nasr:

The media team of Az-Zallaqa Foundation and Al-Izza Foundation are one thing. Al-Izza Foundation is still the one that publishes Az-Zallaqa Foundation’s statements and publishes news. When you know this, you will know that the issue [of not advertising JNIM’s allegiance to AQ] is nothing more than new arrangements for the situation in the arena, using the name JNIM locally, for people know this name.

This same thing happened before after the martyrdom of Shaykh Abu Mus’ab Abdul-Wadud. We used only the name JNIM and did not use the name Al Qaida. The group, thank God, is expanding day after day. It is locally known as JNIM and hence this name is officially adopted. Also an official flag was adopted for it (the same flag as the Pakistani Taliban).

What transpired is that both parties, JNIM and AQIM, agreed that the name JNIM should be used only in the Sahel and Gulf of Guinea region. This is to preserve JNIM, and because people do not know the name Al Qaida but they do know JNIM. There were also mistakes that occurred in 2012 and today we are trying to fix those mistakes. Whoever talks about the two parties separating [like Wassim Nasr] knows nothing.

Personally, I know brothers working with JNIM in Mali and Burkina Faso, and these brothers have never spoken to me about anything like this (separation). If something like this was happening, they would have told me about it. In fact, the strange thing is that they always use the name Al Qaida and not JNIM, knowing that the new policy in the Sahel region is that work will be exclusively under the name JNIM.

A key component of Al Qaida’s political vision is that the organization serves as a foundation, or “base,” of Sunni jihadist ideology and movements across the world. It is not necessary in the eyes of AQ that it directly leads jihadist struggles so long as these struggles are sincerely jihadist. It seems that this objective has been decisively achieved in the Sahel. Even if JNIM were to split off from AQ, its jihadist struggle would continue due to significant ideological indoctrination among its members. However, “Flow’s” categorical rejection of any idea of separation is good enough for me to believe that Wassim Nasr was simply bluffing.

As we have now learned, the Sahelian states’ forest laws are extremely counter-productive to its security aims. The laws are much resented by the rural population, particularly the pastoralists, who are pushed into the arms of jihadists, especially JNIM. These groups play on this popular frustration by targeting Forest Service officials and ‘opening up’ restricted regions. On the one hand, this increases the popularity of jihadism, and on the other hand, it creates ideal operating bases. Likewise, it generates much-needed revenues for jihadist activity, which are increasingly linked to global supply chains. JNIM’s activities in the Baoulé Forest in the Kayes and Koulikoro regions are illustrative.

The Baoulé Forest covers roughly a million hectares and was ostensibly managed by the National Parks Department and the much-hated Forest Service. Although intended as a protected reserve, logging is a major industry in the Baoulé, generating roughly $13.8m between 2019 and 2021, right before JNIM began to take control.1 Upon seizing the reserves, JNIM drove out park and forest service agents and initially permitted loggers to enter without a fee. “This changed in 2022 when the militants began demanding access fees of about US$8 (CFA 5000) monthly, or on a needs basis per cart.” Loggers preferred this arrangement due to the industry’s profitability and its centrality to their livelihoods. They also found JNIM to be less corrupt managers, unlike Malian officials who required fees and bribes for (often delayed) logging permits. Further:

JNIM also actively responded to grievances between loggers and bandits operating within the forest. Loggers provided the whereabouts of bandits to the insurgents, who were more proactive than security agents. People in the area told [Institute of Strategic Studies] that JNIM dislodged the bandits, often killing those who did not align with its dictates. JNIM’s response to this longstanding threat against the loggers was a significant move that further built relationships with communities seeking protection and better livelihoods.

Among loggers, the most prized wood is the endangered Kosso rosewood, much of which is illegally exported to China. “About 220,000 Kosso logs were exported from Mali to China from 2020-22 to satisfy a growing demand for luxury furniture. The logs are transported by road to the port of Dakar in Senegal, where they are shipped to China.” Indeed, in 2020, China obtained over 70% of its rosewood from West Africa.2 Much of this is known to Malian officials who often profit from the trade, as “a designated representative of GIB, a dominant player in Mali’s Kosso supply chain, tours the key offices several times a year, distributing bundles of cash.”3 JNIM’s recent media releases show that its presence in the Baoulé is paying off.

A well-informed source told me that JNIM has many supporters in Mauritania and even an emir operating in the country, ‘Shaykh Abu Hamza al-Shinqiti’ in the Aribanda region. This corresponds to official attack claims and other media officially released by JNIM. On 18 August, the group claimed that it secured: ‘Full control of a security point for the Malian army, at dawn this day, in (Melgué) in (Kayes) state.’

Melgué is on the far west of Mali, near the borders of Senegal and Mauritania. A few months later, on 4 October, the group released a set of photographs of: ‘A preaching [da’wa] campaign of the Mujahidin in Kayes State.’

The exact location of these images is not stated, but I suspect they are not far from the Baoulé Forest, which likely functions as the group’s local HQ. Other branches and cells in Kayes are likely satellites of the operating base in Baoulé. What is clear is that the Malian state has so far been incapable of stopping JNIM’s encroachment on the western reaches of the country, putting Senegal and Mauritania at risk.

Some sort of solution or stopgap measure to the agrarian question in Mali is vital to national and regional security, as is a coordinate regional strategy to fight jihadism. As of writing, there are no indications that any such measures are being devised in Bamako, which has deeply troubling implications for the growth of JNIM. The junta is relying on sheer force alone to combat jihadism, but the Malian Army is far too weak and poorly led to effectively fight JNIM and other jihadists. There are still opportunities to avert the worst case scenario, but the window is narrowing. JNIM is still open to negotiations with Bamako. As unpalatable as it is, this may be the most effective way of stopping further bloodshed.

28 June, 2024: TRACTerrorism’s assessment of jihadi spheres of influence in the Sahel. This map is already quite out of date, as JNIM has since established a sphere of influence in Togo and substantially expanded its influence over northern and far western Mali. Its toeholds in northwestern Nigeria and Niger are also growing. Meanwhile, ISGS’s sphere steadily expands in Niger, creeping closer to Niamey. Further, ISGS and ISWAP’s efforts to physically link are well underway. Dire.

Jihadism is the product of broken societies and its adherents and supporters tend to be among the wretched of the earth. In Afghanistan-Pakistan (Khorasan) region, the base of the Taliban has been the rural peasants, who during the American occupation experienced unrelenting state terror. In Iraq and Syria, the base of various jihadi groups were lumpenized workers and rural populations, whose societies were destroyed in civil and imperialist wars. In the Sahel, the base of Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) and Islamic State-Greater Sahara (ISGS) is de-landed peasants and herders. In all cases, they are the desperately poor in need of relief and taking it (illusory and ephemeral) where they can find it–in a white or black banner. Jihadism is therefore a distorted cry of the oppressed.1 This makes its evils more troubling. If we want to stop jihadism, then the people who comprise or support these movements cannot be reduced to amorphous evil. The structures that produce them and how they understand these structures must be understood. Only this will lead to a humane strategy of combating jihadism, one which adequately stops its barbarism without leveling entire countries to rubble. A politics that ends up supporting systematic air-bombing has clearly gone wrong. It must be remembered that the genocide in Gaza was preceded by a drama that spanned much of the Muslim world, which still must be analyzed.

Peter Linebaugh once observed: “The same moment of struggle in German agrarian relations [Prussian wood theft laws of the 1840s] produced contradictory results among those attempting to understand it: on the one hand, the formation of criminology, and on the other, the development of the revolutionary critique of capitalism.”2 It is striking that the spread of jihadism has produced pro-imperialist ‘jihadology,’ but no anti-imperialist counterpart. Nearly all serious analysis of jihadism is therefore written in service to the systems that produce it. This material is highly valuable but its right-wing allegiance creates limitations. The structures undergirding jihadism are still unclear, even for old conflicts like the Iraqi or the Afghan insurgencies, let alone recent ones, such as in the Sahel.

The Sahelian jihadism crisis is enormous yet it receives scant coverage in mainstream media, let alone left media. There was some buzz during July 2023 when the current junta took power in Niger, but this was a blip arising from and resulting in minimal actual engagement with Sahelian politics. The situation is extremely grim as the map above suggests, but there are open questions: What are the structural factors contributing to Sahelian jihadism? What is the political economy of these movements? Why did the French-backed liberal governments and now the juntas fail to stop them? Below is a possible answer, intended to stimulate further discussion.

Land Enclosures

Marx’s writings on Prussian wood theft laws echo on in the Sahel, where jihadi movements are in part motivated by opposition to colonial-era forest and water laws. Beginning in 1900, the French colonial government enacted a number of laws to ‘protect’ the environment. These laws were rooted in Malthusian views of the local population, as expressed in 1922 by one French writer:

For [Auguste] Chevalier, the scourge is the native. “The remedies to be applied are the same everywhere,” he asserts. “1) Bush fires must be banned wherever deforestation is a danger […]. 2) […] Nomadic forest populations must also be fixed and each village assigned a territory from which it cannot deviate […]. 3) It is necessary to demarcate immediately and register certain forests that must remain permanent in the future, and to entrust their conservation and maintenance to a forestry service with sufficient means of action […].”3

This culminated in 1935, when colonial authorities issued a law that effectively seized all ‘unproductive’ (that is, largely pastoral) lands as state property. ‘The forest décret of 1935 defined the authority of the state to protect forests from overuse and to protect and restore forest areas that had become degraded.’4 In the same year, the government formed the Forest Service, whose function was to enforce the 1935 law. This meant forbidding the traditional activities of (mostly Fulani) pastoralists: fresh wood cutting, drywood collection, nut and fruit picking, livestock grazing, managed bushfires, etc.–which all in fact help the environment. Indeed:

From the outset, this service was designed as a paramilitary and repressive structure, whose mission was not to support local populations, but to subdue them. It was also among the police and the military that the first foresters were sought. The main architect of the decree creating this service, André Aubréville, engineer and then inspector general of water and forests in the colonies in the 1920s-1940s, wrote in 1949: "Here, we must change agricultural methods; there, ban all cultivation." And further: "The evil from which Africa suffers has primary causes that are human, only human."5 [emphasis original]

The colonial-era forest laws were inherited by independent Malian governments, which, especially in the 1980s, have made them even more punitive and hostile to pastoralists. This came in the wake of a 1982 IMF structural adjustment plan that defunded all state capacities, except the Forest Service–which expanded in funding and manpower–due to then-prominent international concerns about desertification in the Sahel. “To impress donors, the revised forest law of 1986 was made even more severe [than the 1935 forest law], with extremely high fines compared to the income level in Mali. ‘Oppressive legislation during the eighties, such as high fines on cutting branches and on forest fires, was instituted because the president wanted to appear to be a staunch environmentalist to appeal to foreign aid for project funding.’”6 The legacy of colonialism in Mali was compounded by the global neoliberal assault on the Third World. Pastoralists have disproportionately borne the costs.

The Forest Service is responsible for exacting these costs, which, alongside routine abuses, has made it extremely unpopular with local populations. In one typical case, a Burkinabe forest agent illegally fined a shepherd for cutting a branch in an authorized tract. The fine initially exceeded the value of the shepherd’s entire flock, but was negotiated down to the still-onerous value of three oxen.7 This pattern of abuse is widespread and institutionalized. Indeed: ‘Forest agents were allowed to keep a portion of the fines collected, in addition to all the fines they collected informally without receipts, which further encouraged their rent-seeking behaviour leading the para-military WFS to become a vehicle for “decentralised plunder across the country” and resulting in the WFS topping rural people's hate list [emphasis mine].’8 In eastern Burkina Faso, the dispossession is especially stark:

In this heavily forested region, the state has, over the years, created eleven hunting concessions, ten of which are managed by private concessionaires,9 and two huge protected areas: Arly Park and W Park. The proliferation of these areas, which prevents people from cultivating, hunting and fishing as they please, has sparked frustration and anger against the authorities. "People do not understand why they are being deprived of land that was exploited by their ancestors, and even less so that foreigners can benefit from it," the local elected official continued.10 [emphasis mine]

The comparison to the Prussian wood theft laws is inescapable. However, the Sahelian laws are not turning pastoralists into proletarians nor is it subduing popular resistance to factory life, as with the nascent German proletariat.11 Instead, these laws are lumpenizing pastoralists, whose dispossession aids meager accumulation, as dictated by the IMF.

The jihadis, particularly JNIM, take great advantage of this popular anger by crudely reversing this enclosure. The Forest Service are among their top targets. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of forest agents have been killed across Mali and Burkina Faso. The rest flee in fear, which leaves these zones open for JNIM to exploit as hideouts, operating bases, training camps, and rearguards into which they can withdraw after attacks. Likewise, upon seizing control, JNIM reverses all restrictions imposed by the forest laws and opens up these areas to popular use. According to one Burkinabe official, their message to locals is: ‘You can return to the forest, it is yours.’12 This message is hugely powerful and has done much to increase JNIM’s popularity–as has its unofficial social rebellion.

Fulani society is rigidly hierarchical, which, due to the Malian state’s inability to empower the low-caste pastoralists, has created ample kindling for social revolt.13 The two lowest castes of Fulani society are the Rimaybe (descendants of freed slaves) and the Matioube (descendants of slaves proper). Both are essentially equivalent and highly disenfranchised. As one Malian local official reported:

Despite the fact that slavery has been officially abolished, the former Fulani masters still dominate the former slaves in the commune. This can be seen on several levels: on the political level, few Rimaybe accept positions of responsibility; on the social level, Rimaybe marry with difficulty with [high-caste] Jallube or Weheebe Fulani. It's true that today, there are a few who have managed to overcome this hurdle, but they are very rare. You also have to distinguish between Matioube [i.e. maccube]–slaves who are still under the domination of their masters–and Rimaybe–freed slaves who have a free spirit. A Matioudo [i.e. maccudo] always lives under his master's orders, he can't decide without consulting his master, he has no field of his own so it's his master who rents him a field with very difficult conditions. We, the authorities, thought that this phenomenon no longer existed in this country, but it was here that I realized that slavery still exists today. […]

Rimbe [high-caste] dominate the Rimaybe in terms of access to arable land. The Rimaybe are obliged to submit to the conditions proposed by their former masters in order to gain access to this arable land. Otherwise, a Diimajo [aka Rimaybe] who has his own field has no need of any Ndimo [i.e. Fulani of free status), as he is self-sufficient. Land rental contracts vary from one area to another. Here, the landowner makes the field and seeds available to the farmer, who would only provide the physical strength to cultivate. At harvest time, both parties share equally. Generally speaking, landowners have an advantage in letting non-proprietors exploit their plots.14

The state’s ignorance of this problem eventually transformed into active complicity in it.

[T]he pastoralists and shepherds [are] socially downgraded and excessively taxed by the jowro'en (sing. jowro), the holders of the rights over the herbages granted in the 19th century by the Islamic state and beneficiaries of the rents for access to the pastures (conngi) [in the Niger Inner Delta]. With the decentralization of 1993 and the election of communes in 1999, these financial resources enabled the jowro'en to run for elected office and thus perpetuate their dominant social and economic position: “from ‘masters of grass,’ they became mayors of communes, thus having a say in the management of ‘grass and land,’” logically leading them to engage in close collaboration with local representatives of the state (prefects, water and forestry officers, etc).15 [emphasis mine]

Further, the jowro'en choose the order in which herds can go to pasture, with rents and bribes being a key means of ensuring first place. This gives them significant power, which is worsened by their integration into the state. However, even honest jowro'en do these practices, as they are often coerced by state officials who demand bribes in exchange for not seizing communal pastures and livestock corridors. Indeed, pastoralists have steadily lost these lands to privatized rice cultivations since 1972, when the Malian state formed the World Bank-funded Office Riz Moptiz (ORM). “People interviewed in the delta in 2006 also stressed that neither farmers nor pastoralists were consulted when ORM confiscated burgu [pasture] land and closed livestock corridors. One jowro said that ORM had robbed his community of land worth many billions of FCFA. He called it ‘an aggressive hold-up’ and added that ‘ORM – it's a disaster’. Another jowro added that ‘everything ORM has done is bad’.”16 It is therefore unsurprising that JNIM takes great advantage of this twin opposition against the state and traditional pastoralist society. As Gilles Holder concludes:

In such a context, the violence of populations oppressed by a servile origin that disbars them from land access, calls into question the traumatic memories of slavery. Their awakening, failing resilience, requires the re-appropriation of the jihadist model as a liberation movement, following the example of the jihad launched by the Peuls [Fulani] in the early 19th century to fight against the Bambara hegemony and slave economy of the State of Ségou. Thus, whatever the depth of the religious faith that motivates the jihadists of the 21st century, and while we must not obscure the stakes of globalized jihadism, the commitment of slaves by descent to violence takes on a fairly precise meaning: to free themselves from their subaltern and dependent status by force, by reappropriating the jihad.17

The language of jihadism has accordingly shifted, as observed in the speeches of top JNIM leader Amadou Kouffa. In the early years, Kouffa’s rhetoric singled out France and MINUSMA as ‘Crusaders’ invading and oppressing Mali, which they sought to re-colonize for the benefit of white people.18 He denounced the Malian state on the grounds that it sided with the invaders. The rhetoric was initially jihadist anticolonialism but has since shifted to jihadist populism. In recent years, Kouffa has denounced the Malian state as such, calling it a ‘Bambara State,’ which has strong historical and ethnic overtones.19 In the early 19th century, the Fulani fought against and defeated the Bambara Empire, replacing it with the Massina Empire, which presided over a period of Fulani ascendancy and empowerment. The Bambara are also one of the major ethnicities in Mali. Kouffa is therefore invoking Fulani identity in two senses, one affirmative–as inheritors of the anti-Bambara jihad–and one negative–as against the ‘Bambara’ Malian state. As I have said across several writings, the motive forces of nationalism and jihadism are often the same–the two ideologies are often different means of expressing the same concerns. Further, Kouffa condemns the power of the jowro’en and the Fulani elite, and the abuses of the Forest Service. His rhetoric often emphasizes that the only way to establish social equality is through an Islamic state and sharia. This message is unsubtly directed to low-caste Fulani (and Tuareg), who are highly receptive to it, especially because JNIM has put it into practice:

With Katiba Macina taking control over the [Niger Inner] delta from 2015, grazing fees to burgu pastures were abolished, which was obviously a popular move among pastoralists. However, in 2018, the jowros complained to the Shoura (the committee of leaders) of Katiba Macina and asked for permission to start collecting fees again, which was granted, although the rates were reduced compared to the past.

Many dryland pastoralists rejected, however, to comply with this decision arguing that the holy Quran states that pastures are a free gift from Allah. They therefore asked for a reversal of the decision, but the Shoura still decided to keep the fees. This resulted in many dryland pastoralists leaving Katiba Macina to join Dawlat il Islamia, which is a group established in late 2019 that has become part of Islamic State in the Greater Sahara.20

Likewise, in 2015, JNIM took control of an area which had long been the site of competition between two Fulani communities, the one high-caste and the other low-caste. The former had historically received support from the (colonial then independent) government. However, in 2016, JNIM sent letters to both communities, siding with the low-caste Fulani’s priority to pasture, which in practice translated to their exclusive right to pasture.21 At the same time, the historical jihad that Kouffa praises installed the very Fulani elites whom he now denounces. His rhetoric about equality and justice is ultimately fleeting–Kouffa provides no real answer to the Fulani poor. JNIM’s social rebellion offers no lasting solution to the plight of ordinary pastoralists, even if it may provide temporary relief. The gap left by revolutionary socialism is unstably filled by jihadism.

In response to the conflict, the state has adopted a strictly ‘security-minded’ approach, ignoring the social and political origins of jihadism among Fulani. The strategy is essentially apolitical and thus fails to address any of the reasons that Fulani may join JNIM. Unsurprisingly, it has failed with devastating consequences for Mali, which has experienced massive increases in jihadi attacks and ethnic violence. The state’s refusal to consider a political approach reinforces the inequities against which many Fulani and Tuareg are rebelling, reproducing the crisis anew. Indeed, the state has at points worsened the violence by forming paramilitaries from the settled Dogon populations, who have engaged in ethnic violence against Fulani.22 In many communities, these paramilitaries use counter-terrorism and the image of Fulani as ‘terrorists’ to justify settling of personal or communal scores. The essentially apolitical view of the Malian (and other Sahelian) state reproduces the worst abuses of Malian society, which only accelerate the growth of jihadism and worsen the country’s security.

Blood Gold

In contrast to agrarian relations, the role of gold extraction in Sahelian jihadism is straightforward: it is perhaps the largest source of jihadi financing. This is a very new development since gold mining in this region is itself a new industry, per International Crisis Group (ICG):

In central Sahel (Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger), gold mining has intensified since 2012 due to the discovery of a particularly rich vein that crosses the Sahara from east to west. […] These recent discoveries come in addition to the gold already mined in Tillabéri (western Niger), Kayes, Sikasso and Koulikoro (southern Mali), and various regions of Burkina Faso, making artisanal gold a hugely important issue in the Sahel. Artisanal production now reportedly amounts to almost half the volume of industrially produced gold: 20 to 50 tonnes per year in Mali, 10 to 30 tonnes in Burkina Faso, and 10 to 15 tonnes in Niger. This represents a total monetary value of between $1.9 and $4.5 billion per year. The bulk is exported to Dubai, which reports $1.9 billion in annual gold imports from these countries (plus Togo). According to Crisis Group estimates, more than two million individuals in these three countries are directly involved in artisanal gold mining: one million in Burkina Faso, 700,000 in Mali and 300,000 in Niger. The number of people employed indirectly could be three times higher.23 [emphasis mine]

The majority of this extraction is unofficial and beyond government oversight, thus cannot be regulated nor taxed. The increase in mining coincided with a significant decline in the kidnapping-for-ransom economy–which had plagued the Sahel for decades–due to the counter-terror and policing campaigns by France and regional states. As a result, jihadi groups, particularly JNIM, turned to artisanal gold, of which they rapidly began to seize control.

Relations between jihadis and miners are fraught, varying from cautious pragmatism to intense violence. In 2019, when gold mining was still a secondary means of financing, ICG reported: “In Burkina Faso’s Soum province, gold miners pay jihadist groups to secure sites. In the areas of Tinzawaten, Intabzaz and Talahandak, in the north of Mali’s Kidal region, the jihadist group Ansar Dine (a member of the Group to Support Islam and Muslims, or GSIM [i.e., JNIM]) does not have an armed presence to secure the site, but levies the zakat (religious tax) upon miners and the rest of the population.”24 However:

Both JNIM and ISGS carry out frequent ambushes, IEDs and armed attacks — and these are becoming more and more prevalent in areas near industrial mining operations. The most notable of these was the complex attack carried out in the Est region of Burkina Faso on 6th November 2019, targeting a convoy of vehicles transporting SEMAFO mining employees, contractors and suppliers. In the attack the leading vehicle was hit by an IED, before gunmen then opened fire on the convoy — at least 37 people were killed, with another 60 wounded.25

The presence of industrial mines brings substantial scrutiny and security. Their operations are monitored and taxed, while the details of artisanal mines are unknown to the government, making them easier for militants to control and exploit. For this reason, jihadis are hostile to industrial mining companies and launch attacks like the one against the SEMAFO convoy. Two years later, in 2021, Financial Times reported that the situation had significantly worsened.26 Many miners endlessly flee jihadi fighters who stop them on the roads or attack and take control of the mines at which they work. In one incident, jihadis massacred over 130 people. According to the same Financial Times report, by mid-2021, gold mining sites and jihadi spheres of influence almost exactly overlapped in Burkina Faso, which has worsened in the three years since.

In an effort to combat jihadism, the Burkinabe government banned all artisanal mining in the affected regions, which has been highly unpopular with local populations due to the enormous importance of gold in the economy. Reuters reports:

“How many people in Burkina Faso can pay the school fees without artisanal mining?” said Moamoudou Rabo, head of a national union of gold miners. “Our economy is gold mining. There is nothing else.”27

Indeed, much of this mining takes place in wildlife reserves and protected areas, which as established above, are extremely resented by locals. Jihadi groups, especially JNIM, open these areas for economic exploitation, which earns them much favor. Further, they police the mining sites, preventing robberies, banditry, and ethnic feuds from taking place. Most importantly, they purchase the gold at going market rates, effectively sustaining local economies.28 Thus, the population becomes structurally dependent on the presence of jihadis. In some cases, they prefer this over Burkinabe government forces such as the VDP (Volontaires pour la Défense de la Patrie), a paramilitary which has been accused of ethnic massacres and other abuses, largely against Fulanis. The situation in Mali is similar but has important differences. The scale of extraction is significantly bigger than in Burkina Faso:

Malian officials have privately estimated the figure to be between 30–50 tons, while recent investigative journalism from France 24 reckoned that at least half of Mali’s gold, over 60 tons, comes from artisanal mines. The most compelling reason to doubt official Malian figures for artisanal production is that other countries claim to import a great deal more gold from Mali than Mali claims to produce. According to the UN Comtrade Database—an online aggregator of international trade statistics—the UAE purchased nearly 81 tons of gold from Mali in 2019.29

Some artisanal mines in Mali are too large to escape government attention: “Bigger extraction sites, such as the Intahaka mine in the northern Gao region, are several kilometers wide and employ thousands of workers as well as bulldozers and other heavy equipment.”30 As alluded to above, the vast majority of this illicit gold is exported to the UAE, whose role in the Sahelian jihadism crisis has largely gone unscrutinized because it is partially overshadowed by another gold-centric Sahelian crisis: the Sudanese Civil War, in which the Emiratis are deeply involved. Indeed, the UAE is the main destination for most illicit African gold, extracted across the continent.31 The UN and human rights NGOs have urged the UAE to trace its gold imports, but it has rebuffed these requests, spuriously claiming that it maintains the highest standards.

The paths by which illicit Sahelian gold is smuggled to the UAE differs per country. Malian gold is flown straight out of the Bamako International Airport, while Burkinabe gold is trafficked through Togo, from where it is shipped to Dubai. The differences in the two supply chains are striking. In Mali:

Buyers in Bamako, often prefinanced with foreign capital, acquire gold nuggets from artisanal miners and smugglers. At the city’s various refining facilities, they melt these nuggets into bars and ship them abroad. By paying off local customs and airport officials, their couriers can easily leave Bamako for Dubai with bars of artisanal gold stowed in their hand luggage. […] Buyers in Dubai prize low-grade bars of African gold since they can keep the other precious metals that are separated out during the refining process—metals such as silver, palladium and platinum can compose ten percent of a bar’s original mass.32

In some cases, foreign buyers from the UAE, Turkey, and Russia go straight to the source, particularly with massive operations like the Intahaka mine. Loosely pro-government militant groups levy their own taxes on gold as per treaties with Bamako. However, jihadis have not signed any treaties so they continue their attacks and unilaterally take proceeds from gold mining.33 The path for Burkinabe gold is more complex. “Gold flows out of Burkina Faso across porous land borders in cars and buses. It is strapped to cattle or hidden in bales of hay attached to bicycles. Miners at Kabonga, in an area near Pama reserved for herders to raise their livestock, said buyers included locals and traders from neighbouring countries, including Ghana, Togo, Benin and Niger.”34 Due to its low taxes on gold exports, Togo is especially popular among smugglers–I suspect that its key role in gold exports in part motivates JNIM’s recent encroachment on the country. In 2018, Togo exported 24 tonnes of gold to the UAE, despite having no native gold of its own.35 Once the gold arrives in the UAE, it is refined then either exported to another country (usually Switzerland, Saudi Arabia, or Turkey) or manufactured into high-end jewelry for sale. Enormous human suffering across the Sahel is embodied in gold necklaces and earrings.

The Sahelian states’ failure to secure their rural countrysides, in large part due to the forest laws, directly contributes to their inability to control and monitor gold extraction. The Burkinabe government has claimed at various points that it is nationalizing the country’s mines, but these gestures are meaningless if most mines are in territories beyond government control. The security situation must improve first, and for this to occur, the governments must make amends to the rural populations. This requires an answer, or a serious attempt at one, to the agrarian question, particularly as it pertains to pastoralists. Only once the governments obtain the trust of the populations most susceptible to jihadism will it be able to fight jihadism as such. At root, this requires adopting a new and explicitly political strategy.36 Unfortunately, it seems that none of the Sahelian states are interested in such a move, with likely grave consequences for the local population.

Alleged JNIM fighters in northwest Nigeria, pictured several months ago

Flow first ‘confirms’ that these are indeed JNIM fighters:

This battalion in Nigeria is affiliated with Burkina Faso, and Burkina Faso has tens of thousands of JNIM fighters. They are in Nigeria, they did not attack or assault anyone, and they are our heroic Fulani brothers, may God grant them victory. They live in the heart of their communities. As for military activity, we do not know any details about this matter, God knows best.

Of course, saying this is a JNIM battalion means that neither bandits nor anyone else will dare attack them, God willing. Whoever strikes the brothers with a bullet, they will be struck back with a cannonball, with the permission of God. There are thousands of brothers in Burkina Faso, Benin, and Niger close to Nigeria and the apostate bandits know this.’

This broadly matches the analysis of jihadism-watchers, but there are details, which if true, were not previously known. We already knew that JNIM had begun sending groups into the northwestern corner of Nigeria to set up local networks, likely by embedding in communities. Fulanis have always been over-represented in jihadi movements, so his reference to ‘heroic Fulani brothers’ is no surprise. What is surprising is that northern bandits are aware of JNIM’s presence and do not attack them to avoid their wrath. This suggests a greater degree of influence than one would expect given how new JNIM’s Nigerian outreach is. The reference to ‘tens of thousands of fighters’ in Burkina Faso is certainly exaggerated, but it does reflect the enormous support JNIM has in the country. However, Flow clarifies that a front will not open in Nigeria for some time:

Nigeria is a large country and to open a jihadist arena with it requires great effort. Perhaps it even requires a decision from the Shura Council of Al Qaida in Algeria [aka Al Qaida in Islamic Maghrib (AQIM)], not from JNIM alone. Opening a military front with a big country like Nigeria is never easy because it may drain the group’s resources, but building good relations with the tribes costs nothing.

The decision to expand into Nigeria likely requires a Shura Council decision, not only in JNIM but in Al Qaida back in Algeria. Nigeria is a powerful country, not an ordinary [weak] one. In general, JNIM targets Muslim communities, especially the Fulani and there are hundreds of Fulani among the brothers in Nigeria.

The matter requires good advice and care for the people, for this is what our religion calls us to. That said, the brothers can benefit from Nigeria by smuggling weapons, having some rear camps, and sending foreign fighters from Nigeria to Mali and Burkina Faso. Indeed, there are Nigerian brothers in Macina Katiba [JNIM constituent group in Mali] and Burkina Faso. God knows best.

JNIM even has strong relations with some tribes in Chad and there are brothers who go there to visit, but this does not mean declaring a branch of JNIM there.

To my knowledge, this information has not yet been covered by other analysts, or at least none that I follow. It seems major decisions are ultimately made by AQIM headquarters in Kabylia back in Algeria. This is surprising. JNIM is a full AQ branch, rather than a mere sub-group. It was formed in 2017 as a merger of several Sahelian groups, including AQIM itself, albeit its local branch which had long been more active than the parent group in Algeria. I had thought that AQIM ‘mother ship’ had long been reduced to a light administrative role due to the successes of Algerian counter-terrorism operations, which first pushed AQIM into the Sahel during the mid-2000s.2 It seems that AQIM is still functional in Algeria and meaningfully involved in JNIM’s activities, but not on a day-to-day basis. Its decisions are on a strategic level. JNIM’s and AQIM’s hesitance to open a front in Nigeria contrasts with the approach of IS, which even when far outmatched, opens and maintains active fronts, as in Iraq during the Sahwa years or currently in Afghanistan. It also reflects a concern with avoiding needless physical suffering on the civilian population, which fits broader patterns of JNIM’s local engagement. The comment about ‘Nigerian brothers’ in not only Burkina Faso but Mali is extremely striking. If true, this highlights a significant amount of control and coordination across vast swathes of territory, apparently going so far as Chad, which is perhaps the most striking (and likely most exaggerated) claim here.

The broader ethnic dynamics in Flow’s claims are quite interesting:

The example of our heroic Fulani brothers reminds of the Pashtuns in Afghanistan and Pakistan who bore the costs of battle. I ask God to bless their jihad. Our Fulani brothers bore the costs of battle and lost thousands of brothers. I ask God to compensate them well. When you speak of these men, you remember the righteous predecessors.

Our Fulani brothers came to our Shaykh, the beloved leader of the Muhajirin [foreign fighters[ and Ansar [local supporters], Shaykh Abu Musab Abdul-Wadud, the first emir, and told him that ‘we are prepared to bear the costs of the battle against France and the Sahelian states. Young people remind us of the first generation [of Muslims]. May God accept them and mention them most high. The rest of the righteous tribes such as the Tuaregs, the Arabs, and others, may God protect them all.

Further, the Hausa are spread out along the river and borders and some of them are in Nigeria. Their language is difficult, you can hardly understand it. It is one of God’s blessings that when the brothers of Al Qaida in Algeria [AQIM] first came to the scene, they reconciled the tribes and removed grudges between them. Then Shaykh Abu al-Fadl followed the same approach, and reconciliation and brotherhood operations took place, especially in 2018.

The final point about AQIM’s local outreach is corroborated by other analysts, particularly Combating Terrorism Center (CTC). In 2022, CTC released a lengthy report discussing in detail AQIM’s reconciliation efforts among tribes, particularly historically oppressed and rivalrous ones, thus embedding themselves in and strengthening local communities.3 However, the Fulani are the clear favorites since they are viewed as the backbone of jihadism and Islam in the region. The comparison to the Pashtuns is a jihadi rhetorical motif. In 2011, Abu Muhammad al-Adnani himself (when he still belonged to AQ) gave similar praise in a statement dedicated to Mullah Omar and the Taliban:

This message of ours is to those who are doing jihad in order to obey God and don’t fear the reproach of any haters in the way of God. To all the mujahidin of the different parts of the world, especially to His Excellency Shaykh Mullah Mohammad Omar, his patience like the towering strong lofty mountains, the great personality like the vast sea, and his Pashtun and Taliban companions, who are for us strong rocks and strong forts.

As discussed in other pieces, the forces behind jihadism often overlap with those behind nationalism. Although neither this JNIM supporter nor Adnani would ever identify as nationalists, their rhetoric is oddly similar. The centrality of one’s ethnicity to jihadism takes the place of secular nationalist glories, serving essentially the same role. Taliban fighters and supporters on Twitter have expressed similar rhetoric. One especially Pashtun chauvinist supporter resentfully noted that Pashtuns lost the most blood during the Terror War in AfPak, so for this reason, their views and desires took priority.

JNIM fighters in the ‘Abdul Wahid al-Ansar’ training camp

Returning to the Sahel, Flow made several even more shocking claims about JNIM’s total manpower. He shared these under a new account, which was suspended before I was able to archive his posts, so I am unfortunately unable to provide exact quotations as above. I ask the reader to trust that I have honestly reproduced the substance of his claims.

Flow alleges that JNIM can field 120,000 fighters at peak mobilization. This figure is a wild exaggeration as it dwarfs the armies of Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger combined. If this were JNIM’s true manpower, then the three Sahelian states would have fallen already. This becomes especially clear in light of his limited breakdown of the supposed 120,000. In Mali, Flow claims that there are 30,000 in Macina region and 15,000 in Timbuktu region, meaning there are at least 45,000 JNIM fighters in the country. This is greater than FAMa itself, which despite numerous immense defeats, is still able to soak up JNIM’s strikes. While Bamako is increasingly surrounded, the city itself is largely peaceful.4 Part of this is intentional as JNIM does not want to prematurely attract global attention by striking or marching on a capital. However, the other part of this is insufficient resources and manpower. It is impossible that they have as many fighters as Flow claims.

That said, these figures likely reflect JNIM's ideological support base. The figure of 120,000 may approximate the hard core of JNIM’s supporters. As for full time fighters, I reckon that JNIM has 15,000 to 20,000 due to their enormous territorial reach, most of which is under significant JNIM influence. Furthemore, JNIM has done several attacks with 1,000 fighters, which would be a highly risky move if their total manpower was only 5,000-6,000 as the UN claims. The group has absorbed many key lessons from the past three decades of global jihadism, and avoiding such risky moves is almost certainly one of these lessons.

Indeed, Flow even claimed that many JNIM leaders are Algerians, including veterans of the Algerian Civil War. These veterans are at the top leadership. Flow shared several kunyas but I unfortunately did not note these down. He claimed that JNIM is even active within Algeria as a support front, while AQIM in Kabylia (to which JNIM defers) makes the very big decisions like opening up a new military front. Flow approvingly stated that AQIM and the Algerian JNIM commanders have learned lessons from not only the Algerian Civil War but the wars in Iraq and Syria as well–from his other posts, it is clear he fiercely hates Islamic State.5 His overall strategic view is quite interesting. On the one hand, Flow emphasizes an accomodating approach to the population, while on the other hand, he urges absolute obedience to AQ General Command (AQGC) and to Sayf al-Adl's directives. This suggests that while JNIM and AQIM operate with significant leeway, they (in the eyes of supporters) still adhere closely to AQGC’s orders and strategy.