They were called “the confines”. These forgotten lands where Benin frays towards Niger and Nigeria, somewhere between the savannah and the Sahel. Today, these margins have become the terrain of an unprecedented experiment: the methodical establishment of a JNIM cell from Mali, which was able to absorb Boko Haram dissidents to create a hybrid group. The story of this merger tells how the Sahelian jihad conquered new territories.
By Fiacre VIDJINGNINOU, PhD – Principal researcher at the Béhanzin Institute, senior associate researcher at the Egmont Institute and teacher to National Higher School of the Armed Forces (ENSA – Benin).
It was an old village chief from Borgou who made me understand what was happening. We were sitting under a mango tree, a few kilometers from the Nigerian border. “Before,” he told me, “the bandits came from Nigeria. We knew who they were. Now there are other people. They speak Fulani, but not like our Fulani. They come from far away. From Mali, perhaps. And they recruited some of the old guys. » This sentence sums it all up: the Sahelian jihad has moved south and has been able to bring together fighters from different backgrounds.
Ten years ago, no one would have bet on Benin as a land of jihad. Observers spoke of Boko Haram “overflowing,” as we speak of a river threatening to overflow its banks. They were wrong. It was not Boko Haram that overflowed. It was the JNIM – the great Sahelian coalition – which decided to extend its empire southwards.
Also read: The Islamic State aims for regional expansion in the Sahel
The man who started it all
To understand what is at stake, we must go back to 2020 and follow the trajectory of a man whose name few know: Tamimou. This Nigerian Fulani, of Hausa ethnicity, is not an improvised war leader. He is a veteran forged in the ranks of JNIM in Mali, in the Serma region – one of Iyad Ag Ghali’s historic strongholds.
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In 2020, Tamimou receives a mission: go south and set up a cell on the borders of Nigeria and Benin. He’s not leaving alone. With him, Nigerian fighters already integrated into the JNIM, at least one Beninese who trained in the Sahel, and other veterans of the Malian wars. A seasoned group, united by years of common combat.
The objective is clear: create a bridgehead halfway between the Sahel and the Gulf of Guinea. The forests of northern Benin, the parks of W-Arly-Pendjari, the smuggling routes to the ports – all this interests the Sahelian leadership.
When Boko Haram knocks at the door
The Tamimou cell did not remain a purely Sahelian group for long. Boko Haram dissidents quickly joined her – fighters who had broken with the Nigerian leadership. Too much indiscriminate violence against Muslims, not enough strategy, bloody power struggles. They wander on the margins of Lake Kainji, in the northwest of Nigeria, in search of a reception structure.
At their head, a man who would later give his name to the group: Mahmuda. He is an experienced warlord. But when his faction joins Tamimou, he agrees to submit to his authority. The hierarchy is clear: JNIM commands, the ex-Boko Haram integrates. A former Nigerian serviceman described this merger to me with a telling metaphor: “Imagine a company that buys a struggling competitor. The boss remains the same, but he gets the employees and the know-how. This is exactly what happened. »
Three chefs in four years
The history of the “katiba Mahmuda” is also that of a leadership constantly renewed under pressure from the security forces. In four years, the group has had three leaders – and it continues to function.
Tamimou, the founder, is captured in Mali. Command passes to another Sahel veteran. This successor is killed in Nigeria. Mahmuda then takes the reins – the former leader of the Boko Haram faction becomes the third emir. Irony of history: his name ends up designating the entire cell in intelligence reports. Recently, Mahmuda was arrested by Nigerian forces. And once again, the group survives. According to consistent sources, it is now a Nigerien – or perhaps a Beninese – who is in command. The doubt about its nationality alone illustrates the cross-border nature of this organization.
A franchise that is exported
What this story reveals is JNIM’s ability to project its force well beyond its Malian strongholds. The model resembles that of a franchise. The headquarters – somewhere in the Malian Sahel – provides the brand, the doctrine, the initial training. Local cells maintain operational autonomy, but are accountable. They can recruit fighters of various origins – former Boko Haram, young Beninese returning from the United Arab Emirates without diploma equivalence, Fulani shepherds seeking protection – provided that allegiance is not called into question.
A French intelligence analyst confided his concern to me: “We have long thought that JNIM was a Sahelian problem. We realize that he has much broader ambitions. The Benin cell is probably not the only one. There are others in the making, further south. The model is reproducible. »
A Beninese police officer and soldier stop a motorcyclist at a checkpoint outside Porga, Benin, March 26, 2022. (AP Photo/ Marco Simoncelli) © SIPA
Establish yourself without conquering
How does an armed group gain a foothold in a region where no one expects it? The answer is in one word: patience. Tamimou’s men do not arrive as conquerors. They infiltrate, observe, form links. A trader I met at a border market explained it to me: “They don’t steal. They buy. They even pay more than others. At first, we tell ourselves that they are good customers. »
But the real work is done on another ground: religion. Since the beginning of the 2000s, preachers of a new type, often of Tuareg origin from Niger, have opened Koranic schools where the State was conspicuous by its absence. These schools are not “jihadist factories”. But they have created a new religious landscape on which the JNIM cell can rely.
There is a scene that several witnesses told me about. A trucker transporting livestock is stopped on a forest track. Armed men surround him. He is politely asked to pay a “passage tax”. The amount is fixed, known in advance. We even give him a receipt. “With this,” he told me, “I’m at peace for the rest of the journey.” » This protection economy is at the heart of the model. The group enters into direct competition with state agents – customs officers, police, soldiers – who also collect their tithes.
Also read: Benin: the coup d’état that says out loud what the region is whispering
The forest as a sanctuary
Look at a map of northern Benin. You will see a huge green spot straddling three countries: the W-Arly-Pendjari complex, one of the last great wildlife sanctuaries in West Africa. Elephants, lions – and now JNIM fighters. These parks created to protect nature have become rear bases. Thousands of square kilometers of dense bush to hide in. Borders that are just lines on a map. A former ranger described the situation to me bitterly: “We were trained to count animals. Not for confronting people with Kalashnikovs. »
Since 2019, tourism has collapsed. The lodges are empty. The trackers have lost their jobs – a recruiting ground for those who know how to do it.
Three black flags
At least three movements are now competing for space in northern Benin. The JNIM, of which the Mahmuda katiba is only one component. The Islamic State in the Sahel, a bitter rival, which seeks to establish itself along the pipeline linking Koulele (Niger) to its descent from Sèmè to Kraké (Benin). And residual Boko Haram networks on the Nigerian border. These actors do not form a united front – JNIM and Islamic State have been fighting each other for years. But they share the same playing field. A Nigerian intelligence officer confided his dismay to me: “We were trained to track organizations with organizational charts. Here, it’s fluid. A guy can work for Mahmuda on Monday and transport goods for ISIS on Thursday. »
The Sahel (c) AFP
What the Beninese case teaches us
No, jihadism in Benin is not a simple “overflow” of Boko Haram. This is the result of a deliberate strategy by JNIM to extend its influence towards the Gulf of Guinea. The absorption of Boko Haram dissidents was only one step – a way of acquiring fighters, networks, knowledge of the Nigerian terrain.
But the answer cannot only be military. Three leaders eliminated or captured, and the group continues. The structure counts more than the people. And this structure feeds on the flaws of the State: unmaintained roads, absent schools, inaccessible justice, predatory civil servants, realities common to all countries in this part of West Africa.
In the villages of Borgou, residents do not ask abstract questions about the rivalries between Al-Qaeda and the Islamic State. They wonder who will protect their herds, who will resolve their land conflicts, who will offer a future to their children. Until the state can effectively answer these simple questions, others will do so for it.
REFERENCES • The genealogy of the katiba Mahmuda
2020 — Tamimou, a Nigerian Fulani trained at JNIM in Serma (Mali), founded a cell on the borders of Benin and Nigeria with Sahelian fighters including at least one Beninese.
2020-2021 — A Boko Haram splinter faction led by Mahmuda joins the cell. Mahmuda submits to Tamimou’s authority.
Succession — Tamimou captured in Mali → Sahelian veteran killed in Nigeria → Mahmuda takes command → Mahmuda arrested → new leader (Nigerian or Beninese).
Also read: JNIM in Mali: the strangulation of Bamako and the strategy of the caliphate by consent
