Sambisa Bloodletting: When Boko Haram Turned Its Guns on ISWAP.

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by SaharaWeeklyNG.com

“The Deadly Turf War That Shakes the Lake Chad Basin.”

A new and grisly chapter has opened in Nigeria’s long-running insurgency; once bitter rivals in name only, Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) have for months been fighting not merely for recruits or haulage routes, but for outright territorial control. The latest and most savage manifestation of that internecine war erupted in and around Sambisa and the islands of the Lake Chad corridor, a cascade of assaults that left scores dead, dozens of boats seized and whole communities re-traumatised. Initial field accounts and media investigations put the toll at roughly two hundred militants killed in clashes over the weekend, with Boko Haram reported to have overrun several ISWAP camps and seized key naval assets.

That figure (horrific even in a conflict long accustomed to horror) must be read in context. The Lake Chad Basin has been a theatre of not only cross-border criminality and smuggling, but also of militant adaptation: riverine skirmishes, sudden amphibious raids and the seasonal ebb and flow of civilians and fighters. For years ISWAP and what remains of Boko Haram’s Shekau-loyal factions have alternated between cooperation, coexistence and murderous rivalry. The latest operations, however, were not mere hit-and-run attacks; they were coordinated attempts to seize island strongholds that generate revenue (through fishing taxes and illicit trade) and provide safe havens from military strikes.

Why this flare-up now matters (and why it should alarm us) boils down to three brutal facts. First, when jihadi factions fight each other, civilians pay the price: reprisals, forced displacements and collective punishments typically follow. Second, the victor in a factional fight can absorb weapons, boats and fighters; materially strengthening itself for renewed attacks on towns, garrisons and humanitarian convoys. Third, infighting makes conflict dynamics less predictable and therefore harder for security forces and relief agencies to plan for or to counter. For communities around Sambisa and the Lake Chad islands, the immediate consequence is the collapse of whatever fragile protection existed and a fresh round of displacement and hunger.
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On the ground, the fighting reportedly featured dozens of motorised canoes and heavily armed gunmen which is a reminder that the Lake Chad is no backwater but a strategic corridor. Reports say Boko Haram fighters swept across several ISWAP-held islands, capturing boats and weaponry and inflicting heavy casualties on ISWAP personnel. Local vigilante sources and intelligence leaks described scenes of charred camps and the frantic flight of surviving fighters toward mainland villages. If confirmed, the seizure of riverine assets is strategically significant: control of boats equals control of movement, supplies, taxation points and crucially, escape routes.

Scholars and analysts who have followed the jihadist evolution in north-east Nigeria warn that this is not a mere squabble among thugs; it is the latest phase of a long adaptive conflict. Vincent Foucher, a leading researcher on the Lake Chad jihadist landscape, captures the larger truth: “jihad in the Lake Chad Basin is here to stay.” The line is blunt, but the point is stark; these factions are resilient, they learn from one another and they exploit gaps in state capacity to regenerate. That resilience helps explain why gains against one group are often temporary and why civilian recovery remains painfully fragile.

A tactical victory for Boko Haram in Sambisa (if sustained) raises grave long-term risks. Where one faction consolidates, it does not merely defend borders: it governs, taxes and recruits. It also acquires the spoils of war, captured materiel and the bargaining chips of prisoners and local informants. ISWAP, by contrast, has built an internationalised technical edge in recent years, claiming sophisticated propaganda, reportedly better coordination with transnational ISIS networks and more disciplined battlefield practices. The competition between a predatory, territorially assertive Boko Haram and a bureaucratised, outward-looking ISWAP is not abstract: it shapes attack profiles, civilian targeting and the geography of violence.

What should the Nigerian state and regional partners do? First, stabilisation requires not only kinetic pressure but also rapid civilian protection and humanitarian access. Too often, military wins are undone by the absence of safe returns, reconstruction and meaningful local security arrangements. Second, the region needs sharper, coordinated intelligence (maritime and riverine surveillance in particular) to prevent future seizures of boats and to protect displaced fishing communities. Third, long-term deradicalisation and socio-economic investment in affected communities remain essential; without economic alternatives and credible local governance, the vacuum will be filled again. These are not novel prescriptions, but the Sambisa incidents make them urgent once more.

There is a cautionary counterpoint, too: factional fighting does not automatically benefit the state. When insurgents bleed each other, they can also become more ruthless or more opportunistic; consolidating areas where they can operate freely, or launching terror attacks to signal continued potency. The 2016 schism that birthed ISWAP taught analysts that fragmentation can produce new, more adaptive organisations rather than a longed-for weakening. That lesson is especially important for policymakers tempted to celebrate intra-militant carnage as a win.

For the ordinary people of Sambisa and the Lake Chad littoral, the technical arguments about strategy are cold comfort. Families who returned to their farms after government assurances now find themselves running again; fishermen who paid protection to one group discover their boats confiscated by another. Humanitarian agencies warn that renewed violence will reverse months of fragile progress: food stocks will run low, clinics will close and education (already the first casualty of this insurgency) will be postponed indefinitely. The indirect death toll from hunger, disease and interrupted health care will be the slow, shameful shadow of this weekend’s headlines.

Finally, the Sambisa clashes are a reminder that Nigeria’s security challenge is not merely military but political. Long-term peace will not be won by force alone. It requires the restoration of state legitimacy, accountable local governance, economic opportunity and regional cooperation across Nigeria, Chad, Niger and Cameroon. Until those building blocks are in place, the islands of Lake Chad will remain prize and prey in equal measure and Sambisa will keep teaching the same brutal lesson: in a failed security market, violence simply repackages itself. As Vincent Foucher warns, the jihadist presence here is unlikely to vanish quietly; the only question is whether a savage contest for spoils will give way to yet another calibrated threat to civilians and statehood.

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Reported and written by George Omagbemi Sylvester for SaharaWeeklyNG.com