In Koundjoaré, it is 6:30 p.m. As the muezzin calls for the evening prayer, the streets empty within minutes. Fleeting shadows, closed compounds and a few sheep slip through the deserted stalls of the market. “For three years now, the night has felt like an enemy,” says a local, speaking anonymously. Here, as in other parts of the Savanes region in northern Togo, the ongoing state of emergency has profoundly disrupted daily life and restricted civil liberties. In this climate of tension, the Togolese army remains on high alert.
On June 8, the army neutralized a group of jihadists in Kpinkankandi, located in Kpendjal prefecture, a hotspot for militant attacks. Several dozen attackers were killed, and a large cache of weapons was seized including arms, ammunition, and nearly fifty motorcycles according to the news site republicoftogo.com. This operation took place just days after Togo participated in the second edition of the military exercise Tarha-Nakal (“Love of the Homeland” in Tamachek), held in Tillia, Niger, from May 15 to June 4. Organised within the framework of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), the exercise aimed to strengthen operational coordination among the armed forces of its member countries; Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso. For Togo, which is not a member of the AES but a strategic partner, it involvement is part of a regional cooperation effort to tackle the cross-border jihadist threat.
Until 2019, few Togolese could have imagined jihadists reaching their country. But on March 15, 2019, a mobile customs post was attacked in Nouaho, in the Boulgou province of central-eastern Burkina Faso, near the borders with Ghana and Togo, resulting in five deaths, including a Spanish priest. Three years later, the Savanes region has become an outpost in the war against the jihadist network, which has gradually crossed the Sahel’s borders and spread toward the countries of the Gulf of Guinea.
Four years of ongoing deterioration
On the night of November 9 to 10, 2021, armed men carried out an attack on an outpost in the village of Sanloaga (Kpendjal prefecture), causing no casualties. This was the first attack on Togolese soil. According to the Minister of Security and Civil Protection, Yark Damehame, the attackers were repelled, and reinforcements were deployed to the area.
While the Sanloaga incursion was initially seen as a mere warning, what followed quickly proved the most optimist wrong. Less than six months later, the threat became a harsh reality: on the night of May 10 to 11, 2022, a coordinated attack targeted an outpost of the Togolese armed forces in Kpinkankandi, Kpendjal prefecture. The toll was heavy: eight soldiers killed, thirteen wounded and significant material damage. Through a statement from the Minister of Security, the Togolese government condemned this “cowardly and barbaric” attack and urged the population to remain vigilant without giving in to panic. For the first time, Togo has paid a blood toll against an enemy that was once far away.
Since then, the security situation in the Savanes region has struggled to improve.
Located in the far north of the country, this region covers 8,602 square km and is home to about 550,000 people who mainly live off agriculture, livestock and small-scale trade. Long neglected, it struggles to overcome its isolation and access to basic infrastructure remains limited despite recent government efforts.
“A deliberate and strategic expansion”
According to a report by the Konrad Adenauer Foundation published in March 2025, armed incidents have increased steadily in the four prefectures of Kpendjal, Kpendjal-West, Tône and Oti. Since late 2023, armed groups have no longer limited their attacks to towns located directly on the border with Burkina Faso. They are now moving deeper into Togolese territory, targeting cantons located further south. “Attacks have also been reported in the prefectures of Oti and South Oti,” write the authors of the report.
At the end of November 2023, the government reported having recorded 21 attacks since the beginning of the crisis, resulting in 31 deaths, 29 injured and 3 missing persons.
Information gathered by the independent organization Armed Conflict Location & Event Data (ACLED), and reported by the French daily newspaper Le Monde on July 20, 2023, lists 14 attacks in the first six months of that same year, with a total of 66 people killed. The violence targets both military positions and civilian villages, and is often accompanied by the use of improvised explosive devices (IEDs) to delay or hinder the army’s response. The Konrad Adenauer Foundation report highlights that, since last year, the area of operation of terrorist groups has expanded. The advance of operations by JNIM (Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, or Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims, GSIM) — which had claimed responsibility for the Kpinkankandi attack in May 2022 — represents, according to ACLED, “a deliberate and strategic expansion rather than mere spillover.”
Among the jihadist groups operating in Togo are Ansarul Islam (the Burkinabe branch of JNIM), the Islamic State in the Sahel (ISS), and various unidentified groups. Although no part of Togolese territory is occupied by armed groups, five years after the first attacks, significant population movements have been observed. According to the Emergency Program for Strengthening Community Resilience and Security (PURS), 8,986 people were registered as internally displaced in March 2024 in the localities of Dapaong, Mandouri, Tchimouri, Ponio, Tambonga and Korbongou. In addition, 36,984 refugees from Burkina Faso were also recorded, according to the same source.
Silence on military operations
After recording two attacks within six months, Togolese authorities realize that the threat was taking root. Meeting in a Council of Ministers on June 13, 2022, the government placed the Savanes region under a state of security emergency. According to the executive, the goal was to “create an environment and the conditions necessary for implementing administrative and operational measures essential for the effective conduct of military operations, and for maintaining order and security in the region.” This exceptional measure, meant to give the military greater flexibility to respond, contain infiltrations and protect the population, would widely disrupt the daily lives of residents. A night-time curfew, a ban on gatherings, increased checkpoints and reinforced patrols reshaped social life.
Despite a massive military deployment - including the establishment of several new military posts, the digging of a trench along the border with Burkina Faso, and restrictions imposed by the state of emergency - the armed groups remain resilient. Rather, they seem to adapt their tactics, bypassing obstacles to strike harder and deeper. On the night of July 15 to 16, 2022, several villages in Kpendjal prefecture (Blamonga, Lidoli, Sankortchagou, Kpembole, Tiwoli) were targeted in coordinated attacks of unprecedented violence. This time, the victims were civilians suspected, according to some of their relatives, of being involved in a case concerning cattle stolen from transhumant herders by soldiers of Operation Koundjoaré. About twenty people were killed by having their throats slit. President Faure Gnassingbé visited the grieving families.
Faced with the brutality of the incident, the government chose silence. No official communications would henceforth be made regarding ongoing security operations. Yet attacks multiplied day and night: ambushes, improvised explosive devices (IEDs), civilian kidnappings, cattle theft... Initially confined to a few localities in Kpendjal prefecture, the security crisis gradually spread to the prefectures of Kpendjal-West, Tône, Oti and South Oti. The threat expanded across the entire Savanes region, resulting in massive population displacements toward safer areas.
“This year is truly the worst.”
In Koundjoaré, the main town of the canton of the same name in the Kpendjal 1 commune, the large livestock market is closed due to insecurity. The most important canton in the commune, which relies heavily on agriculture and livestock for its livelihood, is suffocating. With the intensification of attacks in 2022, most residents of neighbouring villages originally from the prefectures of Tône and Cinkassé have chosen to return to their home villages. According to official sources, there are more than 2,800 displaced persons.
It’s just past noon, under a makeshift corrugated metal shelter at the heart of the market, a small group gathers around a vendor selling tchapalo, the local beer. All around, the market struggles to come alive. Sparse stalls, guarded faces… everything tells the story of an economy running out of breath. Under the shelter, the conversation revolves around the upcoming rainy season. Women worry about the high cost of agricultural inputs — fertilizers, seeds, pesticides — even as the products from their harvests struggle to find buyers. It’s an unsolvable equation for these families who depend both on the land and the market for their livelihood.
Near a wooden stall, a woman wipes her brow, a baby strapped to her back, a basin in front of her holding a burlap sack three-quarters full. The load has left marks on her sore shoulders. Her name is Minyém. In her forties, she brought local rice from a nearby farm to sell. She had hoped to get at least 350 CFA francs (about 50 euro cents) for a three-kilogram measure. But faced with the indifference of the few passersby, she had to lower her expectations. Even at 300 francs, customers are scarce: “I thought I’d do better in town. But look — even here, no one is buying.”
Under the shelter with dusty pillars, amid bursts of voices, a man in his fifties adds: “The market day was tough. My wife faced the same problem. She brought two 100-kilo sacks of rice to sell because she was preparing for her aunt’s funeral. But she couldn’t find a buyer. Eventually, a trader from Dapaong [the regional capital, ed.] offered to buy the rice on credit, have it milled and come back later with the proceeds. Nobody even knows when!” He sighs, as if to shake off helplessness and concludes bitterly: “This year is truly the worst.”
General gloom, both in town and in the countryside
From rice to maize, including sorghum and millet, grain prices have fallen. Yet in this predominantly agricultural region, the rainy season has begun, bringing with it soaring needs for farmers: seeds, fertilizers, small-scale agricultural work... Investments are needed to produce, but money no longer circulates. For the rural population, travel restrictions and increased checkpoint controls — all barriers to the movement of goods — have led to a kind of commercial stagnation. Many transporters hesitate to come here. Too many roadblocks, too many risks,” says a livestock trader.
While rural areas sell off their harvests at low prices, urban centres are no better off. The city too suffers the fallout of the state of emergency. Economic activity has slowed down; cultural life has come to a halt… the strangulation is palpable. In Dapaong, the vibrancy of yesteryear is now just a memory. On the main streets, motorcycle taxis wait for customers. Restaurants and bars, once lively late into the night, close earlier. The hospitality sector struggles to fill its rooms. No events, no clients,” explains a hotel manager. Now classified as a red zone, the region is losing training workshops and conferences to Kara, 200 km further south — a heavy blow to the local economy.
The situation is just as bleak for artists, especially performers. At the end of 2024, a few concerts organized by the authorities had sparked a glimmer of optimism in cultural circles. Some saw this as a sign of easing restrictions, a possible gradual return to normality. But it didn’t last. In February 2025, a note from the governor of the Savanes region, Affoh Atcha-Dédji, abruptly closed this brief window. Addressed to prefects and mayors following a consultative meeting that included law enforcement, traditional leaders, religious authorities and preachers, the circular reiterated the strict enforcement of state of emergency measures. It notably emphasized the ban on activities after 8 p.m., whether weddings, funeral vigils, night prayers and even simple evenings at bars. Not even the Muslim Ramadan was spared, with the muezzin’s calls now only permitted in the large neighbourhood mosques.
“Without a stage, we don’t live”
For cultural actors, the reminder was a heavy blow. “It’s almost impossible to organize a show that has to end by 8 p.m. and, without a stage, we don’t live,” laments Souleymane Inoussa, a slam poet and president of the Association of Cultural Actors in the region. For some, it’s the lesser evil in the face of the threat of jihadist insecurity. But today, we have neither peace nor bread,” a community leader laments.
Supported by its partners—several UN agencies and notably the European Union (EU)—the government is multiplying efforts to support the population: distribution of seeds and agricultural inputs, food aid for more than 60,000 people, improved access to clean water and healthcare. Since late June 2025, the PURS program has aimed to combine humanitarian assistance with the empowerment of displaced people through labour-intensive public works (HIMO program) to build local infrastructure.
In remote rural areas, people survive through precarious and often dangerous activities, far from the reach of aid. “The children have no work. Yet we need to buy kola nuts, tchapalo and soap. Where will we find the money if we stay at home? That’s why we’re here,” exclaims a woman in her sixties, sitting on the bank of the Kpadjenta River, a cloth wrapped high around her waist. She watches her grand-children fill basins with sand. For several weeks now, she has been returning to this site with them every day. “After a week, we can make a pile and sell it for 2,000 francs [about 3.5 euros, Ed.].
In some localities of the Kpendjal and Oti prefectures, woodcutting and charcoal production are no longer side activities. They have become the main source of income for entire families. But in this region, where improvised explosive devices litter the paths and armed incursions remain a constant threat, earning a living now means risking one’s life.
