By ABDULRAZAQ MAGAJI

For some obvious reasons, Maiduguri, the capital of Borno State, has always held a unique place in my heart. My relationship with the city began in 1981, when as a young Nigerian reporting for the mandatory one-year national service, I first set foot on its sandy soil. That hot July in 1981, Maiduguri greeted me with a calm, almost serene rhythm that, I was to appreciate better, defined the everyday life of its people.

Back then, the peace in Maiduguri was so natural that one hardly stopped to admire it. It was mainly for this reason that I did not hesitate to accept a job offer at the end of the service year in 1982.For the next six years, Maiduguri was home to me. After more than four decades, I returned to the, on one of my pilgrimages and what I witnessed stirred memories I thought had faded under the weight of years and the scars of an insurgency. Maiduguri, once shaken to its core by the violent extremism of Boko Haram, is breathing again.

In 1981, the city was in every sense a welcoming home. The streets were lively, devoid of chaos, lit by the warmth of traders whose voices rose with a harmony that reflected a blended culture. Life unfolded without fear. I remember the evenings when the sun dipped low to welcome vibrant night life, with people walking freely; children playing with careless joy and young corps members like myself blending easily into the routines of a city that treated everyone with open arms. That peaceful Maiduguri of yore seemed almost indestructible. Sadly, history would later prove that even the calmest waters can be muddied.

Reference here is to the emergence of Boko Haram which drastically altered the landscape of Borno State and its capital. A city once known for its hospitality became synonymous with bloodletting, maimings, bomb blasts, uncertainty, and socio-economic dislocations. Those who lived through the worst years of the insurgency will never forget the tension that governed everyday life, prominent among them, the fear that clung to the air, the military checkpoints that multiplied across the city, and the thousands of families displaced within and beyond Borno’s borders. That was why my recent visit left me deeply moved.

From the moment I arrived, it was clear that Maiduguri is a city reclaiming its sanity and living up to its moniker as Home of Peacei. There is a renewed sense of freedom in the way people move about calmly and confidently, as though reclaiming long-lost ground. I saw children in their uniforms on their way to school, women returning to their businesses, Keke Napep drivers negotiating fares with their familiar blend of humour and insistence. These are simple scenes, perhaps, but for a city that had witnessed so much chaos, such scenes highlight signs of profound healing. Any visitor cannot mistake the unmistakable resilience in Maiduguri’s air today, as though the city itself has decided that after surviving the worst, it deserves the best of what life throw at it.

The Borno State Government and security agencies must be commended for the relative calm that has returned. The coordinated efforts of military personnel, civilian joint task forces, and local vigilantes have significantly weakened the hitherto asphyxiating hold of insurgents and restricted their ability to operate freely. Major roads that were once no-go zones now witness steady traffic. Markets have reopened, social activities are reviving, the city is regaining the bubbling night life it was known for and the hospitality that once defined the Maiduguri is returning with refreshing strength.

Still, the gradual return of peace, promising as it is, remains fragile. Beyond Maiduguri’s boundaries, many communities across Borno State still feel the lingering effects of insurgent activities. Some villages remain unsafe, farming communities are yet to fully recover, and thousands of displaced persons continue to yearn for the security and dignity of returning home. The state’s peace must therefore not be mistaken for complete recovery. If anything, the prevailing peace in Maiduguri should be a motivation.

The progress achieved must be nurtured with sustained commitment. Government must intensify efforts to secure areas still vulnerable to attacks. Investments in community policing, surveillance technology, and the welfare of security personnel must be prioritised. Equally important is the need to address the socioeconomic roots of insecurity. Youth empowerment, education, healthcare delivery, and job creation will play decisive roles in ensuring that extremist ideologies find no fertile ground to re-emerge. Rehabilitation and reintegration programmes must also be strengthened to ensure that former insurgents who willingly surrender do not slip back into violence. For a city once branded the epicentre of insurgency, Maiduguri’s remarkable recovery offers a powerful message that peace is possible when government remains committed, when communities unite in vigilance, and when hope refuses to surrender to fear.

Still, we must not look away from the work ahead. Borno’s peace must extend beyond its capital as every town, village, and settlement deserves the same sense of safety and normalcy. The resilience of Maiduguri should inspire a renewed push to make peace permanent across the state.

The transformation I witnessed has rekindled my belief not only in Maiduguri, but in the unyielding spirit of the people of Borno State. Their courage, endurance, and insistence on reclaiming their lives stand as testimony to what is possible even after the darkest nights. Maiduguri is rising again—steadily, boldly, beautifully—and with sustained effort, the rest of Borno will rise alongside it.

Beyond being a story of rediscovery, Maiduguri is a reminder to the rest of Nigeria that no matter how powerful the storm, the human spirit, when backed by good leadership, collective action, and unwavering hope, can rebuild, renew, and triumph.

From all indications, Maiduguri, against all odds, is proving that truth every day.

•Magaji magaji778@gmail.com writes from Abuja.