In Niger State, women farmers are losing faith in government-backed agricultural insurance schemes designed to protect them from crop failure, drought, and pest invasion. For many, the promises of protection have turned into frustration, leaving them to turn instead to faith, solidarity, and community cooperatives as their only safety nets.

Jummai, a soybean farmer, recalls how termites destroyed her crop despite healthy flowers at the start of the season. When she sought compensation, the insurance company dismissed her claim, insisting she had failed to report the damage within 24 hours. “How could I know my farm had failed within 24 hours?” she asked, her voice breaking. By the time she realized the seeds had not matured properly, the insurance had expired. Disillusioned, she concluded what many of her peers now believe: “God is our insurance.”

Across Niger State, hundreds of women farmers share similar experiences. Some never heard back from insurance officers, while others were denied claims for technical reasons they barely understood. Many were unaware of the reporting requirements or lacked the literacy and technology needed to comply. Farmers without smartphones or cameras could not provide photographic evidence of crop damage, and forms written in English excluded those who could not read or write. For rural women, the scheme feels like another government promise that ends at the city limits.

Distance and bureaucracy compound the problem. Farmers must travel long distances to register, only to be met with paperwork they cannot navigate. Comfort Joseph, a maize and rice farmer in Gurara, described the process as exhausting. “The transport cost alone is enough to discourage anyone. Then when you register, they come with plenty of papers. But when you have a problem on your farm, they vanish. They will tell you that you did not report in time.” For her and many others, the conclusion is simple: “We have decided to trust in God; God is our insurance.”

Extension officers from NAMDA, who are supposed to support farmers, often disappear when problems arise. Farmers say they are visible during registration and premium collection but absent when crops fail. Jummai explained that while officers survey farms at planting, they redirect farmers to insurance offices when disaster strikes. “There was no training on what to do when things like this happen. No sensitisation or training at all. All they want is the registration fee and payment of premium,” she said.

The frustrations echo experiences with other government schemes such as the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme, where farmers were given seedlings that failed to germinate. Complaints yielded no compensation, deepening mistrust of formal financial systems. For many women, the insurance scheme appears designed for urban bureaucrats rather than rural farmers who cannot read, write, or afford to travel far from their farms.

In Agaie, members of the Smallholder Women Farmers of Nigeria (SWOFON) have debated insurance repeatedly. Coordinator Halima Mohammed believes insurance could help women recover from losses, such as when cattle destroyed their crops. Yet she admits most women are unfamiliar with the registration process and lack the tools required to file claims. “If the insurance wants us to join, they should come to us, not wait for us to come to them,” she said.

The attitudes toward insurance mirror those toward bank loans. Women farmers complain that banks impose high interest rates and rigid repayment schedules, even when crops fail. Many prefer community cooperatives, where savings are pooled and loans are given with flexible terms. Agnes Aynadanyi explained, “I collect loan from my community cooperative because it is when you have it that you will return it. I never go to the bank to collect money because their interest is too much.” Others, like Talma Baba, avoid loans altogether, relying only on the proceeds of their harvests.

For now, women farmers in Niger State rely on faith and solidarity. They contribute small amounts to cooperatives, helping one another when disaster strikes. Comfort Joseph, treasurer of a local SWOFON group, said their cooperative of 25 women saves weekly and provides loans with low interest. “I don’t go to bank because their interests are very high and if you do not pay at the given time, you will be sorry,” she explained. For her, as for many others, the government’s insurance scheme has failed. “It is only God that has not failed.”

The story of Niger’s women farmers reveals a system that has forgotten its users. Agricultural insurance was meant to protect them from risk, but its design excludes those most in need. Until insurance companies decentralise operations, simplify claims, and build trust with rural communities, the scheme will remain a paper promise. In the meantime, women farmers continue to rely on prayer, resilience, and the strength of their cooperatives to survive.