Flooding in Nigeria is worsening each year, and traditional relief efforts often fall short. In the riverside village of Ogba-Ojibo in central Nigeria—where the Niger and Benue rivers meet—27-year-old Ako Prince Omali counts the eroding steps down to the riverbank. Heavy rainfall recently submerged three steps overnight, a sign of dangerously rising waters. What used to be seven visible steps is now only four.
Omali, a local subsistence farmer, has lost his hectare of cropland to flooding. He’s been keeping a close eye on the river’s levels, knowing the Niger—West Africa’s third-longest river—can quickly shift from life-giving to life-threatening. Like many in Kogi State, Omali depends on farming and fishing for survival, both of which are easily disrupted by floods.
Nigeria ranks second globally for people at risk from flooding, with 15 million exposed, according to recent data. In 2022, 470,000 people in Kogi alone were affected. And this year, displacement numbers are rising: a dam collapse in Borno State left one million homeless, and 250,000 more in Kogi are now at risk.
Humanitarian organizations typically respond with food aid, but this only offers temporary relief. Now, new strategies are emerging to help people prepare before disaster strikes.
Living With Three Months of Disruption Each Year
Floods have increasingly disrupted life in Kogi for over a decade. Omali recalls 2012 as a turning point when the floods became truly severe. His bamboo hut and surrounding farmland—once tended by his parents—are now routinely submerged during the annual autumn floods.
Each flood season forces the family to temporarily relocate to Idah, a nearby town on higher ground. There, they build makeshift shelters with bamboo and plastic. Conditions are difficult—limited food, poor hygiene, and halted schooling for children.
Ogba-Ojibo’s 300 households all face the same hardship, losing access to farmland for up to four months. Topsoil erosion further degrades the land. On the family’s one hectare of rice and yam, Omali and his wife Blessing farm to feed themselves and sell surplus locally. But floods devastate income. In 2021, a low-flood year, they earned 300,000 naira ($183). In 2022, that fell to 100,000 naira ($61), and in 2023, they earned nothing.
Omali sometimes relies on small loans or occasional labor work. But in June, he learned about a new initiative that offered him hope. At a local baraza, or community meeting, he discovered a programme by GiveDirectly, a U.S.-based nonprofit that offers cash assistance—not after floods, but before them.
Using AI to Get Ahead of the Floods
This new initiative stands out because it doesn’t just provide food—it gives people cash in advance, allowing them to prepare. Over two weeks, 30,000 people signed up. The approach uses artificial intelligence (AI) to better target aid ahead of disasters.
Alex Diaz, head of Google.org’s AI for Social Good initiative, helped develop AI tools that inform these decisions. With Google Research, they built SKAI, a damage detection model, and Flood Hub, now operating in over 80 countries. These tools use satellite data, rainfall patterns, river gauges, and government info to predict flood risks with increasing accuracy.
One challenge after disasters is determining where aid is needed most. Google’s models help identify worst-hit areas faster than conventional methods. In Nigeria, this AI is being used to forecast floods from the Niger River and help local agencies act quickly.
Diaz emphasizes that speed is crucial in disaster relief. “Every minute counts,” he says. Instead of waiting for damage reports, satellite data and socioeconomic overlays identify need instantly, ensuring cash gets to communities quickly.
Preparing for a Future of Rising Waters
GiveDirectly’s Dan Quinn says flooding will intensify with climate change, becoming harder to predict. Floods can alter river paths, placing new regions at risk year to year.
UN data shows investing $1 in disaster preparedness can save up to $15 in recovery. Besides cash transfers, long-term flood resilience includes early warning systems, training in emergency response, flood-resistant infrastructure, and preserving natural buffers like wetlands.
As extreme weather events become more common, global disasters in 2022 alone cost more than $360 billion, according to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.
Diaz wants his son to live in a world where climate responses are proactive. That’s why GiveDirectly is scaling up anticipatory efforts. Using AI-driven forecasts, they target vulnerable communities and disburse cash before floods arrive.
Cash, Phones, and Flood Triggers
In Kogi State, GiveDirectly starts by geo-mapping flood-prone areas. Eligible households are identified through a mobile survey. Verification happens via calls or in-person visits, and recipients access funds via basic or smartphone-compatible mobile systems.
In some cases, those without bank access may be offered mobile money options. As of this week, 53 individuals across three wards have received payments. By season’s end, 4,500 recipients in 52 communities should be supported.
Cash transfers begin once flood forecasts show water levels exceeding set limits. The first installment is 177,866 naira ($105), followed by two additional payments if flooding worsens. Most recipients buy food and essential goods while markets are still open.
“This is the first time we’re using AI models in Nigeria to forecast floods and deliver aid this way,” says Federico Barreras, a programme manager at GiveDirectly.
Staying Put, Despite the Rising Waters
Omali received his first payment on August 31 and used it to buy rice, beans, and other essentials. He also saved some to repair his home after the water recedes. Though the hut is already taking damage, the family has not yet left Ogba-Ojibo.
Village elder Ibu Arome, 65, wasn’t able to apply at first due to not owning a phone. Now he has one and hopes to benefit from future rounds. “Everyone has a fair chance,” he says.
Despite rising risks, most villagers have no plans to permanently relocate. Land is vital. “We are farmers—this is where we have access to land,” Omali explains.
He stands near the turbulent riverbank, watching the current churn where villagers once fished. Though the fish are gone for now, he waits for calmer days. For Omali, the land and the river are part of a home he is determined to hold onto.
