Boko Haram

& Three Brave Women

of Borno

by Fatimah Abba Wakilbe

Mara’s story

I was a headteacher. I loved teaching. In fact I dreamed of opening my own school someday. When my town was forcefully occupied, I left everyone I knew behind, everything I owned, every pupil I ever taught with no knowledge of ever seeing them again. Yes I was safe where I ended up but was I happy?

Weeks passed, months! I decided to go back. I was told ‘they’ roamed freely among the local people. That they wouldn’t harm the women and children. So I went back! A few weeks passed. I was fine I thought. This was fine. I saw some of my pupils, I missed them so much! They asked me, ‘when can we go back to school?’ and I answered ‘soon’.

I knew it was no option, no school could dare open. I still wanted to be there anyway, close to all I knew. One afternoon in the local market as I walked passed the fish stalls, someone tapped me on the shoulder and said ‘Malama (means teacher), so you are still here?’ I answered fearfully, ‘yes, I came back.’

He then he said, ‘don’t you fear us? We know what you do.’ And then I said, ‘I don’t do that anymore I swear.’ So he said ‘good, we are watching you’ and walked away. I knew my days were numbered in this town so I planned my exit. I left at dawn on foot and walked for miles to Maiduguri. When I got into the city, I looked like a mad woman with tattered clothes and thorns on my feet. My own sister didn’t recognise me.

Kamu’s story

I was at a wedding in Abuja when the news came. My town had been taken-over by the insurgents. Oh my God!!! My children! I have four kids (all boys) and one on the way. I left three of them back home and travelled with my two-year-old for the wedding. My children! What was I going to do?

I lost my husband only a few months before and now this! I came back to Maiduguri the night after to seek for help. Everyone said the situation was hopeless. That I should just pray for their safety if they were still alive. I refused to believe my children were gone. I felt them, I believed! I didn’t want to give up.

Four months had passed with no change. I prayed every night and cried myself to sleep. I was getting heavier in the last stages of the pregnancy. My body weakened but not my resolve. I wanted my children back and I would have to rescue them myself.

I decided to dress in worn-out clothes and shabby myself so I could blend in. People there are in so much suffering. I said goodbye to my little child with absolutely no knowledge of whether I was ever going to see him again. It was a difficult decision knowing that if something should happen to me, he would be left all alone in this world.

I got someone to drive me to the neighbouring town. From there, I proceeded on foot. I walked ever so slowly as I was in my third trimester. What kept me going was the deep longing I had of seeing my children alive. I managed to get into town. Someone said to me, ‘you are not fooling anyone, I know you haven’t been here with us all the while. I can tell from how radiant your skin looks.’ I ignored him and went on to find a place to sleep.

My house was burnt down. All my neighbours had fled. I found some of my extended family and I got shelter there. I told a grand-Aunty my problem and she informed me that all the children were kept in the abandoned Emir’s place. That they were being taught the Quran day and night. She also told me about a nurse who check on the children from time to time and showed me where to find her.

She was my cousin! So she had to help. Showed her pictures and she confirmed to me they were alive!!! All 3 of them were alive!!!! I was so grateful and extremely happy to learn that. In the next couple of nights a few kids fell ill and were taken to the local clinic. At least these monsters had a flicker of light in their hearts to let the kids be attended to.

Each night, my cousin (the nurse) would take one of my children out with the ill and I would hide them. My second child came first, he looked malnourished and sleep deprived. He was still wearing the clothes I saw him in the day I left. They were so hard and brittle that they flaked when I hugged him tight. What are they doing to these kids?

My oldest boy and the third followed. I couldn’t believe I got all my kids back. Now the next major challenge was how to get them out. We walked for hours even crossed a shallow stream, as the bridge wasn’t safe that day, to get to next town. It was quite an ordeal and we suffered a great deal but in the end, I didn’t lose my pregnancy and I got all my kids back! We now live in Maiduguri with some of our relatives and we are doing fine. Alhamdulillah.

Amma’s story, told by Haife

Amma just had a baby three weeks ago and she had been sick since then. She barely got out of bed. Her husband loved her but had very little. He tried his best to provide for his young family. It was their second child together.

I lived next to them in a compound of rooms. Yes we were all not doing very well but we were young and full of dreams. We had hope. That night, Amma was feeling very poorly. She asked me to boil some hot water for her. It was on the way to the kitchen we all use that I heard gun shots. Before I knew it, a pandemonium ensued. Screams filled air, the sky looked red and this horrible smell I cannot describe filled the air.

I dropped the kettle and ran for my kids. The men were out, they went for prayers. I didn’t know where my husband was, none of us knew. We gathered our kids. And began to make our way out. Amma was weak, she slowed us down but we dragged her along regardless. We walked and walked until we stopped hearing anything. We ended up in the bush somewhere. At that point Amma was bleeding. She was in pain. We wanted to go on but she just couldn’t move.

We waited for a while for her to feel better, we even tried to help her with the little we were able to nab but she kept growing weaker. Suddenly we heard people shouting! And and saw them running toward us. They were frightened by something but we had no idea what. We had to move! I grabbed Amma by the arm and tired to lift her. She didn’t move but I could still see her eyes slightly open. I had a baby on my back and my toddler in my arms. Amma had a toddler too. And a baby beside her.

The other women ran for their lives and at that moment I had to make a decision. I took Amma’s toddler and I ran away. I couldn’t take the baby with me, I had my own. What would I have done?! I never saw Amma or the baby again. I fear that she is dead but hope and pray that someone took the baby.

We made it to Maiduguri. And my husband found us. We are still taking care of Amma’s daughter but don’t know how to locate any of them if they survived that night.

Fatimah Abba Wakilbe is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Leeds. She is from the Nigerian state of Borno and her family lives there, in Maiduguri. Fatimah is a member of the Borno Young Minds community.

This is the third in a series about Northern Nigeria. The first was my interview with New Zealand poet and educator Fiona Lovatt about her life in the ancient city of Kano. The second was a dialogue between Fiona in Kano and journalist Jack Vince in Maiduguri, following the Baga massacre.

The Lovatt Foundation delivers high value, grass-root level projects in Northern Nigeria. Some of its projects support families that are displaced because of experiences like those of the women in this story. One project is a home and home schooling for orphans from the theatre of sorrows. Changing lives, one at a time.

The Lovatt Foundation’s website is here, with regular activity updates here (Facebook) and here (Pinterest).