Leah's Plight

HOW IT ALL STARTED

It was a cold, calm Saturday evening. The torrential downpour the grounds experienced during the day had not just come and gone; it left behind some after-effects- cold, that was perpetual with my community in Yobe State. Dapchi, a peaceful, silent community is located in the north-eastern part of Yobe. The people of the community could be said to be happy, pleasant, and welcoming. The sounds of birds chirping graced the atmosphere and I could hear them loudly. I had just come out of our rickety bathroom situated outside the house.

While I was walking towards the main house which was just a one-room apartment I and my parents lived, a thought flew into my head that reminded me that I had just clocked 14 years of age the day before. I could not celebrate; not just because my parents were poor but my religious denomination does not really allow us celebrate birthdays; we were Catholics.

I was walking briskly towards the house when I started hearing my mother shouting on top of her voice.

“Leah, won’t you come out of that bathroom? Or do you want to transform into a fish?“. On getting into the house, I saw her at the detached part of the room that served as the dining room plus store room, arranging plates and pots. She had just brought in the food we were preparing together in the makeshift kitchen at the backyard, before she asked me to go take my bath.

My mother, Rebecca Saribu- tall, dark-skinned, robust woman, a petty trader at the popular Nguru market, was wearing a long skirt and a white top with an inscription ‘Adieu Mama’ at the back.

“I am here, Mama”, I said in a chilly voice. She stopped all she was doing and looked at me from head to toe, as though she did not know who I was.

“Ehen, oya quickly go and wear your clothes. Let’s serve the food, your father would soon be back”, she eventually said, after she stopped looking. I was not surprised at the way she looked at me because it was her way of checking if I took my bath properly.

There was a bright lantern in the room, so I quickly walked to the ‘Ghana must go’ bag where my clothes were kept, shivering. I fished out a shirt and skirt, with a scarf I tied around my head, after wearing the clothes.

It did not take long before I joined my mother at the detached part of the room to serve dinner. Dinner was Gari and Ogbono soup, a delicacy common to the Igbos. My mother once told me about a House of Representatives member who held a town hall meeting and was supposed to give a speech.

“My people, listen. If you see the way people outside our land think about us, you will weep. They say we are useless tribalistic people that don’t know nothing else to killing other people. They say we like violence. They say we are illiterates. They say our religion is clouding our mind. My people, it is true that we do not have quality education and good schools. But we should allow that form a negative perception about us to the pther tribes. Let us live as one Nigeria and treat our neighbours like ourselves. It is just unfortunate some of our brothers call themselves Boko Haram and are killing people, even our own people- all in the name of ‘western education is bad’. Who told them that? So let us change the perception about us by treating others like family. Let us even wear their type of clothes, and eat their type of food, maybe that will even change how they think about us”, he said in Hausa, and everybody clapped and cheered in agreement to what he had said.

My mother told me that was the reason behind us eating Igbo foods and even Yoruba ones. Personally, I liked those foods because they tasted nice.

It was as I was about to refill the oil in the lantern at the detached part of the room my father- tall, dark-skinned, muscular- came in.

“Leah, Leah how are you?“, he said as he was about to drop his cutlass and hoe underneath a table in the room.

“I am fine, Papa”, I said with a smile on my face.

“Come, come to daddy”, he daid, opening his arms. I ran quickly and hugged him.

“Hope your mummy did not stress you too much?“, he asked as I left his arms and was walking back towards Mama. On hearing the question, I looked at Mama’s face as if to get an approval from her before answering Papa.

“No, she did not”, I said, knowing fully well that she did stress me. She sent me on errands to buy different things and to some of her friends. I did not like going on errands.

It was at this point my father realized he had not really greeted Mama; as he was about to do so, he saw my mother staring at him like she had stood there since he entered.

“My wife.....“, he began.

“Hmm, better leave me alone. Don’t wife me at all. Shebi it is only your daughter you know, ehn Nathan?“, she said, frowning her face. I knew it would take long before she snapped out of the act after Papa’s antics. I stood aside and watched them play all lovey-dovey.

“My wife, don’t be angry. You know how much I love my daughter”, I heard him say. Some fluid of joy flowed my heart when I heard him even as I was fully aware of how much Papa loved me.

“Hmm, leave me jor. Who did you know first between two of us?”

“It’s you, of course”

“So because you now have a daughter I am no longer important?”

“Don’t see it like that”, he said attempting to touch Mama’s hair. She allowed him even as as she was still playing hard to get.

“See, I brought bush meat for you. It’s outside”, he said. My mother’s face brightened as she heard it.

It was as though the bush meat was a kind of charm my father used to hypnotize her. My father is a farmer plus hunter as he usually set traps on him farm occassionally.

He brings home bush-meat regularly. But this time around, he had not brought them home; and we had not eaten meat for a long while in the house.

“Leah, go outside and bring the meat in”, she said, as if she was not just pretending to be angry for my father that brought the bush meat.

She turned to my father and hugged him. “You know I cannot really vex for you like that”, she told him with a smile on her face, as I was walking towards the door to get the bush meat.

The mood had chnged as I got back into the house and dropped the meat at the detached part of thhe room. My mother was serving the food already, with Papa sitting on the 2-seater couch in the room where he usually sat anytime he got back from the farm.

“No, I need to bath first”, he abruptly said and ran quickly into the bathroom outside. He seemed happy; perhaps because of the food.

In no time, he was back with a wrapper tied around his waist, and that smile still on his face. He quickly joined us. He sat with Mama on the 2-seater couch with the small center table where the food stood, drawn towrds them. And I was sitting opposite them on the 1-seater chair. Looking at them, they seemed happy, but I did not know just why. We said our prayers quickly and started eating.

“Tomorrow is February 19 o. Wait, Leah, so you are resuming school tomorrow abi?“, Papa started.

“Yes Papa”, I replied, sticking a morsel of the gari in my mouth and chewed it a bit before swallowing it; while still looking at my father’s face.

“Okay. Hope you have packed your things?”

“Yes Papa”, I told him. “Mama helped me add some chin-chin too”

“Oh Aunty Rebecca, thank you o”, he said to my mother jokingly. She smiled.

“I will accompany you and your mother to the park tomorrow”

“Okay Papa”, I replied.

In no time, the conversation ended and we had finished our meal. It did not take long before three of us died the night death.

By morning, Papa fulfilled his promise and saw us off to the park and went back home. I and Mama were then enroute to my school. About forty minutes into the drive, I noticed that sign-post in front of my school that reads: GOVERNMENT GIRLS SCIENCE TECHNICAL COLLEGE, DAPCHI, YOBE STATE, with the school logo somewhere in between.

The bus driver droppeed everybody and went his own way. I and Mama walked briskly into the school, just like every other student like me was accompanied by one or both of their parents.

While walking with Mama into the school, my mind flashed back to the last vacation we had and how I was overly anxious to go home, but now I had already come back.

My school had different buildings including the administrative block, classrooms, laboratories e.t.c which were bereft of good chairs, tables and scientific laboratories, talk less of quality ones. There were even some classes where students sit on the floor. I personally blamed the government for the kind of condition my school was in. This is part of the things I and my friends: Lydia, Fatima and Mariam usually discussed during prep nights in the hostel.

It did not take long befor Fatima noticed me and began racing towards me and Mama, laughing. I was happy to see her too. As she drew closer to me, I leapt forward and hugged her tight. We quickly exchanged pleasantries as if we had not seen each other in a few years.

“Oh, good afterenoon ma”, she greeted Mama who was already smiling.

“Good afternoon my daughter”, Mama responded.

After the greetings, the three of us walked to the hostel and approached our hostel mistress, Mrs Khadijah who usually checked us in and out, anytime we resume or vacate.

Mrs Khadijah- tall, dark-skinned, always on full hijab- on seeing my mum, smiled; one trait I had not really noticed in her. Mama dropped my luggage she had been carrying all these while, and began a conversation with Mrs Khadijah. Fatima stood aloof close to a baobab tree some metres away from the spot I, Mama and Mrs Khadijah were.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Saribu”, she greeted Mama in a soft tone.

“Good afternoon”, Mama replied. “How’s the family?”

" They are fine o. We thank God”, Mrs Khadijah replied.

“I can see you have brought our Leah today. Our beautiful Leah”, she said with a broad smile on her face. I smile inwardly too.

“Yes o, I brought our daughter. Please help me take good care of her. She’s the only daughter I have”, Mama said placing her hand on my head running it over back and forth.

“Of course you know we have been doing that”, Mrs Khadijah said. Truly, she had been taking care of not just me, but every student in the hostel.

While I was still trying to figure out why Mrs Khadijah had not said a word to me, I heard her say: “Leah, Leah yaya dai?”

“I am fine, thank you ma”, I instantly replied as I have been anxious for her to ask.

“Oya oya, take your luggage upstairs”, she said. “Come and help her”, Mrs Khadijah called on Fatima who wals already moving closer.

I and Fatima took my luggage upstairs and bade my mother farewell. It felt as if she should not go, but I could not help it. I kept looking at her walking down the long path that led to the hostel gate until she disappeared behind it.

“So what did you bring for me......?” Fatima began to ask.

I was on my way to the prep class when I heard someone calling my name from behind. I had not spoken to anybody except Fatima since I came until about 8:05PM when the muslims finished their night prayers.

I looked back and it was Lydia racing towards me as if a lion was chasing her.

“You cannot answer somebody abi?“, she said as she got to the spot I was. “Sorry jare. How are you?“, I reluctantly asked.

“I am good. How about you?“, she asked.

“I am not really not okay. I have headache”

“Ah sorry. I will help you tell matron maybe she has any medicine you can use”

While I continued walking to the prep-class, Lydia went downstairs and brought back a Panadol tablet and a cup of water for me.

“Thank you very much”, I said to her after gulping down the water immediately I threw the drug into my mouth.

The prep class became full and rowdy because most people were trying to catch up with their friends who they had not seen in a long while. I was not interested in the conversations at all; I just placed my head on the table hoping the headache would subside and I could start reading my books until lights-out. While resting my head on the table, I could still hear and identify each person’s voice.

Lyda, Fatima and Miriam were sitting close to me and to each other, and I was hearing their conversation.

“All these Boko Haram people sef, I am tired of their problem”, I heard Fatima say.

“Me too. Do you remember those girls they kidnapped in Borno? Till today, they’ve not released them o”, Lydia replied.

“For almost 4 years now”, she added.

“4 years?“, Fatima exclaimed. “That’s true o, I did not even realize it has been realize it has been that long”.

“Most people have forgotten about them sef”, Miriam who had not said anything since remarked. “I still believe they can still believe they can still be released sha, if the soldiers go inside Sambisa Forest to catch those Boko Haram people”.

“But it is not easy to just go and enter Sambisa Forest just like that nah”, Fatima said.

“Haha, why are they not soldiers?“, Miriam fired back.

“They can’t just go like that jor”, Fatima replied.

“They can go!“, Miriam retorted.

It was almost becoming an argument when Lydia said something that seemed enough to stop the argument and noise that was already getting into my head.

“Me I even heard on CNN that they are now targeting to kidnap more schoolgirls”

“Eh, they should not try it o”, Fatima said. “I’ll just call my mummy to come and pick me fast fast”.

“But one problem I have with the government is how they are not even taking the issue serious. Today, they will say Boko Haram is ‘technically’ defeated. Tomorrow, Boko Haram will attack their military bases and steal their weapons. Is that what they call defeat?“. Nobody seemed to have an answer to her question.

“I am even tired of the whole country sef. It is as if I should just close my eyes and disappear in America”, Lydia said. I knew she must have actually closed her eyes perhaps to demonstrate how she was going to do it when the time comes.

“Eh see this one, disappear nah”, Fatima said, jokingly.

“The Nigerian government is just so bad in everything. For example, see our school now. No single microscope in our science lab. Later they will say our people are illiterates”, Fatima later added, after a brief pause. I seemed to agree with what she had been saying since they began talking; more than others.

Arguments, counter-arguments and more arguments. A barrage of them filled the air with a loud, disturbing noise that kept disturbing my head. I then raised up my head and told Lydia, Fatima and Miriam to reduce the volume of their voices.

“Oh sorry, we’ll reduce it now”, they chorused. Not too long after, the loud noise resumed again.

Utter silence took over the prep-class when Mrs Khadijah came to sound a note of warning to everybody.

“Wallahi, if I leave her and you people start making noise, you’ll hate me, Allah”, she said in impeccable Hausa. Even after the warning, some people still spoke in hushed tones.

At about 9:13PM, the pain in my head had seemed to have subsided and I raised up my head to start reading. Five minutes later, we started hearing sounds of vehicles driving violently into our hostel. Who it was, we did not know and did not bother to check. Perhaps we thought it was normal. But my mind did not just feel right about the sounds I heard, but I continued reading my book.

“EVERYBODY COME OUT!“, I heard a voice come into our class and say, in impeccable Hausa. The same image I usually saw on TV. A man wearing camouflage and a face mask carrying an AK-47 rifle. For a second, my heart grew wings and flew away. My head became blank and empty; I could not think of anything than to just follow others who were already going outside, crying and trembling. The man’s image sent shivers down my spine.

We were arranged in a straight file and walked down by two armed men, one in front and the other at back of the line. As we were walking, I could not see or think of anything. It felt as if I was dead, whereas I wasn’t.

It was when we got downstairs I noticed over sixty men dressed in military regalia, each carrying an AK-47 standing at different corners. One of them was standing with Mrs Khadijah bowing on the floor, trembling. I was sure a river of tears must have flown out of her eyes, sucked by the ground.

We were arranged in groups and put inside the big trucks they brought to take us away. Most students were already crying, somehow a single drop of tears did not leave my eyes. In no time, they called each other up and entered the vehicles. We were enroute out of the school to a destination we did not even know, accompanied by fully armed masked men.

Everywhere was pitch-dark and quiet only for the revving sounds of the vehicles. For a second, I assumed they were taking us to Sambisa Forest like they did to those girls in Chibok. Differnt thoughts began to flow through my mind. My mother, my father, my brother and how we might end up like those Chibok girls.

About 2 hours into the journey, the vehicles halted and some of those armed men came down and asked everybody to come out of the trucks. We all obeyed at once, and were led through a forest path. We soon entered a wide open field manned by hundreds of armed masked men, capable of shooting anyone who tried anything funny. I could see now, because of how low current bulbs were erected on tall poles here and there. I noticed women young and old, some with babies crying all over.

I quickly assumed some were part of the girls that were abducted from their school in Chibok 4 years ago. They looked distraught, and most of them malnourished. Even with the low intensity of light, I could see pain, anguish and sorrow written all over their faces. I felt for them, but here I was, newly abducted about to face the kind of hardship they had faced for many years. But I could not do anything.

“Oya all of you sit down on the floor”, one of the armed men ordered. Like voodoo has just been used on us, we all obeyed at once. Some of the junior girls in school who had been crying uncontrollably all along stopped crying after about 2 hours of nihility; it perhaps dawned on them that crying would not change anything.

The next day, as expected everywhere seemed brighter and I could see how everywhere looked like. I just could not close my eyes throughout the night till the moon gave way for the sun to take over. I noticed a secluded camp that stood afar from where we were.

I immediately assumed it was Abubakar Shekau’s office as I saw some of those armed go in and out of there with some bags into another camp close by. I felt some numbness in my arms and feet. Soon, about five of them came with bags obviously loaded with food as I saw another one carry a drum of water behind them. In no time, they started throwing small chunks of bread at those people that have been there before us, before us- the new entrants. As mine was thrown at me, it fell off because of the numbness in my arms. I saw the darting look the armed men gave me. I quickly picked it up uneasily and tore part of it into my mouth for fear of being slapped as I saw one of them do to a woman who was reluctant in eating the bread.

After eating the bread, we all took turns drinking from the drum of water with just one cup. The process of drinking became rowdy at a point as some people who could not wait just dipped their bare hands into the drum directly to fetch water for themselves. Alas, the drum fell and all the water in it spilled away. I did not get to drink because the drum had its contents emptied before it was my turn.

I had not seen Lydia, Fatima and Miriam since we got here. I looked around and tried to look for them. “Oh there they are”, I thought, seeing them together with distraught boldly written all over their faces, a distance a little far from my position. I tried to wave at them, but the fear instilled in me by the image of the armed masked men did not allow me.

Nothingness took over. We were only just sitting on the ground looking sad and sorrowful with armed men switching positions, all in utter silence except for baby cries. Whenever food came, we struggled for it. We only ate twice a day; the armed men decided how, what and when we ate. The cycle cotinued, with no end in sight.

About five days later, the same men who usually broguht us food came with a big bag in the afternoon. Most of us thought it was food, and were happy- we never ate in the afternoon since we came. At this point, I thought of Mama and the way she pampers me especially when it comes to food. ” hei, kai da kuma sa shi”, one of them said and began giving the Christians among us blue-black coloured Hijabs to put on. I collected mine and wore it immediately in fear. I had never worn a black Hijab in my life before.

Some minutes later, one of them came and asked those of us who were just brought in to sit together as a group, separate from the old abductees. Another came and took a photograph of us; he also had an AK-47 rifle around his neck. I wondered what they were going to do with the picture. My mind then flashed back to the Chibok girls picture I saw on Lydia’s phone the day her parents came visiting in the hostel.

I was lying on the floor one afternoon when two of the armed men carried a big blackboard and put it in front of us that were kidnapped from my school. Some Arabic words were written on one side; and its translation in English written on the other side. “Oya sit up!“, one of them who was referred to as Ibrahim ordered in Hausa. All of us who were lying down set up at once, fear running through our spines not knowing what to do with what was written on the board. I could not read the Arabic, so my eyes were fixed directly on the translation written beside. It read: “I bear witness that there is no god except Allah; One is He, no partner has He, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His Servant and Messenger.”

Instantly, I remembered Fatima telling me sometimes that that statement was usually recited when someone wants to convert to being a Muslim. One by one, they started calling the girls out to recite the statement. Those who could recite Arabic did so, and those who could not were asked to read the translation. Other Christians like me recited it with fear I could sense in their voices. Beatrice, one of our teachers’ daughter was landed a dirty slap when she protested. This sent fear into the mind of every other person who I could sense were trembling. I knew I was not going to say it when it was my turn and was determined so.

“Even if a gun is placed to your skull to convert from being a Christian, never do it”, my mother had told me once. When it was my turn, I stood up but did not say a word, like I hadn’t said one for almost five days since we got there.

It did not take long befor one of them gave me a dirty thunderous slap that stuck a pain in my face. I endured it and did not budge. Another slap graced my face. I still did not budge; but tears began to trickle out of my eyes.

“Oga me I go shoot this one o”, he said to another of them who seemed like a superior who was standing aloof.

“No, just leave am. Oya you, stand like this”, the superior asked me, pointing his index finger a direction away from everybody and I obeyed quickly.

Every other person who were after me recited it, trembling with fear evident in their voices, knowing what could have happened to them if they refused. When the last person was done reciting, I was taken away alongside the men that carried the board. We passed by Lydia, Fatima and Miriam, tears taking their faces abode. Tears were still dripping from my ears too. A film of sweat had coated my body like a second skin. My whole body, numb and almost stiff. I managed to walk to the secluded camp to Shekau’s.

The camp was a small one covered with tarpaulin, and I was asked to go in there and sit on the floor. Minutes later, one armed man came in and stood close to the entrance, perhaps to prevent me from running out of there.

The sun was already giving way for the moon to take over, when I heard the revving sounds of vehicles; just like the same we heard during the prep class that night.

After a while, I could no longer hear the sound and I just assumed the already drove outside the forest.

The armed man that was asked to man the camp I was moved away for a while and I assumed he wasn’t coming back soon. I quickly used the chance to peep out to see what was going on, with some trepidation that the armed man might catch me.

I was quick to notice that none of the girls who were kidnapped alongside me from our school was no longer in the positon I was taken away from. I was surprised and confused at the same time.

Questions. A barrage of them filled my head on seeing this. Have they moved them to another place? Did they go and kill them? Have they taken back to Dapchi? I just could not find answer to those questions I was asking myself. I quickly went back to where I was sitted before; before the armed man came back. As if God was on my side, he came back immediately my butt touched the bumpy ground; but he didn’t notice that I stood up.

Night came; and dinner was brought for me. The same small chunk of bread, with no water this time around. Because I had no choice, I had just to just eat it. I did not even realise when I died the night death.

Days and days went by with the same routine- waking up, eating bread and water and no water at times, staring into empty space with an armed man guarding me from coming out of that vicious camp and sleeping when night comes- all alone.

Till today, I am still in the hands of these callous, stone-hearted, viciously wicked armed masked men who call themselves Boko Haram.