INIKPI

Ayisha. More surprises follow.

Sergeant Olawale Bodija joined the Nigerian Army in 1993 after completing his secondary education. His parents were too poor to train him up to the university so he had little or no option but to look for a job. He had climbed through the ranks and is now a proud sergeant.

Until the Boko Haram menace, the Nigerian Army had never really faced such a major challenge. Bodija knew he had to rise up to the challenge it posed or go down with it when news of his posting to the area reached him. He was tall, macho looking and had the tribal marks of the Ibadan people - three horizontal lines with one vertical one on top of them on each cheek, on his face. He was very dark in complexion.

When the news of his posting to Maiduguri reached his wife, she had cried and cried. The couple had only been married for two years and had just a son at the moment.

Bodija had consoled her as much as his manly pride could allow and had left with his colleagues as soon as the bus sent to convey them was available.

As soon as the journey started, the thirty men in the Coaster bus had sang excitedly to keep their confidence and spirit high but as the journey progressed, they had all fallen asleep one after the other and arrived Maiduguri early the following morning.

Whenever postings to war zones occurred, the reactions of the soldiers were always different. Some out rightly refused and were either demoted or summarily dismissed, some reached out to senior officers - godfathers, who helped to 'correct' such postings, while others simply resigned on their own volition from the force.

Bodija was one of the about sixty percent of the soldiers who honoured such postings. He was not new to fighting wars as he was part of the squad sent to deal with the miscreants in Odi in Bayelsa State who had been making it difficult for oil exploration activities to go on during the administration of President Abela's predecessor.

By the time the rampaging soldiers finished with the community, only the local church building was still standing. Scores of corpses littered the deserted community. Fighting defenseless civilians and fighting die-hard militants were two different things and Bodija knew this.

A Muslim cleric popularly called alfa had prayed for him and had given him a laya made of sheepskin with Islamic inscriptions written on a sheet of paper and sewn inside it, to hang around his neck for protection. He was warned never to remove it except when bathing and to hang it back immediately after. From time to time, he touched the laya and muttered some Arabic words to himself.

As soon as they got to Maiduguri, the men had reported to the Joint Task Force base located within the ancient town. The weather was the first to give them a harsh welcome as it measured forty degrees centigrade and so, extremely hot but this was the least of the men's worries.

******

By the time Sergeant Bodija and forty nine others were directed to stop some Boko Haram insurgents in response to a distress call received at about midnight a day after the men got to Maiduguri, they only had a pump action rifle with five rounds of ammunition each. A young captain was to lead the operation.

“Attention!” he shouted and the men stamped their right feet hard on the ground in unison just outside their office with their two hands held straight by their sides.

“There is no time to waste. Move!” he commanded and the men scrambled into the waiting Land Rovers with their engines already running.

It took less than thirty minutes for the five Land Rovers to get to Konduga village - the area the distress call came from.

Suddenly, the vehicles came to an abrupt stop and the men all jumped out. It was clear they were less than two hundred metres from the area going by how close the sounds of Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka! and occasional Boom! Boom! were.

The men exchanged frightened glances. Each of them knew the sounds of automatic machine guns and hand grenades. Bodija could even tell the grenades must be Molotov cocktails from Russia.

“What the hell is happening here?” the young Captain demanded hotly. No one responded immediately. Only the bullet and bomb sounds could be heard in the awkward silence.

“I say what is happening here, you bloody fools?” he repeated.

“We…we…we… are not well equipped to face the insurgents sir,” one of them stammered. Others expressed their support for his views in subdued tones.

“What do you mean by that?” the Captain demanded anger almost choking him.

“With all due respect, we will not proceed sir,” Sergeant Bodija stated boldly adding “it is clear we are not properly kitted to face the insurgents sir. Ah! Iku oro ma n’iku ibon o,” he concluded in the Yoruba language.

“We shall see,” the Captain stated.

Sergeant Bodija and the forty nine other soldiers were court-martialed the following day for insubordination and harassing a senior officer bordering on treasonable felony.

While the trial lasted, their heads were shaved clean and they were confined to the guard rooms within Maiduguri Barrack. They were fed only once in three days. It was clear they would not only be dismissed but would also serve long prison terms in deplorable conditions. There were even rumours in some quarters that they would be killed.

******

It had always been Shekau’s dream to capture Kano and make it one of his territories. So when he felt all modalities were in place for the attack, he chose to lead it personally.

Along with some of his key fighters, they had surrounded the ancient city by 11 PM on a Friday. His men, wearing turbans and hiding their guns under them, had sneaked into the town during the Friday prayers and had hung around the Central Mosque till they got the signal to assemble at the designated hour.

As usual, the first places the men attacked whenever they entered a new territory were the police station and any other military formations to guard against reprisal attacks, the Sarki or king's palace where they planted their flag, and then the banks to take away as much money as was available. Today was no exception.

Shekau personally led the attack to the Sarki's palace. Alhaji Musa Idris, the Sarkin Kano, was with his fourth and favourite wife when he heard strange movements outside.

“Mustapher! Mustapher!” he called out to the chief guard. He got no response.

“Isah! Isah!” he called out to Mustapher’s deputy. Still, he got no response. He tied his wrapper firmer around his waist and moved out of her room with the intention of getting his automatic rifle from his own room located just across the sitting room.

As soon as he stepped into his sitting room, however, the scene he met weakened him. Five men, their automatic rifles pointing at him, smiled mirthlessly at him.

“Ahuzu bilahi mina Shaitani rejim!” he exclaimed

“Shut up and go on your knees!” Shekau ordered him in Hausa language.

“You mean you don’t know you are in the palace of the Sarkin Kano?” he demanded with an air of authority and importance.

“Sarki my foot!” screamed Shekau slapping him very hard on the mouth. “Go on your knees I say!” he repeated.

Alhaji Musa Idris had experienced few embarrassments in his life but this was by far the worst. His wives peered from between the curtains, none daring to come out. Out of his four guards, two had taken to their heels while the remaining two were bound hands and feet.

“I will not!” Alhaji Idris shouted defiantly. The butt of a gun landed on his head and he passed out.

******

By the time Alhaji Idris regained consciousness at daybreak, he found himself tied to a chair in his sitting room. All the houses around his palace were on fire and gunshots could still be heard now and again. The ancient town of Kano had fallen to the Boko Haram sect.

The battle to take over the city had not been easy. It had lasted hours with the superior fire power of the militants proving the deciding factor. The local vigilante group’s efforts did nothing to aid the military's at repelling the attack.

“Why not kill me and save me the agony of beholding such an abomination?” Alhaji Idris demanded defiantly from the turbaned marauders holding their A.K 47 rifles at the ready surrounding him.

“We will not kill you yet, but we shall,” Shekau answered calmly.

“May the Almighty Allah punish you and the parents who bore you!” Alhaji Idris cursed.

Shekau again slapped him on the mouth dazing him. Blood mixed with sputum trickled down one side of his mouth.

The Sarki’s last wife and five of his children were marched out of the palace at gun point and held hostage by some of the gunmen behind the main palace building. The others had escaped through the back door of the palace while the Sarki was being tied to the chair hours earlier.

Shekau ordered his men to select the younger women and send them ahead of him to Sambisa Forest along with the looted funds from banks and cattle forcefully taken from their fleeing or dead owners. He intended to stay on in Kano and repel any counter attack the Nigerian security forces may be planning. The attack had been a resounding success. The phone calls he had received from his commanders controlling different sectors of the invasion, had confirmed this. The surprise element in the attack had caught the Nigerian security forces napping. Shekau smiled mirthlessly.

******

When Ayisha, now a fully grown woman, heard of the attack on Kano, she knew it was time to act. She had never set eyes on her son since that fateful day his grandfather took him away to become an al majiri but before Yakubu died about two years earlier, he had told her the name of the school he had sent the young Suleman to.

Ayisha had started her enquiries from then and had been told her son had made progress. That was all she was told. It was only recently, after painstaking investigations that she had unraveled the truth - her son was the notorious Abdul Shekau. As soon as she saw him on an international cable station addressing the world once, all her doubts were dispelled. Shekau had a striking resemblance with his father. The only difference was that Alhaji Idris had pot belly and he did not. The shock almost killed her and increased her desire to see her son. She intensified her search for him with all her efforts proving abortive. As soon as she heard Kano had been captured, however, coupled with the information she got from a fleeing resident that Shekau led the attack personally, she headed for the ancient city. Information she got from those fleeing as soon as she got near the city confirmed what the first person had said.

******

Ayisha got to Kano by noon. The vehicle she boarded had dropped her, at least, three kilometres away forcing her to complete the journey on foot. She had been praying silently since she started the journey for Allah to guide her safely to her son. She headed straight to the palace of the Sarki who she knew was Suleman's father on instincts. She had followed Alhaji Idris’ progress and, even though she was yet to forgive him, she had accepted all that happened as the will of Allah which no mortal can question in line with Islamic injunctions.

All she told the many menacing gun-wielding men she encountered was that she had an urgent message for their leader. None could understand why a pretty woman would want to see a fugitive right within a war zone.

Her boldness coupled with her beauty even though she was now over fifty years old, added to the fact that no sane person would enter a burning town if the mission was not of utmost importance, made them give her passage. Only one bent on committing suicide would attempt such, if it was a lie, they reasoned. From time to time, she passed one badly mutilated corpse after the other. The raging fires were beginning to subside but tension still hung in the air. It was all she could do not to throw up and she had a sick feeling to the pit of her stomach.

As soon as she entered the palace grounds, the guards stopped her promptly.

“I...I…I… must see your leader I am told is here at once,” she pleaded falling on her knees.

“Who are you and what do you want here? Don’t you fear losing your life, woman?” one of the men demanded.

“I...I…I… am the mother of your leader,” Ayisha stammered on fearfully and earnestly. “I...I...I... must see him immediately!”

The four guards exchanged surprised glances and burst into laughter.

“How can a woman of your age, claim to be our leader’s mother, woman? Do we look like jesters to you?” one of them demanded angrily.

“You…you…you… must believe me please. It is the truth Allah bears me witness. I named him Suleman and, if you must know, his father is the Sarkin Kano - the owner of this palace. I -”

“Let her in at once!” Shekau interrupted and turning to her added quickly, “If it is discovered you are a jester, I shall personally feed your flesh to dogs.”

As soon as Ayisha was ushered into the sitting room where she met Alhaji Idris tied to a chair, she burst into tears. The resemblance between father and son was glaring.

“He…he…he… is your father,” she stammered pointing at Alhaji Idris “and…and…and… I am your mother,” she said amidst sobs.

“Woman, I do not” – Shekau was beginning to say but was interrupted.

“I named you Suleman. Your grandfather - Yakubu, sent you to Malam Yusuf Zakzaky’s school when you were only seven years old.” Ayisha was beginning to take control of her emotions but tears still clung to her eyes.

It was all the confirmation Shekau needed. Suddenly, memories flashed past in his mind. He could remember being flogged to keep quiet when his grandfather wanted to leave him behind with Malam Zakzaky and many others.

Alhaji Idris could only look on with mouth agape at the information he was hearing. He managed to recognize Ayisha - the little girl he had taken advantage of over forty years ago, and tears rushed to his eyes. He wanted to speak very desperately but the words would not just form in his mouth.

The silence that followed was palpable. Each of them gazed from one to the other for about two minutes.

“Ayisha,” Alhaji Idris finally managed to say. “What are you saying?”

“Suleman,” she said pointing at the Boko Haram leader “is the son I had for you.”

Abdul Shekau had known moments of shock and amazement in his life but none compared to this. The soldiers around took a closer look at him and the Sarkin Kano still tied in a chair, and shouts of “Allah Akbar!” rented the air.

At this point, Ayisha rushed forward in an attempt to embrace her son but he pushed her away.

“Malam Zakzaky told me you were both dead,” he stated bitterly. “So how come you were both alive and made me pass through what I passed through?”

“It is a long story,” Ayisha responded amidst sobs “but it is the truth. I swear by Allah.”

Mother and son were soon grasping one another in a tight embrace tears flowing freely from both of their eyes. It was all the soldiers could do to hold back their tears. One of them still shouting “Allah Akbar!” reached for a bayonet hanging from around his waist and instantly cut the rope holding the Sarki bound to the chair.

With tears equally flowing from his eyes, Alhaji Idris reached out to embrace his son and Ayisha. The guilt in his eyes was visible for all to see.

******

It was dubbed a security meeting as all the service chiefs as well as the Inspector General of Police and the President’s Chief Security Officer (CSO) were in attendance but the only item discussed was how President Abela and all members of his party would win the approaching 2007 elections.

At the end of the meeting, three billion dollars was paid into the personal account of the Chief Security Officer for onward distribution to “all those who would ensure the President and all members of his party won the 2007 elections.” Under the budget, however, it appeared under the funds meant to procure arms and prosecute the war against insurgents dubbed security vote.

All these arrangements would not have been necessary if the chairman of the country’s electoral commission had accepted the two billion naira bribe offered to him to ensure he rigged the election in favour of the ruling party.

Alhaji Dogara Jallo - the commission's chairman, had bluntly told the men sent by the President to keep their “blood money” and prepare for free and fair elections.

As soon as he got the money, the Chief Security Officer - Col. Danlami Iskilu, swung into action. He started by following the President around during his campaigns across the length and breadth of the country. After the actual campaigns which held in the stadia in the different states where promises ranging from the incredible to the insane were made to the masses, the CSO simply secretly invited the traditional rulers, the elites and the opinion leaders in the different states to five star hotels where, after lavish meals, each person was given a fat envelope with crisp dollar bills inside. The majority accepted while the very few who rejected were dubbed oversabi people or JJC - the abbreviation for Johnny Just Come.

From the smiles on the faces of these men after receiving the largesse, it was easy to see that their loyalty had been fully bought.

From the states in the North to those in the South up to those in the West and East, the story was the same.

The next phase of the project saw the Chief Security Officer paying courtesy visits to the leading media houses including television and radio stations. At the end of such visits, mouth watering sums in Ghana-must-go bags were left in the hands of the management. The message was clear even if it was unspoken - more air time or front page prominence, should be given to the programmes of the ruling party to the detriment of the opposition parties.

The third phase of the Chief Security Officer’s project saw him secretly lobbying key members of the opposition parties with cash offers if they could either secretly work against their own parties or openly decamp to the ruling party. Not a few people fell for the bait with as many as ninety percent of the opposition parties openly endorsing President Abela at the Presidential level and asking all members of their parties to follow suit. These parties only allowed candidates to be fielded at the state, National Assembly and local government levels.

Yet another phase of the project saw the CSO visiting Niger Delta militant leaders in the South South region of Nigeria and leaving them with billions of naira contracts dubbed Pipeline Protection contracts while the real intention was for them to use any means at their disposal, including killing and maiming of opposition leaders, to ensure the ruling party continued in office.

In the South West, a huge division was created among the people when the leader of Oduduwa People’s Association - Chief Razaki Abel, was given a similar contract. The story was not different in the South East.

******

The leading opposition party in Nigeria - the NAPP, knew winning the forthcoming 2007 elections was going to be an uphill task. For one, defeating an incumbent President had never happened since the country gained independence from the British colonial masters over forty years ago. The party, alongside a few others that had not sold out to the ruling party, resolved to leave no stone unturned in ensuring victory for the party’s Presidential flag bearer - Alhaji Ahmadu Ciroma, as well as others contesting at the state, National Assembly and local government levels. They soon entered a merger which saw the formation of a new, bigger party they hoped would defeat the ruling party.

One sunny day, the flag bearer and Presidential hopeful was on his way to campaign in Damaturu - the Yobe State capital. The response he had been getting since kicking off his campaign this third time, has been massive and encouraging. He knew if previous elections had been free and fair, he would since have been President but on the two previous attempts, he had been rigged out by the superior rigging machinery of the ruling party. The new merger his party entered into, however, coupled with growing disenchantment of the masses with President Abela’s policies, made him very sure of victory this time around and be sworn-in accordingly.

In the two previous attempts, he had challenged the results in the law courts and, on both occasions, he has had his case thrown out for lack of merit so he resolved never to go to court again no matter the outcome of the approaching elections.

Just as his convoy was approaching the stadium at Damaturu, however, three cars suddenly came out of nowhere with the one in front ramming into his vehicle. Three blasts followed in quick succession leaving corpses of some of Ciroma's bodyguards lying around. The bomb proof Mercedes Benz Jeep he was travelling in is what saved his life and prevented him being one of the casualties. The shock was, however, too much for the octogenarian. He was driven straight to the airport where a waiting air ambulance carried him off to an undisclosed location.

The news of Ciroma’s close shave with death, soon dominated the airwaves both locally and internationally. The social media was not left out.

Not a few fingers were pointed in the direction of the incumbent President and members of his party, but as usual, his spokesman was on hand to condemn “the dastardly and cowardly act” and wishing Ciroma quick recovery wherever he was.

******

As soon as the emerging facts sank into Shekau, he immediately ordered his second in command to hold fort in Kano while he moved his father and mother in his personal Armoured Personnel Carrier. He ordered the driver to move to Sambisa as soon as they were comfortably seated. Not many words were spoken as Ayisha’s tears continued to flow. Shekau had left instructions earlier asking for his father’s fourth wife and children previously held hostage, to be brought to his camp in Sambisa and for the others who had run for their lives to be located and brought to Sambisa.

On arrival at his hideout hours later, the news of the latest development spread like wild fire around all the camps.

Shekau ordered for some cows to be slaughtered in honour of his parents and instructed that none of those taken from his father’s palace was to be molested. A great re-union followed where Shekau was introduced to some of his half brothers and sisters as well as to his father’s last wife for the first time in his life. The shock was written all over his face as he did not even know they existed.

As soon as dinner was ready, Shekau ordered for his best wine to be brought out and served to all present along with well prepared rice and meat.

A carnival of sorts followed next. Apart from the hastily assembled local musical instruments like the guitar, trumpet and drums, such implements like spoons, plates, bottles and glass cups became ready instruments in the hands of the insurgents. Songs accompanied with dancing, some of praises to Allah and the majority in praise of Shekau’s gallantry took centre stage till far after midnight. It soon spread from Shekau's camp to other camps.

From time to time, Shekau himself led the singing and dancing swaying from left to right to the admiration of all, exciting wild applause from his men. Such a sight had never been seen in Sambisa Forest.

A one week truce was announced afterwards. Shekau instructed no one was to lead any attack during the period warning of dire consequences if the order was flouted. Only defensive fighting was permitted.

One activity or the other was quickly drawn up to keep the men busy and to add spice to the celebration throughout the one week the truce lasted.