INIKPI

Ayisha, the story continues

Kaduna, 2000

Awwalu Ibrahim graduated from the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria five years ago where he studied Mass Communication. He also concluded the mandatory National Youth Service Corp (N.Y.S.C) programme four years ago in Ekiti State all by the time he was twenty five years old.

During the programme, he was posted to teach in a secondary school where he taught the English Language and English Literature and he performed creditably well.

All his efforts to get a job in this state after the programme, however, met a brick wall. Even when he performed better than every other candidate in the different interviews he attended, the simple reason he was not a Yoruba man ensured he did not secure a job for over a year after the programme.

When his father became tired of sending him pocket money, he asked him to return home to Kaduna State where they came from and try his luck there. Awwalu returned home over two years ago, yet no job was forthcoming.

Gradually, the situation began to take its toll on him. He spent the day roaming around Kaduna clutching his credentials for the job that never came and the evenings playing whot - a game of cards, with his friends who were in a similar condition as he was.

It was one of them - Aminu, who told him about a secret recruitment one day, where every successful candidate was given five thousand dollars.

One morning, Awwalu, Aminu and three others set out to look for how to get recruited. The journey lasted four hours in a Peugeot 504 Station Wagon car along with others going in their direction. It was a taxi driven by a rather talkative malam. He never seemed to stop talking all through the journey and he dwelt only on one subject - the increasing attacks by members of the Boko Haram sect.

“Have you heard the sect even operates in Cameroun, Chad and Niger Republic nowadays?” he asked no one in particular.

“I even learnt it has teamed up with Al- Qaeda, Al Shabbab and even the Islamic State, ISIS,” he continued without waiting for a response.

His last comment before the five jobless friends disembarked was a prayer.

“May Allah deliver us from them,” he prayed. All the passengers shouted “amin!” except the five friends.

******

The recruitment was not what Awwalu and his four friends had expected. It was more of an initiation. A man dressed in a flowing white caftan, had taken them from where they disembarked to somewhere deep inside a forest they later learnt was called Sambisa where about fifty others were waiting to be recruited.

As soon as the seven men equally similarly dressed who they were brought before at midnight confirmed they were all Muslims, they smiled broadly. This was going to be a simple recruitment. A different answer from anyone of them would have meant persuading the non- Muslim to convert to Islam or be killed instantly.

After introducing themselves and explaining their sorry tales, they were told to recite some Arabic terms after the seven men - all in their midforties - after which some Arabic inscriptions were written on slates with a black chalk.

Muttering some incomprehensible words, the seven men went on to wash the inscriptions into a small clay pot which were then given each of them to drink. Smoke billowed from pots kept in strategic parts of the venue lighting up the venue since it was a moonless night.

It was smooth sailing from then on as the code of conduct of the sect was read out to the recruits who nodded weakly as if in a trance.

They were to obey every order without question as disobedience meant instant death and were to sever any ties with non-sect members including blood relations with immediate effect among other equally weird demands. One of such demands was that each of them must sleep with a non-Muslim virgin, preferably a Christian, with a particular loin cloth they were each given, tied around their waist. They were to ensure the virgin’s blood oozing from her private part touched the white loin cloth after which it should be returned to the spiritual heads conducting the initiation. Each of them was to also come with the freshly severed head of an infidel or non- Muslim. They were given only two weeks to fulfill the last two demands.

The new initiates were to learn later that the demand for a virgin Christian’s blood signified purity. It symbolized a fresh beginning for a recruit into the sect and that the person's life has been purified while the severed head from an infidel meant the beginning of their readiness to make the ultimate sacrifice and preparedness to live selflessly for Allah and severance of ties from the past.

The following morning, they were shared into groups with four persons in each group. Each group was given ten foot soldiers to help the members to meet the demands of the last two obligations.

It took Awwalu and his friends over ten days to summon enough courage to meet the obligations. They had looked for one excuse or the other until the eleventh day when they met and discussed among themselves that they should move ahead since there was nothing to go back to at home if they were allowed to go back alive.

They had each meticulously searched out a religious home in the predominantly Christian town of Chibok, looked for the youngest in the home and deflowered her with the loin cloth tied around their waist and proceeded to wash their genitals with what, they were told, is “holy water” after which they severed the head of the family head aided by the ten foot soldiers.

The very night they returned with the stained loin clothes and severed heads, each of them was made to lie with a virgin Muslim girl signifying the beginning of a new, selfless life for Allah in a ceremony that lasted all through the night.

They were then put in Land Rovers and taken to Niger Republic for training.

Awwalu and his four friends did not bother to call their families and explain things. They simply threw away their phones’ SIM cards to prevent receiving phone calls from any and prepared for their journey to Niger Republic along with the about fifty others in the camp.

In Niger Republic, they were made to pass through four hours of intense training daily in the scorching heat of the desert after their daily devotional prayers by 5am. The training included how to use weapons and martial arts. From the colour of their skin and hair texture, it was easy to tell their instructors were foreigners from either Yemen or North Africa. Basic breathing techniques to help in conserving energy were also taught the initiates. Those who could not keep up with the demands of the rigorous training were sent to other areas like supply of logistics, ICT, etc. Aminu fell into this category. The last aspect of the training was in the area of making bombs and explosives using a combination of different chemicals and acid.

Six months later, the new initiates returned to Sambisa Forest to receive immediate posting. To their amazement and consternation, they were each given one hundred dollars. They exchanged glances. The bitterness was too much to be put into words but it was too late to go back. They decided to push forward though. The bridge linking their past was broken forever.

Sambisa Forest, 2001

By the time Malam Zakzaky was killed extra-judicially by operatives of the Nigeria Police, Suleman had received military training in Niger Republic, Chad and even Libya and knew every secret of the group.

He had also personally carried out several bombing expeditions escaping just before the explosive devices went off. He was feared even within the sect. He rarely spoke and when he did, it was to issue orders. None disobeyed as the penalty was instant death.

His choice as successor to Malam Zakzaky was natural, ordained by Allah, the group members felt.

In one of his speeches to the sect members deep inside Sambisa after Zakzaky’s death, he warned them he would not tolerate betrayal, mediocrity or delay in carrying out orders.

He ended that speech by announcing to all that his name was no longer Suleman.

“From now onwards, I am Abdul Shekau!” he announced.

“Allah Akbar! Long live Abdul Shekau!” shouted the sect members.

******

Awwalu and his friends returned from their training in Niger to take up strategic positions within the sect since they were graduates.

Awwalu was given the position of Information Officer since he studied Mass Communication. He was to liaise with the different media organizations to ensure the terror acts of the group were given maximum publicity so as to send fear down the spine of their opposers.

He took the new name Musa Qaqa.

Aminu always liked women. He was a chronic womanizer while on campus at the University of Jos, Plateau State. He was the one who suggested the group could have as many women as it wanted by abducting them.

Shekau approved his suggestion instantly. Young girls from the age of nine to twenty five became targets.

Villages were attacked at midnight and women became part of the cattle, money and foodstuff they carried off into Sambisa. No one cared what their marital status was as long as they were young and beautiful.

The virgins among them were kept for their leaders who, after satisfying their lust on a particular maiden, passed her over to the foot soldiers. These set of girls were r***d by as many as six men a day and those who got pregnant were given an herbal concoction which flushed out the fetus from their wombs. Some died in the process while others lost their wombs.

As the group was expanding to other neighbouring countries like Niger, Chad, Cameroun and even Mali, so was the need to increase the number of women to keep them comfortable.

Any area attacked by the group had its banks broken into so the group always had money in addition to proceeds it got from desperate politicians who wanted power at any cost.

The alliance the group entered with Al-Qaeda, Islamic State and Al Shabbab also ensured it got more funds in hard currency.

Part Two

Dr. Johnson Kosofe returned home from Australia with his family as was his custom every December. This was his fourth year in that country and the third time he would be coming home like this. He had the total look of one in the academic world complete with the horn-rimmed glasses that perches delicately on his nose and the beards.

This year’s visit was going to be particularly interesting as his childhood friend’s son was getting married. The wedding ceremony was fixed for December 15 in Kaduna - the bride’s hometown. A car with a driver will be sent about two weeks after his arrival home to Nigeria.

The family routine during these visits were usually the same. Dr. Kosofe, his wife - Morenike and their three teenage children, would visit his aged parents, in their early nineties, in their house at Mokola, Ibadan, stay for three or four days and then return to their Lekki, Lagos residence. From then on, it was one visit to a distant relation, friend, business associate or the other till the Christmas festivities where people will gather in their residence to celebrate.

For a senior lecturer, Dr. Kosofe was not doing badly. He operated a joint account with his wife who sold African dishes in Canberra as well as African attires like adire, tie and dye, batik, etc. Necklaces and bangles made from beads as well as snake-skin bags, shoes etc were also part of what she sold. All her goods came from Africa and the patronage was quite good. Training their three children through school and taking care of the needs of their extended family members, therefore, was quite easy.

On this particular trip, however, the routine was going to be slightly different as the children will be staying with their parents at Ibadan while they attended the wedding in Kaduna and return to Lagos just in time to begin preparations for the Christmas celebration.

Todun who was seventeen and the eldest child, was overjoyed when her mother broke the news to her together with her siblings. Indeed, Todun loved her grandmother - Iyalode, as she was fondly called, very dearly.

“You must see to it that Babatunde and Kolawole do not disturb your aged grandparents,” she advised Todun.

“I will do my best ma,” she replied.

Todun did not love her grandmother for nothing. Iyalode taught her how to read as an infant, beginning with the Yoruba language before her mother continued in the English language. She also enjoyed the folklores Iyalode told her and her siblings in the evenings such as the story of Oluronbi and the iroko tree. She would never forget the song in the story for as long as she lived. Of all the stories, she and her siblings enjoyed that of Ijapa the tortoise the most. In one of his mischievous escapades, Ijapa had lost the whole of his hair to greed.

In the account, Ijapa visited his in-laws and was treated to a sumptuous meal of yam pottage or asaro. Ijapa had enjoyed the meal so much that he had sneaked into his hosts' kitchen while pretending to be visiting the toilet. On entering the kitchen, he had proceeded to fill his abetiaja cap with the pottage and had gone ahead to don the cap immediately. Unfortunately for him, however, the asaro was still steaming hot prompting him to want to take his leave instantly.

“But you have only just arrived now, ah! ah!” his mother in-law protested forcing Ijapa to stay another ten minutes. Sweat poured off his body. When the couple eventually agreed to see him off since he was beginning to look ill, Ijapa fainted on the way prompting his hosts to hastily pull off his agbada and cap in an attempt to revive him. What fell out of the cap shocked them to their marrows.

“Apart from the embarrassment Ijapa suffered, he also lost all his hair and has remained bald to this day,” Iyalode concluded. Todun and her siblings clapped excitedly.

“Who can tell us what the story teaches us?” Iyalode demanded.

“It teaches us not to be greedy and be satisfied with what we are given,” Babatunde stated.

“Clap for him!” Iyalode commanded excitedly bringing the story to an end and asking the teenagers to proceed to their rooms as the night was far spent.

Apart from her story telling prowess, Iyalode’s expertise in preparing local dishes especially gbegiri and ewedu also endeared the old woman to them. Todun could barely wait for the designated day to arrive for them to move to Ibadan. Her younger brothers felt the same way.

Babatunde was fifteen while Kolawole was thirteen. They loved riding their grandfather’s old bicycle whenever they were visiting never getting tired of moving around the ancient town.

******

The days seemed to pass very slowly. Todun and her siblings took time to visit old classmates and friends but nothing could compare, as far as they were concerned, to visiting their grandparents.

Soon, it was Thursday, twelfth December - a day before the journey commenced. Dr. Kosofe got his personal driver whenever he was in Nigeria - Segun, to drop the children off at Ibadan with his private Jeep while he and his wife travelled in the Peugeot 607 saloon car belonging to his best friend. The couple could easily have travelled by air but they wanted to enjoy the view of the country side travelling by land gave. The driver of Dr. Kosofe’s best friend arrived on the twelfth so there would be no delay as the journey started quite early.

On the appointed day, the family got up very early, said their prayers - they were Muslims, and the journey started in earnest.

Dr. Kosofe and his wife sat in the back seat of the Peugeot while Todun and her siblings sat on the back seat of the Jeep. The Jeep was in front while the saloon car followed. Not much conversation took place since they were all feeling sleepy.

A few hours later, they arrived Ibadan. Dr. Kosofe insisted they stopped to have breakfast together at the nearest Mr. Biggs.

After the meal, the Jeep proceeded to the residence of Todun’s grandparents while the saloon car moved onwards for Kaduna.

The harmattan was heavy. North East winds blew from the Sahara desert through the length and breadth of the country leaving trees bare of leaves and the weather cold, dusty and dry. It was for this reason Dr. Fatai Adefila - Dr. Kosofe’s best friend, ensured the car had a working air conditioner in it.

******

President Nasir Jaffer of Niger Republic was having a serious security meeting with the heads of the country’s forces - the Army, Navy , Air force and the Inspector General of Police. The Minister of Defence was also present. They spoke in the French language.

Only one item was discussed - the growing threat the Boko Haram group was beginning to pose in the West African sub region.

“I am not satisfied with the measures you people are putting in place to deal with these terrorists from Nigeria,” he stated clearly.

The men had expressionless faces. They knew the menace facing them was something none of their predecessors had ever faced and it tested their training and expertise to the limits but none of them dared to voice this out.

“We shall do our very best sir,” it was Gen. Ahmed Tanja - the Chief of Army Staff.

“Your best must be above average, General,” the President replied.

“We cannot continue to lose innocent lives like this. Already, some international cable television stations are broadcasting the last killings of the sect. Over seventy lives were lost, need I remind you, right in Niamey!” He was beginning to raise his voice.

“Not to talk of the countless women and children missing,” he stressed. “Pro-active measures must be adopted. I want roadblocks mounted every five miles or less. Do you understand that?”

“Oui monsieur!” the men chorused.

“Good! I have told my Nigerian counterpart to wake up. His inadequacies are making the sect look invincible. We Nigeriennes do not condone such with kid gloves!”

The men nodded their agreement. As soon as the meeting was over, the security chiefs convened their different meetings with their senior officers.

The following morning, gendarmes flooded the borders and road blocks appeared all around.

Three days later, “operation show your papers” kicked off and no fewer than three hundred Nigerians, one hundred and fifty Camerounians and one hundred Chadians were deported for not having valid resident permit. None was allowed to carry any of his or her belongings. They were put in trucks and dropped across the border in their different countries and no different compartment was created for the women and children.

There was wailing and gnashing of teeth but the deportees knew better than to argue with the gendarmes.

******

In Yaoundé, President Joseph Anyangwe was holding a similar security meeting.

The previous day Boko Haram elements had gunned down over fifty citizens and the news was being relayed on both local and international stations around the world every sixty minutes.

“This is completely unacceptable. If President Abela can accept this in his country, we shall not do so here.”

By the time the meeting was over, the men had resolved to take certain measures and by the following day these measures saw the mass arrest of every non employed foreigner with complete papers or not on Camerounian soil.

Amnesty International and other Civil Society groups heard about this and immediately condemned it in strongly worded terms in major media stations around the world.

President Anyangwe was, however, not deterred .He has been President for over thirty years and was used to dealing with the media in his own way.

He has not stopped wondering why the Civil Society groups would not look for more profitable jobs to do rather than engage in other people's affairs.

“The United Nation’s Charter is clear on the right of countries to govern their people as they deem fit without undue interference from other countries,” he told the Minister of Foreign Affairs when he (the Minister ) called to inform him of the knocks the United States, England and other foreign governments were calling him to deliver.

“The Boko Haram menace will not be handled with kid gloves. If we have to lose a few of our friends internationally to deal with the menace, then, we are ready to do so,” he declared with a tone of finality.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs left with his head hanging limply on his neck. He knew the President had a point. He resolved not to pick any more telephone calls with a foreign number for the next one month.