A crime eats its own child.
(African Proverb).
Last
week, Maryam acquired a new warm blanket. Actually, her whole camp received new
blankets, so the harmattan winds have been a lot more tolerable. Now the search
for firewood by virtually everyone in the camp is not as desperate, and this is
a relief because venturing further away from the camp where firewood is more
easily available has become harzadous. A few more of the elderly in the camp
have also been moved into new tents, so Maryam and a few of the females have
taken up their former locations near the center of the camp. The camp on the
whole is more comfortable, but no one is sure if it will get better or worse.
Maryam is about 14 years
old. Too old to be a child and too young to be a woman, she has gone through
experiences that have made it impossible to cry anymore. Virtually everyone who
has heard her story from when her life as a member of a family in a small
village in Adamawa State was ended, has been amazed by the calmness with which
she reeled out the chronicle of the tragedy which her life has become.
This is her third camp,
where she is some sort of a leader although some of the younger females are
older than she is. When Boko Haram first attacked her village, they killed her
father and elder brother and abducted her brother’s new wife and her elder
sister who was nursing a baby. The baby was left behind. Her mother ran away
with some women. She has not seen any of them since. The insurgents stayed in
the village for two months, and then relocated with Maryam and about fifty
young females and men to another of their strongholds. This was where Maryam
was given out by the Amir as ‘bride’ to an insurgent. Three days after her
‘marriage’, her husband was killed in an encounter with Nigerian soldiers who
subsequently occupied the village. The soldiers rounded up scores of young men
and women suspected to have had links with Boko Haram. Maryam’s ‘marriage’ to a
dead insurgent counted heavily against her. She was detained, tortured and
abused by soldiers for months as a suspected informant and member of Boko
Haram. In her fourth week of detention, Boko Haram captured the village, and
its population once again came under a lowly but brutal Amir. He immediately
put scores of young men to the sword, with the whole village watching, and then
shared out young women, including Maryam, to fighters. Maryam’s second
‘husband’ helped her escape from the village when news filtered in that
Nigerian soldiers were approaching. She was pregnant.
For six days, Maryam
walked through the bush, feeding from the little supply her 'husband' gave her.
Three days after her escape, she lost the pregnancy. She was rescued by some
soldiers who took her to a village clearing that will be her first camp or,
more accurately, gathering. It was an open space near a burnt-out village, with
no water, food or shelter. Almost the entire population was made up of old men,
women and children. Even husbands vouched for by wives and children were
isolated or detained by soldiers. In the night, soldiers disappeared from the
camp. No one was allowed to light fires in the night because it will attract
Boko Haram. The camp became Maryam’s prison. To leave was too dangerous, and
staying exposed her to the elements, Boko Haram fighters or soldiers who worked
them to the bones cooking or clearing. Young girls spoke in hushed tones about
rape and other abuses in the night.
The rains made it
impossible to continue to live in the gathering. Soldiers made contact with
relief officials, and the entire gathering was moved in batches to an enclosure
nearer a town. This was the first administered camp, with protection provided
by a makeshift fence, vigilante and a military encampment nearby. Feeding was
poor, with one meal a day for most people, and when it rained for long periods,
there was no cooked food. For the first time since she left her own village,
she was seen by a doctor who was only interested in examining her for wounds.
He was a man. She kept her stories to herself.
Maryam matured in this
camp. She assumed additional responsibilities looking after younger children,
cooking and sharing food, and working with the elderly men to keep an eye on
young men with predatory sexual tendencies. She stopped asking new arrivals of
her mother and relations. She became stronger with the thought that she was
entirely on her own.
In the last four months,
traffic of help has improved in the camp. Feeding is better, but still poor.
Medical facilities are bare, and almost on a daily basis, women deliver babies
without medical help. The camp is becoming more crowded, in spite of the fact
that people move out to stay in homes of relations or relocate to rebuild lives
in liberated areas. There is a lot of suspicion that new arrivals are Boko
Haram spies or defectors. There are still cases of sexual violence, and many
females have learnt how to get more or better rations for themselves and their
children from officials and guards.
Maryam’s new blanket
came in a consignment donated by some foreigners. The camp also received tents,
medical facilities and quantities of food. Before the donors arrived, the camp
was kept busy clearing itself, digging new latrines and water storage
facilities. There have been arguments and fights among the men and younger
women over exposing cheating Nigerian officials, in the event that
opportunities presented themselves. Fear of being ejected or labelled Boko
Haram informants has kept most inmates quiet.
There is much talk of
people moving out to their liberated villages to start a rebuilding process in
the midsts of fear and uncertainties. Maryam, however, is not part of these
discussions. She has nowhere to go. She is suspended in time and space, a
suspect in some circles, and a victim in many others.
Maryam is real. She is the nation’s open wound
which festers from erratic attention and serial abuse. It feeds off the
on-going battle between the Nigerian state and an insurgency that has many
faces. It does not heal with the success of the military against Boko Haram,
because it has taken on a life of its own. It is a gaping hole that attracts
attention from caring governments with limited resources, and a global
community with heavy hearts, deep pockets and enlarged concerns over corruption
and abuse in the management of Internally Displaced Persons. Two million people
is a large number to cater for. Yet, they have to be catered for, if the war
against Boko Haram is to be won. Unless towns and villages are rebuilt, basic
infrastructure rehabilitated, schools reopened, policing restored, families
reunited and protected, farms ploughed, children play freely in the open and
Maryam's hope for a better life is restored, Boko Haram will claim victory
against the Nigerian state. It is a victory it does not deserve.