(CNN) – The license plates
on our police escorts’ Land Cruisers read “Borno State, Home of Peace.”
Many of those we meet during our stay in Maiduguri, northeast Nigeria,
smile bitterly at the irony of that statement. The state’s capital is
now better known as the birthplace of Boko Haram and peace here is
always uncertain.
Down
the dusty streets we drive, passing checkpoint after checkpoint manned
not by soldiers but civilians, mostly armed with little more than
machetes and swords. These vigilante groups, driven by a determination
and motivation that the Nigerian security forces largely lack, have
managed to establish some semblance of security in Maiduguri. Their
pursuit of Boko Haram has become relentless — hardened as they are by
losses to the terror group over the years — and they show no mercy, not
even to family.
“I
caught him with my hand and handed him over to the authority,” one of
the sector’s leaders, Abba Ajikalli, tells us unapologetically. He is
speaking about his 16-year-old nephew, who he says was with Boko Haram.
“He has been executed,” Ajikalli informs us, without a hint of remorse on his face. “He was like my son, I have no regret.”
Searching for Boko Haram
What
started as a home-grown movement for Sharia law in northern Nigeria is
now a full-scale insurgency. Boko Haram attacks have terrorized this
part of the country for years, but their kidnapping of nearly 300
schoolgirls in Chibok in April has brought them an unprecedented level
of international infamy. Since then the insurgents, seemingly galvanized
by the attention, have stepped up the frequency and brazenness of its
attacks on villages in the region.
A
presidential fact-finding mission is in Maiduguri at the same time as
our trip. Each morning we receive word that they will travel to Chibok;
each morning the residents and parents of the girls stolen from Chibok
wait; and each afternoon everyone is disappointed by another
postponement.
One
woman, who is part of the mission and asked not to be named because of
the sensitivity of the situation, told us that she would be quitting
“[The
parents] need to know that the nation is with them, that people are
with them,” she said emotionally. “But there are people that wouldn’t
let us even call them. They keep saying it’s security and that’s why we
can’t go, but some of us are willing to risk it.”
He has been executed. He was like my son, [but] I have no regret.
Abba Ajikalli, anti-Boko Haram vigilante
Abba Ajikalli, anti-Boko Haram vigilante
More
than six weeks after the kidnapping, the Nigerian government and its
forces have done little to ease the agony of the girls’ parents and
those who have rallied behind the cause. Last week, officials banned all
protests in support of the “Bring Back Our Girls” campaign, calling
them “lawless,” before reversing tack in the face of a public outcry.
Traveling
outside of Maiduguri is a risk, and our time on the ground is limited
by security concerns. Just twenty minutes outside the city limits we
find entire villages empty after recent attacks.
Maiduguri
may be Boko Haram’s birthplace, but its terror is spreading. Refugees
have been flowing into neighboring countries, where borders exist in
name only, and each person has a harrowing tale of escape, a
heartbreaking story of loss from which few will recover.
The International Rescue Committee (IRC) estimates that as many as 1,000
refugees a week are crossing the border into Niger’s Diffa region. Four
out of five are women and girls. The IRC estimates that if the violence
continues in northern Nigeria, up to 100,000 refugees could be living
in Diffa by the end of the year.
Orphaned by Boko Haram
All
that 14-year-old Bintou and her little sister Ma’ou, 12, have of their
former life in Nigeria are tattered photos of their parents.
Bintou
curls up and buries her face, her shoulders shuddering with each silent
sob. Ma’ou seems to have utterly internalized her pain, and speaks in a
numb monotone.
They
tell us they want to go back to Maiduguri, but for now they can’t. They
are orphans — their mother died of natural causes before they can
remember, and their father was killed in a Boko Haram attack about five
months ago. We find them living with their aunt on a small plot in
Diffa, Niger, uncertain about a future they are now forced to navigate
alone.
“She
[Bintou] can’t understand how this could have happened,” the IRC’s
Mohammed Watakane, explains. “She is a victim going through a
psychological trauma, she needs protection.”
The only thing I could think in that moment was ‘survive.’
Woman who fled Boko Haram attack
Woman who fled Boko Haram attack
There
are no refugee camps in Diffa, and Nigerians fleeing across the border
have been absorbed into the local populations. The World Food Program is
helping to ease the burden on host families by providing aid to the
refugees, but it only has a quarter of the money it needs for its Niger
programs, according to the country’s WFP director.
On
the outskirts of town, the village of Guessere’s population has
doubled. Its new residents all come from a Nigerian village located 3
kilometers from the border. Many fled a Boko Haram attack in the middle
of the night and spent the night hiding in the bush before crossing the
river into Niger.
Haidjia
Fandaou tells us how she came across her brother’s lifeless body in the
middle of her escape. He had been dragged out of a mosque, executed
with his prayer beads still in his hand.
“The
only thing I could think in that moment was ‘survive,’” Fandaou often
tells us. Her walk to Niger took just thirty minutes. Here, the border
is more an idea than a reality. A shallow river along the edge of
Guessere marks the line between relative safety and terror. But fear
continues to haunt people who cross it.
Few
dare to even utter the words “Boko Haram,” as if merely calling the
group by name will bring the same violence and terror across the border
as well. Local government officials in Niger refuse to speak about
security, and brusquely warn us not to ask about it and to stick to our
pre-planned program.
U.S.
and Nigerian security sources tell us Boko Haram tends to use Niger as
more of a logistics hub or to escape military operations in Nigeria.
There have been concerns that fighters are hiding themselves among the
refugees, and recruiting among Niger’s disgruntled unemployed youth — a
concern shared by Nigeria’s other neighbors as Boko Haram morphs into a
transnational terrorist organization.
The journey to Lake Chad
We
leave Diffa in the morning, along tracks barely visible in the sand. We
travel in a convoy through the remote, unforgiving landscape. Pickup
trucks stacked high with cargo pass us in the opposite direction,
laboring over the dunes. Our driver tells us they’re carrying dried fish
from Lake Chad.
They will use the schoolgirls to negotiate with the government, or they will use them as human shields.
Boko Haram informant
Boko Haram informant
Sources
tell us the lake is an area of interest in the search for the missing
Nigerian schoolgirls. Bordered by Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, and Chad,
islands now cover half of the once-massive lake as its waters continue
to recede. It is an ideal hideout for Boko Haram. In March, along the
area of the lake just south of where we are headed, Nigerian forces
raided a Boko Haram camp, capturing weapons, ammunition and explosives.
But for the most part, these are lawless waters.
We
leave the port of Kirikiri, but not before hearing more stories of
another town dealing with the influx of refugees. It seems no one and no
place here is lucky enough to escape the effects of Boko Haram’s brutal
campaign.
We
charter a fishing boat and head out on the water. We travel as far as
we’re told we can safely go, then land on one of the islands closest to
Niger.
All
we can see is dense vegetation along the shoreline. Inland, we find a
small fishing village. The village leader, Boulama Noma, tells us he and
many others here lived on one of the islands closer to Nigeria. One
day, Boko Haram arrived on what was essentially a shopping trip — but
before they left with all of the produce and food, Noma says they
torched all of the homes and killed so many villagers that he says he
lost count.
This
is just one of the many horrifying tales about Boko Haram that we hear
during our time in Niger. It makes us think of all the stories we
haven’t heard from the countless victims of the last few years when the
group has operated with impunity.
Before
we came to Lake Chad, we’d met two informants in Nigeria who live among
Boko Haram members and know the terrorist organization’s tactics better
than most. We ask them what the group has planned for the kidnapped
schoolgirls.
“They
will use them to negotiate with the government about those of their
members that have been detained by the government,” one tells us. “Or
they will use them as human shields.”
As
we sail through the waters back to the mainland, it becomes clear just
how challenging a search and rescue operation will be. The terrain here
is as harsh as Boko Haram’s tactics are unforgiving.
Source : from cnn.com
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