The rhythmic guttural groans of the 911 truck outside the shelter which
had arrived thirty minutes before dawn added to Aisha's fever of
excitement as she hurriedly packed together her few belongings and tied
them in a in the dog tooth patterned shawl Hassan Suicide had given to
her the last time he returned from Damaturu. Her excitement was not
really happiness but a pantheon of a sense of unfinished business, dread
of another major change in her life which she had no control over and
fear of the unknown immediate future which created an emotion that made
her heart flutter, her eyes cloud over and her thirteen year old mind
wander. The strap of one of her scruffy black brassieres poked out of
the hole in the scarf she'd always procrastinated on stitching, she
poked it back in and went to peep outside using the curtain at the door
for shade.
A purplish haze hung over the camp. It came from the
exhaust fumes of the truck outside and several other Hilux 4X4 vehicles
returning from the surrounding forest with grotesque metal contraptions
in their tail pan. Girei Jimeta the plump baby faced bomb specialist
jumped down from a Hilux that abruptly turned the corner and startled
Aisha, "mai ki ke yi anan?" he bleated at her in his thin effeminate
voice. "Dan alla, kiya kuri mallam, mai wan chan acicin mota?" she asked
in reply. Girei ignored her and ordered her back inside, "wan chan ba
damuwa n ki, shiga gida yanzu!".
She went back inside and retreated
into her corner in the chiselled out cave. She had decided not to remove
the faded superwax wrapper she spread as bedding. She dusted off the
sand and sat with her back to the wall, her arms clutching her tied
damask shawl and her mind thinking about Hassan Suicide.
Hassan
would have explained to her what the ugly looking metal objects were and
why they had earth on them as if they had been exhumed from the ground.
Hassan was the love of her life. The first man who'd told her that he
loved her after making love to her. Not the first who'd made love to
her, her father, the righteous looking Mallam Nasiru was her first. Home
had become a nightmare since that night in primary 4 when Mallam first
crawled alongside her in the dark hut when Mama had gone to her parents
to give birth to little Ali.
That was why she cried along with
the other girls only with her eyes when they were taken. In her heart
she rejoiced that someone, something had come to take her away from her
immediate horror of the staccatic incestous thrusts her father forced on
her . She thought about that first night, how she noticed that the
dreaded Hassan Suicide liked her when three turns before it would be her
turn to be forcefully penetrated by three drooling fundamentalists, he
pulled her out, gave a broom to her and ordered her to clean out the
shelter they would occupy.
Later that night he came back dressed in a
white jalabiya not his frightening camouflage fatigues and woolen face
mask. He took her to a clearing in the forest which was shaded from
direct view of the lookout posts and unwrapped kilishi which they ate
while he allowed her to tell him about herself and estranged family.
That night Hassan Suicide made love to her not like the other girls were
raped but with tenderness after obtaining her permission, like a
responsible Muslim man.
He became her champion and made her
sojourn in Sambisa bearable, even enjoyable at times. Finally someone
loved her. He had convinced the Boss that Aisha was not a good candidate
to include in the YARINYA BOMBER SQUAD. When the air force jets had
bombed the first camp she had heard him bellowing her name above the din
of the propellers and anti-aircraft gunfire even before he appeared to
lift her and run zig zag through the splintered Gmelina trees into
safety. Incidentally, he was the one who noticed her first period when
he saw the blood on his phallus after ejaculating and withdrawing on one
of those nights in the clearing...their clearing. She'd screamed with
horror and only then did he realize it was her first time, he'd calmed
her, comforted and explained to her. He'd always brought back presents
for her. A set of Hollandis wrappers when he breezed into camp two days
after planning the Nyanya job, a carton of Tampax that took her a month
to figure out how to insert when he returned from Saudi Arabia and the
shawl this last time. Her eyes clouded up as she reminisced and feasted
on the memories.
She had feverntly prayed to Allah that he came
back from their big meeting with the federal government in Saudi Arabia
before they were ferried to Maiduguri and onward to Abuja as rumor that
preceded their return and recent unusual activity predicted.
She had
also hoped to see the mysterious Boss for the first time. Only a handful
of trusted high level men like Hassan Suicide had ever seen Shekau not
to talk of knowing of his whereabouts, she suspected that only one or
two people at a time knew where the Boss was.
What would be out
there for her? Hassan had not been able to find her mother when he went
searching the last time he went to Chibok. She wasn't interested in
finding her father.
Would the federal government provide a house and
pay school for her? she pondered. Or would she have to resign to a life
of penury, begging and depending on charity like Hajiya Samira who used
to sit by the south gate of the Bama road mosque with her outstretched
plate back in Chibok? What was out there for her? Anything? Nothing.
She
made up her mind and decided she would not join the rest of the excited
chattering girls who were keen to go back, back to what? The fools, no
she would stay back.
She got up and went out in the warm early
morning sunshine to search for Girei Jimeta so she could tell him she
was not leaving with the bevy. She would negotiate with him. She would
offer her services for free. She would cook, wash, cut firewood, clean a
gun, do anything to stay. She was determined. She would stay.
She would wait for Hassan Suicide.
Kuby Uyanga holds a degree in Civil Engineering. He is a writer who uses words in different formats to impact positive change.
A
certified Competent Communicator by Toastmasters International, he
speaks professionally on Leadership, Personal & Organizational
development.
He is also a Negotiator, Screen Writer and Film Director
who functions as CEO/Director of Letters at Kuboid Communications
Limited, Lagos
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