They Don’t Care About Us
The impact of the long trek Huzaifa had just had was beginning to show in her carriage. Her refusal to buckle was entirely due to sheer will…and the fact that her babies would suffer in her fall. She had been carrying Aisha on her back and Musa on her neck. It was hard work but at least she got these two out. The whereabouts of Jamilu, Hassan and Hussaina was something she didn’t want to dwell on. All she could focus on was ensuring she got as far away from Mubi as possible. Her bare feet were chaffed and had blisters running from her toe nails to her heels but she couldn’t let the pain sink into her thoughts. The weight of Musa on her neck had given her a hard knot around her shoulder and if she so much as moved her current position, she was sure that the muscle would snap. When she finally got to the Hayin Gada Bridge, all she could think of was crossing the bridge. ‘She would be safe in Yola’, she thought to herself. She just needed to hold on until she got to Yola. Huzaifa was not the only one fleeing Mubi. She was one of the thousands who had fled when the insurgent group, popularly called Boko Haram, invaded (and captured) Mubi, the second largest city and most viable economic epicenter in Adamawa state in October, 2014. John was another. He had run from home as soon as he had heard the tata tata ta of guns firing. He left his wife and four kids, taking with him only his phone, his wallet and the clothes he was wearing. John had thought through his predicament and realized that being a man, and a young one at that, his fate was either to join the insurgents or a certain death. He didn’t want to be a part of a group of men whose ideals meant that they could kill, pillage and destroy communities at whim and he sure didn’t want to die. As he ran, he hoped his children would be safe though, the fate of his wife was a sure thing if she was captured; young and beautiful as she was. He dulled the thought of his wife and kids as he zigzagged his way in the bushes. After two days in the bush and his endurance of a major heat stroke, he finally found a taxi, albeit an expensive one, heading to Yola. He needed to get to Yola. Once he got there, he would think of the family he had left behind. These examples (and many more) are the stories coming out of Mubi. Whether it is students running into Cameroun or people piled on each other on tricycles, motorcycles, cars, or trailers, the main issue is that the story coming out of Mubi is horrible. And worse, there were no Christians, no Muslims and no atheists. All there was were Nigerians running away from a common enemy. Heck, even the soldiers were running away in the face of the heavy artillery wielded by the insurgents. The insurgents behind the escapees were not their only problems. As they ran through bushes, in the stifling heat that is characteristic of Adamawa, many of these people were without food or water, resulting in massive hunger. Now, the adrenaline pumping through their veins may have pushed the thought of food out of their minds but running without water in a hot (hot) place is akin to embarking on a suicide mission. Many people were reported to have drunk water from sources as filthy as gutters or roadside puddles. These were not the worst of their problems though. As people strove to get away from Mubi, imagine their relief when they saw cars lined up, also fleeing from the insurgents. Many ran to such vehicles, pleading to be taken along. The drivers, while running for their lives, didn’t let the opportunity to make a quick buck pass them by. Transport fares from Yola to Mubi was usually around N1,500 but, as soon as the drivers saw the fleeing citizens, fares went as high as N7, 000. And boy! Did people pay! If you didn’t have any money, then ‘GOD save you’ was the meted response. People had to trek from Mubi to as far as Hong. In the end, the governor, Barrister Bala James Ngilari, had to send, (as released by the press secretary) a total of seventy-seven buses to fetch those on the road. One would think that getting to Yola would mean some form of respite for the displaced people but it wasn’t. The NAPEP riders in Yola also hiked their transport fares, collecting one hundred naira (N100) instead of the stipulated fifty naira (N50). People would have paid two hundred naira if possible but the vehicles just weren’t there. The buses had been just enough for the residents of the Yola metropolis but with the massive influx of people into town, buses were scarce. People literally had to jump on moving vehicles and be packed like sardines. Buses that normally carried about 10 passengers with the driver and conductor making it 12, were carrying as many as 15 and in some cases, up to 18 or 20 people. It was not a pleasant sight at all. At a point, people just gave up on waiting for the buses or NAPEP and took to walking long distances within the town to get to where they were going to. And trust the security men to become active after there has been an incident. The checkpoints that were a common site in Jimeta and Yola soon doubled. The traffic gridlocks soon became unbearable. It wasn’t as if any checks were being done, but the security personnel had to look busy. The only people credit had to be given to, were the men from the Federal Road Safety Commission, who worked tirelessly to ensure that the gridlock was broken and traffic was relatively smooth. Apart from that, the Police as usual set up checkpoints close to where the Army had
