My
five days in Maiduguri in northeastern Nigeria – the epicentre of
violence perpetrated by the armed group, Boko Haram – was fraught with
danger. I had been trying to get access to report from the city for over
a year.
I
had been told that I needed clearance from the head of Nigeria’s armed
forces to report from the ground. I’d also been told that Maiduguri was
classified as a “security zone”, off-limits to journalists, according to
the ministry of information. In the end, I decided to take a chance and
make the journey, hoping to come out with some reportage but prepared
to get absolutely nothing too. All this was against the advice of
security advisors, professional colleagues, NGOs and government
contacts.
For
months I had heard that Boko Haram had taken control of not just
Maiduguri, the state capital, but large swathes of Borno State. I had
been to Maiduguri a few times before, including in 2009 when I reported
on the killing of the group’s leader, Mohammed Yusuf, while in police
custody.
Before
the chaos took hold, I remembered Maiduguri as a surprisingly
cosmopolitan and peaceful town, with an eclectic mix of people of
different faiths, ethnicities, and subcultures; as well as different
types of food and music. The people of Maiduguri had struck me as
ordinary people, with a somewhat royal air, steeped in their tradition –
but at the same time having a somewhat modern and outward look. Borno
State shares borders with the former French colonies of Niger to the
north and Chad to the north-east – giving one a strange feeling of being
in Francophone Africa too.
During
my five days there, I found a Maiduguri under siege by Boko Haram
fighters and the Joint Task Force. The colour described above had been
replaced by a city enmeshed in road blocks, checkpoints, sandbags on
virtually every major road and intersection. The city was patrolled by
heavily armed military personnel donning ski masks, poised to fire at
any moment.
A
TV vehicle like our own, visibly packed with television equipment,
could easily provoke suspicion. So our first priority was to unpack our
kit at our hotel so we could travel light, and go out and talk to as
many people as possible.
It
is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to film openly in Maiduguri
because of the threat of violence from Boko Haram. In our time there we
heard the noise of bombs exploding, and bullets being fired – followed
by the screeching of JTF sirens that seemed to be coming from all
directions. This happened every 2-3 hours. We later learned that Boko
Haram had attacked a JTF position with rocket-propelled grenades just
adjacent to our hotel.
We
were stopped from filming on several occasions by JTF patrols who
demanded to know whether we had military clearance to report from the
city. It seemed like the only reason we were not forcibly stopped from
newsgathering was because the soldiers we encountered were familiar with
my face and my reports on Boko Haram. This seemed to cool things down.
And – it has to be said – the huge popularity of Al Jazeera English in
the region helped.
The
security situation in Maiduguri is so bad that tens of thousands of
people from “Maiduguri-stan”, as some Nigerians nickname the city, have
fled. They are unable to live a normal life, not knowing whether they
may be caught up in the daily bomb explosions, suicide attacks and
gunfire that rocks parts of the city. Those we spoke to who chose to
remain in Maiduguri say it’s because it’s their home and they have no
other place to go to, or the means to leave for elsewhere.
According
to Father David Bridling, from St Patrick’s Catholic Church, half the
Christian inhabitants of Borno State have left. But the “irony” of the
Boko Haram insurgency is that more Muslims than people of any other
faith have been killed by Boko Haram attacks – even though the group
claims to want to “grow” Islam in Nigeria.
The
curfew in Maiduguri is strictly enforced. No movement is allowed in
Borno State between 2000GMT and 0500GMT. But inhabitants have adopted
their own timetable for staying alive. People we spoke to said nobody
tries to leave home before 11am and everyone gets back home by 4pm, as
most of the fighting between Boko Haram and the JTF happens in the early
hours of the day. If there’s no fighting, people rush out to do
whatever small-scale business they can to survive, and quickly return
home.
Three
senior JTF personnel who were gracious enough to meet with us
informally about the situation tried to explain just how bad the Boko
Haram crisis is. They used the words “war zone”, “Iraq”, and “guerilla
war” to describe the battle. They explained that Boko Haram fighters are
embedded in many of the communities and neighbourhoods in the city, and
that it was impossible to distinguish their fighters from civilians.
Two
of the JTF personnel expressed confidence that the “war” would soon be
over, though another was more sceptical, explaining that Boko Haram
fighters’ “jihad” in Nigeria was being inspired by conflicts in
Afghanistan, Iraq, and Yemen. Worryingly for Nigeria and for the region,
neighbouring Mali’s northern region – which has recently been overrun
by al-Qaeda-linked groups – was mentioned as a possible place from which
Boko Haram fighters may be getting weapons. This officer saw no
imminent end to the crisis.
Poverty,
unemployment, a lack of education, marginalisation, and endemic
corruption in Nigeria are cited as some of the reasons why Boko Haram
has not been stamped out in over a year of fighting with security
forces. There is a feeling that the Nigerian government is not
addressing these issues, focusing too heavily on a military strategy to
rid the country of the group.
Whatever
the case, the journey out of the Boko Haram crisis in Maiduguri will be
a complex one. Until the authorities can find a solution that quells
the fighting and stops young men from being recruited to the group,
Maiduguri will remain in crisis.
No comments:
Post a Comment