Imagine your home, the place to rest your head at night; share a meal with family and friends. A place very familiar to you with your neighbors who live down the street, the friendly faces you see every day and disclosed spots only you and those dear to you know about. Now, imagine all that gone; taken away from you in a blink of an eye.
To you this is merely an imagination, a “what if” scenario. But for Hauwa Shettima and Ibrahim Mohammed, this is their reality, a reality they have been forced into, and forced to accept since the Boko Haram insurgents ravaged their villages in the North-East.
Statistics from the Internal Displaced Monitoring Centre pegs about 1, 538, 982 Nigerians who share this reality with Shettima and Mohammed. They are just the known Internally Displaced Persons, IDPs, in Nigeria. Most IDPs in Nigeria share this fate because of Boko Haram threats and attacks on their states, cities, villages and homes.
Those fortunate enough to have family and friends in other parts of the country have moved from the North East (which faces constant threat from Boko Haram) to other regions in Nigeria. On the other hand, there are those who have nowhere to go and no one to turn to, and for this set of people, moving was their only chance for survival and with nowhere else to go, the IDPs Camps became their succour and refuge.
The Gwoza and Bama Camp was rather calm and peaceful when INQUIRER METRO visited with women scratching out the day’s meal from the little left of donations from NGOs, and children trying to get some form of formal education in the tents they have come to accept as their new classrooms. The camp, arranged in no particular order, consist of shabby tents made-up of planks, metals, polythene bags, plastic, banners and any other thing they could lay their hands on to make shelter from Abuja’s unpredictable weather.
Like every crowded area, life at the camp screams of poverty, filth and lack with no sanitary convenience in sight. The depth of poverty is visibly etched on the faces of the people, especially the children who have had to go without most of the nutrients required for proper growth. But in the midst of the squalor, lack and need, the children still play around and women sit in groups to discuss and encourage themselves.
Seated at the middle of the compound is the camp office, housed in an abandoned metal container, where Ibrahim Mohammed, chairman and supervisor of the camp, spoke to our correspondent with the help of Monday Musa, our Hausa translator.
Mohammed said there are currently 1,160 people in the Gowza and Bama Camp and the number, is on a constant increase. The people travelled in groups with children, spouses, brothers and sisters.
According to him, most IDPs travel with families, but some of their relatives are missing or are in other camps because one location may not have enough accommodation for all of them at once. Ibrahim added that some villages affected by the insurgency are yet to be recaptured, thus leaving the affected persons stranded with no access to transportation, food, water and shelter.
He said the camp currently runs with little or no help from the government, as most of the provisions are from charities organizations and free will donations from some Nigerians. Mohammed recounts an experience where a borehole was dug at the camp by one Alhaji Abubakar, who also built a toilet for the IDPs.
By the camp office is the only school, which is a wide tin roof held by wooden poles. The students sit on wooden benches and face the whiteboard and teacher. The teachers are volunteers from a charity called ACE, Assisting, Caring, Empowering.
“All of these children have been displaced because of Boko Haram. It’s sad because at their age they should be reading and writing. We have been trying to work on identifying A to Z. Some of them are orphans, some of them have lost their parents and some of them have seen their parents die. Some do not eat before coming to school, so concentrating is a bit hard,” said Covenant, a teaching volunteer for ACE.
She said most of these children are orphans who lost their parents in the violence. One of the orphans, 14-year-old Mohammed, said he is happy the camp now has a school, at least he can continue with his education, and one day go back to a proper school.
Mohammed was in high spirit while the discussion on education lasted but once the questions of home and family were asked, the smile vanished, his head dropped down and he stared at the ground. Mohammed said though he would like to go home but he liked learning in the camp as to him, he receives better education from the camp than he got while in his village.
An expectant mother separated from her children, Hauwa Shetima, said the camp is different from home and temporary. She is fearful that the authorities will tell them to leave soon and they will have nowhere to go. She said her mind is not at rest.
Hauwa was separated from her children because the pervious camp she went to could not accommodate all of them. She made the choice to give her children the best while she left to find somewhere else to stay. She said her major regret is not being able to raise her children and give them advice because they are separated from her.
In this situation the choice was to stay together and starve or separate and survive. Hauwa put her children’s health and wellbeing before her own. She is expecting another child and this baby will grow up away from his or her siblings.
For many Like Hauwa, this is their reality; the reality of life on the fringe of existence. Her prayer and that of Mohammed, no doubt, that of the thousands in camps across the country, Boko Haram should be defeated not longer than it was taking, while looking forward to the continued help of charities, corporate bodies and individuals, and more importantly, government.