A journalist’s first trip to Maiduguri

From Lami Sadiq, who was in Maiduguri

There is something about the people of Borno State that makes the war on insurgency seem like a child’s play. From the outside, the war seems serious enough as casualty figures keep rising. Almost on a daily basis, we hear stories of onslaught, either by the armed forces or insurgents; at the end, the number of the dead keep piling.

We still hear heart-breaking tales of innocent young girls strapped with explosives and forced to blow themselves up as a form of retribution in a war I, like many others, still cannot fathom.

The overwhelming number of internally displaced persons and hundreds of orphaned children and widowed women due to the war has plunged us into a humanitarian crisis that may take years to address. But the resilience of the people to keep moving and try to make their situations better shows exceptional determination. I wonder if this exceptional attribute is peculiar to the Borno people; which may also explain the obstinate nature of the Boko Haram insurgents to keep fighting.

From the famous Benishiek, less than a 100 kilometres to Maiduguri town, I began to imagine how the city would look like. I have heard so much about Beneshiek on the news due to the numerous attempts by the insurgents to overrun the community, yet I was surprised to see trenches surrounding most of the military command stations.

In the over a decade of our on-and-off crisis in Plateau, this was the first time I saw such warfare defence tactics. It was a complete replica of what I have come to associate only with foreign war movies.

My journey to Maiduguri was based on an invitation for training on Conflict and Trauma Sensitive Journalism by a pro-peace international organisation; Search for Common Ground.

When I heard about the location for the training, I was sure no one could convince me to make the almost 600km journey from Jos. Almost every member of my family expressed reservation on the trip. I made up my mind to go, but changed

it after someone’s narrative of the terrain caused fear in me. Eventually, on a Friday, I joined four other journalists from Jos to make the journey by road. We met two others from Bauchi and proceeded to Maiduguri.

Apart from a journalist from Bauchi Radio Television, none of us had stepped into Maiduguri. Those who hadn’t been anywhere near Borno State would imagine that the state capital would smell of death. They would imagine dejected persons hiding in what remained of their homes while hundreds of men of the armed forces patrolled the streets day and night. They would probably imagine empty broken shelves in gloomy markets that suffered attacks by suicide bombers. That was our perception.

As unbelievable as it may sound, Maiduguri, a city widely known as the enclave of the dreaded Boko Haram insurgents is actually full of life and dazzling with night activities.

We stayed at Barwee Hotel, just at the outskirt of the town, opposite the Nigerian Air Force in Gommari ward, known to be one of the largest wards in the state. Initially, some of us only made our ways from the hotel to the training venue and back to the hotel. However, three days after our arrival, the combined team of the Search for Common Ground (SFCG) and the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ) in Borno organised a tour round the city. It was then that we saw the beauty of Maiduguri. I realised that the city’s dignity might have been bruised due to years of insurgency, but there seemed to be a spirit of resoluteness.

The scars of the war, however, became visible when we passed through the Railway Terminus, the area where the Markas or worshipping centre of Boko Haram’s founder, Muhammad Yusuf, once stood. Few people were seen going about their businesses. Suddenly, our attention was drawn to the fact that we should leave the area.

We saw the rubble of the building that once accommodated Muhammad Yusuf’s in-law as we passed through the famous Gambori market, the abandoned Maiduguri International Hotel and the Bakassi camp, an estate that now houses about 19, 000 internally displaced persons.

The chairman of NUJ, Borno State Council, Baba Shiekh, explained that in every entry point to Maiduguri, there were ongoing mass housing units, but the projects had to be slowed down in order to concentrate on fighting insurgency. He also narrated how the state government had planned on using a former Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) estate it purchased as an orphanage for the thousands of children who have been rendered orphans as a result of insurgency.

We were eager to see the Sambisa Forest, even if it’s a little part of it. We were told that although a large part of the infamous forest lies between Bama and Damboa local government areas, a little further from the University of Maiduguri, where a large expanse of land stretches beyond the human eye, could form part of it.

At night, Maiduguri was a different story, and we took advantage of the city’s pleasures. My attention was particularly drawn to the beauty that resonated from the streetlights, the taste of their famous banana milkshake and the beautiful buildings that depicted the lavish lifestyle of the Borno elite. Despite the state’s predicament, one would still find grandiose houses like those of the immediate past governor of the state, Ali Modu Sheriff and the Indimis, as well as other rich families.

The breathtaking masterpieces portrayed the irony of a state at war and taking care of over one million internally displaced persons.

After five days in Maiduguri, journalists from Jos and Bauchi were eager to go home. So, as early as 6am on Thursday, we got ready and left. As we got to the numerous checkpoints that led us out of the city, I looked back at the dozens of lorries and heavy-duty trucks with goods said to be from neighbouring Cameroon, Chad and Niger waiting to get clearance. With that, one could only imagine the bulk of trade and other activities the insurgents had destroyed in Nigeria and neighbouring countries.