News item, Savannah Nation Enterprise, July 1, 2014.

BOKO HARAM HAS RELOCATED THE ABDUCTED CHIBOK SCHOOLGIRLS

—Ambrose Jack.

There had been reported sightings of the terrorist force, Boko Haram, along the Nigerian Cameroonian border. One of the witnesses who declined his identity told that some of the girls had been moved across the country, he added that some are in Chukungidiya in Marte Local Government Area of Borno state.

In the same vein, Senator Lucious Mahmud, representing Borno west Senatorial district in the national assembly said that the available information had proven that some if not all the girls has been moved across the Nigerian border. He told of many times when he would relate information about the location of the girls to the military and to his surprise, the girls would be moved again.

"There have been countless sightings of the Insurgence, in some place north western of Borno, but one witness that I was able to speak with told of how some of the girls were transported across lake Chad in boats." He also added that, "Some are of the insurgent presently inhabit the region around the Madara mounts where I believe that some of the girls may also be moved. And if the country fails to rise up against terrorism, these girls may never be found. If we keep looking around the vicinities of Chibok, we'll just be wasting our time."

Senator Audu Nyako seconded the motion adding that, "the condition of the military is as well pathetic, I spoke with a commanding officer who told me that their allowances have not been paid and that the equipment they were given were inadequate. He told of how an armoured tank broke down few weeks ago and had to be towed back to the barrack. Now, that doesn't sound good to me."

*******

There was no hope of having sunshine in its beauty for the evening. It had rained.

Each time he questioned the sanity of his reckless plan, the next thing to follow was the reminiscent of the call, then that resounding shot that killed Zuleihat.

The threat message kept coming, and that was when he got his teeth almost closing on gaining information that is capable of bringing the insurgence to their knees. The handlers said "No," and to impress their threat they paid him off just as they did the others, disband the Agency and finally killed Zuleihat when they still couldn't get him to submit. Bello became a fugitive.

Each time he wanted to back out (now that he's back in the game), he is faced with same nightmare: Zuleihat was always there calling on him, he could hear her voice but couldn't make out what she is saying. He could make out one thing though, she must be avenged and the closest thing to assassinating the 'wizards' behind the curtains of 'the Handlers' (whom no one knew) was fulfilling his purpose of getting back at the insurgence. Whatever the reason why the Handlers wanted the destruction to continue, he wasn't going to back down till late Zuleihat is avenged. And from the look of things, he may end up impressing the same force that now sought to arrest him.

Another rivulet dropped from the top of the chestnut tree, which gave him shelter from the drizzle, splashing on the photograph Bello was holding. His frigid hand swiped it away, before the moisture could sink in. He further dried it with the sleeve of his camo.

The young woman was smiling, deep dimples depressed on her cheeks, full lip spread in a toothy smile so warm it almost compensated for the rain and cold. Bello would miss her, and the place she had in his heart would always be there for the memory of the little time they had with each other.

He was lost in the moment only to be awakened to the sound of the crunching leaves, his companion approached. Bello quickly returned the picture to his pocket and resumed, cleaning his rifle with an oiled duster, his hand moved almost absentmindedly as the memories of his loss washed on him. The same threat that sent him out of the country, and now he returned, with a strange face that stared at him from the silver panel, and a name he sometimes forgets was his. Here he was, now in the sanctuary of the jungle with no intention of going back, with no one to go back to.

Whoever was behind him was curiously observing him, years of experience as an undercover agent had taught him that much. But he was sure his companion would hardly gain anything. The middle aged man who would be his passport to his quarry could hardly see what was staring him in the face. Were it not for the prompt notification, they'd never have been able to escape the authorities, were it not for Bello, the man would have been cooling his head in jail awaiting trial for his crimes. Bello slung the rifle on, and pulled a cigar from his pocket. He lighted it and feigned smoking leisurely when his lungs were actually afire and he felt like coughing real bad. He knew the rule: if they must trust him, he must follow their code and that involved smoking. That was the way to belong, to blend in before he jabbed through their heart in vengeance.

The footsteps resumed, approaching him, the thumps almost muffled out by the gurgling of the nearby stream. "You seem to be having a good time, Bello." said the man.

"There is little of good to do when you still can't trust me despite all these months." He replied without looking at him.

"Are you still angry at me for lying to you," the man asked, Bello snorted. "We are not in such haste to recruit anyone if his loyalty had not been tested." The man replied, breathing out heavier fog of narcotics that floated towards the streaming waters.

"What else do you demand of me? I've helped pushed food stuffs past the borders just to appeal to your evaluation, what more is there to do?" Bello asked.

"You would have to learn to kill," was the brief reply, "The high commander will not recruit any zealot no matter his capabilities if he can't perform the simple task of taking the life of another." He could hear the man inhale the cigar again, his breath rattled as he exhaled, "Beyond helping us, you must be able to Kill and be killed for the cause. That is the grand requirement."

Bello snorted, "But you said he was impressed with the amount of goods I moved and how I swindle my way past the immigration officers, now he wouldn't have me spent the night in the camp, doesn't that just confuse things. I'm the conscientious type, I support this cause but I just can't bring myself to kill, and you sure know I can't go back because of you. Besides, with the increased surveillance, you need someone like me to keep the supplies flowing."

"That's one of the reason you are best with the supply lines, that's the only place you fit in. You were to do something as simple as putting an end to a hostage's misery, yesterday. You chickened out like a woman, Bello! I have never been so disappointed in someone I've thought so highly of!"

"I promise to improve on that, but I can't be a fugitive until then. Lead me to the high commander; I'm sure he'll see how valuable I can be. Or don't you still have faith in me?" he asked, always trying to be in charge of the conversation despite the fact that he was the one requesting membership.

The man fondly clapped his shoulder, "Well then, I heard some of the troops of Kodunga camps are headed few miles from here. I can't take you to the high commander, but I may also be able to introduce you to the best marksman we have." Though Bello knew that it was just Yahaya's way of getting him involved in backup troop, he conceded.

"Comrade Abu'bakir." He muttered, after taking loads from the cigar and sending the smoke oozing around his head. If the message he sent had gotten through, Abu'bakir would not return. He wondered if Yahaya will be back alive, he had to ensure his safety though, he is his passport.

"Is there a thing you don't know?" the man exclaimed, surprised, "gear up then, the men need to join them. Let's go." He said, and stomped off.

He stood up. The murky river stared back, as if appealing to some of his sorrows, he had more to give.

Bello knew he couldn't keep his late fiancé's picture for long without risking his cause, so he crumpled it and send it flying to the waters alongside the contemptible cigarette. "for Zuleihat," he muttered, and her picture was there in his mind again, next to that of Cynthia.

And Cynthia, he was wrong to have gotten into her life, he wondered if she'll ever forgive him after all he made her go through. The combined emotion of unfathomable loss and utmost stupidity could drive him mad, he laid the issue rest. He couldn't blame Cynthia for her cold shoulder, he could only blame himself.

He looked up at the grey sky, there was a flash, and then a rumbling over the distance; a gust of chilly wind blew, washing his wet face. There was no hope of having sunshine in its beauty for the evening. It had rained.

*******

The girl Juliet would never forget the tragedy of waking up one night and finding out that many of her friends have been moved away. The military was becoming relatively successful against the insurgence and they have decided to move some of them to the main camp near the Madara Mountains. It happened almost like it did in her dreams, she was just not around to witness it, yet she felt the same emptiness. Hope was still far away, Lucia was gone...

Juliet bolted out again, the edges of her cloak scooped beneath her left arm; She carried the pail of water that splashed on her as she ran back to the collapsible shelter, breathing heavily.

She almost bumped into Awal whose usual sour face bore the shadows of grim and heavy sadness that translated itself in a pungent smell of water bag fluid, sweat and blood. Again, the same dreadful sight greeted her: a young girl heavily pregnant was having trouble with delivery and there was no way they could take her away for proper medical attention. Awal had tried, he had spent the entire night with the other woman that was brought to his aid, both had done their best and the baby just wouldn't come out.

The girl laid on the table was panting heavily. Though Juliet was no specialist, she observed the unknown girl's face growing pale and her lips going dryer as time dragged on till morning.

The nurse that was brought from another camp to help with the delivery had a worried look on her small face, she mumbled to herself as she closed yet another box without finding the resource she needed. She grabbed a touch again.

Though Juliet knew little of how the girl came to the camp, she felt so sorry for her every time the unknown girl jerked, or tried a fail attempt at pushing, she felt the jab in her chest that was beginning to feel so constricted, her own breath was growing shallow. Juliet's lips were trembling and she was quite amazed her legs have not given way yet. The crazy voice in her head nevertheless was still chanting the same words over and over again. This could be you. She couldn't tell how a streak of saline fluid drifted down her cheek, but she wiped it with back of her hand, and her eyes was locked to the vacant gaze of the tired girl whose name she didn't know; and for no reason she would want to admit, did not want to know.

The girl in question was writhing and gasping in labour pain, her frizzled hair madly pointing everywhere as if she had been in a catfight with a lunatic. Rivulets of sweat beaded on her paling brows and her sallow face was tears drenched. She moaned, she shrieked, and winced with the slightest touch. Again as the nurse advised her to push, the girl groaned, her face twisted in agony.

"I can't, I can't!" she finally wailed, talking for the first time amid gasps, she spoke forcibly in hoarse whispers, shaking her head as she took another convulsive gulp of air. Juliet sobbed before she could catch herself.

The nurse's head disappeared under the blanket again. She later stood up, shook her head and ran out. Juliet could hear the woman whisper to Awal. "...myasthenia gravis and we are out of ..." she was telling Awal. Though Juliet couldn't tell what myasthenia gravis meant, she was quite sure that it didn't sound good.

"Please," the girls sobbed, "I don't want to die." She cried.

Juliet slowly moved towards the girl, afraid to touch her, but she couldn't help it. She was certain though, that a feeling held sway within the confines of the tent, an evil hungry phantom, she could imagine its pale green eyes and graphite face—terror—that was how she could explain it.

The girl's touch was damp, Juliet allowed the girl hold her wrist. In an instant the girl would sob, the next she would wail at another feeble contraction, her chest heaving high and low in erratic succession. Her fingernails was already digging into Juliet's wrist, her grip so strong Juliet couldn't take her hands away. The girl held on, the tension increasing with every passing moment till she feared that the girl's vice grip would break her hand. All of a sudden Juliet was released, but the labouring girl kept gasping, crying, and sweating.

Juliet felt the air rise to her throat, she felt like shrieking. The blanket was staining fast, she wanted to look away but felt her body gained a command of its own. Blood stains, they crept up the blanket and over the pale blue sheets below.

Someone gasped behind her, she saw the nurse run away, this time returning with Awal who looked as miserable as she felt. Awal considered the girl under his pitying gaze, while the nurse ran to the stack of cartons.

"Where can I get vitamin K, ergometrine, anything?" the nurse almost shouted.

Awal snapped after, rummaging through till he produced a brown ampoule, which he broke and hand over to the woman to suction into a syringe. The woman ran back. Juliet looked away this time feeling the girl grip her hand again. Again, the girl screamed.

"What are we going to do?" the woman was asking, she paced the room hysterically, and turned only to see Awal walking out with his head bent.

The nurse ran to the girl, held her hand. "Look, you need to try, you can't stay like this. Please." Tears were staining her cheeks too.

There wasn't much she could do, and with the Nigerian army on heavy patrol, none of the men was willing to wheel her out. Juliet allowed her hands the pain of the girl's grip, and she was conscious of its slackening every moment till the young girl gasped her last. She was eighteen.

******

It was yet another night when she couldn't say no. Everyone else has been moved except her and few others who were already married off. This morning, she sat by the fire place, watching the water shimmer and boil soundlessly in the pot, a pot that looked black as charcoal as its exterior had been coated with soot.

She couldn't tell why she set the fire anymore, or why she filled the pot with water, Hali had gone out and it was her alone in the tent to mule over her pathetic life. The thought of suicide never ceases to plague her, but she just couldn't do it. Her life was sloping downhill and she was past breaking point. She reached for her cheek, and winced at the touch. That was one of Abu'bakir's doing.

The spoon she held trembled in her tumultuous hand, she dropped it and sighed again, watching the increasing smoke rise to the roof, her chador smelt of burnt coal, so did her hair, her hands too. She observed how tanned and scaly her hand had gone, not to talk of how skeletal she had emaciated.

There was no place to run to; she had convinced herself about that over and over again. No help was coming. No one cared. Abu'bakir, had gone for another mission. She wished above all that he would not return except for one single fact: she just missed her period.

*******

News Item from Akporoko nija.com, 15 July, 2014

TROOP CAPTURE HIGH RANKING BOKO HARAM COMMANDER.

News is just reaching us that the Nigerian army troop and members of the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF) had captured one of the insurgence high-ranking member, Abu'bakir Zakar. This was during an exchange of fire along Dikwa-Logomani axis of Borno state.

Though the military declined information as to his confessions, it is quite certain that the Nigerian army is making progress no matter how slow it seems.

Phew, Bello is finally vindicated... somewhatL