WRECKED
/ WRECKED 19 18
On the twentieth of May, more than one hundred people were killed in a pair of bombings at a bus terminal and adjacent market in the busy central Nigerian town of Jos. The detonation of two vehicle bombs within half an hour seemed calculated to exact maximum casualties. The blasts came two days after a suicide attacker set off a bomb on a street lined with bars in the major northern city of Kano. A number of the Rufais' friends were killed.
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The year witnessed tremendous escalation in attacks mounted by the sect waging a campaign of violence to impose Sharia.
Aleruchi called regularly from Aba. She sounded worried, asking Anaya to come over before her home was invaded. Anaya always replied that neither she nor Jubril would be in any danger. Didn't her mother know that the rich were always able to buy themselves out of trouble? The cynicism troubled Aleruchi and she approached Jubril next. His reply was kind but direct.
His wife and household were safe at Lake Alau, untouched by the bombings devastating the northeast areas. She had no need to worry about them and there was no question of his wife fleeing to the eastern region of the country.
"Don't forget that your town has also been taken over by kidnappers. You should worry about your own safety, ma," he succinctly told her before he ended the call.
He still came home at weekends. Kilali's husband had been killed in a blast at Embab plaza. It was now common knowledge that Jubril was supporting her. She had joined the Red Cross and spent her time searching for survivors in the rubbles.
Anaya stayed at her home in Lake Alau. Boredom and frustration made her short-tempered. One day she said to Jubril, "I can't go on sitting down here, wasting my time doing nothing. Maybe I could also join the Red Cross in Abuja and help. I am so bored I could scream. I want to do something positive to help.
"You're not going to Abuja," he said flatly. "You're not putting yourself in danger just because you are bored. You said this house would make you happy. Be happy."
"Don't be sarcastic!" she retorted. "It's alright for Kilali to be a heroine, sieving through rubbles, but I've got to sit here doing nothing."
"Kilali has no responsibilities. She has a reason for being a bloody heroine, as you put it. Her husband was killed, remember? She minded about that."
"She did? Good for her. I thought she might have been relieved. It left the way clear for the two of you." Anaya yawned. "Not that I mind ooooo. I said you were entitled to her, didn't I?"
"Yes," Jubril answered, "you did and I took you at your word."
"Anyway, today is Tuesday. Why are you still here, in Lake Alau?"
"I wish I could answer that question. Mustapha's work has been below par recently. So many complaints. I don't know what's come over him lately."
"Maybe you should talk to him." Anaya said, picking up a notepad and a pen.
To retain her sanity, Anaya forced herself to take an interest in the town. She also took up a language class in Hausa. She raised funds to build a skill acquisition centre and started a foundation to help public school students. She demanded a lot of money from Jubril and his friends to fund her projects.
"You're making me throw away good money, woman," he growled. "Let their parents work hard to pay their children's fees."
"They are trying their best. It is not their fault they suffer. The government has turned a blind eye to their plight. Tell your friends in the highest echelons of government to provide jobs. Meanwhile, we'll do it my way."
Jubril grumbled as he watched Anaya match out of his study, and in spite of himself, he could not help feeling a certain pride in her. If only she could be a better wife.
The terror caused by the Boko Haram continued. Thousands of people were killed in attacks perpetrated by the group. Borno was constantly under attack, and the federal government declared a state of emergency. Anaya's project came to a halt, and she kept the faith that soon the resulting crackdown would lead to the demise of the sect. However, the campaign failed to stabilise the country and the terror continued.
****
Hauwa could not leave home because of the stench she was releasing. She found herself shunned by most of the villagers. They regarded her as unclean, so that no one would touch her, sell goods to her or allow her to fetch water from the community tap. The village children mocked her whenever she ventured out; they would laugh at her and point at her dress, which was constantly wet with urine. To Auntie Asabe's consternation, she kept away from food. She was scared of eating or drinking anything, scared of wetting herself. In a couple of months, she was a shadow of her former shadowed self. She endured shame, and her self-esteem finally hit rock bottom. Auntie Asabe did all she could to put the spark back in Hauwa's eyes, but soon it also took a toll on her. She fell very ill and was referred to the Teaching Hospital at Maiduguri. Sitting at the back of the truck again, they journeyed there.
They arrived at the hospital and waited for the bustling nurses to attend to them. Hauwa stood outside to wait, not wanting to embarrass herself in the crowded waiting room. She watched as a mixture of sick and healthy people trooped in and out of the hospital's doors.
****
"Jubril, can I ask for something?"
He looked up briefly from a file he was reading.
"I'm listening."
"My projects stopped after the state of emergency was declared."
"Let me guess, Anaya, you're bored." Jubril said without raising his head from the file.
"I am. I don't mean to nag. I'm just on edge. I hate having nothing to do."
"What do you want, Anaya?" he dropped his file and looked at her. "Tell me."
"I—I was thinking of turning… of opening our h-home to d-displaced individuals, particularly the girls…"
Jubril jerked in surprise. "This house? Turning it into a home? You can't be serious, Anaya."
"I am." Anaya said calmly. "This house is a mansion, so many rooms and quarters going to waste. Please, Jubril."
"Have you given this enough thought?"
Anaya remained silent.
"Do you know how places like that are run? Are you emotionally ready for that, Anaya?"
"I guess so. I'm just bored."
"This is not a guessing game. It's not a game you pick because you feel bored."
"But…"
"Let me finish, Anaya. Keep quiet and let me finish!" Jubril was furious now. "You think you know what it entails? Get dressed. Meet me outside in five minutes. And you better not keep me waiting."
****
Hauwa's eyes rested on a group of five; four men and a gorgeously dressed woman. Hauwa wondered why the woman looked downcast. Maybe she is sick like me, she thought. Or maybe she just lost someone. The group had walked slowly past her and stopped by an exotic car not far from where she stood, when the northern dust tickled her nose and she sneezed. Twice.
As Hauwa wiped her eyes, looked up and caught the woman's eye, she felt the urine flow down her leg and stain the sand below her feet. Embarrassed, Hauwa looked down her leg. The woman's eyes followed Hauwa's movement and she said shakily, nodding in her direction "Doctor, what is wrong with her?"
"Wrong? How do you mean, Madam?"
"She just wet herself, doctor. Can't you see?"
"Oh. Must be fistula. Common in this area. A birth complication."
Anaya continued to stare at the pool around Hauwa's leg. Finally, she raised her face and met the girl's eyes. The girl did not look away. She continued to stare at the beautiful, fair woman as more tears ran down her face.
"Can something be done, doctor?" she asked softly, still holding Hauwa's gaze.
"Of course. The surgery costs money though," he replied. Anaya broke the stare and looked pleadingly at Jubril. Her face seemed to scream, Help me! Help me help her!"
Jubril nodded, and with a smile of gratitude, Anaya looked away, hurriedly walked towards Hauwa, took her hand and led her into the hospital.
****
Driving back in the car, Anaya said nothing. She hated illness. She was healthy and strong, inclined to be impatient with anyone who was not. The quickest way to bore her was to mention sickness. But the wards in the Teaching hospital were different. People so badly burned that they were swathed like mummies. Men in pain, semi-conscious. Many casualties. Women limping with wounded children on their backs. And that young girl…
Jubril saw her take a handkerchief out of her big tote bag and wipe her eyes. She could not help herself; he reached over and squeezed her hand. "It was pretty awful but at least you know what's involved."
"They are in so much pain. Did you see that girl? What a terrible ordeal," Anaya said. "I feel like the most selfish, spoiled creature. Moaning about being bored. God, Jubril, what kind of person have I turned into? What's happened to me?"
She looked at him and continued, "I'm going to turn our home into the best place for displaced and hurting girls. Just the girls. My own contribution towards helping victims of this awful insurgence and hostile society."
"Knowing you," he said, "you'll do exactly that."
And it began.
Chapter end
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