The Green Fields Saga

The Easter break had been exciting but I was happy to be back at school; not just any school, but Green Fields University.  My dream became a reality in March 2021 when I was finally admitted. Oh! the utter bliss of living alone!! I could come and go as I liked, cook whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My joy knew no bounds!

The 20th of April 2021 was a Tuesday like any other day. It began with lectures in the morning, followed by an early lunch, after which we returned to the hostel. It was a warm day and a water fight broke out within the girls. By about 6.30pm, we leisurely picked up our dinner from the cafeteria and went back to the hostel to eat. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever.

Hannatu rushed into the room shouting hysterically, “GUN SHOTS! GUN SHOTS! GUN SHOTS!!” . It took a while for it to sink in as we stared at her in disbelief. Without thinking, we dashed out of the room to see what was happening. We all saw the “Military Men” at the same time wearing green camouflage and carrying their AK47s. As if on cue, we turned around and raced into another room, securing ourselves in the toilet. The “Military Men” were soon at our door speaking a funny broken English mixed with Hausa. From their accents, we could tell they were the dreaded Fulanis. It was like being in a movie, everything seemed to be in slow motion. BANG, BANG, BANG on the door….. “KU BUDE, ZAN HARBA” (open the door or I’ll shoot). We didn’t need much persuasion as their reputation preceded them. We opened the toilet door, lifting our hands in surrender.

As we were herded out, we saw other groups being marched down the campus road. It had been a coordinated attack with different parties going to the library, male hostels, cafeteria etc. We were asked to wait for the rest of the company so we could all move together. I was not really scared at first as I wondered who they were and where they were taking us. We marched in a single file for a long distance. It was painful for me as I was barefooted on a sandy but thorny path. We went across a stream and were asked to all sit down, as if waiting for something or someone. Not long after, a gang of motor cyclists arrived and we were ordered to get on them, two passengers per bike. It didn’t take long to realise that they were inexperienced riders. There were numerous accidents along the way and I was not spared. Whenever we crashed, he would hurriedly ask us to get back on quickly so we wouldn’t fall behind. At a point, we heard an helicopter flying above us and we were abruptly ordered to get off the bikes and hide. By this time, it was dark and they had switched off their head lamps. We were in the middle of nowhere and couldn’t see a thing

Once we got the all clear, we continued on our trip until we got to a little settlement. At the camp, we saw a number of people, most of whom were blind folded. When I saw this, I began to wonder if we might have been kidnapped. Until then, It hadn’t crossed my mind. Never in a million years had I ever imagined being kidnapped. Being hit by a car, yes; but not a kidnap. I looked around me taking in all our new “house mates.”  I secretly hoped we would be given a room to sleep in but of course,  It wasn’t to be. Looking back, I wonder why I ever thought we could be offered a real room to sleep in, in the middle of nowhere. I guess my mind was simply clutching at straws, trying to keep hope alive.

Our staple meal was rice and beans cooked with palm oil and salt. The female students had the responsibility of cooking the food. There was no kitchen, no plates nor cutlery. The food was served on flat plastics from jerry cans that had been cut up. None of us could eat for the first few days as we were still trying to get our heads around this new reality. I still didn’t have any shoes and felt miserable, lonely and very homesick. We had the open skies as our bedroom. They provided us with a large plastic sheet which we placed on the grass as a [bed] sheet. It was a tight squeeze trying to get some space on the sheet. Some of us were not so fortunate and had to sleep on the  bare hard ground. We had no pillows nor blankets. All we had were the clothes on our backs; no toothbrushes, no toothpaste nor change of underwear. Those things did not seem to matter so much. All of a sudden, we had a new perspective on what was important and what was not.

I eventually managed to get a pair of socks from another student who was fortunate to have been wearing both socks and shoes. Those socks served as my shoes for the six weeks we were in captivity.

One night, as I laid miserably on the earthen floor almost falling asleep, I felt a splash of ice-cold water across my body. One of our captors had a bucket of water and was deriving pleasure in splashing it on us as we tried to sleep. How mean can humans be!! I couldn’t comprehend such a sick, sadistic behaviour from an adult man. In such moments, you appreciate the things you had always taken for granted. The ability to sleep in your bed undisturbed.

Two days into the kidnap (Thursday), they randomly picked out three students and told us they were being sent home. It was quite painful not being one of the chosen few! I day dreamed about my mother and the family. I wished I was the one being sent home. I thought about the meals we usaully had together as a family. I was missing everything and everyone. Little did we know that the “chosen ones” would be executed, to send a message to our parents that they meant business. On Sunday, they picked out another two, to go home. Our envy knew no bounds. We only got to learn about their cold blooded murders after our release.  

Come rain, come shine, we were all outside, literally. Whenever it rained, it rained on all of us. We would sit there shivering until it ended and hoped for the sun to rise. The worst times to rain was the evenings. This automatically meant we would be sleeping in wet clothes and hoping to have better weather the next day so as to dry out. The kidnappers would always make a fire to warm themselves. We would nervously draw closer, hoping for some warmth. I can never forget the night I got stung by a scorpion. I can truthfully say that’s the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life. I let out a loud scream which created some commotion. The captors had a remedy. They plucked a certain leaf, rubbed it on my leg and after a few incantations; the pain stopped like magic.

The first week was the most horrendous as we endured so much beating. They seemed to let out their frustrations as they heard us screaming in pain. I observed that they didn’t look like the normal Nigerian Fulani who were slightly built, light skinned and with sharp features. My dad was a farmer and we had lived with Fulanis in Plateau State for decades. They are usually peaceful and very respectful of their neighbours. These Fulani kidnappers were dark skinned, tall and well built. Some confessed to being from Chad Republic and others from Niger Republic. They said they had been recruited to do some special work for “the government”. Unfortunately the terms of their contract had not been honoured and so, they had to find an alternative means of livelihood in Nigeria. They certainly weren’t complaining any longer!!

We had a chance to take a bath every other day by going to the near by stream and digging around for water. This was the only source of water we had for cooking and everything else. They generously gave us some smelly soap to bath with and some old clothes. I gratefully collected an oversized top and a wrapper. I still wonder where they got those clothes from. After the first week, things seemed to improve. We began interacting a little bit more with our captors. I even started looking for reasons to be happy. I thanked God that I was still alive even though in captivity. We fasted secretly and prayed a lot together with our eyes open. We didn’t want them to catch on.  We asked God to help us and to save us. For some time, I believed in my prayers but soon started to doubt when nothing seemed to be happening. I got upset with God and stopped praying. How long would it take Him to deliver us from the kidnappers? I was very discouraged and lost hope. To make matters worse, our abductors started mocking us, and asking why our Jesus hadn’t come to save us yet.  

On a particular day (the 29th of May 2021), I observed that the leader of the group had been away for a few days. His second in command (2 I/c) suddenly announced that we would be going home that day. As if in a dream, we were immediately surrounded once again by a noisy horde of motor bikers. I was one of the first on a bike as we started the long ride down hill. I soon noticed that we seemed to be going round and round the same paths; maybe to make the journey look longer or to disguise the route. After what seemed like hours, we arrived at “Omal Farm” where we got dropped off. We asked some of workers for directions to Green Fields University, the meeting point with our parents.  They were so kind and invited us to sit and have some refreshments. They asked if we were the kidnapped students. We had hardly affirmed before they whipped out their phones and started taking photos and videos. Rather than showing us the way to school  to meet our parents, they called the Nigerian Police. The police came and took us to their make shift camp. They wrote down all our names, courses, levels in the university etc. As they were taking our details, there was a live recording going on, to give the impression that the Police had rescued us.

Our parents on the other hand were getting agitated because they hadn’t seen us. They had paid the huge ransom and were waiting at the agreed location to pick up their children.  My dad, who had been one of the negotiators called the kidnappers to ask where we were. He complained that we still hadn’t shown up contrary to what they had been promised. The 2 i/c told him that they could see the Nigerian Police interrogating us in their camp. The kidnappers were watching from a safe distance. The police had herded us into a mini van and were about to take us to another location. My dad was furious when he heard this. He mobilized  the parents and they made their way to the police camp.

When I saw my dad, I burst into tears. I didn’t know he had been around negotiating and fighting for my release. I felt so loved by him and by my sister. At this point, there was a stand off between the parents and the police. They wanted to take us to their station for a formal handover ceremony to our parents. As was to to be expected, our parents were having none of it. “Where had they been for the past forty days while their children were missing?”. In the end, the police allowed one of the parents to drive the bus away to a hotel where we had a proper reunion with our families.

One year later, how has it been for me? I can say that my life has changed considerably. Retelling the story has had a profound impact on me. I found myself reliving the horrors and in tears as I remembered all that we went through. One of the effects has been the night mares and insomnia which have become part of life. It’s difficult to sleep through the night and I am afraid of being alone. On the positive side however, I am back in another university and working hard to put the past behind me. I thank God for the gift of life and for His faithfulness.

Thank you for reading my story.

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