For the first ten days, we nourished on
disbelief. We said, ‘this could not be
happening.’ Though we woke-up every next
morning to see their ugly faces, we slept
again each night in denial, hoping that when
we woke, we will be in our beds – at home.
We pinched ourselves… it did not work; we
hardly believed it would. As we moved and
responded to their orders those first days, we
were sometimes stubborn, some of us got hit.
This was because we still believed we were
valuable, humans who could not be
subjected to such a harsh reality.
The next ten days was our rude awakening.
We realized this was no dream. We had
gotten used to our captors’ names and faces.
The forest as a new home was becoming
familiar to us. This was real. We were
abductees, forceful guests of the terrorists’
lair. We realized these days that we were not
by any chance the first abductees of Boko
Haram – there were girls here, abducted
years ago. Mothers, who’d had kids in these
camps. Young men, abducted and forced to
fight for Boko Haram. We realized that things
will never be the same again. We started to
settle. We realized we had to be nice. And
when some of us died – from snake bites,
from rape and infections, and being shot, we
realized our destiny did not have the pleasant
stories of life in it, the sweet ending tales, but
that ours was to be a story written with pain
and blood. In these days we cried. We
thought of home and saw our parents
shriveling away. We felt them die. We knew
they were dying. Lord have mercy on them.
By the third ten days we had begun to adapt.
With cold hearts, we teased ourselves. ‘You
are his wife, I will be his wife,’ we played.
There was no fighting here. Though we
wished to die and that death would give us
peace as it had given some of our more
fortunate classmates, a primordial instinct of
survival kept most of us from giving up.
Some of us cut ourselves, attempting suicide.
We watched as their failed attempts left them
worse off for it; their wounds treated with
what they had of bandages and antibiotics
and new wounds made in their backs with the
cane, for trying to take their lives. In these
days we had a new inkling of hope… we had
heard a rumor that the Americans had come.
We kept looking to the skies, hopeful of some
stealth copters flying in and some Navy Seals
picking out our captors and leading what was
left of us to freedom – for whatever that
would be worth.
By the fourth ten days, our hopes of rescue
dissipated into the reality of our new chores.
It was a life of little food and much work. This
is not the type of work we would like to write
about. Cooking and cleaning for the camps
was the best part of it. At night, swallowing
tears, we warmed their beds. We will never
get used to this life. This is not the kind of life
you wish on your worst enemies. This was
not what many of us saved our virginity for.
This was not what our parents taught us
chastity for. This was hell. Where was our
rescue? Does the world know we are here?
We hated the world. We could not understand
why the world would leave us here?
Something must have happened. Have they
forgotten us? Perhaps a catastrophe had
wiped out all of humanity... because we could
just not imagine how nothing had yet
happened to free us from this. People could
simply not just be living their day-to-day
lives in Nigeria and across the world,
abandoning us schoolgirls to this life with
these beasts. All we had was God. All we
have was God. We prayed God took us to
Him.
By the fifth ten days, we started to smile. It
was uncanny. Something had started to
change. Was it resignation, or perhaps
desperation? Some of us had not seen their
periods. Some of us had decided to make the
best of our situation, of our series of sexual
partners. By these ten days, we had accepted
our fate. We were going to make the best of
our new heartless lives. By this time, some of
us had made alliances with our captors,
some of us had even set-up others among
us, elevating themselves, getting less work
and stable partners while working against
others of us. We understood. We lived with
beasts, this was a beasts’ world. We forgave
them, we forgave ourselves. We were no
longer chaste. We prayed. Yes, we prayed.
Every day we prayed. While we worked, while
we served them, we had found a way to
resign to silent corners within our hearts
where there was peace and serenity. Rooms
of prayer within. There was solace in those
corners of us, and we had developed a
superhuman ability to resign into these
peaceful corners at the same time as we
discussed, made laughter, ate and were
violated. We had developed dual
personalities. The beast with a little piece of
peace. It was during these ten days that we
realized we will never be the same people
again. It was these ten days that we rather
we were not rescued. These beasts did not
deserve to go home. There was nothing left
here to take home.
By the sixth ten days, we were angry. These
were the angry days. These were the bitter
days. By these ten days, something had
changed. We hated the world, we hated
ourselves. Some of us asked to be taken on
terror missions. Some of us wanted to go out
and kill. We had completely lost faith in
ourselves and in the world around us. Some
of us still had faith in God, but frankly, some
of us just did not any more. Our captors saw
this in us. They commented that we had
become more deadly than them. Our
conversations were cold. We laughed when
they talked about their campaigns of
carnage. We discussed life with them; we
discussed their plans with them. We
discussed death with them.
The next ten days were the days of quiet.
Were we remorseful? Had we been acting-out
earlier? Things were spiraling. We were quite
quiet. Energy was gone. We hardly ate, we
hardly played. We hardly talked with one
another. Faces were heavy and long. We
were not getting anywhere. This life was full
of pain. By these seventh ten days, some of
us had confirmed we were pregnant. These
were the days when reality hit. These were
the days when we thought about the reality of
birthing for barbarians and the reality of
death. Several of us had died; we had come
to know and be friends-of-sorts with
barbarians who had gone out on missions
and not come back alive. Life suddenly
seemed to be moving pretty fast. These were
the days when we aged. No longer children,
this unsolicited right-of-passage transitioned
us to adulthood. We would have to be
responsible. We were the mothers in these
camps; some of us were soon going to be
mothers anyhow. This was our new reality.
By the eighth ten days, we took charge. We
directed affairs and barked commands. The
camps listened. They knew by this time that
we were immune to their cane. They knew by
this time that we no longer feared death. We
were responsible women of the camp. We
were the mothers of the jungle. We worked
together as one family, but they were no
longer the bosses of us. They had come to
respect us. We had come to honor them duly.
These men are barbarians, but they were the
only men in our world. These men are
barbarians, but the world outside us had no
men. None had come to rescue us. We were
in these same jungles of Borno and none had
come for us. The world outside these camps
seized to exist. What world will leave its
damsels in the jungles for 80 days? This was
our life and we will make the best or worst of
it as we please.
By the ninth ten days, bellies could be seen
protruding with bulges of fetuses. There was
harmony in the camp. We had settled. We
now thought again of the world outside us.
By the ninth ten days, we spent a lot of time
praying for our parents. We spent a lot of
time praying for you. We felt empathy… no,
pity actually for you in the world outside. You
see, our fate was pretty simply laid out. We
had done what we could, considering our
predicament. We had been brave and fought
the terrorists; some of us were killed trying.
We had negotiated with them. Our destiny
was determined, harsh, but circumscribed.
But how are you? How is your world? Your
world full of wickedness, corruption and
politics. How do you sleep at night? By these
ninth ten days, we wished not to return to
your wicked world – a world where you could
abandon your children in the forests with very
very bad men and were able to sleep at night,
able to go to work the next mooring, to eat,
drink, have sex, laugh and play, purchase
nonsenses: a world where you could do and
did nothing; a world where you could feel and
felt nothing; a world where you could choose
and chose nothing. You made these men.
You made this world. You created this terror
and you left it this way, afraid, unable or
unwilling to do anything about it. Boko
Haram was your reward. We felt empathy for
you, who could live with yourselves knowing
what you had created and that you failed for
90 days to come here and fight or die fighting
to rescue your children. In these ten days we
prayed for you and for Boko Haram. We
prayed for the world.
By the tenth ten days, we did the things
normal people do: we cooked, we tidied, we
ate, we slept, warmed beds and we prayed.
We planned our future, our next days, ten
months and ten years in these camps. We
would want our lives to be as comfortable as
possible, so we have to plan, hope you
understand. Life was OK. We prayed for our
parents and friends and sent word out to
them to get rest; we are fine here. They
should take care of themselves, stay safe
and protect their health and the rest of the
family. ‘Do not kill yourselves worrying about
your daughters, we are fine.’ It all ends for
you and for us when death comes knocking,
sooner or later. Pray that when it does, you
will be pleased with the account of how you
spent your time here and what you did or did
not do, and pray that you will be admitted
through the Pearly gates. We wish you peace
in your world.

source: m.news24.com/nigeria/MyNews24/BringBackOurGirls-100-Days-in-captivity-20140807

Hmm... deep