Miriam was kidnapped by Boko Haram, forced to
marry a fighter and then raped repeatedly. After
managing to escape, she told me her story.
"Is that her real hair?" Miriam whispered to
Samson, my Hausa translator. Slightly
embarrassed, he relayed the question back to me
in English. "Um, yes it is," I said. She looked
astonished. Everyone in her community has
braids, she explained, whereas my hair looked too
straight to plait. She'd never seen anything like it.
I could tell that there was a great deal Miriam
wanted to ask me. There was plenty I wanted to
ask her too. But we'd met very late in the day,
and everyone was exhausted.
Miriam, who's 17, had travelled from her home
village several hours' drive away to tell us her
story. She was held in captivity by Boko Haram
for six months last year. She was forced to marry
one of their fighters, who then raped her
repeatedly. She is now pregnant with his child.
Not that you could tell from her tiny frame, or the
swathes of bright material draped across her
body and covered by her long floral hijab.
Miriam arrived at our hotel escorted by a young
man from her village who knew her family. It was
not deemed appropriate for her to stay with him
overnight, or to stay here alone. We asked Miriam
what she wanted to do and she said, "I want to
stay with her," pointing at me.
Miriam's English was marginally better than my
non-existent Hausa. I managed to explain how to
use the shower, arranged for her clothes to be
laundered and gave her some of mine. She
emerged from the shower wrapped in a fluffy
white towel, looking like a child. When she pointed
at her belly, I realised how heavily pregnant she
was.
Later she told me how her community had
rejected her since she came out of captivity
expecting a child. "I really hope it is a girl. I
would love her more than any boy. A boy would
always be known as the son of Boko Haram."
It was around 10pm and I stepped outside to
gather my thoughts. I was acutely aware of how
vulnerable she was. I was also aware that some
young women like Miriam have been forced, after
months of torture and abuse, to join Boko Haram,
and even kill on their demand . I was fearful of
what this inquisitive young woman had seen, and
how she might cope in these odd new
surroundings with me, a total stranger.
In the hotel room, Miriam had fallen asleep, curled
in a ball at the bottom of the bed.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I
knew it was 5am, and for Miriam it was time to
start the day. She dragged me over to the
bathroom and pointed enthusiastically at my
make-up bag. She picked up my face powder and
signalled for me to apply some, then passed the
lipstick and the eyeshadow. She batted her
eyelids at me. Before I knew it, I was doing her
make-up. Miriam was smiling and laughing and
pulling on my hair to confirm it definitely was
real.
Perhaps we both briefly forgot what a desperate
situation Miriam was in. For a few moments, she
was just your average 17-year-old girl messing
around with make-up. But it was just a few
moments.
Last year, Boko Haram attacked and took over
her village. She was taken to a house and kept in
a small room with about 40 other women. At first
she resisted any marriage, but eventually agreed
after four men were brought out in front of her
and had their throats slit. "This will happen to any
girl who refuses to marry," the militants had told
her.
After six months, and one failed escape, Miriam
saw another chance to run away. The man she'd
been forced to marry had left her alone, and she
seized her moment. She ran and ran and ran, and
she didn't look back until she was home.
"I took something before I left," she told me.
From a knot of material around her waist, Miriam
pulled out a hidden SIM card. I couldn't believe
her courage. She had taken it from her so-called
husband's phone.
We watched its video files. There were villages
being set alight, beheadings, dead bodies lying in
the streets. A grainy image of a young man
emerged, shaking his rifle to celebrate an attack
on a village. "My husband," Miriam said. "If he
ever sees me again, he will kill me."
The spark I'd seen in her earlier seemed to be
fading. "The men in my family are dead," she told
me - killed by Boko Haram. "I am just alone with
my mum."
Then a light came back - but it seemed more like
a blaze of anger. "God will avenge me," she said.
"There's nothing more I can say.". WWW.bokoharamnews..com www.bokoharamnews..com

Ok

story of her life. wish u quick recovery mentally,emotionally, physically and otherwise

U try, I wonder you chibok girls no get sense.

She's very brave

Glory. The girl wise sha