Welcome, Guest: Join Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / New
Stats: 2,442,304 members, 5,497,672 topics. Date: Sunday, 29 March 2020 at 05:08 AM

The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) - Literature (2) - Nairaland

Nairaland Forum / Entertainment / Literature / The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) (3648 Views)

Showers Of Mercy - True Life Story / May, 2004 (a True Life Story) / Red Night (true Life Story) (2) (3) (4)

(1) (2) (Reply) (Go Down)

Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 11:08am On Mar 09
Dis is beginning to sound like fiction

Uncle, how is it going to sound interesting if it isn't given a storytelling face?

Abi you just want to hear how them carry bomb for body go blow up churches and mosques from the very beginning abi?

Wake up.

In case you don't know, BH is even more organized than our army. Forget the Shekau video you see that's giving the impression they're all daft illiterates. The main guys calling the shots, organising every attack are highly educated, trained in some of the best universities in the world.

War is good business if you don't know.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 11:11am On Mar 09
it sounds entirely fiction

And you think I'll start to argue with you here? SMH

I Know you're enjoying the story (fiction or not), so keep following.

This is a story as related by the victim and drafted into a book by a professional writer. So what do you expect? A story teller will always be a story teller.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 11:13am On Mar 09
this guy na fiction be this jare . you want to tell me it's bokoharam forming u are discussing like this

Even you?

You think say BG hench men na almjiris abi?

Well, think again.

Them go school pass you if you no know.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by madone: 8:43pm On Mar 09

Even you?

You think say BG hench men na almjiris abi?

Well, think again.

Them go school pass you if you no know.
are u defending ur story or the truth in it. if u were really into the BH things u won't tell the story like this oga. na doctored script be this
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by madone: 8:45pm On Mar 09

And you think I'll start to argue with you here? SMH

I Know you're enjoying the story (fiction or not), so keep following.

This is a story as related by the victim and drafted into a book by a professional writer. So what do you expect? A story teller will always be a story teller.
sir no dey talk lie no the matter . stop making BH look like one foreign nation. or one empire. it first two pages of Lies says it all.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by SpyAC(m): 1:08pm On Mar 15
I wished not to miss this story/experience plz
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by okeyben10: 6:26pm On Mar 15
Me reading ds story and thinking
Free Intel for dss grin

Lol...this beta b fiction.

I'm following. If ther pick you up now, story don end b that

1 Like

Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Tominix(m): 7:34pm On Mar 15
Hope am nt late . . . . .g erm ann2012 i fit sit ur side . . . . riele abeg massage ma leg ó bobosneh pass the popcorn jawe
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Ann2012(f): 10:02pm On Mar 15
Hope am nt late . . . . .g
erm ann2012 i fit sit ur side . . . .
riele abeg massage ma leg ó
bobosneh pass the popcorn jawe

Join me my dear
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Ayemileto(m): 10:22pm On Mar 15
People don use mouth kill this story sha.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Tominix(m): 6:54am On Mar 18
People don use mouth kill this story sha.
electric pole fall on them
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 4:10am On Mar 19
Haq haq haq guys, don't mind those two kill joys above. I am so used to their types here on NL to even be bothered. Anyways, let's move on, shall we?......

The sultan apologized to me for the way and manner I was brought here. He said he had no other way, really. He assured me nothing will happen to me as long as I do what he’s brought me here to do.

I was immediately confused. “Brought here to do?!” I asked. He chuckled again. Mind you, he spoke excellent English and his accent was almost flawless for a northerner. He stood up from his seat, came over to my end, tapped me on the shoulder and said “Ben, I have been following you for the last two years now and I must say you fascinate me. Your love for gadgets is second to none. I saw your latest project, the drone; it’s beautiful. I understand that’s what you intend to work on as your final year project, right?” I didn’t say anything. He continued “you see Ben, I know everything about you. Your mother, Mrs xxxx; she sells food stuff in Uyo right? I sent someone to make a large purchase in her shop yesterday. She’s a very nice woman. Your father was a staff of Maritime academy Oron and he retired three years ago. Am I correct?” I still didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I’d lost my voice. He continued to tell me about my siblings, each and every one of them, their names, where they were and what they were doing, without error. He told me about my off campus apartment in Maiduguri, my major activities in the last couple months and many other striking stories I couldn’t believe.

Everything he said was absolutely correct.

This man had my entire database in his head. He didn’t even do as much as look at a paper the entire time. He just knew me. He knew I don’t eat meat. He knew I just broke up with my longtime girlfriend who left me for another guy because I didn’t have money to maintain her. He chuckled again. “Women; they are all the same. Somehow, somewhere Ben, money will always ruin a fine thing for a good poor man. I am very sorry for your loss.” He assured me I won’t be needing any other employment again in my life because money won’t be a problem for me anymore. My face immediately lightened up. Truth be told, I love money. I have always wanted to have plenty of it such that I can solve any challenge I encounter without thinking twice. Coupled with the fact that I came from a home that didn’t have much, we had to ration our monthly allowances from the meagre pension daddy collects and the sales mommy makes from her shop, life wasn’t exactly pleasant for me. My girlfriend made it worse by leaving me for a rich guy’s son. I was hurt beyond redemption, I wanted revenge, I wanted it so bad and having this money, plenty of it like the Sultan has assured me was the perfect way to.

I shifted in my seat to face him properly. “How so?” I asked. “Ben, relax” he said with a smile. “First of all, I want you to know that we are not a terrorist organization like the government wants the world to believe. The government is the terrorist. They created all these chaos and wars in the beginning, they collected money and arms from the outside world in the name of quelling the crises they created with one hand and then use the other hand to continue the war. This state was very peaceful right from time. Our people hated war. What would it profit them? Poor people barely striving daily to survive, what business have they with war? Think about it. They enjoyed their farming and fishing and the little gains they make that puts food on their tables. It was life enough for them.

But, war brings money. Every war is business. The first money they collected to buy arms was too sweet to spend because they didn’t buy the weapons but squandered them on their opulent selves. Easy money. They wanted more. The evil with money you’d say. How else could they get more other than fuelling more crises, and that they did. Little by little, the crises snowballed into a full blown war. The entire state was taken over. The money kept coming, and they had to justify the money they were collecting and then they escalated the war and took it to other states. They recruit men from all over, pay them huge sums to blow up places and keep the country on her toes while the main men keep collecting fat checks in return. Have you ever wondered why none of the so-called terrorists the government claimed to have captured has been publicly executed despite the atrocities they’ve committed? Have you? They are all PR stunts. To make the common man think they are truly fighting the war, when indeed they aren’t. "We are the true liberators of the people. We are here to save the people from the evil government and give them back their lands. But you see, because the government controls the media, they make sure our side of the story is painted black. Evil.

They make the world see us as the enemy of the people. They maim, loot, kill and destroy and then put it on us. Over time, they found more and more ingenious ways of making their evils legit. They created many factions to disguise as terrorists and then attack and sack towns and villages and then send the federal troops to repel the attacks. Have you noticed that only very few of these attacks were truly repelled by the federal troops? It is always pre-arranged. They send the terrorists in this direction and send the federal soldiers the other. Most of the few cases where you see an actual confrontation between the government troop and the “terrorists”, it is usually us. Our men. Most times, we get intel that a particular community or town will be attacked by the rogue government militias and our men go there to protect such communities and when they realize it, they send the federal force to appear as the saviours to save their name and make the people believe the more that we are the terrorists.

This has gone on for too long and we are not ready to give up our ancestral lands just yet. It’s being a long protracted war. We have been able to convince some kindhearted people to support us to win this war and they have, immensely. We have planes bring us supplies weekly. Choppers for recon and vehicles for mobility. But there’s one thing we’re highly lacking in since this war started; Intellects, I’m talking about intellectuals that are tech savvy. We’ve tried recruiting men and women that we believe will help us use technology to win this war, but most of them will either decline because of what they’ve been told about us or snitch on us. It’s been hard getting young blood with sound intellect to join this cavalry. There are not many of them around here. For now, we have tried our best to gather some fine engineers and scientists to work for us by abducting them from around the state like we did you to this facility to add to the few we were able to bring from outside as mercenaries. For each person, I thoroughly research about them and make sure I have everything I need to keep them working here while I ensure their family enjoy the proceeds of their service to us while also giving them a good pay here as long as they stay in line. And you, Ben, are a special person. I took the trouble to traverse this country to gather details about you. I have followed you for a long time and I like your specialty. It is rare and it is what we have been looking for to win this war. The drone. Our foreign partners promised to send us a whole lot of them. They say it’s easier to carry out recon with them. They even say there are bigger ones that can transport bombs and supplies in real time. I’ve seen videos of them from our partners. Very impressive. They promised to send some of their men to come train our men on how to use the drones and even fix them when broken. But you see, time is of the essence in times of war. We can’t wait forever until they have some spare drone specialists to send here before we upgrade our mode of attack. That would give our enemy too much leverage and also make us too much burden on our benefactor. They’ve been very supportive to our cause and it’s only fair that we find solutions to some of our challenges ourselves.” From the way he spoke, I figured he was a troubled man. He wanted someone to talk to desperately. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he just wanted to give me the complete picture of things haply I’ll give my full allegiance to his cause. Either case, I just didn’t know which to believe. I just listened to him attentively waiting to hear what exactly I’ve been brought here to do and how much I’d be paid in return. It was almost 2am by the big clock in his office.

He poured himself another glass and asked if I wanted more, I said “no”. He went back to his seat and fixed his gaze on me and continued “Ben, our drones arrive today, and without delay, we want to deploy them to good use. I have brought you here to help our foot soldiers perform proper recon with them using your experience with drones and your school ID as a cover. Every day, we have towns and villages we map out to liberate and our lack of proper information of the location and strength of our enemies within them has hampered our successes over time. With this new technology, I believe all of that will be history. What I want you to do for us is, you’ll use the new ID I’ve created for you with a new name as a final year student of the University of Maiduguri who’s working on his final year project. You will enter into any town our men will take you to and mingle with the people and our enemy soldiers freely. Flaunt your identity conspicuously and let anyone who care to ask know that you’re building a drone as your final year project and is using different terrains, temperatures, wind speed, humidity etc. to test the performance of the machine. You will use the drone to capture images and videos of the entire town so that our commanders can have a clear picture of what to expect and also enable them plan their attack effectively. Also, we are currently setting up a lab around here where you’ll train some of our lads on how to fix the drones and also handle them. In return, I’ll personally send a fat check to your parents on a monthly basis and you, will be paid the sum of five hundred thousand naira every month. Your feeding, clothing and transportation will be handled by us.” Immediately, my eyes lit up. Five hundred thousand was way beyond what I was expecting. No young graduate in Nigeria that I know earns that much. And I, not even a graduate is promised Five hundred. “If your services turn out to be helpful to our cause as we envisage, your pay will be increased” he added.

After mentioning the amount I’ll be paid, every other thought in my head vanished. I was filled with excitement. My dream of making plenty of money has come true. What’s more, I am being paid to do something I love doing. Handling drones. The Sultan sat quietly just looking at me. I’m sure he saw the excitement in my face. He smiled a bit, then frowned almost immediately. I budged. “But” he added with a straight face, “You must promise to do exactly as you are told here. No more, no less. You must also learn to keep your mouth shut at all times. I demand you give your 100% commitment and allegiance to this organization. The day I discover you are trying to snitch or sell our info or engage in any unnecessary association that I deem harmful to our cause, you will have no choice but pay the ultimate price. I’ll have no option but kill you”. Jesus! I felt a cold chill run down my spine. “And if for any reason, you get caught by the enemy soldiers in the cause of your duty, you must never speak of this organization to them no matter what. Well, even if you do, it’d be useless, anyway. But for the safety of your family members, I’ll advise you don’t”. “I have every member of your family under 24hrs surveillance and with just a dial on my phone, any or all of them can be wiped out within minutes” he added. At this point, my impression of the Sultan changed immediately. The man I earlier saw as gentle and soft-spoken now looked fierce and uncompassionate. He looked like he meant every word he had said. Matter of fact, he did. “Any questions?” he asked. I said “yes, would there be any risk in what I am going to be doing?” he laughed “life is a risk, young man. Everything you do in this life is risky. Everything. Besides, we are in the middle of a war, how would you think there wouldn’t be any risks? There will be plenty of them, what’s important is your acting skill. You should start practicing. Your ability to dispel suspicion will be highly important. Imagine yourself in the midst of enemies that are ready to kill you in the cruelest manner if they found out you are against them and think of the best way to blend with them and make them think you’re one of them. That’s what you should spend the next couple of days practicing before your first operation. Your life will depend greatly on your acting. Don’t get killed”.

The clock hit 3o’clock and the Sultan stood up and stretched his hand toward me for a handshake. My hands were shaking. I stood up too and shook him. “It’s been a long day, Ben. You must get some rest. You need to go catch some sleep before daybreak and don’t forget to think about everything I just told you. You will be briefed later in the day. You’ll get your new ID and also take a look at our deliveries. Good night.” He hit the buzzer on the table and the door swung open and I followed the female soldier out.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by PrudySara(f): 1:47pm On Mar 19
I'm coming, shift for me
Fantastic story line you've got here man..
Kudos to you..

Make the two of you come over here oooocheesy

1 Like

Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by ilotriouzAY(m): 8:07pm On Mar 19
I just found this thread today and I’m hooked

More please

1 Like

Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 4:15am On Mar 24
Make una drop five more comments so that I go get ginger drop next chapter na. . ... Biko
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by hidhrhis(m): 7:23am On Mar 24
Make una drop five more comments so that I go get ginger drop next chapter na. . ... Biko
Bro forget that side drop the next episode
Your story lit
People wil discover ur story and when they do u wil be shocked on the number of comment trooping in
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Forced17: 10:33am On Mar 24
Following grin
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by doctorexcel(m): 1:48pm On Mar 24
Wow. Following
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 2:32pm On Mar 24

Bro forget that side drop the next episode
Your story lit
People wil discover ur story and when they do u wil be shocked on the number of comment trooping in


Oya na... I will drop next chapter ASAP.

1 Like

Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by samuel19222(m): 5:29pm On Mar 25


Oya na... I will drop next chapter ASAP.

Oya drop the update na
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by GenyEbere(f): 9:51pm On Mar 25
I don show��
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 12:21pm On Mar 26
Chapter Three

Back in my room, thoughts of my family members filled my head. My parents, do they know I’ve been abducted? Have they been called? My siblings, what do they know about my abduction? Even though we get into fights and fierce arguments regularly, I still love them more than anything in the world. I can’t afford to put any of them in harm’s way.

But how am I sure they are safe? From all I just heard from the Sultan, I knew my family members’ lives depended on what I do and for that I must be in my best behavior. I must do exactly as I am instructed. I can’t afford to be the reason any of them lose their life. I’d rather die than be the reason any of them gets killed. �

It was 9:45am when a buzz on the door woke me. It was followed by a steady annoying knock on the door. I jumped out of bed toward the door, but before I reached, it swung open. A very beautiful lady with a trolley walked in. She didn’t wear a yashmak nor a flowing gown like the previous ones. Instead, she wore a white short sleeved shirt and a black pant that grabbed her behind tightly. She greeted me “good morning, I’m here for room service. Hope you don’t mind the trouble?” No, I don’t as a matter of fact” I retorted. “Have you had your breakfast yet?” she asked. “No” I answered. “Ok, I think you should make your order now so that it’d arrive immediately I’m done so you can eat and be all set before 10:30. Boss says I should tell you to be ready by then” she said. “Boss? What boss are you…” I tried asking “Just-- do as you’re told Mr. and stop asking too many questions. If you like your life, you should learn to hush” she warned without looking up and started fixing the room.

I went to the phone immediately, called the kitchen and ordered my favourite breakfast; boiled yam, egg sauce and tea. She brought a fresh pair of clothing for me. This time, a blue t-shirt, a pair of jeans trouser and a pair of sneakers, all exactly my size. She changed the bed spread, the toiletries and cleared the plates from my last meal and left. Less than five minutes after she left, my breakfast arrived. It was brought by a lady in yashmak as usual who offloaded her trolley quietly and left. I ate the breakfast and took a shower. Got dressed in my new clothes and sat down on the chair by the bed waiting for the clock to strike 10:30. I turned on the TV and almost all the major news station I tuned to had something showing about the terrorists’ activities in Nigeria. The gory pictures made my heart bleed. Within me, I wondered if I am now part of these evil men wreaking havoc all over my beloved country or among the liberators as the sultan would want me believe, saving my country from the evil men.

I just couldn’t tell which was which. 10:30 sharp, there was a buzz on the door and before I got up from my seat, the door swung open and two soldiers matched in, both wielding an AK47. I was scared at first but one of the soldiers told me to relax that they are here to take me to the workshop. He asked if I was ready and I answered in the affirmative. I was blindfolded immediately by the other soldier and led out of the room.

We took a turn to the left as though we were heading towards the staircase that led downstairs to the cell I slept the night we arrived. Strangely we never got there. Instead, we took another turn to the left after walking for like 50metres and then another to the right after another 50metres and then climbed a short flight of stairs. It was really difficult climbing those stairs with the blindfold still on, but I managed.

To be cont'd....
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by ilotriouzAY(m): 3:35pm On Mar 26
Ride on bro
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by jey4all(m): 3:51pm On Mar 26
[quote author=9jabox post=87780772]Your updates are too short. Kudos all the same
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by 9jabox(m): 4:20am On Mar 27

We walked straight from my reckoning for another 20metres before I heard a door open. I sensed we walked into a hall of some sort and the door slammed close behind us. I started hearing people’s voices. I was led a little further into the hall and made to sit on a sofa and the blindfold removed. The sofa was in an office made of glass in the middle of a giant hall that housed many military equipment. The soldiers saluted the other soldier whose office it is (who was sitting in a chair behind a table littered with bullets and scattered gun parts, a laptop and a huge pile of engineering textbooks), he saluted them in return and they matched out. He sat there staring at me while I did the same, not sure what to say or how to address him. I became uncomfortable when I noticed he was staring at me piercingly without shifting his gaze. After about two minutes of killing silence, he laughed and called me by my name. I am not surprised anymore, considering all I’ve witnessed since I got here. Every one seem to know me or at least something about me. He opened a drawer from his large desk and brought out a folder, cleared some space on his desk and placed the folder on it. He opened it and from where I was sitting I could see my picture stapled to the top corner of the folder. He read out some things from the folder incoherently, flipped to another page, did the same thing and then burst into laughter as soon as he opened the third.”Abdul-Waheed Nazifi Ibrahim” he called out. I just sat there looking at him. He called out the names again, this time looking directly at me. I still didn’t know what he meant. I just sat still trying to avoid his gaze. He laughed cynically again and informed me that that was my new name. He brought out my new school identity card from the folder and threw it at me. I grabbed it, looked at it and everything was exactly like my original school ID except for the new name. I wasn’t sure whether to be sad, worried or happy. I just sat that staring at it indifferently. He brought out a sheet from the folder and extended it to me. I collected it. It contained my new bio. A Hausa-Fulani from Katsina state, the first son of alhaji Nazifi Ibrahim a business mogul who deals in oil and gas and is based in Akwa Ibom state. I was born and brought up there. A final year student of electrical and electronics engineering of University of Maiduguri working on a drone as his final year project.

I was asked to hang the sheet of paper in my room, read it every morning and then imagine the best possible ways I can fit into my new character without arousing suspicion. I read it again, folded it neatly and put it in my back pocket. The officer closed the folder and dropped it on the table, stood up and walked toward the door beckoning me to come with him. We walked through the length of the hall passing groups of men fixing broken military vehicles, motorcycles, offloading supplies etc. We got to one of the doors at the end of the hall and the soldier manning it saluted smartly and opened for us. We walked into another glass office. Behold, it was right inside the mini airport I saw the first night we arrived. The planes were now two and the choppers gone. From the office I saw four foreigners dressed in military outfit and five local soldiers discussing beside one of the planes. On the table in the office were six large boxes obviously, containing the drones. The soldiers outside exchanged handshakes, the foreigners boarded the plane and started the engine while the locals returned to meet us in the office.

We opened the boxes one after the other and I couldn’t hide my excitement. They were a sight to behold; the drones. Right before me were six extremely beautiful multi-rotor drones all parts perfectly fitted in the boxes. Even though I had never flown a multi-rotor drone before, I was always fascinated by them whenever I browsed the internet for videos of drones. My dream of flying one has finally come true. I hurriedly emptied the first box, brought out the manual and started assembling it. After nearly an hour of trial and error, I eventually got the first one assembled and ready to fly, but the batteries were too low to power them, so the officer I came with who happened to be the most senior in the room, ordered for the drone to be fully charged and thereafter we can test-fly it to be sure the job is done correctly. I felt sad. After one grueling hour of work, I couldn’t test the result immediately. He asked me to follow him so I can be taken back to my room to catch some rest and lunch while the batteries were being charged as I’ll be informed as soon as they are ready to come test my job. I couldn’t question his authority, so I sheepishly followed him back to his office where two soldiers were waiting to take me back to my room. I was blindfolded again and led away.

Back in my room, the time was 13:21. I sat in my bed imagining what it would feel like flying those drones. They were bigger, more aesthetic and sophisticated than any drone any had ever come across. I thought of all the crazy maneuvers I’ll perform with them. It felt like I was dreaming and never wanted to wake up from the dream.

After eating my lunch and tuning from one channel to another on the TV, I got really bored and lay down and slept off. At exactly 18:30 the telephone in my room rang and I answered. The voice on the other end said “It’s time, get dressed” and hung up. It took me a minute to understand what he meant by those words. But wait! How did he know I wasn’t dressed? Looks like there’s a camera hidden somewhere in this room I thought, but I’d searched everywhere and there’s no sign of any. “Maybe it was just a hunch” I consoled myself. I got dressed quickly and within minutes, the two soldiers opened the door and led me out as usual after blindfolding me.

Back in the office in the hall, the drone and control pad was there on the table and I was asked to carry it and follow the other officers who carried the other five unassembled drone boxes toward the main hall where the planes were. Meanwhile, the choppers were back; all two of them. I was led past them, only to realize that where we were was a secret hanger. Giant pull-up door concealed the planes and from the outside, it looked like a warehouse. But for the 1km tarmac that extended outside the hanger, an outsider would never have the slightest idea what the place was. We got out of the hanger through one of the small doors to an open desert-like field. There was no sign of life anywhere along the entire length of the tarmac except for a small canopy towards the edge of the hanger where some senior officers were seated being guarded by some heavily armed soldiers. We walked toward them. On getting there, the soldiers dropped their boxes on the large table in front of the officers, stood at attention and saluted smartly. “Easy” the officers said and they stood at ease and matched away. I didn’t know the proper way to greet them so I bowed slightly and said “good evening sirs”, some of them answered while a great majority of them ignored me. I was offered a seat in front of the officers and instructed to test the drone I was holding. I told them I won’t be comfortable testing it in a sitting position, so they allowed me to take whatever position I desire. I stood up and walked out of the shade of the canopy. They asked how they could all monitor the drone’s activity from my position, I told them it’d be difficult except we connect the monitor I had to a bigger screen like a TV. “Is that possible?” one of the officers asked. “Yes” I answered. Immediately, a TV was ordered to be brought and power tapped from somewhere inside the hanger to the canopy. We did the connection and I started the drone. At first, it was difficult to control it; partly because I had never flown a multi rotor drone before and secondly, because of the condition under which I was flying this one. Under military supervision. I was tensed and it was obvious. Getting the drone off the ground took me almost five minutes, in fact, I almost broke one of the rotors in the process. Once it was off the ground, I became in charge of the situation. I was asked to take a complete areal coverage of the hanger which I did. I noticed several satellite dishes and masts mounted on top of the hanger. I was made to zoom in on several objects while flying over the building. I circled the entire structure which was by my reckoning about 300mrts in length, 200mrts in width and 70mtrs high. It was starting to get dark. I was asked to fly the drone along the tarmac and see how far it could go. I did and realized the maximum distance it could cover was 1km. By the time the drone got back, it was already dark. The officers seemed satisfied with the test and ordered that the remaining five drones in the boxes be coupled and charged before daybreak as operations starts tomorrow. And, we were dismissed.

Back in the office in the hanger, I worked for nearly 3hrs assembling the remaining five drones. They weren’t all of the same make as the first one I assembled, there were a few differences in their designs which slowed me down a bit in the process. But by 22:30hrs I was done assembling the five drones and the soldiers took them away for charging while I was led back to my room.

shocked shocked shocked shocked shocked
Day four started quite normally. No early morning disturbances, no instructions, nothing. I woke up at 0815hrs, ordered breakfast, took my bath dressed up and sat to watch TV while I await my assignment of the day. At 1000hrs, the phone rang and when I answered I was instructed to get ready for training. “Training?” I asked myself. Besides, I was already ready. Few minutes later the door swung open and two soldiers walked in and led me out. I was expecting to be blindfolded but, I wasn’t. These guys are absolutely unpredictable. When you expect them to do something, they wouldn’t. I was led to the door that took us to the Sultan’s office days ago. After the soldier inputted the door’s unlock code, and opened it, we walked into the lift that was directly behind the door and it took us downstairs. A few seconds later, it came to a halt and when the door opened, what I saw scared the hell out of me. It was shooting range. That was the first time I was seeing a shooting range live. A couple of guys were taking shooting lessons behind transparent glass compartments. There were a couple of foreigners and a few locals scattered around the hall. The soldiers handed me over to a foreigner with a name tag on his uniform that read BILAL who I was told will be my instructor. I was confused. “Instructor for what?” I asked. The soldiers pretended like they didn’t hear me, saluted Bilal and marched away. Bilal was an average heighted man, 5ft7inch tall, a Syrian in his early 50s I presume. A very jovial man and a talkative. Immediately we were introduced, he shook my hand firmly with a smile and said “welcome my friend” with a thick Arabian accent. I feigned a smile in return. As soon as the soldiers were out of sight, he placed his hand around my shoulder and led me to his office. Bilal seemed friendly. Nothing arrogant about him. He opened a heavy door toward the end of the range and behold, it was a mini armory. There were assorted weapons hanging on the wall inside show glasses. There was a large desk in the middle of the office and a huge television that was streaming images from CCTV cameras around the building. He asked me to close the door and take a seat. He was already seated at the other end of the table. As soon as I sat down, he open a drawer from his desk, pulled out a 9mm revolver and pointed it at me, I shouted in fear. His face looked stern for a bit and then just when I was about to pee in my pants he burst into laughter. He lowered the gun and said it’s blank. My heartbeat had reached a thousand pulses per minute by then I believe. My feet felt frozen, I couldn’t move them. He asked me to take a couple of deep breaths while he offered me a glass of water to ease my heart rate. He returned the gun to the drawer and took time to lecture me on how to react whenever a gun is pointed at me. He said my first reaction should be to raise my both hands as a sign of surrender, saying that would give my attacker the illusion that I am harmless and buy me more time to think of my next line of action, if at all I have any. He said very often, people don’t just point a gun at you and shoot immediately except you are also holding a gun or it’s a robbery and the robber thinks you’ve seen something that’ll endanger them. He also lectured me on precision. How distance between me and the shooter, the type of weapon the shooter is holding, wind speed and the marksmanship of the shooter determines what one is supposed to do when a gun is pointed at them.
After nearly thirty minutes of talking, he introduced himself as Bilal Al-Amin from Syria. He told me he was a soldier in the Syrian army until Bashar Al-Assad decided to mess up his country. He said he switched allegiance to the rebel side and lost his entire family in the process. He had fought on the rebel side (The real soldiers, he called them) for seven months before he got connected to this his present job. His voice became suddenly emotional. He said he understands how evil governments all over the world are and the atrocities they commit against their perceived enemies when they feel threatened and has sworn to make sure he contributes his quota to bringing all of such governments down even if it will cost him his life. I felt his pain. I understood his loss, but that wasn’t what on my mind that time. The only thing I was thinking the whole time was, what was I brought to this shooting range to do? I was told I’d be in charge of drones only, nobody mentioned anything about guns and stuff. He read the look on my face and asked what the matter was. I told him and he laughed again. He was about standing up, but changed his mind and took some more time to lecture me instead. He looked at me straight in the eye and asked “young man, do you want to die on your very first assignment?” I shook my head, he shook his too. “Listen, this is a war we are fighting” he said “and from what I understand, you’ll be doing some very technical stuff that’ll warrant you entering the heart of the enemy territory. Whether you believe it or not, you are now an enemy. You can only hide under that student cover of yours for a while, you will run out of luck someday and anything can happen. It is my duty to prepare you for such eventualities. You are now a soldier and like every soldier, you need combat training, especially on how to handle weapons so that at least you can have a fighting chance when the unexpected happens” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Me? Handle a gun? Unbelievable! “But the Sultan told me I’d only be going to take pictures and videos for him that’s all. He didn’t mention anything about guns and fighting, or am I missing something?” I asked. Bilal became angry almost instantly. “It’s like you haven’t been listening to me, have you?” “Or are you that dumb?” “Do you think you will be going to take pictures and record videos of locations for six straight months without arousing suspicion or without anyone seeing you twice and asking questions?” “Do you?” “Do you think your enemies are that daft?” I was silent. “I hate to break this to you boy, don’t buy any assurance of safety anyone here sells to you, it’s a hoax. In war time and as a soldier especially, your life has no guarantee. Whether you’re a cook, a batman, a driver or an active combatant, you are at risk of dying any time. Even this facility, as secure as it may seem, has no guarantee. That is why I live every day like it’s my last. I don’t deceive myself and I don’t do that to anyone I meet here”. He gave me time to digest the news before proceeding. I sat there frozen from head to toes. As much as I tried to analyze what I just heard, my mind was too clouded with confusion to think of anything. I sighed deeply and asked him with some trepidation in my voice “So what is it going to be?” He stood up and looked at me with the seriousness in his face easing off and said “Well, for a start, I’ll have to give a general lecture on the different kinds of weapon you may encounter as a soldier in the field and then take some time to teach you how to handle them with precision”. Bilal’s reference to me as soldier almost all the time made me uneasy. This wasn’t what I bargained for. The Sultan never told me about this new development. I have never imagined myself holding a gun before, talk more of using it against anyone. Is this truly the Boko Haram group I’ve been hearing about and am I now one of their recruits? I wondered.
Re: The Diary Of A Terrorist (True Life Story Of Unimaid Student Turned BH Member) by Semako36: 7:18am On Mar 28
New update pls

(1) (2) (Reply)

Nigeria Old National Anthem / Miss Ugly Nigeria Pageant / The Black Book Finally Published

(Go Up)

Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health
religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket

Links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2020 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 333
Disclaimer: Every Nairaland member is solely responsible for anything that he/she posts or uploads on Nairaland.