When I look back at the life I once lived, my heart is filled with shame. There was a time when I was deep in darkness, a member of Boko Haram. I was young, angry, and easily deceived. I thought joining them would give me power, respect, and meaning. Instead, it turned me into a man I hardly recognise today.
When we went out on operations, I did things I can never forget. We would storm villages at night, armed with guns and fire. I stole from people’s shops, carrying away what they had worked for all their lives. We burned houses, leaving families homeless. We took food, money, and valuables from innocent people. Worse still, we killed those who resisted us, and I know many families are still mourning because of what I did.
The heaviest part of my guilt is the way we treated women. I was part of those who raped women during raids. At the time, I pushed away the shame and told myself it was part of the fight. But now, as a human being, I know it was evil. I destroyed lives, and this is the wound that weighs most heavily on my conscience.
For years, I lived like this, moving from one village to another, blinded by violence. But inside me, I was never truly at peace. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of the people we hurt. Sometimes, I couldn’t sleep because I would see the faces of people I killed and raped screaming. I saw the tears of children, the cries of women, and the anger in the eyes of men we left with nothing. My soul grew restless, and I began to ask myself: Is this who I was created to be?
The turning point came one night after an operation. We had burned down houses and left many people in pain. As I sat in the bush afterwards, listening to the silence of the night, I realised I was empty. The so-called cause I was fighting for was nothing but destruction. I had lost my humanity. That night, I decided I could no longer continue.
It took courage, but I surrendered myself to the government. Walking into their hands was not easy; I feared they would kill me or punish me severely. But I told myself it was better to die seeking forgiveness than to keep living in sin. I was rehabilitated for two years.
Now, I am a free man in body, but I still carry the weight of my past. Whenever I walk through the community, I feel the eyes of people on me. Some refuse to greet me. Some whisper that I do not deserve a second chance. The stigma is heavy, but I cannot deny that I earned it. I offended people deeply, I stole from them, hurt them, destroyed their homes, and left scars that may never fully heal.
I hope that one day, those I wronged will see that I am no longer the man I used to be. I cannot change my past, but I can live the rest of my life differently. I now do honest work, earning a living through sweat, not violence. I try to help others where I can, even in small ways, to show that I am serious about my repentance.
Most of all, I ask God daily for forgiveness. Only He knows the depth of my remorse. I believe that if He has forgiven me, then maybe, in time, the community will too. I know it will not be easy.
As narrated by: Umar Goni Bukar (Maiduguri, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of a series, The Day Boko Haram Attacked.
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