My story is not an easy one to tell. Years ago, my life took a path I never wished for. Fear and circumstances dragged me into a world I never truly belonged to. I was brought up in a family of Boko Haram. When I finally escaped and surrendered, I thought freedom would mean a new beginning. But I soon learned that freedom also carried its own struggles.
When I ran to other family members who didn’t join the group, I met rejection at every corner. People whispered about me. Some mothers warned their children not to come near me. In their eyes, I was no longer just Amina, I was “the Boko Haram daughter.” That stigma burned deeper than chains. A lot of men wanted to seek my hand in marriage, but were discouraged because of my family background. But I didn’t give up, thinking that maybe it’s not yet my time to get married.
Inside me was a dream I refused to let die. I wanted to stand on my own feet, to be a businesswoman, respected and independent. At first, it seemed impossible. The market women refused to share space with me. Some even told customers not to buy from me. But I told myself: if I give up, then they win. If I keep going, maybe one day they will see me for who I am, not for who I was.
So, I started small. With the little I had, I began selling groundnuts by the roadside. I endured the insults, the harsh sun, and the long, lonely days. Slowly, people began to notice my honesty and the quality of what I sold. One by one, trust returned. From groundnuts, I moved to grains, then fabrics. Today, I have my own stall in the market. The same people who once looked down on me now come to me with respect.
As narrated by: Amina Isa (Maiduguri, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of a series, The Day Boko Haram Attacked.
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