There was a day I left Kano late in the afternoon for Zamfara state. The driver was driving slowly and very composed, forgetting that when it was 6 pm, the Katsina-Zamfara border at Yankara would be closed until the following morning at 7 am by the military due to security issues.
We arrived at Yankara at 6:30 pm, the exact time the military closed the road. We pleaded with the security agents to allow us to pass, but they said no, that it was part of the policy that immediately after 6 pm, no one would pass through the road. This forced us to look for where we could sleep beside the road or in our cars until the next morning.
It came to my mind to trek to the next community called Wanzamai, which was no more than 1km away from the checkpoint. I thought it might be safer than sleeping beside the road at the military checkpoints. I arrived in Wanzamai while the community members were preparing for maghrib prayers, so I joined them.
The first scary moment I had was seeing the community members with their local guns inside the mosque while praying and while coming out, I saw a group of people counting the number of bandits with their sophisticated weapons riding motorcycles not more than 300 metres away from the community. When I saw them, I felt that was the end of me in this world.
With fear, I exchanged greetings with some community members, introduced myself, and told them I was heading to Gusau, but we were late and the road was blocked by the military until the next morning and I couldn’t sleep beside the road. I asked where I could sleep. Responding, a guy told me, “Actually, in this community, we don’t use to sleep. We will remain here and on the outskirts to protect ourselves and our community from bandits.” He added that the only option was to direct me to the village head’s palace, which he did.
I went to the palace and sat outside for about 30 minutes before he came out. I introduced myself and sought his assistance in providing me with where I could sleep.
After asking me some questions about myself, he offered me a shop outside his house with doors not closing properly. The shop was very dilapidated and had a mat inside. That was where my mind started to bring up a lot of negative thoughts, saying if bandits came, I would be the first person to be killed.
The scariest parts were the sounds of guns being shot all over to protect their community. All the men and boys came out of their houses with local guns and fired in the sky just to signal to the bandits that they were still awake. All the men were alert and vigilant through the night. I felt extremely sleepy and scared, but the sound of guns did not let me sleep. It was as if I was in a war zone or in the midst of bandits.
I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t find the MTN network on my phone either to chat or to make calls. I only kept praying to see the night pass, but the seconds, minutes and hours were not moving fast. The night appeared like a week to me. I kept thinking that was the end of my life and the worst part of it is that none of my family, friends or colleagues knew where I was.
That was the scariest night of my life. My only option was prayer, which I kept doing. Sometimes while praying, if I heard the sound of guns shooting, I would skip what I was reading and have to start all over.
It was like that until they called for subhi prayer and I quickly moved to the mosque, prayed and stayed inside until morning, hoping to see a car or bike that would take me out of the community. At exactly 7 am, cars started coming and lucky enough, one stopped to pick me up. I felt at ease and did not even get the chance to say goodbye to the village head. I only sent a young boy to tell him that I was going and I appreciated his effort.
To end the story, I arrived home around 8:30 am and at exactly 10:00 am I heard that bandits invaded the community, killing one person and injuring many.
As narrated by: Aminu Bello (Kano, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of the series, What We Lost to the Bandits.
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