I can’t pretend I’m not relieved when Renate and I—under very tight security once again—set off for the airport. Another hour or two and a plane with us on board will take off and I will leave this very tense place and all the dangers that lurk here.
At the same time I have a guilty conscience. I have the freedom to leave; Patience doesn’t. She looks sad when we say goodbye. She is at the mercy of this place. She and all the other women whose lives have been destroyed by Boko Haram are unable to escape their fate.
They would all love to believe that the terrorist organization will soon be defeated, as the Nigerian president repeatedly claims. People have welcomed hopeful signs in that direction. In April 2016, for example, the United States committed to its military partnership with Nigeria, and the promise to share secret service information with the government: they plan to help locate the women and girls who are still being held prisoner, including the Chibok girls.
One cause for optimism is the fact that the army has been able to regain a considerable amount of territory over the past year. As they retreated, however, Boko Haram carried out appalling massacres of the civilian population—and many refugees don’t dare to go back to their villages because they are afraid that the fighters are still somewhere in the area, and might strike again at any time. Unfortunately, that does often seem to be the case.
“This terror calls for stronger and better coordinated measures from us all,” the departing UN General Secretary Ban Ki Moon demanded. “All regional and international efforts must concentrate on protecting the people in northern Nigeria and the neighboring countries.” South Africa and the United States have sent military support to combat Boko Haram. Demands have also been made for their crimes to be prosecuted by an international criminal court.
But the reality on the ground is still a long way from that. Only two weeks after we left, the Islamists sent more suicide units to Maiduguri. It was the Christmas attack that everyone was waiting for. This time it came a bit late, at New Year’s—but with terrible brutality: two women, former kidnap victims, blew themselves up. Twenty-nine people were killed, eighty-eight injured. Patience and her daughter were only shaken.
The biggest challenge they face at the moment is the stigma with which everyone who comes back from captivity has to live: the women are seen as dirty and dishonored, since it is assumed that they were raped in the camps. Raped women are treated as the dregs of society: in the social hierarchy they rank below widows. They are despised for what they have been through. There is also the anxiety that they are converted victims, who secretly fraternize with their tormentors—and will set off a bomb at the next opportunity. A new marriage is effectively impossible, even for young women.
If a woman comes back from captivity pregnant, her family will do everything they can to abort the fetus. Babies born from a union with a Boko Haram fighter often disappear without a trace. The general view is that the “Boko Haram genes” mustn’t be passed on to the next generation, because they are supposed to have diabolical qualities. For that reason Patience will have to take great care with her daughter. Too many people are likely to assume that Gift is the product of a rape in the camp.
But there is a glimmer of light for them: Renate has managed to buy a plot of land. It isn’t the one in Jos that she wanted originally, but she’s found another one in Gurku. She’s building houses for the widows there now. At the moment there is room in Gurku for fifteen women and their children. Soon she hopes it will be more.
Her association, Widows Care (http://www.widowscare.com), in Maiduguri is also coming up with many different ways to improve the lives of the two thousand or so registered widows and help them take charge of their lives again. Renate Ellmenreich is proudly convinced, in spite of all the setbacks and difficulties, that her team will be able to give them their future back.