No one knew it was going to be a
sad day at school. The blackboard, facing the empty class in ‘Tech 3A’, still
bore, in the teacher’s handwriting, 19/2/18. The topic, ‘Weathering’, which
they learnt in geography class that day has not yet been erased from the board.
And so is their memory of the attack.
At about 5.30pm that Monday, the
whistle for the dinner blew. According to the similar accounts of seven girls
who spoke to TheCable, the students rushed to the dining to have their meal.
The food on the menu was maize and baobab soup.
Some ate theirs while others kept
it for later. Shortly after, the Muslims among them quickly had their ablution
and rushed to the mosque in response to the call for the 6.30-7pm prayers. And that seems to be the abrupt end of this
school renowned to be the best science school for girls in the state.
It’s been over a week since
suspected Boko Haram insurgents attacked Government Girls Science and Technical
College, Dapchi, in Bursari local government area of Yobe state, north-east
Nigeria. While the search for the 110 girls continues, their lucky colleagues
are telling their story of the close shave.
‘THE GUNSHOTS’
Ajara Lawal, a 14-year-old SS2
student at the school hostel. She is here to pick some of her belongings.
With all eagerness to tell the
world what has happened to her, she says: “We heard gunshots. We were in the
mosque. At first, we thought it was an explosion from the transformer. But the
shooting continued, so all of us left the mosque and moved towards the school
gate. When we got to the gate, we saw some people in soldiers’ uniform, but
they don’t look like soldiers, and then we ran back. Our principal was crying,
she told us we are not safe that we should run towards the fence and run away.”
Amina Abubakar Mohamadu a
16-year-old, SS2 student, who has now returned to her father’s house at
Damaturu, says she just had her dinner when “we started hearing shooting. We
all ran out, but the principal told us to start running, that we are not safe”.
Another 14-year-old student of
SS2, Yagana Mustapha, said she was one of the girls at the mosque, when they
heard the gun. “We ran to the gate. Then they (Boko Haram) lied saying Boko
Haram is attacking the village. ‘Come, Come, I want to help you.’
‘TOOL OF DECEPTION’
Their description of the
insurgents fits that of those camouflaging to be what they are not. They say
they wore military camouflages, but no boots. They drove three canter trucks,
painted in army colour and parked outside the school gate. Other witnesses say
the insurgents had first attacked the police station and the hospitals. This
sent almost all the villagers scampering for safety.
Ajara recalls: “They were wearing
soldier’s uniform and they said ‘Come, come, we are here to rescue you’. I even
stepped my leg into the car, but my elder sister called and said don’t you see
that there is Allahu Akbar is written on their car, that was how I ran out.”
“Me too,” Amina adds. “They
deceived us. They came with three vans in army colours and they had army uniform,
but they didn’t have army boots, that is how some of us identified them –
through the slippers and their military trouser which did not reach the ground
— three-quarter length.”
Yagana confirms, revealing: “They
wore soldiers uniform. I saw their car. They wrote Allahu Akbar on it. That is
why I did not run into it.”
‘WE SCALED FENCE’
 |
| Spilled food apparently from the pandemonium |
Sadia Mohammed Sanni, the third
of 15 children, wants to be a doctor. She is currently in SS2.
“Immediately the incident
started, we started running. Our teachers helped us to cross the fence. I was
raised to scale over the fence and ran to the neighbour’s house,” she narrates.
The distance the girls must have
covered to scale over the school fence cannot be less than 5 kilometres giving
the huge landmass of the school.
A look at the frame of Ajara and
Yagana one would consider them too frail to scale over the fence, but in this
matter, they would rather sustain a fracture than be in the custody of Boko
Haram.
“We ran, ran,” Ajara, who speaks
through an interpreter, gesticulates with her hand. “Almost 5 kilometres.”
“Our teachers tried for us. They
helped us to climb the fence,” Yagana adds.
The state of confusion still at
the hostel paints a clearer picture of the pandemonium that must have ensued
that evening. The windows and doors, through which the girls jumped out, are
still ajar. The slippers they removed to aid their race are still gathered at
the hostel’s square. On the wooden lockers are cups and bowls placed upside
down. Looking out of stacked metal clothes boxes are red, pink, green checked
house-wears, towels, pants and sweaters — some handing loosely on the iron of
the double bunk bed.
Plates of food, perhaps the last
meal served that evening, are spilled on the shelf. Molds are now comfortably
growing on the cupboards and reading tables. Plastic buckets and kettles are
upturned, while mattresses, praying mats, passport-sized photos, books and
seedlings (for agric experiment) are all strewn on the floor.
Some ceiling fans are still
rolling in the empty dormitories, the clock is still ticking while the school’s
solar inverter is still humming and providing light to a deserted school.
‘WE SLEPT IN THE BUSH’
Amina is still horrified by the
experience. Her father, a civil servant in Damaturu, says in the past one week,
she often jerks in her sleep. She wants to become an engineer. She had to sleep
in the bush that night, a price to pay for having an ambition.
“I slept in the bush that night.
One of my friends was bitten by a snake. Some ran into houses. The next day,
the local government chairman of Babangida and Dapchi came to see us and bring
some of us back to our parents,” she recalls.
The girls says a teacher had a
miscarriage as a result of the rush, while another had a fracture. TheCable
could not get any of the teachers to speak with since the school is closed.
WILL THEY GO BACK TO SCHOOL AGAIN?
 |
| Fatima doesn’t want to go to school anymore |
On her colleagues ran into the
car that belonged to the insurgents, Yagana says “they did they not know they
are not soldiers. They thought they will help them. That is why they entered
the car. Some them were crying and shouting.”
While she is grateful to God for
her escape, she prays for her friends’ return.
“I am happy to escape, but I feel
sad for my friends and I wish them to come back,” she says.
Amina, the first of her parents’
three daughters, says she cannot return to that school.
“I can’t, because the time they
came, they told us that they are coming again. They (Boko Haram) said this is
the first time they are in that town, they didn’t know there is school like
that, if they know, they will do more than that. So now, as I know they are
coming back, I cannot go back there,” she says, but she is willing to go to
another school.
Mariam Mohammed Miko, 15, is the
seventh child of 12 children. She said though she hopes to be a health
technologist so that she can help her community, she is currently discouraged
and not willing to return to school for now.
Fatima Mohammed Bilau, the 10th
child in a family of 27, shares a similar fear with Mariam. She is 15 years
now, but she has at the moment given up on education.
Yagana, however, says she is
willing to go back to another school if the government provides security.
“I will go back to school. But
let the government protect us,” she says.
culled: TheCable Click to signup for FREE news updates, latest information and hottest gists everyday
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