By Chinedu Ekeja and Henry Onovweghware

Eighteen-year-old Beatrice Lami fled Chibok, Borno State, like Lot’s family, in the middle of the night for safety. Unlike the Biblical Lot’s wife, Beatrice never looked back even though her most precious possessions – siblings, parents, relatives and a whole way of life – were being left behind. Beatrice’s steps were further hastened by the awareness that her elder sister was among those abducted from the Chibok Girls School by Boko Haram.

As most parts of Borno State got engulfed by activities of the Boko Haram, Zainab (not her real name), a 36-year-old widow, flowed with the sea of those seeking refuge in other states away from the one that had hitherto being their home. Zainab, a mother of four, is physically challenged.

Different heartrending versions of such stories of real people left displaced from their communities abound and because most are still within the country, they are not termed refugees but Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs).

According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the world is now witnessing the highest levels of displacement on record. An unprecedented 65.6 million people around the world have been forced from their home. Among them, nearly 22.5 million are refugees; 40.3 million are displaced in their own country.

Figures from the Internal Displacement Monitoring Center (IDMC) reveal that more than 3 million Nigerians are internally displaced. twelve percent of this figure is displaced by communal clash, 2.4% by natural disaster and 85% by Boko Haram insurgents. On a global scale, Nigeria is only ranked behind war-torn Syria with 6.5 million IDPs.

With 3.3 million, Nigeria has the highest IDP population in Africa. Putting it in perspective, the number of IDPs in Nigeria is more than all the citizens of two African countries — Gambia and Mauritius — combined!

These displaced persons live in IDPs camps scattered across Nigeria. In such camps, persons like Beatrice now have a semblance of home where basic human needs of food, clothing and shelter are met, albeit not completely.

A great majority of displaced persons however do not live in any of these camps; it is in this group that Zainab and her four children belong. They must devise other means of daily survival and forge ahead in the journey of life even while being exploited or neglected by a system that glosses over their plight; a system that sometimes brands them as nuisance as if they were the ones who wished insurgency on the country.

At the crack of dawn, Zainab wakes her children and they walk a distance of about 1km to Dawson junction in Benin City, Edo State capital, to strategically position them where traffic is busiest and motorists must stop for 90 seconds waiting for the light to slowly change from red to amber and finally green.

Within these periodic breaks of 90 seconds, from sunrise to sunset, Zainab’s children, armed with liquid soap and “mop”, hustle as squeegee merchants to wipe windshields. Often, they are chased away by irritant vehicle owners with a scowl and shake of angry fist or sometimes calmly by turning on their wipers.

The eldest of them, 17-years-old Ibrahim, explained that on a typical day, the trickles of N10 and N20 from tolerant motorists amount to between N500 and N1,500; money dutifully remitted to his mother, who herself sits beside an electric pole with her infant child asking for alms from passersby.

Less than two hours’ drive away from Dawson junction, where Zainab’s family ekes out a living, is the International Christian Centre (ICC), Ughogua in Ovia North East Local Government council — Beatrice’s newfound home. With a structured shelter just close by, one wonders why this family of four and others like them has not relocated to take advantage of regular meals, school and medical facilities.

Surprisingly, this family knows nothing about the ICC, which has been a place of refuge for thousands like them fleeing from Boko Haram. They however are willing to move if told how. While the prospect of formal education sounds good, Ibrahim insists government should keep him engaged with skilled job after school hours.

LIFE IN THE STREETS

While Ibrahim and his siblings wonder where, when and how the next meal ticket will come, Beatrice, at the ICC, has moved past such worries. She is now part of a new family – united by tragedy – where communal living is way of life as they work towards the same goal.

Beatrice and her fellow residents at the camp are flourishing in the midst of their travails, as she now receives formal education.

ICC, established in 1992 as a home for the needy, got a large expanse of land. This property would later become the permanent site to serve as the present-day camp caring for over 2,500 persons. Population explosion at the camp occurred in late 2012 and early 2013 when Boko Haram insurgents held sway. Today, over 75% of residents at the camp are victims of insurgency.

The man at the helm of the camp, Pastor Solomon Folorunso, is not easily distinguished from the crowd, as most evenings he blends in with the youngsters in a game of football.

Such was the case when he spoke of some modest accomplishments of the ICC in bridging the gap for those in dire need for the past 25 years. Interestingly, a beneficiary now serves as legal adviser, having graduated as a lawyer.

Pastor Folorunso made an honest appeal to all in the society to help the needy through voluntary donations of clothes, bedding, books, toiletries, food, etc. The lady in charge of supervising cooking in the camp, Pastor Evelyn Omigie, said when rice was on the menu, 10 bags were needed to ensure everyone gets something.

With three square meals a day assured, the camp residents have one less thing to worry about. Thus, Rifkatu Ali (20), Shedrack Yakubu (15), Gideon Haruna (19) and Mary Ayuba (17) all have similar stories to that of Beatrice. For them, lost hope has been found again; grief has turned gratitude.

LIFE IN THE CAMP

The story of other victims of insurgency in the North East who have been forced to take refuge in other parts of the country could also change if action is taken now to address their needs through structured programmes to equip them with education or skills that would make them self-sustaining.

Failure to reintegrate them into society would bring to pass the observation of Bukola Saraki, the Senate President, that “having 10 million children out of school is literally a ticking time bomb for our nation.

“An uneducated population will be locked in a cycle of poverty for their entire lives. Additionally, these children could constitute the next generation of suicide bombers and militant terrorists.”

It would seem the foundation block for such is already been laid. Along Mission Road, Benin City, there is a building bordering the Holy Cross Cathedral of the Roman Catholic Church.

There are allegations that a certain cartel goes to the North and transports vulnerable children; victims and none victims of insurgents and uses them to beg for alms. Whatever is made by these children is collected by the leader for their accommodation and only a fraction given to them as reward.

At an inter-religious forum, the state governor, Godwin Obaseki, had requested Christian and Muslim leaders to help tackle the challenge of street children. That appeal is still awaiting proper attention. At another occasion, Governor Obaseki stated government would need to think through long-term solutions as regards issues of resettling the IDPs and ensuring their reintegration into the society.

It is hoped that urgent actions would be rolled out in all states where the footprints of Boko Haram can be seen.