Desolation

The newscaster says “northern Nigeria”—not a state or a town—and before I have had a chance to quite hear it, he has moved on to the crisis in Ukraine. I scramble online to google news, and find more details. AFP reports: 45 bodies taken to the morgue in Buni Yadi, Yobe, after an attack on […]

The newscaster says “northern Nigeria”—not a state or a town—and before I have had a chance to quite hear it, he has moved on to the crisis in Ukraine. I scramble online to google news, and find more details. AFP reports: 45 bodies taken to the morgue in Buni Yadi, Yobe, after an attack on the federal government college. By Wednesday, PM news reports that the number of dead has risen to 59.
I avoid photos of massacres, but on twitter one pops up in my feed. I see them, young boys—they look like they are only 10 years old—lying in their own blood. Teachers tell BBC the terrorists killed the boys and told the girls to leave school and get married. This comes only two weeks after twenty girls are kidnapped from another boarding school in Konduga, Borno.
Journalist Alkasim Abdulkadir tweets, “Between June 2013 and February 2014, 136 students have been killed in Yobe State.”
Filmmaker Sani Mu’azu writes on Facebook about the photo: “Does a picture bleed this much? Never know an image this disturbing and I have seen many. One that strikes at our collective conscience as a people in a nation. An image that questions our sense of propriety and responsibility. One that made me cringe as a father and ashamed as an African, Nigerian and Northern. Why did they slaughter these children? For what crime? Over what reasons? With what justifications? How can they sleep at night after this mind boggling disaster, disgusting failure and horrendous disgrace? Who is responsible? Why is nobody resigning over this ineptness? Why are there no feathers being ruffled? Is that all? Who has the answer?”
That is the question. Who has the answer? What is the answer?
I want to write on happy things. I want to write about a google documentary project my brother was involved in, ten 2-minute internet videos featured on africaconnected.com that highlight entrepreneurs using the internet all over Africa. Google will give the entrepreneurs behind the most voted videos a sizeable sum. There are good things happening. There are brave, smart, people coming up with creative solutions to challenging environments. But, yet, it feels wrong to write about anything else when millions of people are living in terror, when hundreds of people die weekly. We need stories of hope and yet we also need to respect those who are suffering among us. What is the balance? I do not know.
I resent people going about their lives in a normal fashion. I resent laughter. I go to university events, and I resent the academic rat-race and smug one-upmanship of symposiums and seminars, of dry big-worded theories about art and literature, when people are being killed in Borno, in Yobe, in Adamawa. I resent people for talking about anything else, when this is happening on the earth. And yet I know I am not being fair. It is the way the world has always been. It’s just that the horrors are closer to home this time.
We need to hear more voices from the regions being ravaged. We need to hear more names and stories. The Testimonial Archive Project at http://testimonialarchiveproject.wordpress.com/  is one platform seeking these stories to create an “archive of the voices of ordinary Nigerian citizens living in the northeast that details the human cost of the violence.” Their larger goal is to be a “a springboard for further, more people-focused activism.”
A few days before I hear about the Buni Yadi school attack, I receive a message from an acquaintance in Yola who asks me to call her Lucy:
“I was thinking about my brother, then I saw your column. It just coincides with my thoughts. I was praying because a village not far from where my brother is was attacked, and it so happened that the Church attacked is where my brother’s friend and classmate is the priest in charge. A family friend lost more than five family members in the attack. People left their homes. They are here in Yola searching for where to put their heads. Every day I hear the sound of a jet patrolling my area. I am just tired of everything from insecurity to injustice. I think Poverty should be criminalized by the government. It’s a crime to be poor in this country. A poor man has nowhere to hide. Sad, sad, angry, angry, piss, piss. – Lucy”
Wednesday evening in America, night in Nigeria. I receive another message from Lucy. “Sun shigo our village right now as I am writing you,” she said. She had not been able to get in touch with several family members.
Horrified, I write her back that I am praying. I don’t know what else to say, so I send her the first Scripture that leaps into my mind:
“We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.[…]
Christ Jesus, who died–more than that, who was raised to life–is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or the sword? As it is written:
‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”” Romans 8:26-27, 35-39
And in my mind, I hear the opening strains of Martin Luther’s hymn “ A Mighty Fortress is our God,” (translated from German into English by Frederick H. Hedge.) Verses 1,3 and 4 seem particularly relevant.
1. A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper he amid the flood
of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
doth seek to work us woe;
his craft and power are great,
 and armed with cruel hate,
on earth is not his equal.

[…]
3. And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us, we will not fear, for God hath willed his truth to triumph through us.
The Prince of Darkness grim,
we tremble not for him;
his rage we can endure,
for lo, his doom is sure;
one little word shall fell him.

4. That word above all earthly powers,
 no thanks to them, abideth;
the Spirit and the gifts are ours,
thru him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
this mortal life also;
the body they may kill;
God’s truth abideth still;
his kingdom is forever.
As the morning dawns in Nigeria, the night grows deeper where I write. Lucy contacts me again. She says she has heard from her missing family members. They are safe for one more day under the sun.
Allah ya kiyaye.