As dawn broke, he awakened with a heightened level of anxiety. He had trekked several kilometres from a village close to Abuja; the last village a truck had volunteered to drop him. He was seeking the place he believed was his destiny to find. He got up, and rolled up his sleeping baggage; a set of very old blankets he had grabbed from what was left on the bed he slept on for years. He went to a nearby tap and washed his face and rinsed his mouth, after which, it was time to begin a series of actions he had set up to achieve by the grace of God. It didn’t take long before he was noticed. A dissident loitering a few
metres away from an Embassy was always going to draw some attention.
“What do you want here?” one of the officers asked in a brisk tone. No
answer came from the young boy. “You can’t stay around here. Please kindly pack
your belongings and leave,” said the second officer after a brief moment. The
young boy stood there and gaped, not because he was stubborn, but because he
didn’t know what to say to the officers. “Let’s go. We will observe him from
the gate,” said one of the officers. As the officers turned their backs to leave,
“I wish to see the Ambassador,” suddenly sprung from the young boy. His
demeanor morphed into that of confrontation as he stood at ease and raised his
chin with a frown. The officers turned and faced him. This was now concerning
to them since they knew he could speak and he was asking for the Ambassador.
One of them raised his walkie-talkie and spoke to a superior officer. After a
while of correspondence through the walkie-talkie, the officers left the young boy
standing there with his ambition for company, and without a word, they returned
back to their duty posts.
When pure determination drives an individual, only a tangible form of
hopelessness can deter progress. The young boy laboured in his thoughts, and
went about laying his siege for the Ambassador for some days under a heightened
level of security. Since he was not in close proximity to the Embassy, he was
not an immediate threat, and therefore was closely monitored. After two days,
he had exhausted whatever little money he had brought with him from wherever he
came from. Cold nights spoke to him with whimpering sounds and treated him very
harshly. He looked up at the sky at night and whispered silently to his creator,
“Please, do something soon because I know you can.”
On the fourth day of his adventure, dawn swam up on him quickly. He was
still curled up in his ragtag beddings when he felt the light and heat of sun
rays on his skin. He raised his eyelids slightly to find that the day was
getting old already. He also saw what looked like a flashy black sedan car
drive up the gate of the Embassy. This alerted him, so he sat up quickly. If
something was going to happen, it had to happen that day or his condition would
degenerate immeasurably. He was beaten, scotched, hungry and losing hope fast.
Something had to give. An involuntary rush of adrenaline drawn from the brief self-appraisal
of his condition pushed him up, and he began to float his energy-spent body in
the breeze towards the black sedan. He felt dizzy and only realised how weak he
was when he began to walk. As he inched closer to the gate, each stride he took
left a piece of his remaining strength behind him. His haphazard dance to stay
upright alerted the security officers and they immediately deployed emergency
response protocol. They rushed out towards him while the gates opened to allow
the sedan to quickly drive in. However, the last thing the young boy saw before
collapsing to the ground, were the two security officers who rushed to contain
him. He finally succumbed to the darkness that haunted him.
The security officers jogged to a halt over the motionless body of the
young boy. Finally, the young boy had caught the attention of the Ambassador who
was actually seated at the back of the black sedan and had watched the young boy’s
dance and fall. The Ambassador asked for a briefing on the situation after
which he instructed that emergency medical aid be provided to the young boy.
The situation which was initially a security concern had quickly become a
medical emergency.
After a thorough search of his body, he was taken to the dispensary
which was close to the gate. The young boy opened his eyes to discover he was
on a bed and had a syringe stuck to his arm. He was frightened. His fright kept
him still, as he rolled his eyes around to document what was going on. He could
see the officers who ran towards him earlier chatting by the doorway, he could
see a nurse seated by a table and jotting down something on a paper. He
followed the needle and tube stuck to his arm and discovered a bag of liquid
hanging over the bed on which he laid. He had reached a crossroad in his
mission. What was he to do next? He had no immediate thoughts so he relaxed and
allowed fate to take control. He had tried his best.
A few hours later he woke up from sleep. “You are awake,” said an
excited nurse who had spent into her off duty hours because of him. She asked
him to sit up and gave him a glass of water to drink. “Please where can I ease
myself?” he asked. The nurse turned to the security officers who also heard the
question. She was silent until one of the officers said “follow me.” The
security officer showed him the toilet which was theirs and he eased himself.
“Can I go now?” asked the young boy. “The Ambassador would like to have a word
with you, so if you don’t mind, let us go back to the dispensary.” The security
officer was devoid of empathy. This was not his routine ‘used-to’ kind of day. To
him, this was just another less privileged boy who sought alms from the wrong
place. A waste of time.
The boy waited for the Ambassador. Minutes turned to hours. The boy
watched as security and dispensary personnel changed shift. After many grueling
hours of staring around the small dispensary room, someone came and fetched
him. The room they entered seemed like a dining area. There was food on the
table in nice dishes. Momentarily, another door opened and two white men walked
in and seemed to be chatting about something of interest. They sat down before
they noticed him. After he was introduced, the man who ushered him in, left the
room. The boy stood there in awe. That was his first time of seeing a white person.
He now had two in front of him for comparison. He kept looking at their hair.
He felt they looked silky and unkempt. He watched as they stuck little napkins
into their collars before each picked up a fork and knife. His gaze was stuck
on the plates of food before him so much that he was inattentive when he was
asked “are you hungry?” The sound of snapping fingers brought him back to
reality. “Are you hungry?” asked one of the white men again. “No” answered the
boy abruptly, and suddenly, he answered “yes” thrice in quick repetitions. “Of
course! Grab a plate” said the white man. He nodded and stumbled clumsily
towards the table. He was extremely shy and was told everything to do. He sat
some seats away after dishing a sizeable portion of the rice and stew in order
to give the white men some space. He wasn’t spoken to again after he had dished
his food. He couldn’t really understand the conversations and they would not
stop talking. The white men talked all through their meal.
After all plates were cleaned up, the white man that had been speaking to
him left. The boy was under the impression that was the Ambassador. He was now
left with the one that just stared, and happened to be the Ambassador. The
Ambassador cleaned his hands and looked at the boy for a while before asking
“what did you want to see me for?” Even though that question was what the boy
had endured so much to hear, it came out so simply that he was lost on how to
begin to answer it. So, he did what he felt was the right thing. He started by
saying his name.
“My name is Usman Haruna” and then, he went on. “I am 15 years old. I
was an orphan, and until last week, lived in a local orphanage home at a
country side near Jos, Plateau state. We were about twenty that lived in the
home and Mama Hamisu was our mother. She and her helpers took care of us. I was
the oldest. We only attended primary school because it was free. There was no
money for Mama to put us in secondary school. So, those of us old enough helped
people with farm and domestic work and got paid for our work. We gave the money
to Mama who used it to care for us with whatever she got from elsewhere.” The
boy paused and dropped his head before he continued. The Ambassador listened
with rapt attention. Just then, the other white man entered the room and sat
down almost unnoticed.
“Last week Wednesday, we all had dinner and went to bed. It had rained
heavily in the evening so the night was cold. Very late in the night, we began
to hear people shouting desperately. We all woke up terrified. The village was
under attack by bandits. We were hurried to run into the bush. It was
horrifying. We couldn’t see anything in front of us. We just kept running and
running. Even Mama Hamisu ran with us in her old age. After a while of running,
we stopped at the foot of a hill and packed ourselves up under a tree. Mama
Hamisu and the helpers told us to keep absolute quiet. That was how we were
able to hear the shouting from the village which continued unabated. We slept
at the foot of that hill that night. In the morning, we discovered many other
villagers too had run with us to the foot of the hill. We were so many. When we
got closer to the village, the wailing we heard grew louder. People had lost
loved ones in numbers. The whole village including our house was burnt down.”
The boy began to sob loudly as tears streamed out of his eyes without
ceasing. The white men stared on in absolute silence. After his sobs became
hiccups, he cleaned his face with his shirt and continued. His head was still
dropped.
“The destruction was total. So many people were killed including women
and children. Fortunately for us, it seemed we had escaped early enough. Mama
Hamisu told us it had happened before and that was how most of us came to be
with her. We packed a few light belongings, mostly clothing. We trekked with
Mama Hamisu to a very large camp where we met hundreds of other people from
other villages that were also attacked. The camp was a school and we had to
share a classroom with many other people. There was very little to eat and very
little water to drink. I could not cope after about five days. I found myself
crying every night and asking why life was so unfair. I told Mama I was going
to get some help. She tried to talk me out of it, but I told her I was leaving
regardless of whatever she thought. She gave me 500 naira and prayed for me. I
have trekked from village to village and rode at the back of trucks. When I got
to Abuja, some people were kind enough to point me in the direction of the
Embassy. This is my story.”
The white men looked at themselves and adjusted in their seats. After a
brief moment of silence, the Ambassador asked the boy, “What do you want me to
do for you and why didn’t you go to your government?” The boy answered, “Before
I left, I told Mama I was coming back with help for them. I have no other place
to go and my time at the orphanage is over. I have no future in this country,
and I wish to leave all these bad memories behind. I am a very good footballer
and I can work very hard too. Please take me to your country, and I promise to
be very hard working, finish my education, and play a lot of good football for
you.” The Ambassador smiled thereafter and the other white man with him smiled
even more. After sharing a few chitchats, the Ambassador sent for someone and
said to the boy, “go and have your bath and get some rest. We will discuss help
for Mama Hamisu and the other children in the morning.” As millions of people
are being displaced by conflict and natural disasters around the world,
humanity has been called to action. We must now demonstrate our willingness to
sustain our kind through selfless acts of service, love, honesty, kindness and
brotherliness. This is dedicated to all displaced persons globally.
