Photograph — BBC.com

“For many victims of the Boko Haram insurgency in north-eastern Nigeria, the tragedy never seems to end. It simply takes on new dimensions.”

32-year-old Maria David Zaya, is a frustrated mother who simply seeks to regain custody of her two-year-old daughter, Precious, who was kidnapped by Boko Haram during an attack in Madagali, Adamawa state about two years ago. Maria, who resides in Port Harcourt, was visiting her in-laws when the Jihadist group struck, raided the village leaving with women and children.

According to the story by Adaobi T. Nwaubani for BBC, one of the kidnapped women escaped some weeks later, and informed Maria that her daughter, Precious, had been given to one of the wives of a Boko Haram commander. Distressed, Maria returned to Port Harcourt believing that Precious was forever lost.

Seven months later, she received a call from her neighbour in the village that her daughter was seen among Boko Haram captives rescued by the Nigerian military. But by the time Maria arrived Malkohi camp for the displaced in Yola, where the rescued were originally taken, Precious was no longer there.

“Maria spent three months shuttling several government, military and NGO offices, and with the assistance of a Red Cross official, finally found her daughter at the Nigerian Defence Academy, Kaduna, where legitimate wives of Boko Haram members (not those forcefully married) were being held with their children for a debriefing process,” writes Nwaubani.

Maria told Nwaubani, that her daughter seemed to have recognized her as she (Precious) continuously stared and followed her around. Maria soon learned that her daughter had a new name, Yagana, and a new guardian, Asabe, wife of a Jihadist. One would think that with such development, Maria’s frustration would come to an end, but with what followed, her trouble was far from over.

Asabe insisted that Precious (Yagana) was her younger sister, and not Marias’. The disagreement led the military to ask Maria to return with her husband and proof of parentage. However when Maria and her husband returned a month later with photos of Precious and her birth certificate, they weren’t allowed into the camp because they were accompanied by an unauthorised official.

It took three months for the distressed parents to be assigned an authorised Red Cross official to accompany them back to Kaduna. But by then, “the residents of the defence academy refugee camp had been released.” Maria’s search began again. Months later, she found Asabe and Precious in a remote village in Borno state.

An officer of the State Investigative Bureau, Yola, handling the case told Nwaubani that such cases were not strange. And that there have been several incidents of more than one parent fighting over a child rescued from Boko Haram.

The story of Maria sheds light on yet another unpublicized issue around the activities of terrorism in north-eastern Nigeria. Clearly, the aftermath of these attacks spans far more than regularly publicized stories of IDP’s, rescued captives, arrested militants, and the Chibok girls. It raises a lot of questions around the dearth of essential structures that ought to be in place post rescue operations by the Nigerian military, and exposes a weak system. Why should it take three months for Maria to get an authorized official? And how can the military let a disputed child out of their sight?

Until certain structures are in place, and our institutions strengthened, we are fighting a futile battle here. Otherwise, how does one explain/describe a rescue operation where the supposed rescued remain in the custody of the captor?

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