Her Name is Amina (Part 2)

It was then she recognized their faces. They were both local hunters- probably on morning patrol following rumours of a possible ‘Boko Haram’ attack on the village. In her state, Amina was too terrified to greet. Neither party exchanged pleasantries. From their expressions, however, it was clear they disapproved of her presence on the road that morning. Her presence was a distraction. They would rather preoccupy their minds with genuine threats and not little girls in school uniform. They would rather she ran back home to her parents and stayed there. These sentiments were vividly conveyed but not voiced. As they passed her on either side, they reeked of a foul stench of blood and death.

Amina breathed a huge sigh of relief when they passed and quickened her pace. She had almost died of fright. She knew she couldn’t go through such an ordeal again and had to get to Bilkisu’s house as quickly as possible. She couldn’t do this alone anymore.

On reaching her classmate’s house, she observed that it looked abandoned. Nobody responded to her greetings of ‘salaam aleikum’ or ‘ina kwana?’. There was no sign of life. She peered into their zaure. The occupants had relocated elsewhere in a hurry as they had left items scattered all over the place. She made out broken earthenware pots, a chipped mortar, and a broken pestle within the compound.

“Bilkisu!” she called out in a hushed tone.

Nobody answered. She waited a while but time was not on her side as the exam was scheduled to commence in the next few minutes. The realization that she would have to continue her journey to school alone hit Amina like a bolt of lightning. She held the mud wall of the house to steady herself and gather her wits. What had happened to her friend? Where was everybody?

This was too much.

“Hello, girl. C-can you help me?”

Shocked, Amina turned to where the voice had come from within the compound. Lying on the ground behind some earthenware jars with his back against the wall, was a wounded Nigerian soldier. He did not look like he was from these parts. A fair-skinned, handsome young man in brown camouflage, bleeding profusely from his left arm. He was clutching the area below his left shoulder to exert pressure and reduce the bleeding but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Help me… please! Don’t just stand there.” He winced in pain.

Amina snapped out of her shock immediately and rushed towards the soldier. His brown camouflage uniform was bloodstained all over and his eyes were a pale white. How can I stop him from losing blood so quickly? Having learnt some First Aid in school the last term, Amina knew what she had to do. If only she could find a piece of cloth! She searched the empty house but found nothing. In desperation, she pulled off her hijab and deftly used it and the broken pestle to form a tourniquet.

The soldier groaned in pain as she twisted the pestle tightly to increase pressure on the arm and stop the bleeding. When satisfied that it had reduced, she proceeded to secure the windlass to his arm. He watched her in gratitude and admiration. Thank goodness his first responder knew just what to do under such circumstances!

“Thank you,” he whispered feebly. “My name is Corporal Okafor. My platoon was ambushed by Boko Haram…I managed to escape… ran all through the night…don’t know how many of us …”

“Please, sir,” Amina said gently. “Conserve your strength.”

She studied him again for serious injuries then scanned around the compound for clues to her friend’s disappearance. It was then she noticed his damaged rifle at the far end of the compound. He had probably flung it in frustration, she thought, or to prove to anyone that he was unarmed. But how long had he been lying here alone? Her eyes returned to him sympathetically as he winced loudly. He was clearly in a lot of pain and needed medical assistance. But he was too heavy for her to move alone. She had to go back for help. Hey, what about her paper? It would start soon! What was she to do?

She did the first thing that came to her mind. Amina picked a plastic bowl from the ground and filled it with water from one of the clay jars in the yard.

“Drink,” she said softly.

Feebly, he drank.

“Don’t worry, sir,” she assured him. “I will get help for you.”

“Thank you, my sister.”

Amina dashed out for help. She would have to miss her 8.30 am exam. This soldier needed urgent attention. As the wind brushed over her hair while she ran, she suddenly became quite conscious that it was uncovered- although plaited. School uniform, uncovered hair, helping an infidel Nigerian soldier- her transgressions under ‘Boko Haram’ tenets were growing by the minute. But she spared little thought on the matter. After all, there was nobody about to see her. Or so she hoped.

She ran into neighbouring compounds and banged on doors desperately. Nobody answered. She went to several others along the way but got no response. The families had either moved away or were cowering in fear of the Black Flag. Probably they thought she was being chased by the terrorists so no door opened. After some deep contemplation along the road, Amina steeled herself and ran back to Bilkisu’s house.

“Come, sir. Try and stand. I will help you!” she said with a sense of conviction. “We have to leave here and go to the school. There is nobody here to assist you and my house is too far.”

Using his rifle and Amina for support, the soldier struggled to his feet. He would have been six-foot-tall if he stood erect but he was almost doubled up as they slowly made their way out of the house and down the dusty road. At their laboured pace, it would take them at least forty-five minutes to get there. Amina no longer cared about the exam- at least not right now. She would think about that later.

The journey was tedious, with brief stops along the way for both of them to catch their breath. On one of those occasions, while they sat by the roadside, the exhausted soldier inquired why she was going to school at that time. Wasn’t she late?

“I am writing my WAEC exams, sir. Finishing today.”

Chukwudi winced an apology which Amina quickly waived aside. “You’re a brave girl,” he said as he painfully lay on his back. “May you pass with flying colours.”

There was silence for a while as Amina realised that she had missed her paper. It must have started half an hour ago. A paper she was almost certain to have gotten a straight ‘A’ in. Health Science was one of her favourite subjects. But somehow Amina felt she had made the right decision here and that her father would have been proud of her- if not more afraid for her safety. Everything happens for a reason, she had been taught. The most important thing now was to get attention for Mr. Okafor and get out of harm’s way.

Suddenly, they heard the noise of a vehicle coming in their direction. It sounded like a truck.

“Quick!” the corporal gasped. “Let’s hide! It’s them! They are coming!”

Chukwudi put his right arm over Amina’s shoulder and staggered to his feet with a groan. She almost stumbled from his sudden weight but steadied herself. If she fell now that would be their sure end. She had to be strong. Amina clenched her teeth in determination and pushed deliberately towards the bushes by the road. They had barely made it to the nearest thicket when a Toyota Hilux pickup truck came into view, jostling over the pot-holes. The wounded soldier flung himself to the ground, pulling a terrified Amina down with him. He raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to remain still.

It was a white pickup truck with an inscription on the sides. Amina could not make out the words in the distance so she waited for the truck to draw closer. There was a driver and at the backseat was a bald man dressed in white. Two mobile police officers sat at the back of the truck with AK-47 rifles at the ready, heads bobbing to the motion of the vehicle. Amina squinted in the sun as she tried to read the truck’s inscriptions again.

“West… African… Examinations… Council”

Without sparing a thought for her safety, Amina dashed out onto the road in front of the speeding truck, ignoring Okafor’s remonstrations and waving her hands frantically in the air. He called out to her feebly from the bushes, demanding that she got back before it was too late. But it was too late. The truck had screeched to a halt. The police officers were now aiming their rifles menacingly at her petite frame and barking orders. It was all happening too fast.

“Amina!” the soldier yelled. “Why… What are you doing?”

“It’s WAEC, sir! It’s a WAEC truck!” she replied.

The truck’s rear passenger door flew open and the Examination Officer stepped out in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. He stared at Amina for an eternity, bemused, then quietly instructed the policemen to lower their weapons. They protested, reminding him that children were sometimes used as a decoy by terrorists. He responded coolly that he was quite aware of the risks involved and repeated his instruction. This time they complied.

“Hey, school girl!” he called out sternly, “What’s the meaning of this? You could have gotten yourself killed there!”

“Beg your pardon, sir! Good afternoon, sir! Please I have a wounded soldier there in the bushes, sir. He needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible or he will die,” she blurted out. “His platoon was attacked by Boko Haram!”

The exam officer’s brow furrowed with concern and a bit of suspicion. He stared at the bushes she was pointing to and coughed suddenly. Too much damn smoke and dust in the air. “Attacked, you say? Musa, come down and check if the young lady is telling the truth.”

One of the police officers jumped down cautiously and, with his rifle at the ready, approached the bushes. Clearing a path with his boots and rifle, he disappeared behind the thickets. Within seconds, he re-emerged carrying the wounded soldier. One arm was flung over his shoulder while he held him up by the hip. Corporal Okafor had passed out from loss of blood and exhaustion.

“Sah, it is true-o! This man don wound well-well,” he said in pidgin. “Make we comot here quick before him die.”

“Come with us, young lady,” the exam officer beckoned firmly. “It’s not safe here.”

With some help from his colleague, the policeman laid Corporal Okafor at the back of the truck then clambered in, slamming the tailgates closed hurriedly. Amina sat in the backseat with the exam officer while the driver tried starting the engine. After three attempts, the vehicle finally roared to life to everyone’s relief and was turned towards the direction of the community clinic some kilometres away.

“You’re a brave girl,” the exam officer said with a smile on his face. “What is your name?”
“My name is Amina, sir. Amina Garba.”
“Well, Miss Amina. Where were you headed initially? To school, I presume?”

“Yes, sir. To take the Health Science exam.”

“Oh dear, but we just concluded it. I’m taking the exam papers and answer sheets back into town.”

Amina’s face fell. She already knew that she had missed the exam but the stark reality was only just hitting her. Well, she had done the right thing. She had to remember that. Baba would be proud of her. Quickly, she turned away and looked out the window, fighting back tears. She was failing miserably at this as the tears rolled down warming her cheeks in the process. Seeing her faint reflection on the glass, she quickly brushed the tears away and sniffed back a trickle in embarrassment. You’ll be fine.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Damn! He had seen me crying! You’re such a baby! She tried to comport herself one last time, stiffen her quivering lips and inhale deeply.

“Miss Amina?”

“S-sir?”

The sternness in his voice sobered her up instantly as she turned around to look at him. The exam officer sat there, holding up a booklet and some sheets of paper in front of her.

“The journey into town is long and the road rough,” he said flatly. “You have exactly one hour to take this paper if you wish, young lady. Can you do it under these conditions?”

Amina brushed away tears, looked briefly at the soldier lying at the back of the truck then back at the exam officer. Was he serious? He looked serious.

She smiled gratefully and collected her exam materials with both hands. “Oh, y-yes, sir. I…I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Good girl.” He looked at his chrome-plated wristwatch for a few seconds. “Your exam starts…now!”

END