Freed Boko Haram ‘wives’ return to captors

In our series of letters from African journalists, ADAOBI TRICIA NWAUBANI looks at why some Nigerian women have gone back to the militant Islamists who abducted them.

When news emerged that some of the Chibok schoolgirls, abducted by Boko Haram in 2014, had declined to return home with the batch of 82 freed in May, the world found it diffi cult to believe. Not even the release of a Boko Haram video showing some hijab-clad, Kalashnikovwielding girls saying they were happy in their new lives, was enough to convince people. “Th ey must have been coerced,” some said.

“It must be Stockholm syndrome,” others said. What else could explain why any girl, any woman, would choose to remain with such horrible men? Yet, some women rescued by the Nigerian military from captivity are willingly returning to Boko Haram’s Sambisa forest hideout in north-eastern Nigeria to be with these same horrible men. In January, I met Aisha Yerima, 25, who was kidnapped by Boko Haram more than four years ago. While in captivity, she got married to a commander who showered her with romance, expensive gifts and Arabic love songs.

Th e fairytale life in the Sambisa forest she described to me was suddenly cut short by the appearance of the Nigerian military in early 2016, at a time her husband had gone off to battle with other commanders. When I fi rst interviewed Aisha, she had been in government custody for about eight months, and completed a de-radicalisation programme run by psychologist Fatima Akilu, the executive director of the Neem Foundation and founder of the Nigerian government’s de-radicalisation programme.

“I now see that all the things Boko Haram told us were lies,” Aisha said. “Now, when I listen to them on the radio, I laugh.” The pull of power? But, in May, less than fi ve months after being released into the care of her family in northeastern Maiduguri city, she returned to the forest hideout of Boko Haram. Over the past fi ve years, Dr Akilu has worked with former Boko Haram members – including some commanders, their wives and children – and with hundreds of women who were rescued from captivity. “How women were treated when in Boko Haram captivity depends on which camp a woman was exposed to. It depends on the commander running the camp,” she said. “Th ose who were treated

better were the ones who willingly married Boko Haram members or who joined the group voluntarily and that’s not the majority. Most women did not have the same treatment.” Aisha had boasted to me about the number of slaves she had while in the Sambisa forest, the respect she received from other Boko Haram commanders, and the strong infl uence she had over her husband. She even accompanied him to battle once.

“Th ese were women who for the most part had never worked, had no power, no voice in the communities, and all of a sudden they were in charge of between 30 to 100 women who were now completely under their control and at their beck and call,” Dr Akilu said. “It is diffi cult to know what to replace it with when you return to society because most of the women are returning to societies where they are not going to be able to wield that kind of power.

” Still in shock Apart from loss of power, other reasons Dr Akilu believes could lead women to willingly return to Boko Haram include stigmatisation from a community which treats them like pariahs because of their association with the militants, and tough economic conditions. “De-radicalisation is just one part of it. Reintegration is also a part of it. Some of them have no livelihood support built around them,” Dr Akilu said.

“Th e kind of support you have in de-radicalisation programmes does not follow you when you leave. Th ey often come out successful from deradicalisation programmes but they struggle in the community and it is that struggle that often leads them to go back,” she said. Recently, I visited Aisha’s family, who were still in shock at her departure and worried about her wellbeing. Her mother, Ashe, re