On July 28th, suspected remnants of Boko Haram terrorists attacked a
humanitarian convoy as it returned to Mauguiri from delivering aid in
Bama, Borno State, injuring a UNICEF employee, an International
Organization for Migration contractor, 2 soldiers and 3 civilians.
On the eve of World Humanitarian Day(August 19) UNICEF worker Gerida
Birukila reflects on the attack. He wrote;
"I was tired, but feeling upbeat. Slightly high on the sugar rush from
the dried mangoes a colleague had shared with me in the car – the first
thing I had had time to eat all day – I was going over in my head all we
had managed to achieve during our busy day in the beleaguered town of
Bama" Birukila writes.
An explosion suddenly filled the air with smoke and gunfire erupted,
waves of bullets slamming into our car. Thud, thud, thud – bullets were
hitting the window beside my head, the door I had been leaning against.
Our vehicle was armoured, resisting round after round, and although
the windows shattered, they remained intact. I ducked, joining my
colleague on the floor of the car as the intense gunfire continued. We
held hands. And I prayed.
The gunfire shredded our tyres and damaged our engine, but our driver
accelerated, struggling to keep the vehicle on the road and to get us
away from the ambush as quickly as he could. We passed a military
vehicle that had been ahead of us and had engaged our attackers. Some of
the soldiers we could clearly see were injured.
We had managed to leave the battle behind us, but after about a
kilometre, smoke pouring out of its engine, our vehicle gave out, coming
to a complete stop. We radioed the other UNICEF vehicle, which had been
behind us in the convoy, to ask them to pick us up. It was not the
driver who responded, as we had expected, and when they stopped for us,
we saw why. He was slumped in the back of the vehicle, bleeding
profusely. Another colleague had taken the wheel. We piled in as quickly
as we could, filling every space possible in the vehicle and abandoning
our own.
The tires had also been shot out on this vehicle and its engine also
damaged, but it got us further, to the town of Konduga several
kilometres away. Nigerian military vehicles raced in the opposite
direction as we drove, hurrying to do battle with the group that had
ambushed us.
No day is ever “normal” or “ordinary” up here. Especially as we have
gradually started to gain access to parts of Borno state that have been
cut off from all assistance for years under the control of Boko Haram.
As we venture out to these communities we find people suffering as I
have never seen before. The brutal conflict in northeast Nigeria has
left them hungry and ailing, without access to clean water or medical
care. Every day, we have been trying to reach as many of these people
and communities as we can, knowing a single day can mean the difference
between life and death for a malnourished or sick child.
We work with partners on the ground, who take care of basic medical
treatment and treat children for malnutrition, give vaccines, dig
boreholes and build latrines. We organize, train and set up systems so
that we can multiply the effect of the work we do, to reach more people.
My day in Bama, where 25,000 traumatised people have sought relative
safety and where conditions are slowly improving, had been spent working
with community mobilizers who screen children for malnutrition and make
sure pregnant women are given antenatal care and that children get
life-saving vaccinations. My other UNICEF colleagues had been working on
health and nutrition, water and sanitation, and it had been gratifying
to see the systems develop and so many more people getting better
quality assistance. As we had gathered to get into our vehicles for the
drive from Bama back to our base in the town of Maiduguri, we had agreed
it had been a good day. But it was to turn out a far less “normal” day
than others.
As soon as our damaged vehicle limped into the town of Konduga an
ambulance was summoned. The colleague who had taken the wheel from our
injured driver is a medical doctor and he now took over the care of our
driver, accompanying him in the ambulance back to Maiduguri. Under such
heavy fire, the glass of the driver’s side window had eventually broken
and several pieces of glass had pierced his face.
We waited in Konduga for the others who had been in the convoy—we had
all left Bama together and now, over the next 40 agonizing minutes,
they also joined us in Konduga; we hugged as they arrived. The fighting
had continued and several of the cars, like ours, had been abandoned,
but fortunately everyone was accounted for and nobody had been killed.
Had it not been for the armoured vehicles, it is likely none of us would
have survived.
Everyone had stayed remarkably calm during the attack–the injured
UNICEF driver had carried on driving until the vehicle was out of
danger, doubtless saving the lives of everyone in the vehicle, before he
stopped to give up the wheel. We were shaken, indeed, and I am sure I
am not the only one to have quietly wept at home that night. It takes
time to really sink in how close we came to death and we are all
grateful to have made it out of the ambush alive. And with that
gratitude for our lives, we are all even more determined to carry on
reaching those who need our help.
The UNICEF driver is recovering from his injuries and surgery. UNICEF
teams remain on the ground and continue to deliver assistance.
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