Pinned to the back of our rented vehicle whose only occupants are myself and the driver Ousmane, I catch my breath, each time we enter a pothole, and that is like every other minute. The sun burns so hard, even the abundant melanin in my skin feels helpless. But on a journey like this one, the scourging heat of the sun is my least worry. The thought of us stepping on a landmine or being ambushed by terrorists, sends sweat trickling down my spine.
After a tiring three-hour drive from the Far North regional capital of Maroua, we finally reach our destination, Amchide. Bordering the Nigerian town of Maiduguri, it was a renowned Cameroonian business hub back in the days until October 2014 when it was occupied by Boko Haram, one of the world’s deadliest terrorist organizations. The military regained the town after a fierce battle, but dozens of inhabitants lost their lives, many were wounded, and thousands of people including the Chief, fled their homes.
Five years later, Amchide is recovering. The development program which I and Ousmane work for, refurbished the town’s health center, destroyed by the attackers in 2014.
As Reporting Officer, my mission here is to conduct interviews and take pictures for a success story.
As we meander through the dusty road leading to the health center, looking at the rubble of this fallen town, brings tears to my eyes.
Horrible images of what could have transpired here begin to cloud my imagination. Scenes of people being tortured, painful cries of women and children.
Then, it dawns on me that another attack could just occur right now!
Oh my God!
My heart starts racing, my fingers are shaking.
“Everything ok, Madame? Ousmane asks.
Our eyes meet through the rear-view mirror.
“Yes Ousmane, ok” I force a smile, not sure it works, but he continues driving.
I’m naturally anxious, but no, bad timing!
It’s my first time here, but clearly, this place is not for me.
What if Boko Haram spies have followed us all along?
What if they get hold of us?
I close my eyes, trying to keep calm.
I feel like just giving up and crying out like a baby.
But just when I am about to, Ousmane’s voice sounds again.
“Madame, we arrive!”
What?
We are parked in front of the health center!
A team of men and women in white, surely the staff, line up outside and a man probably the Director, is reaching out for my car door, smiling.
Within a few seconds, I murmur a short prayer, take a deep breath and reach for my bag.
My tour of the center is rather very successful, better than I had imagined!
Everyone is so nice; some nursing mothers even allow me to carry their babies. Life here is different, different from the scary streets.
As I round up my visit and walk back to my car, a voice comes calling.
I turn and see a young man, probably in his twenties.
He reaches out for a handshake and introduces himself as Gamagai, the president of the Amchide Youth Association.
I’m impressed by his courage and clean French.
“Please Madame I would like to talk to you about our project” he continues, full of enthusiasm.
I listen carefully as he talks about the youths’ initiative to clean-off remnants of war from their community.
His energy, his passion and his drive are just so overwhelming!
How could he be so inspired when he comes from such a difficult place?
He leads me to the site where the youth are cleaning and inquires if our program can support them with equipment to extend the initiative to other parts of the community.
I assure him that I would talk to my superiors once I get back and ask about their other projects.
Gamagai exudes so much confidence and optimism which I find contagious and healthy especially for someone like me who is usually afraid.
Just when our conversation is at its peak, Ousmane’s voice interrupts like an unwanted doorbell.
“Madame, time!” he beckons, pointing at his wristwatch
Oh my! So soon?
Amchide is a red zone and we must leave before 2pm.
But still, I want to stay.
The contrast between my panic attack at the entrance of the town and the attachment I feel right now, is like day and night.
I sadly walk back to my car saying to myself that I will not just end at talking to my supervisor about the youths’ initiative. I feel a strong urge to go further, to create a platform where youth in conflict zones like Gamagai can share their inspiring stories with the rest of the world.