Power, sex and slaves: Nigeria battles beliefs of Boko Haram brides

Changing her son’s nappy, a wry smile flickered across Aisha’s face as she recalled the power she wielded as the wife of a leading
Boko Haram commander, living in the jihadists’ forest stronghold in northeast Nigeria.

“I had many slaves – they did everything for me,” the 25-year-old said, explaining how women and girls kidnapped by the Islamist militants washed, cooked and babysat for her during the three years she spent in their base in the vast Sambisa forest.

“Even the men respected me because I was Mamman Nur’s wife. They could not look me in the eye,” Aisha said in a state safe house in Maiduguri, where she has lived for almost a year since being captured by the Nigerian army in a raid in Sambisa.

Aisha is among around 70 women and children undergoing a deradicalisation programme – led by psychologists and Islamic teachers – designed to challenge the teachings they received and beliefs they adopted while under the control of Boko Haram.

Thousands of girls and women have been abducted by the group since it began its insurgency in 2009 – most notably the more than 200 Chibok girls snatched from their school in April 2014 – with many used as cooks, sex slaves, and even suicide bombers.

Yet some of these women, like Aisha, gained respect, influence and standing within Boko Haram, which has waged a bloody campaign to create an Islamic state in the northeast.

Seduced by this power, and relieved to escape the domestic drudgery of their everyday lives, these women can prove tougher than men to deradicalise and reintegrate into their communities, according to the Neem Foundation, which runs the programme.

With more women likely to be freed from Boko Haram or widowed as Nigeria’s military strives to defeat the militants, experts say insults, rejection and even violence towards them as they return to their communities could hinder efforts to repair the social fabric of a region splintered by Boko Haram.

“There is a possibility of violence (when these women go home) because they were married to Boko Haram militants,” Fatima Akilu, the head of Neem, told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.

“There is still a lot of anger and resentment from communities that have been traumatised for years, and subjected to atrocities by the group,” she added.

NEWFOUND POWER

While other women huddled around the communal television Maiduguri, the capital of Borno state, 22-year-old Halima recalled the ‘beautiful home’ built by her Boko Haram husband in the and the easy life she enjoyed. Trucks arrived regularly with food and clothes, a hospital staffed with doctors and nurses tended to the ill, and Halima was given house she shared with her husband.

“Anything I requested, I got,” said Halima, sitting under a tree in the yard and lazily picking her toenails. Life in the Sambisa for women like Halima was a far cry from the deep-rooted patriarchy in the mainly Muslim northeast, where rates of child marriage, literacy among girls, and women in positions of power are far worse than in the rest of Nigeria.

The escape from reality, and taste of freedom and autonomy afforded to the wives of Boko Haram militants, highlights the challenge facing Neem to deradicalise the women.

Many are not ready to relinquish their newfound power. Despite being kidnapped by Boko Haram when they attacked her town of Banki four years ago, Aisha was not forced to marry Nur, the suspected mastermind of a suicide bomb attack on U.N. headquarters in Abuja in 2011 that killed 23 people. Aisha was courted for months and showered with gifts by Nur, who has a $160,000 state bounty on his head, before agreeing to become his fourth wife.

When she told Nur to divorce his second wife – because she did not like her – he did so right away.

*Source: Thomas Reuters Foundation
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