Nigeria: Beyond the violence of Boko Haram

Charity’s Story: Beyond the violence of Boko Haram

The night of the attack

"It was the hot season," Theophilus says, "When they came." Charity was in the bathroom, cleaning up for the evening, when her brother came running in the house, "Put out the light! put out the light!" he shouted in hushed tones.

"That was the moment we found out Boko Haram was attacking our village," Charity says.

Boko Haram has long been one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the world. They view themselves as the ultimate expression of Islam, carrying out the true preaching and mission of the Muslim faith, which means fighting a holy war in their extremist view.

Even the name "Boko Haram" roughly means "Western education is forbidden." They believe anything outside of their radical interpretation of Islam is intended to be fought against and not accepted.

"I was scared," Theophilus shares. "I thought that we wouldn't survive. So, I grabbed my sister's hand, and we ran."
Charity grabbed her youngest daughter and quickly placed her on her back in a wrap.

"It was at that time that we ran away towards the mountains," Charity says. "We were heading in the same direction when a motorbike came toward us. That was how I got separated from my children. I went with my little girl, and my son ran in a different direction with his sister."

Charity ran towards the mouth of a cave and darted inside for shelter with others from the village. In the darkness, she whispered her children's names. No answer. She whispered again and again. "Theophilus… Elizabeth…"

Silence. What if they killed my children? Charity thought in the darkness.

The night in the cave was long. Finally, when day broke, everyone was quiet and shuffled cautiously out of the cave and started to walk back to the village to view the damage. On her way back, Charity heard that Boko Haram had killed some of her family members in the attack.

It was devastating news, and all she could think about at that moment was her children.

 

Picking up the pieces after religious violence

"When I arrived home, I didn't see my children," Charity says. "I couldn't even eat food or drink water throughout the day because there was no taste, and I was thinking if I drink this water and eat this food and my children are dead, of what use is the food to me?"

Weeks went by with no news, and fear overtook the village. There was no cell service, and many thought the roads were too dangerous to travel.

One day, alone in the house where they had been living with her mother, doing some chores, Charity heard her son calling out her name. When she looked out her front door, she saw her son and daughter walking toward her.

"I was so shocked and excited as I shouted their names!" Charity shares. "Seeing my children felt like a new dawn—everything changed because my lost children were back."
"We shed tears of joy," Theophilus says. The reunion was a profoundly moving answer to prayer.

"But soon after all the joy and laughter, we started remembering the fact that some of our family members had died," Charity shares. "So, we went to console our family members and mourned our loved ones. But I was greatly comforted because I saw my children were alive."

The struggle for Charity and her children wasn't over. In many ways, it was just beginning. They needed to rebuild their homes, find food and shelter, restore their churches from the ashes, replant crops and deal with the ongoing anxiety that Boko Haram was still out there. Somewhere. Would they attack again?

Standing with our brothers and sisters in Christ

When Open Doors heard about the attack on Guyaku, our partners in the field rushed into action to help provide emergency aid, food relief, support to rebuild—and critical trauma counseling.

"Your coming helped us a lot," Charity says. "At the time that we lost hope and had no place to stay—because we were sleeping in the bush behind the town after the incident occurred."

There are so many difficult memories that can stir up fear within the hearts of both Charity and her children. The darkness is a reminder of the violence. Loud noises can trigger shocked reactions, and even dogs barking can bring a shudder of fear after the sun sets on Guyaku.
"We didn't know we were traumatized," Charity shares. "We didn't even know what trauma meant. Then you came just at the time we needed the teaching on trauma. The teaching on trauma has helped us a lot."

"The attack put a wound in our hearts that would not be healed. But the teachings you gave us really helped us because it brought unity," she adds.

Finding a future after fear and loss

Charity's story represents thousands of persecuted Christians across Nigeria who are left to pick up the pieces after violent religious attacks by extremists like Boko Haram.

For brave believers like Charity, staying in her village means keeping a light for Christ shining bright in the region—even when the darkness surrounds it.

"Your coming has brought about new life because we didn't even believe that we would come back and start living in this town. It has given us hope of a life in the future," Charity says.

Through your prayer and support, Charity and her children know they're not alone, and the Body of Christ across the world stands with them. But there are so many more persecuted Christians, just like Charity, who need prayer, emergency relief, ongoing support and critical trauma care.