At 6am the next day, the sun was already up, we saw the drivers and their conductors servicing the better vehicle and trying to fix the one with problem. What we thought was going to be for few hours turned out into midday. Due to the intense heat from the scorching sun, no tree, no shade to hide under from the direct heat, we saw ourselves just drinking and drinking water. It was not long we all ran out of water.
At about 3pm, the Arabs managed to fix the vehicle and we set off again, but this time we could only move at a very slow pace for just one hour. The vehicles that once moved through the hills and mountains swiftly the previous day like snakes on the mountains were now like snails trying to climb up a hill.
This time, we were all so hot that we needed water at all costs. Some of us started crying, especially the ladies, blaming themselves for daring the risky journey. At a point, my sorrow doubled on noticing that Lucky, the little boy the parents entrusted to me was dying gradually due to excessive dehydration.
When the going became tough, my co-travellers now remembered the dream I told them and started confessing their sins to me, as the wilderness pastor, in case if they die.
I went to the drivers for water, because they had two big jerry-cans of water tied to their vehicles. The younger driver told me they could only give me a cup of water on the condition that I give him the wristwatch I had refused to sell to him.
I left him without saying anything, while my co-travellers begged I give him in exchange for a cup of water for them to quench their thirst. I looked up, I could see only as far as my eyes could see. The only thing that blurs my vision was the isolated hills and mountains on the horizon that seem to touch the sky.
I asked myself, “what was a wristwatch to a cup of water” at this critical time when about 27 people were at the verge of death from thirst. Optimistically, I knew I would survive the situation. But for Lucky, I kept asking myself: What will I tell his parents, that I could not take care of the child they entrusted to me?
I took off the wristwatch and exchanged it for a cup of water and gave Lucky to drink, and he took enough sips. Already, my co-travellers surrounded me. The cup size was fairly big, I gave to some of the ladies first, and because of the crowd and struggling to take a sip, the water poured out on the open mountain. I did not take any sip, but was happy that Lucky had been revived by it.
Since the cup of water could just get to only about five, majority of us was still very dry-hot and thirsty, with the sun coming down on us very mercilessly.
At this juncture, I lost the time of day. Due to the dryness, most of us could not even urinate, and those that could did so in a cup and the jerry-cans to drink it up again. Those that could not begged those that could to give them a sip of their urine, it was really terrible. Lucky and I urinated in our gallon and started sipping it gradually, just to stay alive.
A little succour came when the sun started setting. The going down of the sun behind the hills and mountains brought little relief because we now had shade from the sun. After several attempts, the drivers were able to start the problematic vehicle and we all mounted. When they noticed the spoilt vehicle could not move properly, they drove it in-between some mountains and hid it there.
About 30 of us, including the drivers and their conductors, were made to ride in one, which made the movement to become very clumsy. That evening, after about two hours drive, the drivers told some of us to dismount because we were too many for them to take into the town, as we were close to a town.
Those who were very weak among us were taken; I told Lucky to go with them, he refused, saying if I am not with him, he would not go either. That night, we slept on the mountain. As we were there, I never knew when some us strayed into the desert, and leaving only eight of us on the mountain.
Through all these days of travail, we ate nothing; in fact, we were not hungry, but only thirsty.
The next day, we thought solution would come in the morning. But to our surprise, the sun came down on us without mercy. Within the desert, there was no hope in sight. The only thing we could see were beautiful antelopes and other fine wild animals we were not equipped enough to hunt and kill to eat. Any attempt to go near them, they run away. When the sun was now in full throttle, Lucky started lamenting, saying if he had known, he would had gone with the drivers, and now only God knew whether they will come back for us (because, we have heard how passengers were dispossessed and abandoned in the desert to die). For me, I was always hopeful solution would come somehow.
That same day, as the sun was setting (about 24 hours since the drivers left us), we raised our eyes to see a band of people surrounding an Arab riding on a camel coming towards us. Our hearts sank, because we had nothing left on us to appease our supposedly attackers. Since there was no longer strength in us to do anything, we just waited for the worse to happen.
As they got to us, we realised that they were that part of us that strayed into the desert. They brought us pasta, sardine, water and milk. They told us, when they left us the day before, they were able to, after walking aimlessly in the wilderness, find an Arab family who took them in and gave them food to eat.
Although we did not move from where they left us, but it took them time to locate us because they too did not understand the way to go. They could only locate us with the help of the head of the Arab family that came with them on camel’s back with the provision.
As we were about eating, we saw the drivers that left us yesterday coming with a vehicle. I could not say whether it was out of excitement or fear that they will leave us again, I left the food, but Lucky ate a little. We thanked the Arab that brought us food and rushed into the vehicle. We came into a city called Tamarasset in Algeria when the first sign of darkness was noticed. We learnt that the delay to come for us was due to the constant patrol of the mountain sides by the Algerian security outfits, because of the activities of Arab-human smugglers like them.
Tamarrasset experience
I could not remember the day and time we got into Tamarrasset, due to the sufferings of the past few days. But one thing was established in the desert, I became a rallying point for Nigerians who travelled with me.
That night, we met a Ghanaian who took us to where some Nigerians lodged, and that was how Lucky and I found accommodation – a two-bedroom apartment with about 15 occupants. The following morning, we the males met ourselves on a playground (under a tree) were Nigerians gather to look for jobs. I did not see any of the females that travelled with us throughout my stay; they were holed up somewhere by those that brought them, which I would not want to talk about here.
On this ground, everybody was equal. Those of us who were mechanics, tailors, welders, and other specific skills, had good jobs and better accommodation and without harassment from the authorities. But those of us school-dropouts were only involved in doing odd jobs and were in constant fear of the authorities.
Within a few days in the city, I became friendly with some customs and police officers. My friend, Mohammed, a high ranking officer in the customs, will not carry any Nigerian to work for him if he did not see me. Due to my friendliness with some police officers, I was able to mediate between some Arab businessmen who tried to cheat us.
In order to be on the good side of the law, Lucky and I applied for an Algerian visa, but our Nigerian brothers gave us fake visas. We have to send the passports back to Nigeria through post. Because we learnt that some West African countries do not need visa into Algeria, one of which was Benin Republic. So, we paid for Benin Republic passports, and that was how I adopted the desert name: Halilu Akilu – as every Nigerian in the desert had a desert name.
Lucky learnt how to mend shoes (shoemaker) because he could not hustle like me.
In my few weeks of stay, I noticed the city full of able-bodied men who were not willing to work. Instead, the Arab traders used the illegal immigrants in loading and off-loading their wares, and even assist in their businesses.
One of those nights, at mid-night, four able-bodied Arab men visited us at gun point. Because of the fever I had, I could not sleep; as they broke into our apartment, I tried to wake-up the person sleeping by me, his noise attracted them and they came to our room first. They searched us one after the other (because we can’t go to bank, we always go about with our money) and took all we had, our clothes and even books. We could not report to the authorities because we were illegal immigrants.
Arrival of the hawks
These were Nigerians and their Ghanaian counterparts who had succeeded in the distribution and sale of hard drugs, even before I came into the city. I did not know how they got their supply, they stay a week or two in Tamarrassat, distribute whatsoever they have and move on again, to resurface a month or three weeks later.
Due to the influence they dictated I had with most Nigerians, the Algerian Customs and police officers, they did all they could to recruit me. One day, I was busy going about my business when one of them gave me a briefcase to keep, after telling me he had no safer place to keep it. I opened the briefcase when I got home and found out it contained rapped ingested drugs. I collapsed under the influence of the fear that followed the revelation. From then on, I could no longer handle the case and after some few days, I told a friend I met in the desert, with the desert name – James (his real name was Chukwunonso Ike). He encouraged me and we returned it.
When I told a Nigerian we met there, who had spent years there, he said my returning it showed that I had no courage to do the business. That if I had kept it longer, it would show I was interested, and as such tell me what to do and how they will settle me if I accepted their terms. They left me alone, but watched me from afar.
Osa Victor Obayagbona
