Home coming
On discovering that instead of finding greener pasture in Europe, I was stuck in Algerian Tamarasset where life was daily becoming dryer and unfair to me for my lack of specific skills and inability to join illegal business, I quickly advised myself on retuning home, but like the biblical prodigal son. After all, I only took a risk without inconveniencing anybody.
Yet, if I had succeeded, those who did not care will all praise sing my success. Truly, failure is an orphan.
But, I keep wondering how those who made it to Europe through the North African desert, did so. Were they luckier or what? I asked rhetorically. Yet, the skeleton of those who died on the desert was a reminder of the highest risk they took and summary of a once cherished dream of kissing Europe.
However, my three months stay and experience in Tamarasset was part of a life lesson I needed. At least, I am equipped enough to advise anyone who had once thought like me, going to Europe through the desert.
While the ASUU strike of 1993 was the final signal I needed to set off for Europe through the desert, my overall inability to do what others were doing was the signal that I needed to be convinced that it was time to head back home.
I thank God I did with James (another friend I adopted). Sadly, Lucky was satisfied doing shoemaking. After experiencing the highest form of sufferings, dehydration, starvation and maltreatment in the desert, I made up my mind to get home and get the necessary documents that will enable me to travel legally to Europe by air and not the maximum risk on the dare-devil desert.
Going back offered me a sightseeing opportunity because my mind was free from stress, having given up my dream of Europe that was eating me up. Going through the city of Algeria, I saw lots of 4-runner jeep on the roads and the spare parts were very common and cheap. That struck a business idea on my mind – dealing on spare parts with the hope that when we get to Nigeria (as James had one or two people in Kano who sold spare parts) we discussed this business idea with them.
At the beginning of October, we set off for home. This time, not going through any illegal route, as far as you were going home, you were free from any form of harassment from the Algerian authorities. We met few other Nigerians in the same lorry taking us to Arlit, the Algerian border post with Niger Republic (here, it takes days to monitor the vehicle going, because people do not travel frequently).
The vehicle took off at mid-day with about 15 mixed nationalities on board, but Nigerians were in the majority. It took the driver just three and half hours to get to Arlit, from where it took us about three days, through the desert to get to Tamarasset. We went straight to the immigration post, because we were going home, there was no fear anymore. Before James and I could familiarise ourselves with the immigration officers, other Nigerians who came with us found a vehicle ready for Assamaka, the Niger Republic border post.
Not too long, another vehicle came in with a Moroccan, and we became three stranded in the Algerian border post. At about 4pm, an immigration official brought us bread and beans with water, which became the fuel in out bellies that took us with our legs to Assamaka.
When the sun was now setting, an immigration official showed us the way to take. In the desert, anywhere you face is a road, but he told us to maintain the straight road, that it will take us to Assamaka. At 6pm when the intensity of the sun was low, James and I with the Moroccan set off. After walking about one hour, we saw a full upper part of human skeleton, and we concluded – one of those who could not make it, may be due to sickness.
Stories abound of people who had been killed by robbers or some natural cause in the desert, and ironically their people back home are hopeful of Euro and Pounds flowing into their account one day from them.
As we went further into the desert, we saw a band of men on camels we suspected to be the Tuaregs coming towards us. Fear gripped us, because I was not carrying more than a small bag that contained just a change of cloth. It was a situation that we couldn’t even run, we hoped for the worst. After advancing towards us, they suddenly turned back. My joy knew no bound with that action.
Later, it was nightfall. But we could see bonfire a distance, and walked towards it. The excitement of meeting some familiar faces made me forgot how long it took us to finally get there.
The next day, we all boarded a lorry carrying lot of goods to Agadez, from where we boarded a bus the next day to Nigeria. This time, we came in through Lake Chad into Illela in Sokoto State. From Sokoto we left for Kano. We rested in Kano for two days, and it was after our little inquiry that we discovered that the spare parts business idea we developed in the desert was not as easy as we thought, as Kano traders made us understand the implications of trading through the desert.
We left for Benin City on the third day. I had rested for three days before people knew I was back.
During this time of sojourning, there was no access to a TV set or radio, to monitor what was going on in Nigeria, even no telephone.
As I went about trying to gather fresh documents to travel back, which never came easy, ASUU called off the eight months strike. I went back to school quietly having lost a full session, just like every other Nigerian student.
The saving grace was that ASUU strike lasted while I was there. So, nobody noticed my absence in school. But only I knew, dreamt it all, saw it all, suffered it all, risked it all, and survived it all. After all, I am back to resume my academic pursuit. What a journey full of maximum risk!
Osa Victor Obayagbona
