by Alkasim Abdulkadir

In all forms of the journalism I practice, trauma reporting is one of the most difficult as it is nearly impossible for the reporter to tear himself away from the pain and hopelessness of the subject. 

The hallway of tears and sorrow.

Sarah Samuel sits on a chair, feebly answers the greetings of get well soon, her head spots a low cut, her entire back is a mass of bandage, she has burns on her face and her hands are bandaged. Her care giver hands her tablets to take. How did it happen I ask? “I was frying yam and Akara when suddenly I heard a huge explosion ‘Gbouum’ then it threw me away to the wall. When I was able to stand up I saw a girl burning, she was a student, her books were not far from her and so I helped her quench the fire. As I turned I saw another man also on fire then I run to him and help him quench it. Both of them didn’t make it. It is after that time that I realize that my entire body was blood. Then I manage to walk to Old JUTH, but the security men said I should try and go New JUTH that there are no doctors there. That is how I found myself here”.

In her pain she gives thanks to God for surviving the May 20, 2014 twin blasts in Jos. Not far from her bed, is young Mercy Iregbe who was also caught up in the blast, she is fortunate, her wounds are healing she flashes a smile that belies the pain and horror she had endured in the last 3 weeks. They are all part of the 59 survivors that were brought to JUTH in the aftermath of the explosion in the city. According to the Chief Medical Director, they have had to amputate several survivors, treat some for severe burns and have also receive several referrals from the initial 42 that were brought to the hospital.

In all forms of the journalism I practice, trauma reporting is one of the most difficult as it is nearly impossible for the reporter to tear himself away from the pain and hopelessness of the subject. One left the ward rounds feeling how ephemeral life is and wondering once more how and when this cycle of violence was going to end.

Driving through uneasy calm

Driving into Jos around Bukuru the tension was palpable, groups of young and agitated men and a handful of women had formed cycles arguing fiercely, some meters away 3 pick-up vans of the police and army from the Special Task Force (STF) had just arrived and had engaged in a conversation with them. We drove further a bit passing more groups of people, passing shop owners closing shops.  We saw a group of Mobile Policemen doing what looked like a recon. We stopped and asked. What is going on here: “A man was killed yesterday, he was a Northern man, so the youths are out, trying to cause trouble and we are here appeasing them. We have told them to live everything to God”. We thank them and drive ahead passing side streets being cordoned off by the ubiquitous chain of used car tyres. The commotion caused a traffic gridlock, glancing at other motorists, their unease was palpable. We were all thinking the same thing – a disagreement amongst the tensed youth can send a violent vibration to the spot of the traffic gridlock – since it was about 5 minutes away. Aside that the continuous congestion could be a target to the terrorists; these scenarios are the pitfalls of terrorism. It begets a terrorized populace praying for safety, but living within the ambit of perpetual paranoia.

The scene of death

The crater lies near the road divider, the circumference on the macadam is huge, however the effect of its impact goes far beyond the crater. Even shops near Old JUTH have been left with peeled tiles and broken cement floors, a classroom at Old JUTH is left in ruins opposite the crater, 3 blocks destroyed, on the wall a notice board holds pictures – another pointer to how this violence has usurped the order of things. Down the road is the smaller crater, as people were rushing from there to come and help people here, another bomb went off there. “You see some people who got injured here died in the second blast,” a trader tells us.

Locked shops and economic survival

A soldier and a Mobile Policeman are busy folding their tent, the market is under their watch to prevent looting, the entire stretch from Old JUTH to Terminus Market which over the years had morphed into a commercial district was now desolate on the stretch now are some destroyed shops, though far away from the scene, the strong impact of the bomb still affected them. Paul Amoebi said, “When the bomb went off it was as if it was Hiroshima,” comparing it to the epochal incidence of WWII.  For Amoebi and the rest of the traders, they have counted their losses and moved on; but everyday the market remains bear a story of utmost frustration and mounting economic losses in their retail business.

A people in search of peace

The people of Jos, resilient as ever are slowly bouncing back to the grind of everyday life. But beneath the veil of normalcy, is the uneasy fear of what could go wrong again, the peace here is fragile, the residents know too well of the effects of violence and the aftermath. Whatever it takes, the peace must be negotiated and sustained.

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Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.