My 2-hour journey on a nomad’s path and kidnappers’ route

When I heard the news of a kidnap of Fulani/Bororo people by a gang made up of their kinsmen in Ejigbo, a town in Osun State and efforts of the Fulani/Bororo vigilance group to rescue its people and their efforts in curbing the terrible rampage of herdsmen within the borders of the state, I was jolted and many questions chased themselves across the recess of my mind.

How did Fulani/Bororo men volunteer to be members of a vigilance group working to protect themselves and the Yoruba communities around them from the evils of their kinsmen? Who put these Fulani/Bororo together? I felt a need to get answers to these and numerous other questions. But I wondered if it wasn’t my curious mind making a mountain out of a molehill and finding a story idea where there was none, especially one fraught with perceived dangers.

To maintain my equilibrium, I ran the idea through my immediate boss and pal, Kehinde Oyetimi, expecting him to tell me in his characteristic funny way that, “Aunty Yejide, e lo sun, you need rest.” But I was wrong; he fell in love with the idea and told me we had to work on it. I thought of how to get contacts with the Fulani men so I could have solid arrangements and visit their community believing I would do the story at my pace and by then the dust on the kidnap issue would be settled since I heard the news two days after the sad occurrence.

It was my belief that braving the den of the Fulani men would be easier later as time would have closed up the soreness of their wounds at losing one of the two men kidnapped in a gruesome manner. Alas, the luxury of time was taken away from me as Oyetimi, as I call him simply told me on Wednesday, November 1, 2017 that the story would be the cover for Southwest pages for Tuesday. I told him no problem, my usual style but within me, I had a big issue. I was in a dilemma; there was no solid information or contact except the news that the kidnap occurred in Ejigbo.The only piece of information with me was that the town was located in Osun State.

But the story had to come out, we do not publish excuses. And I wasn’t brought up to accept defeat. So with nothing but determination and belief that I could do whatever I put my mind on, I told Oyetimi I was travelling on Friday. And despite being told Iwo was my best bet and the nearest point to Ejigbo, I decided to follow my instinct since I was flying blind.

So I started my journey into unknown territory by boarding a bus going to Osogbo around 7.00am. And right from Ibadan, the adventure started as the driver of the bus which I boarded drove very slowly. The exhaust pipe of the bus was obviously bad emitting smoke and causing serious discomfort to passengers. But as we got closer to Asejire, someone I told about my journey and the purpose, called to inform me that he saw the affected Fulani/Bororo men converging on a location in Iwo for a meeting and advised that I went straight to Iwo as it was easy to approach them within the city, reiterating he was unwilling to escort me because of the inherent dangers.

But there was no turning back at that point; I had to get to Osogbo first before going to Iwo, though I knew talking to them in that location wasn’t what I wanted. I needed to see how they lived with their Yoruba hosts. That was how the merry-go-round commenced. The people I was pursuing didn’t stay at a point; they had left Iwo for Osogbo, then to Ede. Indeed, it was difficult to get them. It was as though they knew someone was on their trail and they were doing all in their power to avoid the individual.

This was the situation until noon, the chase had gone on for over two precious hours; there seemed no way forward and resources fast depleting. But defeat wasn’t an option, so it was time to think out of the box as I wasn’t leaving Osun without my story. My brain ran the errand well; I remembered that I had a dependable friend that would help if he had the capacity to do so. I put a call through to Engineer Remi Omowaiye, the Commissioner for Innovation, Science and Technology, depending on him to find a way I could get to the Fulani stronghold. He didn’t know much about it but he introduced me to someone that did.

I was linked with Honourable Mudasiru Toogun, the Commissioner for Special Duties and Chairman of the Committee for Peaceful Co-existence between Fulani/Bororo and Crop farmers in the state. He was particularly happy that I was interested in the story that some media houses had avoided; this was the breakthrough I needed. He not only linked me with the Fulani/Bororo leadership as well as the vigilance group commander, he made available his Hilux truck, his driver and personal assistant to travel and work with me. And this began my journey into the thick forests.

I had been told that the Fulani clan intentionally lived far from civilization but I never expected that I would get into their hold through a nomad’s path and a notorious kidnapper’s trail, off an almost abandoned road, bush paths with no sign of human presence; a path that I later learnt crisscrossed major communities like Ede, Ido-Osun, Osuntedo in Ejigbo and the outskirts of Iwo.

I didn’t only look for Fulani settlements and how they lived, I travelled the trail of the kidnappers. Was I afraid? Of course, I was terrified, especially when the commandant of the vigilance group asked whether we had a cutlass, sharp objects or strong sticks, reiterating what I knew already, that we were toeing a dangerous path and he was looking for a defense weapon. I had a flashback about my son’s questions in the morning; he had wanted to know what would happen if the kidnappers came while I was there. I knew I had no one that could raise a million naira as ransom. And on we trudged till we got to Gaa Ajitena, the home of the only survivor of the kidnap; a big community with over 50 hamlets, with a mini settlement some meters before and after it as defense points.

It was, however, not a mere adventure; there were lessons learnt; I learnt that crime has no ethnicity or religion; Fulani are different from Bororo and more malleable; nomadic life is a continuous test of strength; Fulani herdsmen and resident Bororo herdsmen are endangered species from their marauding Bororo kinsmen. I also learnt that farmers and herdsmen in Osun live together and settle disputes amicably as, through Toogun’s committee, they willingly pay for damaged farms under a week. I also learnt that in Osun, resident Fulani/ Bororo would fight to ensure peace in the state as they see themselves as part of their host communities.

As the sky darkened to signal night, getting out became important like breathing especially when I had two people who were not part of my job risking their lives and I remembered the kidnap took place few meters away around the same time. I also remembered that there were no network signals on my mobile phone. I had disappeared for over three hours in the forest and the Editor, Nigerian Tribune, Mr Debo Abdulai and Kehinde Oyetimi were worried sick as they tried repeatedly to get across to me via the telephone. My family equally had become worried. I was glad I made it home quite late at night.

If duty calls, will I travel on a similar trip despite the fear and risk? I know I would without giving a second thought. A journalist’s thirst to report the unlikeliest of stories is insatiable and I know that the next adventure is just by the corner.