The corpse of a man that
Nigerien soldiers said was a Boko Haram fighter lies on the ground in
Duji. Troops from Chad and Niger pursued the Islamist group across a
northern Nigeria border area, driving them out of a village they held
there.
The regional offensive comes as Nigeria,
Africa's most populous country and biggest economy, prepares to hold
elections on March, 28. Nigeria's elections commission postponed the
polls to allow the operation to go forward.
Reuters photographer Joe Penney travelled with
Nigerien troops taking part in the offensive and describes documenting
the fight against the Islamist group.
A girl drinks water as women queue for blankets and food given out by Nigerien soldiers in Damasak.
Over the past six years, Boko Haram has dominated
headlines in West Africa. Kidnapping more than 200 schoolgirls in
Chibok, slitting the throats of sleeping boys in Buni Yadi, sending
girls as young as ten years old to blow up markets in Maiduguri; the
scale of Boko Haram’s violence against civilians seems incomprehensible.
How did the group become so strong? What do they want? Who are they?
There is so much opacity surrounding Boko Haram that the most basic information about the group is wanting.
When I landed in Damasak, Nigeria, a town on the border
with Niger that Boko Haram fighters had occupied from November 2014
until earlier this month, I got a rare insight into how they ran the
town.
Out of the original population of roughly 100,000, only
a few dozen of people - mostly elderly men and women and a few small
children - remained in the town after the four-month occupation.
When I arrived with Nigerien and Chadian troops, the
traumatised and starving survivors were huddled together under the shade
of a couple of cicada trees on a sandy road.
A soldier stands in a bedroom in a house that was occupied by Boko Haram militants.
They told of inconceivable horror. Most of the
residents fled the town before Boko Haram arrived, but the insurgents
caught about 70 people leaving, shot them and threw them off a bridge,
leaving their bodies decomposing in the open air as a warning to anyone
else contemplating fleeing.
Boko Haram then coerced the remaining young men in town
to join them and proceeded to systematically loot the residents’
houses. They seized the nicest homes in town and gave them to their
fighters.
Then on March 8, when Chadian and Nigerien soldiers
were advancing on the town, Boko Haram rounded everyone that was left
(at that point some 400 people, mostly women and children) in the main
mosque and fled with them in trucks and on foot, residents said.
A woman named Fana (seen here, pointing her finger)
said she only managed to save her two small children by hiding them. A
trader named Souleymane Ali said fighters took his wife and three girls.
Another man, Mohammed Ousmane, said they took his two wives.
There were drawings of murders on the walls of houses that Boko Haram combatants lived in.
A human corpse lay in the middle of the street, burned
and blackened with bones visibly sticking out of the man’s legs,
protruding from the yellow leaves surrounding him.
Headlines talk of massacres, but for me the scale of
Boko Haram’s violence only became real when I saw it for myself.
Photographing this is not easy emotionally or physically, but it is
nothing when you think about the level of violence inflicted upon the
people of Damasak, or Chibok, or Buni Yadi.
It might be a photojournalistic cliché, but I feel that
as Nigeria goes to the polls on Saturday, it is important to show
people what is happening in the northeast of the country.
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