Hayatu dropped the doctor off at her house here in Abuja. When he returned, he found his boss exactly where he had left him. Seeing how tense his face looked made Hayatu calm himself again, like a child who had offended his mother before going to school. For about three minutes he stood there, stealing glances at him, while the boss continued his work as if he hadn’t noticed Hayatu’s return. Then suddenly, in his usual low, quiet voice, he said,
“Bring me black tea.”
Hayatu quickly replied, “Okay, sir,” and headed to the kitchen. It didn’t take long before he returned with it. As he handed it over, he briefly looked at him, which made Hayatu quickly lower his eyes—he knew every movement of his boss carried meaning. He took the tea, sipped it twice, then looked at Hayatu again.
“What did I tell you about that girl?”
“Sir, I swear it wasn’t my fault. You know how stubborn she is. She insisted that if I didn’t bring her to you yesterday when the girl’s illness worsened, she wouldn’t leave her.”
“So she’s the only doctor now?”
“I’m sorry, sir. A mistake was made, but it won’t happen again, God willing.”
He stayed silent for a while. After finishing the tea and placing the cup down, he stood up and said,
“Bring the girl back to the house.”
Hayatu’s eyes widened in shock as he watched him walk away. Without even turning back, he climbed the stairs leading to his bedroom. Hayatu collapsed into a chair, muttering,
“Boss, your stubbornness is worse than a civil war. Whatever crosses your mind must be done, without thinking of the consequences. The girl everyone is searching for—bringing her into this house is dangerous. We brought her from Kano yesterday and God helped us escape safely, and now today you’re saying she should be brought here? And if anything happens to us yesterday or today, what then? And this house doesn’t even have female staff.”
He slapped his thigh after his complaints, knowing no one would answer him. But he also knew that no matter what, he couldn’t disobey the order. So he stood up, tidied the things scattered around the living room, and went out to prepare a suitable room for the girl when they brought her.
---
💞💥💞💥💞💥💞
Slowly I opened my eyes, which felt extremely heavy. My body felt numb, as if it didn’t belong to me. I felt wetness beneath me, like someone who had wet herself in her sleep. With great effort I raised my hand to check what it was, and when I managed to see, my heart sank. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, biting my lips hard as if I wanted to pierce them.
At that moment, I heard a knock at the door. My heart sank again. I tried to sit up, but before I could, the door opened. Weakness prevented me from pulling the blanket beside me. Part of me was also surprised by where I was. The room was fully furnished, more beautiful than I could have imagined, and very spacious.
The man who had given me the injection together with the doctor the previous night entered first, followed by a stout man carrying plastic bags. When our eyes met, I looked away. Without looking at me again, he said,
“These are yours—you can use them. Anything else you need is in the room. Your doctor is done, and your medicines are here.”
Then he turned and left.
My thoughts raced. So these people really were the ones who kidnapped me. They were also the ones tracking me. That meant they knew I had taken the video recording, just as I suspected. Oh God, how did this happen? I thought, closing my heavy eyes again.
After about ten minutes of thinking, I struggled to get up. The amount of blood frightened me—it looked like someone who had miscarried publicly. But when I noticed something had been placed beneath me, not directly on the bed, I sighed in slight relief. I gathered the mat-like sheets and limped toward what I assumed was the bathroom. It really was one—and it was spotless. If I were given a choice of where to sleep, I might have chosen the bathroom floor, not because it was better than anywhere else, but because I liked it.
Despite my weakness, I managed to clean myself properly, bathing with very hot water. Then I suddenly remembered I had no underwear, but recalling what he had said, I went out and opened the bags. The first contained food, the second snacks, and the last clothes. Inside were underwear and a bra. I felt strange seeing them, but I had no room to complain. I dressed and returned to the room, wearing a long gown without bothering to check the rest.
I wasn’t hungry, but when I’m in such a state, I either eat nothing or eat ravenously. I ended up eating until I was full, then took my medicines as prescribed.
At this point, my biggest worry was my condition. I was sure Yaya Musaddiq and Mansoor were extremely worried because of the call I made. But I hoped the truth would come out. I swore that whatever these people did to me, I would never give them the video or tell them where to find it. Even if they killed me, it wouldn’t matter—doing so would be their biggest mistake and would expose them, God willing.
The medicine made me feel a bit better, though worry still showed on my face. I was tired of staying in one place. I was used to being on my feet all day, working. When I heard the door open again, I quickly covered myself with my abaya. It was the same man from earlier. He stood by the door while I stared at him. Now I fully remembered where I knew him from—he was the assistant who had made a call to his boss during that conference.
I looked away, trying to compose myself. After about two minutes of silence, I finally asked bravely,
“So it’s you who kidnapped me?”
Instead of answering, he commanded,
“You can come in.”
Immediately, two armed men entered. Even a man would fear their appearance, but I tried not to show my fear. My heart pounded as they ordered me to stand. One of them blindfolded me. When I tried to speak, he warned,
“Quiet, young lady, or a bullet will shut your mouth.”
I swallowed hard and remained silent. They placed something in my hand and led me away. I didn’t know where we were going. Everything was quiet except distant birds. If not for the handcuffs, I would have removed the blindfold. We entered a place that was extremely cool and fragrant. After walking a bit more, we stopped where my foot touched something soft.
---
As the D.C.O. had requested, new information was brought to him the next day about the other number. Unfortunately, it was also a short-term line, never used to call anyone. The only success was that both SIM cards were registered by the same person at the same time. Orders were given to find him. The tricycle (napep) driver was arrested that morning. After two hours at the station, he was brought to the D.C.O.’s office. The D.C.O. studied him carefully, then showed him Samraah’s photo.
“Do you know her?”
He looked at the photo for about thirty seconds, then nodded.
“Yes, sir. She’s known as Sam-G. She hosts a youth program. I’m one of her fans—I follow her on radio and social media, especially YouTube.”
“What’s your occupation?”
“I’m a tricycle driver, sir.”
“Where were you on the 10th of this month, from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m.?”
He hesitated, then shook his head.
“I’ve forgotten, sir. It’s been a long time.”
“Alright,” the D.C.O. said. “Bring the others.”
When his friends were brought in, he identified them as fellow drivers. When reminded again, one of them explained everything clearly. The suspect then admitted it was true and apologized, claiming forgetfulness.
The D.C.O. pressed him, accusing him of lying and detailing how he had waited for Samraah, picked her up, and took her belongings. He gave him a choice: tell the truth and receive leniency, or continue lying.
After a brief pause, the young man sighed and said,
“I’ll tell you the truth, sir…”
---
🌟🌟🌟
They removed the blindfold. I opened my eyes slowly, suppressing the pain. My eyes landed directly on the man seated confidently with his legs crossed, focused on his tablet. His face was expressionless, as if he didn’t know how to smile. His presence was overwhelming. When he finally looked at me, my stomach pain surged. I lowered my head, heart pounding violently.
“Sit,” he ordered calmly.
I hesitated until his aide repeated it sharply. I was told to sit on the floor instead of the chair. I complied, sitting on the luxurious carpet, hugging my knees.
After a long silence, he asked,
“Who are you working for against me?”
The question shocked me. I replied softly,
“I don’t work for anyone. I came on my own.”
His aide warned me harshly, but I remained defiant. The man then said calmly that I had two choices: give up what I had and live peacefully, or remain there until death. He accused me of demanding 500 million and receiving half already.
Angrily, I replied,
“You’re insane. I never asked you for 500 million…”
I went on to say I would never trade the video for money, that even if they killed me I wouldn’t hand it over. I swore that within eight days I would be celebrating my wedding with my family, while they would be answering questions at the police station.
His aide mocked me, warning that the boss never backs down. I told him to advise his boss to return me to where I was taken from, or they would regret it deeply.
The boss finally stood up without saying a word and walked away confidently.
I was taken back to the same room. From then on, I was kept there under heavy guard. Food was brought three times daily. I was distressed, in pain, and missed my family terribly. I counted every minute until my wedding day. Whenever worry overwhelmed me, I read the Qur’an and prayed, trusting that God would answer me.
Hayatu dropped the doctor off at her house here in Abuja. When he returned, he found his boss exactly where he had left him. Seeing how tense his face looked made Hayatu calm himself again, like a child who had offended his mother before going to school. For about three minutes he stood there, stealing glances at him, while the boss continued his work as if he hadn’t noticed Hayatu’s return. Then suddenly, in his usual low, quiet voice, he said,
“Bring me black tea.”
Hayatu quickly replied, “Okay, sir,” and headed to the kitchen. It didn’t take long before he returned with it. As he handed it over, he briefly looked at him, which made Hayatu quickly lower his eyes—he knew every movement of his boss carried meaning. He took the tea, sipped it twice, then looked at Hayatu again.
“What did I tell you about that girl?”
“Sir, I swear it wasn’t my fault. You know how stubborn she is. She insisted that if I didn’t bring her to you yesterday when the girl’s illness worsened, she wouldn’t leave her.”
“So she’s the only doctor now?”
“I’m sorry, sir. A mistake was made, but it won’t happen again, God willing.”
He stayed silent for a while. After finishing the tea and placing the cup down, he stood up and said,
“Bring the girl back to the house.”
Hayatu’s eyes widened in shock as he watched him walk away. Without even turning back, he climbed the stairs leading to his bedroom. Hayatu collapsed into a chair, muttering,
“Boss, your stubbornness is worse than a civil war. Whatever crosses your mind must be done, without thinking of the consequences. The girl everyone is searching for—bringing her into this house is dangerous. We brought her from Kano yesterday and God helped us escape safely, and now today you’re saying she should be brought here? And if anything happens to us yesterday or today, what then? And this house doesn’t even have female staff.”
He slapped his thigh after his complaints, knowing no one would answer him. But he also knew that no matter what, he couldn’t disobey the order. So he stood up, tidied the things scattered around the living room, and went out to prepare a suitable room for the girl when they brought her.
---
💞💥💞💥💞💥💞
Slowly I opened my eyes, which felt extremely heavy. My body felt numb, as if it didn’t belong to me. I felt wetness beneath me, like someone who had wet herself in her sleep. With great effort I raised my hand to check what it was, and when I managed to see, my heart sank. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, biting my lips hard as if I wanted to pierce them.
At that moment, I heard a knock at the door. My heart sank again. I tried to sit up, but before I could, the door opened. Weakness prevented me from pulling the blanket beside me. Part of me was also surprised by where I was. The room was fully furnished, more beautiful than I could have imagined, and very spacious.
The man who had given me the injection together with the doctor the previous night entered first, followed by a stout man carrying plastic bags. When our eyes met, I looked away. Without looking at me again, he said,
“These are yours—you can use them. Anything else you need is in the room. Your doctor is done, and your medicines are here.”
Then he turned and left.
My thoughts raced. So these people really were the ones who kidnapped me. They were also the ones tracking me. That meant they knew I had taken the video recording, just as I suspected. Oh God, how did this happen? I thought, closing my heavy eyes again.
After about ten minutes of thinking, I struggled to get up. The amount of blood frightened me—it looked like someone who had miscarried publicly. But when I noticed something had been placed beneath me, not directly on the bed, I sighed in slight relief. I gathered the mat-like sheets and limped toward what I assumed was the bathroom. It really was one—and it was spotless. If I were given a choice of where to sleep, I might have chosen the bathroom floor, not because it was better than anywhere else, but because I liked it.
Despite my weakness, I managed to clean myself properly, bathing with very hot water. Then I suddenly remembered I had no underwear, but recalling what he had said, I went out and opened the bags. The first contained food, the second snacks, and the last clothes. Inside were underwear and a bra. I felt strange seeing them, but I had no room to complain. I dressed and returned to the room, wearing a long gown without bothering to check the rest.
I wasn’t hungry, but when I’m in such a state, I either eat nothing or eat ravenously. I ended up eating until I was full, then took my medicines as prescribed.
At this point, my biggest worry was my condition. I was sure Yaya Musaddiq and Mansoor were extremely worried because of the call I made. But I hoped the truth would come out. I swore that whatever these people did to me, I would never give them the video or tell them where to find it. Even if they killed me, it wouldn’t matter—doing so would be their biggest mistake and would expose them, God willing.
The medicine made me feel a bit better, though worry still showed on my face. I was tired of staying in one place. I was used to being on my feet all day, working. When I heard the door open again, I quickly covered myself with my abaya. It was the same man from earlier. He stood by the door while I stared at him. Now I fully remembered where I knew him from—he was the assistant who had made a call to his boss during that conference.
I looked away, trying to compose myself. After about two minutes of silence, I finally asked bravely,
“So it’s you who kidnapped me?”
Instead of answering, he commanded,
“You can come in.”
Immediately, two armed men entered. Even a man would fear their appearance, but I tried not to show my fear. My heart pounded as they ordered me to stand. One of them blindfolded me. When I tried to speak, he warned,
“Quiet, young lady, or a bullet will shut your mouth.”
I swallowed hard and remained silent. They placed something in my hand and led me away. I didn’t know where we were going. Everything was quiet except distant birds. If not for the handcuffs, I would have removed the blindfold. We entered a place that was extremely cool and fragrant. After walking a bit more, we stopped where my foot touched something soft.
---
As the D.C.O. had requested, new information was brought to him the next day about the other number. Unfortunately, it was also a short-term line, never used to call anyone. The only success was that both SIM cards were registered by the same person at the same time. Orders were given to find him. The tricycle (napep) driver was arrested that morning. After two hours at the station, he was brought to the D.C.O.’s office. The D.C.O. studied him carefully, then showed him Samraah’s photo.
“Do you know her?”
He looked at the photo for about thirty seconds, then nodded.
“Yes, sir. She’s known as Sam-G. She hosts a youth program. I’m one of her fans—I follow her on radio and social media, especially YouTube.”
“What’s your occupation?”
“I’m a tricycle driver, sir.”
“Where were you on the 10th of this month, from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m.?”
He hesitated, then shook his head.
“I’ve forgotten, sir. It’s been a long time.”
“Alright,” the D.C.O. said. “Bring the others.”
When his friends were brought in, he identified them as fellow drivers. When reminded again, one of them explained everything clearly. The suspect then admitted it was true and apologized, claiming forgetfulness.
The D.C.O. pressed him, accusing him of lying and detailing how he had waited for Samraah, picked her up, and took her belongings. He gave him a choice: tell the truth and receive leniency, or continue lying.
After a brief pause, the young man sighed and said,
“I’ll tell you the truth, sir…”
---
🌟🌟🌟
They removed the blindfold. I opened my eyes slowly, suppressing the pain. My eyes landed directly on the man seated confidently with his legs crossed, focused on his tablet. His face was expressionless, as if he didn’t know how to smile. His presence was overwhelming. When he finally looked at me, my stomach pain surged. I lowered my head, heart pounding violently.
“Sit,” he ordered calmly.
I hesitated until his aide repeated it sharply. I was told to sit on the floor instead of the chair. I complied, sitting on the luxurious carpet, hugging my knees.
After a long silence, he asked,
“Who are you working for against me?”
The question shocked me. I replied softly,
“I don’t work for anyone. I came on my own.”
His aide warned me harshly, but I remained defiant. The man then said calmly that I had two choices: give up what I had and live peacefully, or remain there until death. He accused me of demanding 500 million and receiving half already.
Angrily, I replied,
“You’re insane. I never asked you for 500 million…”
I went on to say I would never trade the video for money, that even if they killed me I wouldn’t hand it over. I swore that within eight days I would be celebrating my wedding with my family, while they would be answering questions at the police station.
His aide mocked me, warning that the boss never backs down. I told him to advise his boss to return me to where I was taken from, or they would regret it deeply.
The boss finally stood up without saying a word and walked away confidently.
I was taken back to the same room. From then on, I was kept there under heavy guard. Food was brought three times daily. I was distressed, in pain, and missed my family terribly. I counted every minute until my wedding day. Whenever worry overwhelmed me, I read the Qur’an and prayed, trusting that God would answer me.