Azaghvana E-Book 2003 - Flipbook - Page 33
would take their children away. After all, having numerous children was the main way to
increase the workforce in their struggle for survival in a labour intensive subsistence economy
of terrace farming which was hundreds of years old.
To describe these ancient ways of living and successful survival in the hills is one of the main
purposes of this book, to preserve it so that future generations might learn about their
ancestors’ once so successful indigenous past. I feel that sense of duty quite strongly, but also
feel highly inadequate, despite being known as an area specialist for the ethnography of the
northern Mandara Mountains. I will come back to my inadequacies and how I am trying to
overcome them in the chapter section 'For the survivors of today and the historians of
tomorrow' at the end of this general introduction.
The presumed impact on the environment
Considering Boko Haram's recent destruction of many hill communities, in particular in
Dghweɗe, there is a huge question mark over whether the terraced agriculture will ever be as
active as it was before their arrival and unfortunate establishment in 2013 and 2014. This in
turn impacts on the pro and cons of an increased vulnerability of the ecosystem. The intensive
terrace cultivation system not only catered for the maintenance of the stone terracing which
slowed down the flow of water, but it also positively impacted the fertility of the soils, in
combination with the ongoing manuring of house fields which had happened throughout the
past.
For over two years we did not have any first hand news of how the massively diminished
local populations were coping. Any indirect news from the majority of the population, now
displaced for several years, either in refugee camps in adjacent Cameroon or other rural
places and towns in Nigeria, allowed for only a little hope. While I am writing these lines, the
Nigerian army has not even attempted to enter the hills, which means that in 2016 Boko
Haram is still using the physically remote setting of the Gwoza hills as a fall-back position.
One wonders how many useful trees have been destroyed for firewood, or how the lack of
maintenance of the agricultural terraces has increased erosion of the soils, not to mention the
social and physical oppression of those who were at the time still up there, most likely by now
desperately trying to survive, even if they have joined Boko Haram.
The latest developments
Between 2018 and 2020 things also changed concerning the Dghweɗe massif, but not much
for the better. It started with a reconciliation project, which I learned was established in 2018,
to address the conflict between Muslims and Christians in the eastern plains. The plan was to
build more camps for returning refugees. So far there had been one in Pulka and now there
was an idea to also establish one in Ngoshe. According to my sources, the reconciliation
project did not take off and the plan to open a second camp in Ngoshe did not happen. Neither
were the eastern plains safe, and the area around Gwoza town was not safe either. In 2019
people still did not dare to collect firewood outside of Gwoza town because they feared being
killed.
Boko Haram had by then split into two factions, one which kept up the attacks and another
which was more prone to surrender and accept the possibility of rehabilitation. Altogether
Boko Haram attacks had reduced but not entirely stopped. The section of Boko Haram which
had established itself in Dghweɗe and which had survived there by making the remaining,
mainly elderly, local population feed them was still resident in 2018. I had learned that they
consisted mostly of strangers such as Kanuri or Mafa (the latter allegedly from Cameroon)
and others who had joined Boko Haram. Then in 2019 I was told by my sources that most of
the strangers had left because they had not found life in the hills eventful enough, but that
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