Slaving in hell abroad: Ugly tales of trafficked Nigerians in the diaspora

My own tool is my body. I take good care of it to keep it fit. I sharpen my tool to keep it in good shape. That’s the only means money can keep rolling in. Sometimes I wish I could stop and look for a better job.

YOUNG and energetic Nigerians brimful of innovative ideas leave the shores of the country for other countries in search of pastures new. This mass emigration has become a recurring song. Some, in their desperate desires to realise this dream give little or no consideration for their safety. They play Russian Roulette with their lives. They choose to travel through illegal routes to get to their supposed Eldorado in Europe.

Pictures of these Nigerians, travelling in ship on the vast Mediterranean Sea, are reminiscent of the bygone era of slave trade — that ignoble past when African forebears were shackled and conveyed in a barracoon to foreign lands for hard labour. The pictures speak volumes of their desperation:  a serried array of disillusioned talents. The suicidal manner they defy the elements leaves much to be desired.  Some – in their efforts to get to Europe—cover distances by walking or in vehicles. It is disheartening to see these people trudging on in the blistering heat of the sub-Saharan desert — to reach North Africa from sub-Saharan Africa.

Reports of deaths of migrants who drown, on a yearly basis, while trying to reach Europe have not deterred these desperate migrants.

A 2016 report by Mixed Migration Monitoring Mechanism Initiative stated that, “more people might die while crossing the Sahara Desert than while trying to cross the Mediterranean.”

More often than not, they often realise in retrospect that abroad is not the open-sesame to wealth they had reckoned it to be before leaving home. They come to the realisation that leaving home for abroad does not guarantee success. They bemoan doing so at great personal and financial cost; money and efforts they could have used to better their lots in Nigeria. But that is when the scale falls off and reality hits them. By the benefit of hindsight, they know there is no Eldorado on the planet.

To be clear, not everyone abroad is living in hell. Some are making headways, flourishing like a tree planted beside water. And not all Nigerians abroad got there through illegal routes. Some got there through the right channels. Some are bonafide students in reputable schools; many are even on scholarship. However, this does not mean they are immune to the difficult experience   that’s often the lot of some Nigerians abroad.

In this piece, Naija Times tellsthe tales of some Nigerians, from students to non-students, who are experiencing insults, assaults and ridicules abroad. In short, those who are, in a manner of speaking, in hell.

 Facts and Figures

REPORTS from ‘The New Humanitarian’ reveal that 16,800 Nigerians were among the 80,000 Africans repatriated to their various countries  within three years under the “voluntary return” programme run by the UN’s migration agency, International Organization for Migration (IOM).

Another statistic showed that over 14 million Nigerians have migrated between 2009 and 2014. The breakdown is as follows:

*U.S. 3,711,600;

*United Kingdom 3,406, 477,  

*South-Africa, 1,214,205;

*Canada, 1,008,480;

*Malaysia 811,000; and

*Germany, 808,514.

According to the African Union, Africans in Diaspora population is  between 150-350 million. Africans are scattered all over the world but Nigerians often outnumber others. Nigerians also migrate in high numbers to:

Australia, 788,144;

*Ghana, 677,000;

*Italy, 619,000;

 *Saudi-Arabia,561,450; and

*Kenya 547,000.

‘My Body, My Tool’

THE human body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.  This Biblical verse has become threadbare from use. Many preachers use it for proselytisation, especially when their target is found in a seedy environment where people trade in boobs and booze. The verse is often deployed to admonish ‘sinners’ to stop defiling their bodies: God’s temple.

This Scriptural injunction makes no sense to Juliet, popularly hailed as ‘Smallie’ because of her petite, compact physique. Juliet (34) – not her real name — who now resides in France hails from Akwa-Ibom State in Nigeria.  She said she relocated to France in 2008 after trying unsuccessfully to secure admission into one of the tertiary institutions in the country.

Recounting why she left Nigeria for Europe, ‘Smallie’ said, “It wasn’t in my plan to leave Nigeria until late 2008.  I finished secondary school in 2003 at the age of 16. Having tried unsuccessfully to secure admission into higher institution for five years I became distressed. I had become bored because my life was following the same pattern. All I did was to sleep, wake, watch films and visit friends. At a time, there were no more friends to visit again because they had all gained admission. I became idle and I was ashamed as well.”

When asked why she did not make a judicious use of those years by learning something new or acquiring a skill. Julia cleared her throat and asked in pidgin, “Una get time make I tell you efritin wey happen from 2003 till now?” The question turned out to be rhetorical as she didn’t wait for my response before she became voluble, reeling out events and matching them with dates. I had to stop her at a point because she had strayed from the main conversation. But that was not that easy because at this point, she was not only voluble but also vehement. But when I eventually prevailed on her to stop.  Julia laughed hysterically; “No be una say make I comot lid on top the container?”

Juliet said Adiaba, her aunt’s intimate friend, helped her get to France.  Adiaba had always been an admirer of her physique and she used to talk about how she was well ‘chiseled’ by God and all that. “I grew up to know auntie Adiaba as a regular visitor in my house. She is close friend of Emaedo, my mother’s sister. They attended the same secondary school. She was the first person that first told me I was beautiful. That was even when I was a small girl.” Juliet paused and said, “to use her exact words “well-chiseled.”

‘Smallie’ continued, “So when she came back in 2008 and found me hopeless and dejected, she said I didn’t deserve to be in such a condition. She promised to help me and, to cut a long story short, she did and I found myself here. But it didn’t take me so long before I realised what I was into.”

“Auntie Adiaba was into prostitution and she did not hide it from me when I arrived in France.”

Juliet, however, added that Adiaba did not force her to join the ‘profession’. ‘No, she did not force me. Maybe she persuaded me… It’s a long period you know. But I remember her going about her business as if it was the best thing on earth and at the same time talking about what she had achieved in Nigeria using the money from the business.”

On how she started doing the same business, Juliet recounted: 

 “You know I said auntie did not force me but I think she influenced or talked me into it. She used to flaunt money and what money can buy. And she always let me know she got those things through her business. From there I started developing interest. To cut a long story short; that’s how I started. That’s how I’ve been surviving here.”

 Juliet continued, “When I started the business with auntie, we struck a deal. 10 percent of what I made  in a month used to be my share. But as I started having clients, even more clients than auntie Adiaba, she became uncomfortable. She stopped giving me the agreed 10 percent. She stopped feeding me too. But she provided me shelter for almost two years. She never for once beat me or restrict me from going out, but her body language told me she wanted me to leave her apartment. So, towards the middle of 2010 I left and got an apartment through the assistance of a client.”

Smallie said she does not really like what she does for a living but it has become expedient because that’s what pays her bills. It is also how she makes her people back in Nigeria comfortable and proud of her. She, however, confessed that the business is quite ‘hard’.

Hear her, “The business is hard. Sometimes some of the clients demand more than usual sex, they want freak sex — trying different style they have seen or watched somewhere on you. Some of these white clients think being black makes you a special beast who does not get tired. And when you’re on the verge of getting tired too and you remember the money, the money strengthens you.

“We – Nigerians — do different things here to survive. Some are security men; some are valets and chauffeurs; we all have different tools and offer our services to different clients. My own tool is my body. I take good care of it to keep it fit. I sharpen my tool to keep it in good shape. That’s the only means money can keep rolling in. Sometimes I wish I could stop and look for a better job. Sometimes I feel it is bad. But some Nigerians do worse things here to survive. And a job is a job after all.”

   Juliet’s voice trailed off; then she made a garbled statement before her voice became audible again. She said, in a tone of finality, “Shit money no dey smell. Whatever job you dey do na your body you dey use.”

Responding to a question on whether there could be a job worse than her’s, Juliet just curtly, “Yes”. She declined to name the job(s). She also did not give a direct answer to the question about her fulfillment doing the job. “My mates that I used to envy for securing admission before I left Nigeria, most of them are still struggling to live. I have a boutique in Nigeria and other small businesses too. I know some of my friends in Nigeria would wish they are Juliet.”

 No doubt, Smallie’s life is like an interesting drama. And if she were to write a book using her life as material, Auntie Adiaba would be given the role of a deux machina. Taking a glance backwards and recollecting how her life began in France, Juliet said, “I don’t hate auntie.  I see her as my benefactor. I was confused and she came at the right time to save me. Who knows what could have happened to me? She is old now and back in Nigeria. One day I will join her in Naija; body no be wood.”

‘I saw hell’…

ADAOBI’s (not her real name) case is a different kettle of fish; completely different from Juliet’s. Adaobi is now 25 years old. But she left Nigeria when she was barely 20. She lost her father at the age of 18. Not that things were rosy for the family when the father was alive, but the genteel poverty enabled by the meagre salary of the father crumbled with his death. The family slid into abject poverty. Adaobi said she became determined to help her mother and the entire family. After her father’s death the mother was left to cater for six children. Adaobi is the third and first female child of her parents. Her determination morphed into desperation and the desperation became intense on a daily basis. She was ready to clutch at any straw to salvage her family. She would stop at nothing to prevent her family from getting drowned in the tempestuous sea of poverty.

Adaobi, who spoke in pidgin English, said, “Though I dey small then, I nor like efritin wey dey happen for my family; eferitin I dey see; efritin dey hard.  To eat na trouble, to get clothes wahala. Na my elder brothers’ clothes I dey manage sometime. Our house rent dey pile up; and no hope where to get am. My two elder brothers dey try, dem dey do menial jobs with their school cert. But  wetin dem dey bring home no dey sufficient for a family like our own.”

A seeming ray of hope glimmered in the dark tunnel of life for Adaobi’s family when her mother’s friend, Mummy Osas introduced  the  mother to one Uncle James. Mama Osas told Adaobi’s mother that with ‘small change’ –- chicken feed—Uncle James  would help Adaobi to travel  to Europe. The chicken feed was N285,000. That was a huge amount for  Adaobi’s poverty-stricken family; but her mother was determined to sponsor her daughter’s journey to the land  where she would “gain decency” for the family. Adaobi’s mother believed that sending her daughter abroad would put an end to their misery.

The mother scrimped for months; she augmented the savings with a loan she got from  her friend. Yet she could not get the required amount. Uncle James promised to talk to the agents in charge. He assured Adaobi’s mother that  her daughter would offset the loan in no time once she got a lucrative job  abroad. In December, 2015, Adaobi’s journey to Europe began in a Toyota Hiace bus together with other co-travelers.

The 25-year-old Nigerian narrated her long tortuous journey, from Benin to Abuja and from the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) to Kano, in graphic details. They had a stopover at Kano and continued the journey the next morning. The bus, according to Adaobi, was changed to an ash-colour Toyota Camry car. We — the travelers — were divided into four groups of five passengers each. The Toyota Camry conveyed us to the outskirts of Katsina.

 Travelling through Nigeria, though long and tortuous, was somewhat bland and without incident.

Adaobi said the journey started becoming unpredictable and dicey when they reached Katsina and they were to make their first illegal international border crossing into Niger. She said they were asked to “pair up” and each pair of the migrants rode pillion — using okadas—to Maradi, a border town in southern Niger. She recalled that they spent two days at Maradi before they were conveyed again to Agadez, popularly known as “ the gateway to the desert.” It was from Agadez that the migrants would be conveyed to Libya. According to Adaobi, after spending two weeks in the desert they arrived in Tripoli, Libya’s seat of power.

Adaobi noted that it was at Tripoli that reality began to dawn on her; she was jolted from her world of fantasy into reality. She spoke again in pidgin (which Naija Times has translated to English: “It was in Tripoli that I realised that getting to Europe would not be as easy as I had initially thought. It was there too that it dawned on me that these people were not trying to help us but to exploit us. So, when we got to Tripoli they made a roll call and separated some of us from the rest of the migrants. They told us that we had exhausted our money for the journey and should look for an alternative means to pay to continue our journey

That was when I realised that Uncle James did not discuss anything about me with the agents as he promised my mother. Since I knew the situation at home I didn’t bother to call. Out of naivety, I waited for the alternative means to settle my debt and continued my journey. I saw some people, mostly men, being tortured. Fear gripped me and I earnestly wanted the alternative means.”

Unfortunately for Adaobi, the alternative was not what she bargained for. After spending three days in Tripoli, some people came in the dead of the night and took Adaobi and some other girls to an apartment in Libya. Adaobi could not make sense of what was happening until when a woman she would later know as ‘Madam’ came to address them. Adaobi and other girls had been turned over to a local madam running a brothel to begin working as prostitute to make enough money to continue their  journey to Europe.

She said, “Terrible things happened at Madam’s place. It was there that I lost my inhibition and innocence. It was there I was deflowered and initiated into prostitution. The first time I had sex, the blood that came from my body was used to smear my face. Madam said something I didn’t understand but there was an interpreter that told me that it was done to initiate me into her ring of ‘maids’.

It simply means I had pledged my allegiance to her and should I try to run away I would rather be caught or something evil will befall me.”

Adaobi continued, “I saw hell at Madam’s place. At least 10 men used to have sex with me in a day. I mean tough and rough sex. I’m sure my mother must have thought I had died and they had dumped my body somewhere in the desert. I shed my blood and sweet there. But after two years at her place I was helped to Italy. How it happened is another long story.”

ACCORDING to estimates by the International Organisation for Migration (IOM); 80 percent of female migrants – some as young as 17— that arrive in Italy from Nigeria by sea are potential victims of sex trafficking. And between 2014 and 2016, there was almost ten-fold increase in the number of Nigerian women registered at Italian sea landing points!