The Power of a Stranger's Kindness

I was raised under a system that made me skeptical about humans. I even built a stone wall around me, especially towards strangers, and my reason for that isn't farfetched—from strangers kidnapping my childhood friends, stealing our properties, or even pretending to be an angel of light only for them to strike and hurt us when we least expect it. I've seen it all, but my attitude towards strangers changed after a few unmerited favors shown towards me by a total stranger, and that has changed my perspective ever since.

When people ask me about the best thing a stranger has done for me, I usually trace it back to my first two years at the university, when a total stranger gave me shelter and food for that time span, as though we'd known each other all our lives. I tagged her the lady with a heart of gold, and you can check the link to read all about her and her act towards me. But that wasn't all. I've had several other encounters with strangers, and one saved my life when, on average, I'd have died just like every other person who traveled down the path I was on that very day.

It was 2018, and I was a long way from home serving my father's land for the mandatory one-year National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). I was serving in the far north, several kilometers from home, and this was a period when BoKo Haram, the notorious terrorist group, thrived and operated in the state I was in. To cut a long story short, during one of my stays in the state, I've heard a lot about some parts of the state that are deserts and have wanted to visit them.

I saw numerous photos of the beautiful landscape—the desert, the sand dunes, and the Oases River—passing through the dessert, with palm trees all around them. To me, those places look like paradise, and I wanted to explore them; unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to go to that part by my superior in the NYSC program due to insecurity and how Boko Haram was known to terrorize that part of the state.

But I was already determined and carried away by the view that their disapproval fell on deaf ears. After a week, I boarded a bus heading towards the local government, where the desert is situated, and while in the bus, I was surrounded by total strangers. I was even disgusted by how dirty most were and tried as much as possible not to relate with them until I saw this young boy whose parents sat beside me struggling to read the book in his hands.

Has a teacher I find it hard to overlook his errors, and despite being disgusted by some of the dirt around me, including the boy, I find myself communicating with him and teaching him the right words and pronunciation. That continues for a while, until the young boy starts addressing me as Malam (the teacher) to call me attention each time he encounters difficult words in his book, the parents turn to me with appreciation, and I smile and say it's nothing.

Then, after three hours into our journey within the state from Damaturu to Yusufari, we arrived at a place with roadblocks ahead and several vehicles lining up to be checked before they're allowed to pass. I thought it was an army checkpoint until I saw most of those doing the checking cover their faces and put on clothes that were in no way close to those of the military. I immediately knew it was the Boko Haram, and I'll be damned if they find out I'm from the fat west.

I guess the father of the boy I was teaching sensed my fear, then he held my hand and asked me to calm down. Before it was time for our vehicle to be checked, he told me some words and what to say when it's our turn to be checked. I obliged, but I was still filled with fear because the buses ahead of us that have been checked, any strangers inside, are fished out to help hold hostage while normal villages were allowed to leave, and those who tried to run while shot immediately right before our eyes.

I was terrified by all of those happenings, but I tried as much as possible to stay calm. When it got to our turn, they checked all through the bus and then asked us all questions one after the other in their native language, which I bearily understood, so immediately, they knew I wasn't one of them and were about to add me to their lot when the father of the young boy I was teaching earlier stepped in, telling them I'm the son of his brother, who resides in Lagos, and that it's because I grew up there; that's why I can't speak the language firmly.

They went on to ask us more questions; fortunately, I understood some of them and gave a prompt response, we were allowed to go. That was a close call. I looked out to see others who had been held captive and wondered what their fate would be. I thanked the man over and over again till we arrived at our destination, because I don't know what my situation would have been had he not stepped in.

It could probably be because of how I relate to his son, but regardless of that, I'm still a total stranger, and stepping up for me in that delicate moment could have caused him harm if things went wrong, so I know the risk he took, and I'm forever indebted to him. Unfortunately, he didn't have a phone, so we couldn't communicate after that day, and for the exploration, I didn't bother going there; I was so terrified that I left the village via the other route immediately.

---

All photos are mine.

---