Romanus Ugwu
For Benedict Odenigbo, November 25, 2019, remains a day he will live to ever remember. A native of Amadem-Obie, in Aku Igbo-Etiti Local Government Area of Enugu State, he may have spent over 30 years in Abuja, but that incident, the day he had close shave with death, will forever eclipse every other memorable experience.
He left his residence in Gwagwa, a suburb of Federal Capital Territory (FCT), trekked more than an hour to harvest his black beans (a popular delicacy in his native home) that fateful day. He almost walked into his grave due to machete cuts on his face and head from a 20-year-old Fulani herdsman.
But for the quick intervention of nearby fellow farmers that rushed him to a hospital few kilometres from the farm almost lifeless, Odenigbo, who fainted and was in coma for several hours, would have passed out due to the excessive bleeding from the machete wound.
If Odenigbo is happy to be alive today with the stitched scar on his face to permanently remind him of the incident, he still harbours two bitter experiences from the attack. First was the still painful wound on the left fingers he used to stop the second machete cut from the Fulani herdsman which has refused to heal due to poisonous substance applied on the cutlass and the humiliation and injustice he received from the Nigeria police.
He alleged that the policemen at the Gwagwa Police Station he had reported the attack trivialised it to the extent of jesting that he would not have allowed the small boy to escape and why he did not arrest one cow even while he battled to survive the attack.
He told Daily Sun in his resident few metres away from Gwagwa Police Station: “It happened around 1.00pm on Monday, November 25, 2019, right inside my farm in Karasana, a bush near Dutse. I had gone to harvest my black beans that faithful day. I was initially tempted to go to the farm on Sunday because the beans had started wasting away, but because it was the Catholic feast of Christ the King.
“On arrival there that Monday, I was shocked to the bone to see that herdsmen had taken cows into my farm, descended on and almost finished my beans. I was frustrated but decided to harvest the very few little ones left.
“However, as I was still harvesting, they arrived with the cows around 12pm. They watched the cows enter straight into my farm again, pursued me, threatening me with cutlass.
“They asked me why did I come to my farm again and why I did not abandon the crop for the cows to finish the remaining ones. One of them, a small boy of about 20 years, started sharpening both edges of his cutlass with razor blade; he wrapped and smoked very large size Indian hemp. And after smoking, he started using the cutlass in war dance manner to threaten me again.
“He ran straight towards me with the cutlass already raised up and descended it straight on the left side of my face and forehead. I was lucky to grip the sharp edges of the cutlass tightly with my left hand and used my right to dispossess him of the cutlass to prevent his second attempt to use it on me.
“Unfortunately, even when he lost grip of the cutlass and ran away, I could not gather any strength again to pursue him. I was not only in the pool of my blood but also struggling to see with my remaining eye.
“I did not know where the courage came. When he landed the cutlass on my face that first time, I knew that since it was between life and death, I had to fight the last battle to save my life or die like a coward.”
Waving aside the blame why he waited and watched him while he sharpened the cutlass and even wrapped and smoked hemp instead of fleeing his farm, Odenigbo argued that he would have lost his life if he had taken that option, contesting that he would have attacked him from the back:
“I had wanted to run away while he was doing all that, but I reasoned that the attack would have been more brutal from behind. It would have even cost me my life. However, I have to admit that I underrated him by thinking that since he could not match me physically, I could always overpower him.
“But, I never imagined that he would heartlessly attack me with the cutlass. And even when I disarmed him, he ran faster than me couple with the blood rushing profusely from the machete cut.”
Odenigbo was lucky that help came from other nearby farmers at the right time because according to him, he inched into his grave each minute that passed with the volume of blood he was losing from the deep cut on his face and forehead:
“The commotion and my repeated shout of Jesus help me, attracted other farmers nearby that came and met me bleeding profusely. They quickly did everything to stop the bleeding while arranging for the motorcycle that took me to hospital.
“I became weak and very tasty, demanded for water, but they refused to give me because they were afraid of its effect. Before we could get to the hospital, I could barely know what was happening around me, having lost so much blood and feeling that each passing minute took me close to my grave. I even slide into coma.
“Luckily for me, the hospital accepted to treat me even as my face had begun to turn black and pale due to too much bleeding. They stitched the deep machete cut after several hours and excruciating pains and started administering drips and transfusing several pints of blood on me. It was later I started recovering and noticing people around me.
“That incident was the first violent physical encounter I had with herdsmen. I am not a full-time farmer. I have a handiwork as a bricklayer, which engaged me throughout those years I have spent in Abuja.
“However, earlier before this incident, Fulani herdsmen had also led their cows into my farm and finished the crop I cultivated that year, but I did not however meet any of them nor the cows. I just resigned to faith.
“It took the persuasion and assurance of my co-farmers that herdsmen no longer bring cows into their farms to convince me to return to this farm which almost claimed my life. He had further assured me that the chief of Karasana had ordered them not to bring cows into the farms there.
“In this second encounter, even if I see that herdsman that attacked me now, I will not recognise him because our path never crossed. One on one, he would not have matched me physically or force for force, but I supposed that it was the cutlass that emboldened him to attack me.”
Did he attempt to report the attack to any security agent? His reply was as shocking as the incident itself: “We reported the attack at the Gwagwa Police Station. They told me that I could not do anything and mocked that I would have arrested the herdsman. It was shocking to hear police told me such even when they saw that I was lucky to have survived the attack.
“I equally heard a policeman trivialising the issue and making jest of me by asking me why I did not take one of the cows along with me. The only consolation I got was that police later linked up with the owner of the cows, who paid N18,000 as hospital bill for my treatment for the attack. He even gave flimsy excuse that the herdsman who attacked had fled to Kano.
“Regrettably, they have refused to arrest him even when I repeatedly bought recharge cards for the IPO in charge of the case to follow up the owner of the cows before he could pay the much he paid. I am angry because I have not gotten justice for the attempt on my life.”
How did his family especially, his wife, receive the news of the incident? “It was very difficult convincing my wife who came back from bush market later that night that I was still alive and recuperating in the hospital. On hearing that herdsmen attacked me she had concluded that they were just persuading her to go to the hospital and see my corpse in the mortuary.
“She was inconsolable when she heard the news and almost inflicted serious injury on herself, protesting that she cannot cope with widowhood. For her just like most Nigerians, it was very difficult for any victim of Fulani herdsmen attack to survive it.
“I am a very lucky man and have even gone for a thanksgiving. I had gone back to thank those that helped rescued that day because if they were not around, I would have died in that farm due to excessive loss of blood. We had prayed during the thanksgiving for such incident not to happen to any of them in that farm.
“I have also gone to my church, St Joseph Catholic Church, Gwagwa, for thanksgiving. Members of the church especially, the Rev Father even visited the hospital to give me holy sacrament. Thet contributed in no small measure to my survival from the attack.”
Did he have any premonition of such attack and was there incident of such attack in the past? “I had a violent dream the previous night where Fulani herdsmen attacked and killed someone else and it was when he attacked that I realised that the dream was even about me.
“The road to the farm is not motorable at all. We usually trek over an hour before getting there. I always leave my house as early as 6.00am and return to the house latest by 3.00pm. We usually cross two rivers that even rose up to our neck during rainy season. The most efficient way to get to the farms is through motorcycle but it is only for those that can afford the exorbitant rate they charge.
“The large expanse of land is home and melting pot for the herdsmen to graze their cows and they come there in a very large number. For instance, the young man who attacked me had in his custody over 40 cows. My going to the farm was because the demand for the services of brick mason reduced. I have been a mason throughout the 30 years I have spent in this FCT.
“I came to Abuja for the first time on January 16, 1990 from Bauchi State on transfer by the construction company I was working with. I had earlier worked as a driver in Plateau State. I have 10 children with my last child about to take WAEC examination. The first child, a male, was born in August 1982. Three of my daughters are already married and have kids. I am over 70 years now.”
Asked if the herdsman attack was the gravest thing that has happened to him, he recalled: “Apart from an illness suspected to be poison that almost crippled me claimed my life during the Biafra Civil war, this attack was the most shocking threat to my life.
“The illness started in 1968 and lasted till 1978. I visited every available hospital especially in Enugu State and some northern parts of the country for medical solution to the over 50 boils that almost deformed me. The solution, however, came in 1978 at a Jos hospital during the era of Olusegun Obasanjo as military head of state.”