When the love of your life is gone, and the fear of never finding that kind of love again grips your heart, it can feel like the whole world is against you. Every day is a struggle, every moment a reminder of what’s missing. This is the story of 40-year-old Maryam Yahya.

Maryam’s life was turned upside down in January 2012 when her husband, Ali, a Nigerian police officer, was brutally killed in a shootout with Boko Haram members in Kano during a suicide attack on the police headquarters in Bompai, North West Nigeria. 

Ali was shot multiple times in the head and body as he fought to defend his colleagues and the police station. 

Boko Haram, a radical jihadist group, emerged in northeastern Nigeria in the early 2000s and started waging a violent war against the state in 2009. Its insurgents have attacked government institutions, security forces, schools, civilians, and other targets, and the insurgency has directly led to tens of thousands of deaths and the displacement of over two million people. 

Between 2009 and 2013, Boko Haram was able to attack locations in multiple states across northern Nigeria, including the country’s capital, Abuja. The 2012 attack on the police headquarters in Kano, where Maryam’s husband was killed, was just one of many brutal incidents.

Maryam was carrying an eight-month-old pregnancy when the attack happened. It was a shocking experience, and the event marked the beginning of a harrowing journey that would push their life into uncertainties and unending difficulties.

For Maryam, the pain of Ali’s loss would be a constant reminder of the fragility of life without a husband. One month after the attack, she gave birth to her sixth child. After the naming ceremony, she was forced to relocate to her late parents’ house, where she joined her four siblings and their children in a cramped, one-room space. The conditions were far from ideal, but it was the only place they could call home.

With no support and no means to afford necessities, Maryam and her children were often left to go hungry for days. The pangs of hunger became a constant companion. “We sometimes stay the whole day without eating anything, and sometimes it goes beyond two days. The children cry of hunger and fall ill,” Maryam said. 

For the past 12 years, Maryam has chosen to remain unmarried, driven by a deep fear that a new husband might not provide the love, care, and support her children so desperately need. This fear is rooted in her determination to protect her children’s well-being, even if it means doing so alone.

“I am haunted by the memories of my late husband, and I am afraid my suitor or new husband might not take care of my children,” she explained.

Despite occasional food support from relatives, who eventually grew tired of her requests, Maryam struggled to make ends meet. Her children were forced to drop out of school due to unpaid fees, and healthcare became a luxury they couldn’t afford. The once-promising future of her children now seemed like a mirage.

Hope arrived when a neighbour got Maryam a cleaning job at a hospital in Kano, paying ₦10,000 ($6.3) per month. However, the meagre income was barely enough to cover their needs, and delayed payments only added to their woes. “It’s like getting nothing,” Maryam said.

The job was still a lifeline, and Maryam clung to it with determination. She would wake up every morning at 5 a.m., get ready, and head to work, leaving her children in the care of her siblings. According to her, the work was backbreaking and draining, but she found solace and a sense of purpose in the routine.

The hospital later increased Maryam’s salary to ₦20,000 per month, but the joy was short-lived. When the institution faced financial constraints, the payments became irregular, and Maryam would often go without a salary for months. “We would have to wait for 50 days before we were paid,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice.

The prolonged Boko Haram conflict has had a grave impact on women and children. According to the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), among the millions of people displaced, 80 per cent are women and children. In 2020, Babagana Zulum, the governor of Borno, said the crisis had orphaned 59,311 children and widowed 59,213 women in the state alone. However, recent figures from the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) suggest the number of orphans affected by the war may be a lot higher. 

Maryam remains determined to provide for her children, but the road ahead seems daunting. “We used to afford school fees, healthcare, shelter, and other basic needs, but since my husband’s death, we’ve lost everything. We’re bearing hardship and lack of support.”

After Ali’s demise, the Nigeria Police provided her with a one million naira condolence payment.

In 2019, she finally received her late husband’s pension, but the journey was marked by hardship and deceit. A scammer promised to facilitate the payment, extorting at least ₦120,000 from her before disappearing.

Maryam then filed a complaint at the Kano Police headquarters in Bumpai. 

“When I went to complain about the involvement of one of the police officers working at the Kano Police Headquarters in Bumpai, they told me that they were not aware the culprit was collecting money from us. That was when we began pursuing the process afresh.”

She and her son travelled to Abuja, where they obtained the necessary documents from the police headquarters. Eventually, when the pension was finally released, it was shared among family members.

“My late husband was a kind and supportive man. He always tried hard to cater to our needs. Before he died, he was very loving, and we were very happy,” Maryam said.

Her eldest daughter, Saudat, added that they never went hungry when Ali was around.

“We used to eat food with meat, drink milk tea, and enjoy bread with butter for breakfast. We enjoyed many things, but now I miss all those comforts since my father passed away. We can’t even afford formal education because my mother can’t afford it.”

Saudat recalled wanting to live a good life and finish school, but all those dreams were shattered, leaving only trails of nostalgic memories. 

As the years go by, Maryam’s children grow older, their faces etched with the struggles they have faced. They have known untold hardship. But Maryam refuses to give up. She continues to work, fight, and hope for a better tomorrow.