Military Commander in Zaria: 

"Set them on fire!"

By Usman Hafiz

My life in Tudun Wada Dankade was shattered by news from Zaria on December 12th, 2015. I was teaching at an Islamic centre. I immediately halted the lesson, telling my colleague I had to go. He lacked the money, so I sold my brand new phone to fund our journey. After sending the SIM to my wife, we left for the last major junction to Zaria.

In Zaria, soldiers had blocked all access to Hussainiyya. We navigated footpaths to Gyallesu instead. Upon arrival, we were given tasks—then the soldiers came. They opened fire as we chanted Allahu akbar. We evacuated martyrs and the wounded until morning.

At dawn, the shelling resumed. A bullet tore through my lower abdomen. I was taken to Sheikh Maina’s residence, a shelter for the wounded that became a trap. The soldiers stormed the house and massacred hundreds. Then their commander arrived.

“Is it impossible to kill them all? I beg, set them on fire!” he ordered.

Soldiers climbed the roof and poured petrol. Inside, the dead lay beside the dying. I heard the commander’s command, then the ignition. The building erupted. They shot anyone who stirred in the smoke. Eight shots were fired toward me; one found its mark. I feigned death, enduring the encroaching flames.

A burning brother phoned his family, describing our fate alive. He spoke until he was unrecognizable, dying with his face covering the phone. His family kept calling, unaware. The fire licked around me, dying down each time it neared—a miracle in the inferno. Soldiers fanned the flames with more petrol, burning most bodies to cinder.

When they stepped back, I rose painfully among the dead. I changed my blood-soaked shirt for a martyr's. I was not alone; six others survived. One, near the gate, signaled the soldiers' movements with his hand. We were too exhausted to flee.

The soldiers returned, spotted me, and argued over my fate. They dragged us out, beating us, then took us for interrogation. An officer boasted of single-handedly arresting Sheikh Zakzaky. Later, a soldier in the vehicle offered sympathy and water, a fleeting humanity. But as we reached Basawa Barrack, his tone shifted. “This place is not a hospital,” he warned. “They will torture you.”

They beat us with belts, gun butts, and boots, targeting our wounds. They threw us into an icy swimming pool, then a cell, continuing the torture. Eventually, they dumped us at a hospital.

There, I met a boy who had been with Sheikh Zakzaky. He described how they moved rooms as fire consumed the house. The Sheikh refused to surrender, and his followers refused to abandon him. Looters found them, leading the soldiers back. The soldiers noted the fearlessness of the Sheikh’s daughter before taking them away.

I contacted Malam Yahaya Bargi, who came to the hospital for us. Back in Kano, I underwent surgery for my injuries. This is what I witnessed. May Allah grant us salvation, fortitude, and the freedom of our leader.

Culled from the book "Survivors of the December 2015 Massacre of Shiites in Nigeria: The Unsilenced Voices". 

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#Hussainiyya #ZariaMassacre #FaithUnderFire 

 #genocide

#nigeria 

#AmnestyInternational