Musa Modu Mayinta ran away from Borno State in 2009 when Boko Haram members started recruiting young boys from his village. Mayinta, whose face many might have seen, usually sits under the bridge at the turning to Town Planning, Ilupeju, along Ikorodu Road, told FIJ that he hadn’t heard from his parents in almost 10 years. Many of his friends had joined Boko Haram and had gone to his mother’s house insisting he must join them.

The first time he stepped into school, he was placed in Primary six. By JSS 1, Boko Haram had destroyed the school, forcing him to find another way of surviving. He started fetching water for Customs and MOPOL Officers in the morning and evening. In 2008, a Boko Haram attack on the Customs’ outpost that left eight of their cars burned brought an end to that work.

It was from there that he went back to Darajima, his village, where his mother sold a bag of beans for N4,000, gave him the money and told him to go to Lagos, never to come back until there was normalcy. She did not want her son forced to join Boko Haram, of which the consequence of not joining was death.

“My parents are still with Boko Haram; they did not allow them leave for almost 10 years now. When one of my sisters wanted to leave, they killed her. My people told me never to come back forever,” Mayinta said.

But Mayinta’s face has been a contributing factor to the hard life he is living and how he is treated. It has also been a source of pain and frustration to him. He told FIJ: “When I came to Lagos I did not know anybody. I just used to manage myself. I have the mind to work but when some people look at my condition they don’t give me work.

“I don’t have what to eat. I don’t have what to take care of myself with. When I go looking for work, some people won’t give me work. Some people don’t come near me because of my condition. They look at my condition and they feel I won’t be able to do the work. But I can do any kind of work. I have tried and tried but nothing. It is why you see me sit here.”

The condition Mayinta refers to is his terribly burnt face. When he was 10, he had epilepsy. His parents had gone to the farm and had left something on fire. When he the seizure came, it threw him into the fire, burning him to the extent that his nose and eyelids were affected. The burns around  other parts of the body are still evident. His parents spent all their money on hospital bills but it was not enough. When money ran out, they left the hospital and treated him at home for three years.

Yakubu Usman, who is also from Borno, has been friends with Mayinta for the past eight years. Sometimes when he gets work, he would give it to Mayinta or they would both do it. They both stay together and had met when Usman was working for a plastic company. At the time, Mayinta was working as a security guard at Isolo with Usman’s older brother. After Usman left the plastic company, he also worked as a security guard (which he still does) before buying a motorcycle and riding ‘okada’. Mayinta and Usman would later meet at Ajah where Mayinta worked as a guard albeit with infrequent salary, sometimes being owed for five months.

“We were doing hard work. We were digging gutters, carrying concrete from one-storeyed buildings to six-storeyed buildings,” Usman said, speaking in pidgin English.

He said they worked at Lakwe, Awoyaya, Epe, Lekki, Lekki Phase 1 and 2, Obalende, doing site work. “If he goes somewhere to work, they talk about him and laugh at him; this get him angry. He doesn’t like it. It is what made him stay on the road to beg.”

Usman himself had fled Boko Haram and had gone to Cameroon, where he lived in a refugee camp. He went to school in the refugee camp before leaving to come to Lagos. He takes Mayinta as his brother and explains that people judge Mayinta so much from how he looks without getting to know him.

“I didn’t create myself. If I created myself I wouldn’t be in this condition. Some people trouble me about my condition. No matter how much you reject me, I can’t remove myself from this condition,” Mayinta said.

“Sometimes when people lack understanding, they don’t get near me because of my face. If I had money I would go and change my face but I don’t have money. I’m a poor man. My parents don’t have money to do this for me. I will be in this condition until God brings helpers to me.”

Mayinta who is Maffa, an ethnic group in Northern Cameroon and Nigeria, said that the only help he would want would be a plastic surgery. With his family scattered around the country, and no one taking a chance on him, it has been difficult.

Mayinta told FIJ that in 2020 a woman had come promising to help him do a plastic surgery. She took his pictures and took him to a doctor. But since then, the woman hasn’t returned and claims to still be raising money for the surgery.

For now, Mayinta wants to run his business. He said he has found a shop to rent and would just need money to buy provisions. His life would also be more bearable if he could change the burn on his face. This remains his biggest wish.