Christmas Canoe Escape To Amawbia

The real-time escape of a would-be scammer began on Christmas Eve. (Names changed to protect the innocent under threat of death.)

Two AM, December 29, 2022, in the darkest snake-filled bush in Nigeria, a would-be scammer fled for his life from his worst mistake. Chijoke had lived in the bush alone since he was ten. At fourteen, just weeks ago, he had joined one of the most expansive gangs in the region. 

Chijoke moved stealthily through the bush till he reached a path and took off at an all-out run. If he could get to the river, he might escape death's grasp. Death slept snoring in the shadows. Fear was ever-present. A tiny spark illuminated the path ahead—hope emanating from a few words on a glowing screen.

"Go, go fast, go quiet, use your brain, you can make it." Your humble author's gift of freedom moved Chijoke to tears.

Christmas eve, on the other side of the planet, I, your kind-hearted wordsmith, had finished saying no, no, no, to the dozens of people who thought a pretty smile and flirtatious attitude made them deserving of hundreds of dollars for simply saying hello. The final message was from Kelly. Kelly was always good for an intelligent conversation and seemed good-hearted and kind.

Kelly was distraught. Suicidally depressed and hopeless. It would be Mama Jenny's Last Christmas without a colectomy surgery for aggressive cancer. Kelly expressed suicidal desperation to save Jenny's life. 

I was left alone at home on Christmas Eve, with the ding ding ding of one message after another received. "Help me get food." "Help me get medicine." "Help me get a phone." It's funny how people who claim to have nothing all need the newest iPhone and won't settle for less. Then came the inevitable "don't you love me? Don't you want to make your wife/girlfriend happy? Prove you love me," I ignored all with the passing thought; "who are you? I don't even know you." 

Kelly sent a message. "My sister said she gets paid five thousand on Monday, but it will be too late. I give up; there's nothing I can do. My mom is all I have." 

So I made a proposal. Tired of all the take take take, I was ready to offer a touch of hope with assurances—ID, legally binding contracts, texts to 'sis,' and mom's fiancé. I even requested location tracking; all requests were complied with willingly. And then, I sent some funds through PayPal. It was more than I could afford. However, it was what I was willing to lose to save a life.

Christmas Eve, I felt good about my choice to save a life, believing I was rescuing two.

Then came Monday, a delay in repayments and the growing suspicion it was a scam. I had two choices, the embarrassment of a police report and admission of gullibility or an appeal to what I was sure was real. An intelligent person with a good heart was in a bad enough situation to have to go to such lengths.

One AM, December 29, one hour before Chijoke fled through the forest in fear; the ruse was crumbling. The realizations were coming in rapid fire, thanks to the aggressive nature of my protective lioness ex. (Brutal as she can be, she is effective.) The numerous photos of 'Kelly' proved to be an OnlyFans girl named Jen.

Text lacked the nuances of vocal communication, so I sent voice messages. "I know you, although—well, I guess I don't—I know you are a good person and wouldn't do this unless you had to. So who are you? Is your name Jen?" 

The response came in text. "You will be paid back in twenty-four hours as soon as I get PayPal unlocked to refund it. I am too angry to speak now. You are such a good person, the only good person I know."

I repeated the who are you inquiry, along with assurances I understood.

"Are you calm? I need you to be calm. I am sorry I deceived you. It was life or death. I had no other choice." I braced myself for what might come next.

"I'm calm; what's done is done. Nothing can change that except the truth." I meant it too.

"Are you sure you are calm? First, I am so sorry. I am refunding your money. You have been so kind to me. I can't do this to you. Are you sure you are calm? I am actually a fourteen-year-old boy and have lived alone in the bush since age ten. I made a mistake. I joined a gang. Two weeks after I joined, a delivery got stolen. I owe them ten thousand. They will kill me if I don't repay. I would rather die than rip you off. I have very little time left. I want to go to heaven. I am terrified of the brutality, but I promise to send it all back before I die. There is no escape; they are everywhere. I have never had a friend. Promise you will keep texting me till the end. I admire your intelligence, and you are so good. I tried everything. Nobody wanted to help a poor black boy in the bush. I got desperate and thought I would try this. I am so sorry. I want to be good."

That wasn't what I expected to hear. "When you were pretending, you said you taught yourself website design? You are a smart kid, the ID - did you photoshop it? Imperfect but not bad for a kid in the bush. If you had another opportunity, would you make the best of it?"

"I sure would! But I have no time. No escape. I have three days to pay them. Even if I escaped, I could hide for at most a year. I want to join the American military. I am suicidal; it would spare me their brutality. I am terrified of what they will do." he was also terrified my ex was out to get him arrested. I asked her what Jesus would do, and she begrudgingly forgave him. 

"Look, kid, you screwed up once. You don't have to again. I have a web server. You can make as many sites as possible and earn whatever you can." I paid over a quarter of my income on keeping my websites running, so I might as well make it worthwhile. "What do you need to escape? Where will you go?"

"Amawbia, if I can make it without being caught. After studying their habits and movements for the last couple of weeks, I think I have a plan. I can't take the roads because they control the roads. I can't afford to fly, but I can take a three-day canoe trip across the country." It sounded risky. Hippos can be nasty.

Chijoke would not reveal his name till he was safely on the river. He had a six-hour head start before the discovery of his absence.

This story is unfolding and unfinished. The river is long and full of dangers. The gang's influence is everywhere; Chijoke can't trust nearly half the people. He has a chance at a better life if he puts his brain to good use. A second chance was just three days away if he could reach his destination.

A would-be scammer who refused to scam got a second chance at a better life.

Christmas is not the right time of year to face a certain death.

Noon, Friday, Dec 30: I know many more people in Kenya than I do in Nigeria, but I reached out to the few I do. Three square meals of home-cooked food are now covered in an area with low gang control. This friend who shall remain nameless is searching out budget hiding places in secluded areas. Help is on the way.

Two PM. This kid is smart. I had asked to track his location, and he figured out a way to spoof it. Time to send the hunters headed the wrong way. A head start, and a diversion may spell survival. So far so good. Ten hours have passed anyway. Grabbing food. Lingering no longer than it takes to disappear carried away by the current.

Darkness settles heavily on still-flowing waters. Moving forward. Daring to have hope.

More support from my friends and community. And a plan to escape the country. Stay tuned—developing. Pathways are opening by the hour.

Nightime and the shelter of the bush seem safer to Chijoke than continuing straight towards his destination. He takes to the shelter of the forest he made it significantly far enough away that staying hidden in the woods alone was sensible. Sleeping with the snakes, unprotected is better than coming out of hiding.

The cold hard ground lit only by starlight will make this frigid night hard and lonely. The brush surrounding the tiny clearing might block some wind, but this is far from the mountains, and too close to civilization to risk a fire. Shivering Chijoke chose to leave the river, in case his canoe escape route was uncovered. It would be better to take a few days longer than to be exposed right now.

He survived in the bush from age ten, he will survive one more night without proper protection from the elements. One star shines brightest through the canopy. A Christmas star shines while the sounds of animals in the distance break the silence.

I say it again, what a smart kid when he applies his mind. He is taking great risks, but quick-witted he readjusts his strategy on the fly. Amawbia will take longer on foot, but it's safer than traveling out in the open. Chijoke, who was on the edge of suicide, is a true survivor.

Unknown time, wee hours of the morning. Several men came after him. Unsure if they were from the gang. They chased him through the darkness. He spent the rest of the night high in the branches of a tree.

Chinjoke just clued me in on a trick. If you are messaged out of the blue, reply Alaye. Nothing else, just Alaye. It means good friend, but it is scammer code for "I'm a scammer too." He swore nobody will ever scam me for the rest of my life—unless he dies in the bush.

Ten AM, USA time, Chinjoke left the bush and his treetop perch to risk putting more miles behind him in a motorized tricycle. It is exposed but will get him out of the area faster. He should reach his destination today. Every car he goes past could be his last.

It is a perilous journey, but relative safety may be just hours ahead.

Midnight, the stroke of the new year. Nestled in the underbrush Chinjoke contemplates his resolutions:

All I pray for is peace of mind and freedom plus happiness

My resolution are to be hardworking

Loyal

Stay away from bad energy

Stay away from troubles

Be productive

Avoid negativity

I added:

Job and place to live

He replied:

Even if I don't get a place, I just want to be free

Next year over there—3:44 pm Dec 31 here—Chinjoke called me from where he’s bedding down in the woods. Cold hard clay with only weeds as protection. Chinjoke's New Year's resolution is never to do bad again. Chinjoke told me, “When you grow up in the bush from age ten, being young is not an option. I had to grow up way too fast.”

I too can relate. But not to the extent.

In a Maasai camp, hundreds of miles away in Kenya, Rose and her children cry out in desperation and hunger, because your humble author has nothing left to give.

The slow Journey to escape continues. The story does not end with this last sentence.