In late February, the story was reported that a girl from Bayelsa State, Ese Oruru, had been abducted by a young man from Kano and up till then, her parents’ efforts to retrieve her had been largely futile. When the story broke in Sunday PUNCH, Nigerians reacted with an unanticipated level of outrage that instantly sensationalised the case, turning it into some kind of turf war between already antagonistic factions. In retrospect, the battle that was fought over Oruru through the media was not so much about her person or welfare. Rather, it was a proxy war; one that made it possible for warring tribes of commentators across geopolitical zones to suspend diplomatic pretences and unleash dirt on each other.
It was pretty shameful how the conversation quickly disintegrated from advocacy for an abducted minor to a shameless campaign of ethno-politics, bigotry, voyeurism and a violation of Oruru’s person. In both the traditional media and on social media, she became a jump off point for every perverse analyst who wanted to rationalise sexual abuse and paedophilic tendencies.
Rather than an objective narration of issues, some of the reporting read like the journalists simply wanted to induce victim-blaming by reinforcing myths about young women and sexual waywardness.
Due to the narcissistic nature of social media, its self-serving race for “likes” and “follow”, reflective thinking and concern for ethics can be easily elided. At such a point, one expects the traditional media to at least enforce certain borders of good taste. Unfortunately, in Oruru’s case, the traditional media seemed to compete with the social media in the vain bid of feeding the monster of public curiosity, turning reporting into some kind of Peeping Tom sport. They happily forgot that the girl, regardless of the circumstances of her case, was still a minor and her future should not be needlessly haunted by her present situation.
It was bad enough that she was already pregnant when she was found and though that fact had to be reported, should have been moderated. Instead, the manner it was tossed at the public made one wonder if there was not some underlying deviancy to the whole affair. Afterwards, things went south. A journalist went as far as Kano to photograph the house where she stayed, captioning it “The house where Ese Oruru spent her first night in Tofa village.” At some point, I expected they would brandish the bed she slept in our faces. Mind you, the photograph had images of children in that household whose faces should have been pixelated.
Days after, another newspaper reproduced images of the Orurus’ house in Bayelsa and the street leading to the place, their living room, her underage siblings, the shop where her mother sold food, and practically every marker of identifier that makes it easy to track them if one needed to. It seemed it never occurred to anyone that given the intensity of the public sentiment that pervaded the issue, sharing so many details about them was subjecting them to possibility of violence. Or, was there an unstated understanding that the reporting was transactional? That the family’s privacy was the price they had to pay the media for helping them bring their daughter back?
One can make a similar case of ethical violation and disregard for a victim’s privacy in the case of the Chibok girl, Amina Nkeki, who was recently found two years after Boko Haram abducted her and 218 other schoolgirls. In her case, there is of course a crisis of credulity and the politicisation of a tragedy. There are those who believe that the abduction never took place and there are those who think it happened but the latest episode of the found girl was simply government playing tricks. There are of course plenty other people who believe the abduction took place. For all categories, it is understandable why the question of her privacy could not arise. Yet, there should be limits to how this woman should be reported lest she be re-victimised all over again. Did we really have to know that the girl had undergone HIV/AIDS test and that the result was negative? If the result had been positive, would the public have had any need to know?
Then, there was a raucous talk about her “husband” found along with her and which made one wonder if those who released that information thought of the repercussion of such a labelling. Were they too excited that it did not occur to them that they were legitimising violence? How could the person found with her be characterised “husband” when we are not dealing with a normal situation? Even more appalling was how that piece of misinformation instantly became a tool of propaganda in the hands of Doubting Thomases, almost obscuring the more important fact of her return.
When Amina Ali was taken to meet President Muhammadu Buhari, someone had the quirky idea of veiling her and then unveiling her before the president. I cannot fathom how they missed the irony of that needless drama. This was a girl who had been abducted like a thing for two years. Now that she was found, she still had to be “re-thingified” so she could be presented to the President like a gift! What was the point of turning her meeting with the President into some party, unveiling her like a bride being offered to a groom?
The image of her initially shared showed her armed with a plate of Jollof rice in one hand and a baby in the other. For the life of me, I cannot but wonder who took such a picture of her at such a vulnerable moment and decided that was the most befitting way to re-present her to the world. What was the point of portraying her as destitute and abject? Were they trying to feed an ongoing narrative about the girls, or shape a new one, or in the heat of excitement they just did not think through their efforts? Could such lack of respect be a matter of social class? They assumed that because people are poor, they have no use for dignity? Even more annoying was that the same undignifying picture was reproduced in the international media. These are media houses that would adhere to high standards of reporting victims but for some curious reasons decided to suspend ethical practice.
One of the reasons people are urged to protect the privacy of victims of violence is the possibility of rehabilitation. We are reminded that these people, especially young ones, still have a long road to travel through life. They should be able to heal and move on through life without being overwhelmingly saddled by the burden of their continuous violability through stigmatisation. These are facts that should not be abdicated for media sensationalism. When people have been traumatised by their experience, the best we can do for them is to let them heal privately and not display them like a trophy won at a horse race. Even when their circumstances are created by their own mistakes, they still do not need to be destroyed for life. They should have a chance at redemption. How can they get their life back when they have been treated like their humanity does not matter?
I understand it is important for journalists to make their stories convincing and even entertaining to the public. At the same time, there should be consideration for the victim’s life after the public is done with them and has moved on. It is equally crucial to consider that the way victims are treated will go a long way to determine if other victims will seek help. Nobody, if they can help it, wants to be fodder for the public to chew.
PUNCH
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