{"id":930,"date":"2016-07-22T16:01:50","date_gmt":"2016-07-22T16:01:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/staging\/?p=930"},"modified":"2026-05-28T23:04:12","modified_gmt":"2026-05-28T23:04:12","slug":"henry-akubuiro","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/henry-akubuiro\/","title":{"rendered":"Henry Akubuiro"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sambisa Infidels <\/strong> <\/strong><\/h3>\n

The sun had dropped behind the trees in the dreaded Sambisa Forest. The dimming sunlight met Ibra and his squad trudging in dusts and despair. His tatty jeans, which had known no wash for weeks, attracted a trail of inquisitive flies. They had trekked through soft, light hot sands and a range of mountains and, now, blearily, picking their way through the dense, thorny forest they called home. He spat out a gob of phlegm on a dry leaf, twisting his bristly moustache thereafter. The squad of twenty was dispatched to nearby town of Gworza to loot food and return to Sambisa Forest, housing the ruthless Mujahadin.<\/p>\n

Slinging his AK45 across his shoulder and glancing at the fast darkening air, he permitted himself a grim smile.  Security at Gworza, was tight, with over a hundred soldiers patrolling sections of the town. They were outnumbered, and didn\u2019t want to expose their position by firing at them. They had to retreat. He knew their boss wouldn\u2019t be happy with that \u2013coming back empty handed was a sign of failure; it meant you weren\u2019t Jihadi enough. However, it was one of such moments when discretion became the better part of valour. They had spotted about five army tanks \u2013one alone could decimate them in minutes. The instruction today was to loot, not to engage the soldiers, and they were armed with light weapons, too. Christmas was three days away \u2013ordinarily, it wouldn\u2019t have bothered the insurgents, but the end-of-year holidays were observed every Nigerian, including the predominant northeastern Nigeria, where they were located. So, food had to be stockpiled.<\/p>\n

Two miles to their camp, dry leaves suddenly crinkled behind Ibra. He wheeled around mechanically only to see two mischievous brown rats dart past him into the bush as his colleague, Sadiq, kicked the air. \u2018I will catch you one day, you infidels,\u2019 he cursed under his breath.<\/p>\n

Malik Zaki, a snotty, turbaned fellow with speckled face, wasn\u2019t impressed with the report that his boys returned without the much needed food. They shouldn\u2019t have come back, he screamed at the listless fighters. The platoon was running out of food since the army began its latest offensive against the insurgents, bombing the Sambisa Forest at random. \u2018I don\u2019t want to hear this hard luck story anymore. We need food by all means!\u2019<\/p>\n

Walking groggily back to his tent, Ibrahim jumped up with a start as two rats escaped between his legs. He could recognise them. They were the same set of mischievous brown rats that darted at his back not too long ago. \u2018Every day is for the thief; one day is for the owner of the house,\u2019 he muttered. He was more despondent when he entered the tent: the rats had almost eaten up the half loaf of bread he left behind in the morning. He let out a growl and a deep sigh, cursing, \u2018Infidels!\u2019 The rats had been a thorn in his flesh. He didn\u2019t know between the soldiers and the rats who were his worst enemies. It was becoming clearer to him now that he had more than one battle to fight: the battle within and the battle outside.<\/p>\n

Ibra was one of the most trusted rangers fighting for the Sambisa Mujahadin.  He wasn\u2019t from Nigeria \u2013he was a Taureg from neighbouring Niger Republic. At 22, he had already been involved in three big wars: he was part of Gadaffi\u2019s mercenaries that fled to Mali after the fall of the Libyan dictator; he was part of the Asawad uprising in Mali that plundered Timbuktu, intent on overthrowing the government in Bamako \u2013he only made his way to Niger when the uprising failed, and joined the Borno-based Sambisa Mujahadin when they came for recruitment at Agadez. But this wasn\u2019t his first time in Nigeria. As a six-year old, his parents took him and seven other children of theirs from the Sahara desert to Lagos to eke a living from begging. They lived in Mile 2 under Bridge in Lagos for four years before the Lagos State Government deported them to Niger, where misery returned in the withered desert with vehemence.<\/p>\n

The last time he communicated with his parents was over a year ago. But it wasn\u2019t a direct communication. Using a phone he had stolen from one of the Chibok girls during a successful raid in Chibok Town, where the Mujahadin took over a hundred schoolgirls away, he was able to speak to his uncle in Niamey, who got across to his parents in the desert and returned their blessings, though they were disappointed he hadn\u2019t sent a dime since he joined the insurgents, contrary to the promise of fifty thousand dollars after the first two months in camp. In the camp, they were not allowed to communicate with mobile phones with the outside world, for fear of being tracked by the Nigerian security operatives or giving away the secrets of the Jihadists. About twelve insurgents who smuggled phones to the camps were arbitrarily executed. Only the leaders of different platoons in the camps were the only ones allowed to use walkie talkie. <\/p>\n

\u2018These rats are evil,\u2019 he said, taking a bite of the leftover of the bread he could salvage from the rodents\u2019 attack. It was gone down his throat in an instant. He reached for one pack of sachet water \u2013he was only entitled to two a day \u2013and gulped it in seconds. He wasn\u2019t contented. He gave a congealed smirk in the muffled tent. Hunger was gnawing his stomach. The water only assuaged his taste, not the stupefying hunger. He lay on his mat and looked askance in the air, thinking about life and its many cruelties. On their return to Niger from Nigeria many years ago, his parents had saved enough money to buy ten goats, of both sexes, at Niameh on their way to Agadez. Within three years, they had raised a trip of forty-something goats. But a wicked drought had hit the desert, and the trip died off in two months. It was unbearable for Ibrahim, who used to trek kilometres daily with half of the trip in search of scarce pastures and water. Life in Sambisa Forest was no better. He had trodden most parts of the forest, from the open woodland to the dense vegetation of short trees difficult to penetrate. Yes, the search for games had taken them to the most remote part of the forest, and had been rewarded occasionally with kills. They were restricted from using guns while hunting in order not to alert the Nigerian Army. Catapults, cutlasses, traps and spears were fancied. These days, games were harder to come by, because of the persistence hunting expeditions by different hungry platoons.  <\/p>\n

\u2018Ibrahim,\u2019 he heard his name from outside the tent. It was Sadiq, his closest friend. Sadiq was an extraordinary sniper \u2013only next to Ibra, born and brought up by a police father in Maiduguri, the Borno State capital. He had taken down over ten soldiers while hanging on treetops or mountain tops. He was two years younger than Ibrahim. \u2018How are you?\u2019 he trusted out his stubby fingers for a handshake after Ibra had unzipped the tenth.<\/p>\n

\u2018I am fine,\u2019 responded Ibrahim. But he knew it was mere courtesy. There was nothing fine about the day.<\/p>\n

He wanted them to play ludo \u2013darkness would soon cast its ominous blanket round the forest.  Ibra would have preferred loneliness and listen to the sweet homey tickle of the December air; but, with Sadiq around, he couldn\u2019t help saying yes. Nightfall meant more fear \u2013fear of the soldiers and Alfa jets staging occasional surprise attacks and aerial bombardments.<\/p>\n

***<\/strong><\/p>\n

Wukari and Jelida, the two mischievous brown rats, lived in a hole under the red bushwillow tree in the midst of thick shrubs beside the camp. They hated Ibra for two things: he had made two failed attempts in the past to smoke them out from their hole and use them for food, and he was responsible for the death of three of their siblings.  Wukari and Jelida\u2019s hatred for Ibrahim and other fighters increased following the death of their mother, who mistakenly stepped on one of the landmines planted by Ibra and his squad on the northern precincts of Sambisa Forest. Ever since, they swore to make life miserable for him<\/p>\n

\u2018Wukari,\u2019 said Jelida to his partner in ratty language, \u2018we don\u2019t have to spare this corn,\u2019 burying his teeth and paws on the tail of the corn. They had made their way to the platoon\u2019s store attached to the three-room underground bunker.<\/p>\n

\u2018Guy, we can\u2019t help thanking our luck,\u2019 replied Wukari, the second rat, clawing the corn with his purrs. \u2018Since Sambisa became busy, we have never had it so good.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I pray the war continues so that we continue enjoying ourselves. The life of a rat like ours doesn\u2019t have a definite lifespan. There are enemies here and there: snakes, foxes, eagles, and a host of predators interested in our tiny flesh.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Each time the fighters here go to war, we run things in the forest.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Between these stingy guys and the soldiers, who do you prefer?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The soldiers, of course.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Why?’ Jelida asked.<\/p>\n

\u2018You are asking me why. You can see for yourself that we scavenge for food on this side of the divide, for there is not much foodstuff left for them to eat, needless to say, us.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019re right,\u2019 Jelida said to his brother. \u2018Both are our enemies, but one is a worse enemy than the other.\u2019<\/p>\n

 On this part of Sambisa Forest, Ibra and his colleagues were famished and cruel, looking for every opportunity to kill Wukari and Jedida and eat up as they did their siblings. On the side, the soldiers were not interested in them per se; they were only interested in hunting down the \u2018terrorists\u2019 \u2013the Mujahadin hated that word.<\/p>\n

\u2018My only worry is that we have to cover a large swathe of land to get to the other side of Sambisa, but it is worth the effort each time we visit, because there is always sufficient food for us to eat and make merry,\u2019 Wukari.<\/p>\n

\u2018There is no question about that.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But, aren\u2019t we cruel to say we like this endless war?\u2019 questioned Wukari after another bite on the corn.<\/p>\n

\u2018I am not sure we are,\u2019 replied Jelida. \u2018We met the war right from the day we were born. We didn\u2019t ask for it, and we can\u2019t stop it either.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018On point, brother. But I don\u2019t like humans killing one another.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018It makes the entire forest stink with rotten flesh.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Humans can smell.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018They are of no use when they are dead, because they foul everywhere for weeks.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But, why are they killing themselves?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I don\u2019t know for sure.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018They disturb our peace with all sorts of unpleasant noises.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Some sound gbiiim<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Some sound gbooom<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And there is kakakaka kpokpokpokpo<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And there is gidiiiim<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The huge flying birds in the sky are a great terror.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Once they appear in the air, everybody runs helter-skelter.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018They huge flying birds are more dangerous than that thing<\/em> that killed our mother.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, they vomit fire from the sky, and dead bodies of men and animals litter everywhere in minutes.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Not only dead bodies. Tents, houses, vehicles burst into flame vooom <\/em>and burn into ashes.<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Wukari, these are terrible times to be a rat in Sambisa Forest,\u2019 sighed Jelida.<\/p>\n

\u2018You are right, my brother. Mother spoke of good times in the forest before these stingy guys moved into disturb the peace.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018In those days, their only worries were animal predators. Now, we have human tormentors worse than predators.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I would rather they live us alone.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018We ought to be happy living in the forest, but they have left their homes to join us. I can\u2019t really understand. Mum told us they have big houses.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Anyway, let\u2019s enjoy ourselves at the moment. We may not have another moment.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018What else can we \u2026?\u2019
\n<\/p>\n

The rats suddenly twitched and scampered off as the store\u2019s door creaked open. Their chatters had apparently aroused the commander of the platoon, Malik Zaki, who breezed into the store armed with a club. The rats quickly escaped through a hole they had painstakingly dug the other day and returned to their permanent hole moments later, scared stiff. It was a narrow escape. They knew that, with limited foodstuffs in the store, the insurgents were becoming more irate, and wouldn\u2019t tolerate anybody coming to share their food with them. Nevertheless, the two rats returned to Zaki\u2019s bunker few hours later with a different kind of mission.<\/p>\n

Relaxed on a sofa with legs outstretched and two AK45 by his sides, Malik Zaki was chewing his second lob of yellow kolanut after smoking a jumbo wrap of marijuana. He loved goro<\/em>, for it kept him alert all day, as he monitored the local radio stations. He guffawed with the latest news he was hearing on BBC Hausa Service. The Theatre Commander in the state capital, Maiduguri, Major General Dagogo Princewill, was heard saying the Sambisa Mujahadin was on the run following heavy bombardments an hour ago and that the Sambisa Forest would be cleared of insurgents within twenty-four hours. \u2018Stupid cowards!\u2019 he spat out. He was used to the lies of the Theatre Commander. Not even a single bomb was dropped in the forest for the past three days, and there were no reported encounters with the soldiers; so he couldn\u2019t understand the so-called heroics by the soldiers. \u2018Cowards!\u2019 he shouted again. \u2018If you think you are brave, come over; let\u2019s know the king of Sambisa,\u2019 he bragged and beamed as he sat down on the sofa with a contented yawn. <\/p>\n

At that point, the two rats rushed into the hall from a hole under the door. Startled, Hamza corked his gun and jumped onto the sofa. The rats knew he wouldn\u2019t shoot them; they glared at him defiantly for five seconds, and made their way out of the bunker. They had made their point. They were happy that a grimfaced human like Zaki was scared of them for all his braggadocio. The two rats decided to journey to the outskirts of Sambisa where the army had an armoured division to have a momentary change of environment. It was a long, tortuous journey in the glaring sunlight, spanning several kilometres strewn with landmines.<\/p>\n

         `                                               ***<\/p>\n

Malik Zaki was furious for the umpteenth time. For the second time, Ibra and his squad had failed to return with any loot \u2013in fact, they returned with five men short this time. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, and it wasn\u2019t going to be funny.<\/p>\n

\u2018We ran into an ambush by the Civilian Joint Task Force about five kilometres from Gworza.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018This is unbelievable!\u2019 the irate commander retorted, and thundered at Ibra, \u2018I am disappointed, Ibrahim. With all your experience in Libya and Timbuktu, you couldn\u2019t lead a successful operation to get us food!\u2019<\/p>\n

Ibra didn\u2019t like that. He had always given his everything, but what happened couldn\u2019t have been avoided. The civilian JTF had opened fire all of a sudden in a part of the forest they had not ventured before. He was even lucky to have escaped with minor injuries.<\/p>\n

A grim smile mounted on his face. \u2018You want me to clap my hands because some lackeys opened fire on you and killed my men?\u2019<\/p>\n

Ibra was rooted to the spot, contrite and shocked at the same time. \u2018It wasn\u2019t my fault.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Then, it was my fault.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That\u2019s not what I meant,\u2019 he said, battling a spurt of blood from his left ear.<\/p>\n

\u2018Whose fault is to blame that you can\u2019t get us food and you couldn\u2019t stop my men from being killed?\u2019 The commander was livid with rage. \u2018You must get us food!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018How?\u2019<\/p>\n

Instantly, Malik Zaki\u2019s right hand swung into the air, and a ferocious slap landed on Ibrahim\u2019s cheek. He staggered and steadied himself from falling. \u2018I am sorry, sir,\u2019 he gushed.<\/p>\n

\u2018Sorry for yourself!\u2019<\/p>\n

Malik Zaki retired to his bunker a wistful man. Having failed twice to get food from his boys, he decided to send a detachment of two hundred Mujahadin to loot the armoured division some seventeen kilometres away on the northern precincts of Sambisa Forest. They hadn\u2019t attacked the brigade for a long time, and he was convinced the soldiers wouldn\u2019t be expecting any surprise attack from the Sambisa Mujahadin. But, attacking a brigade was no dog breakfast. He had to commit hundreds of men with heavy weapons to achieve a good result. Aware of the risks involved, he changed his mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cTomorrow is Christmas Day, and it\u2019s a day for merrymaking for the infidels,\u2019 he briefed Umar and other select Jihadists he wanted to dispatch; \u2018but, there will be no Christmas for the infidels \u2013anybody or village opposed to them were regarded as infidels. I want you to attack any vulnerable village on the outskirts of Sambisa, and get us food. If we don\u2019t eat, we all starve to death. We need the food to continue the struggle. Allah won\u2019t forgive us if we all die here without realising the dream of a caliphate.\u2019  <\/p>\n

Meanwhile, the Theatre Command in Maiduguri had instructed the soldiers on the fringe of Sambisa Forest to make another push into the forest to flush out the Mujahadin following the latest reconnaissance reports which informed of suspicious movements towards the location of the brigade.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Having eaten to satiety for twenty-four hours at the armoured division on the outskirts of Sambisa village, Wukari and Jelida decided to journey back to the other side of Sambisa Forest where they had a permanent home amid a clammy Christmas weather.<\/p>\n

\u2018Guy, did you notice those mice in the army stores were looking robust?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I was jealous, my brother.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018They look fresh and shiny.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But I prefer being a rat than a mouse.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You share my thoughts,\u2019 Wukari said.<\/p>\n

Soon they were up to speed. They had to throttle for most parts of the journey to avoid the prying eyes of predators. On their way, they saw a battalion of soldiers in vehicles moving deeper into the forests. Wukari and his brother climbed up a tree to watch the advancing soldiers.<\/p>\n

\u2018Wuka,\u2019 called Jelida, \u2018Are you seeing what I am seeing?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Jeli, they are planning for another confrontation.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That shouldn\u2019t scare you; we are used to seeing such movements. Sometimes the soldiers withdraw without firing a shot.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Wuka, I am scared.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I am not,\u2019 returned Jelida.<\/p>\n

\u2018Why aren\u2019t you scared?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018These soldiers are not after us.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I am only scared of stray bullets. Remember how we escaped the last time they came face to face. Shots rang out from all corners, and we were almost consumed by a snake inside a strange hole we ran into.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I don\u2019t wish to remember that frightening experience. If we hadn\u2019t rushed back to the open, we wouldn\u2019t have been dead.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018My brother, it was a scary experience.\u2019<\/p>\n

Admiring the soldiers\u2019 camouflage for a moment, Jelida asked his brother, \u2018You see how smart these soldiers are dressed?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018They look smart and organised.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Ibra and his group look ratty and hungry, that\u2019s why they see us their rivals, which we are not. Are we?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Please, don\u2019t mention Ibra; he is no good. We can\u2019t help going back to his tenth to torment him again.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Have you noticed he is leaner now?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, I have. That\u2019s what hunger can do to a man who moved to the forest to compete with us.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I am beginning to pity him.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Don\u2019t. Ibra deserves no pity at all.\u2019<\/p>\n

The two rats climbed down from the tree, and continued their journey. The long distance they had to travel to get home was one thing that kept bothering them each time they visited the armoured division on the outskirts of Sambisa village. Usually, they would leave the army base filled only to return to their hole hungry and exhausted. They didn\u2019t want to stay permanently on the other side because the preferred the naturalness of the forest. Besides, the mice in the soldier\u2019s stores didn\u2019t like their presence. Often times, the two rats would avoid them and concentrate on another portion of the store where they were absent.<\/p>\n

\u2018Wuka,\u2019 Jelida called his brother, craning his neck,\u2019 can you make out anything happening in front?   Both had climbed a tree again to see what was happening in front.<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, the soldiers have stopped moving.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018It seems they are afraid of going any further.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Perhaps they will be camping here for the night\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018Or they have noticed something.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018But that shouldn\u2019t be our concern,\u2019 said Wukari.<\/p>\n

In unison, they climbed down, and raced towards the dense forest. On getting to the end of the open woodland where the soldiers were massing up, they waited for minutes to survey the front. Convinced there was no danger on their part, the two rats moved past the battle tanks and jeeps.<\/p>\n

\u2018The soldiers are afraid of crossing over,\u2019 Wukari said.<\/p>\n

\u2018But we aren\u2019t.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Aren\u2019t we brave?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018No doubt about that.\u2019<\/p>\n

The two rats were stopped in their track some ten minutes later by some seemingly dispirited fighters coming towards the woodland. Climbing up a treetop quickly, the rats could spot Ibra, wiry, in the midst of the Mujahadin.<\/p>\n

\u2018There goes Ibra,\u2019 Wukari announced to Jelida.<\/p>\n

\u2018Looking harassed and hungry as ever,\u2019 Wukari teased.<\/p>\n

\u2018He doesn\u2019t look happy at all.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018His hair is bushy.\u2019<\/p>\n

The chatter was abruptly ended with the appearance of two bombers in the sky followed by a disarray, huge explosions and howls of pain. The intensity of the bombardments shook Wukari and Jelida, and they plummeted to the ground and hid under a ticket, frightened. A bomb from one of the fighter plane landed not far away from where they were hiding, and the impact threw the rats into the air. While Wukari landed on his back on shrivelled leaves with a woozy head, Jelida landed on a log of wood and blanked out.  Sadly, the later never recovered from the fall. Wukari mourned the death of his brother in hiding and trembling, and continued the journey home alone six hours after the guns had fallen silent.  <\/p>\n

Malik Zaki was rattled by the debacle. Hitherto, he had stayed back in a sulk waiting for the boys to return with booties when he heard the news of the rout. Now, he was having a bad case of blues, pacing up and down the bunker. Ibra and Sadiq, two of his most reliable fighters, had died in the aerial bombardment by the Nigerian Air force. Besides, over fifty of his men had been mown down by the Alfa jets and Scorpion tanks firing from a close range. He was facing hunger for the first time in a long while. He had gone all day without food. He didn\u2019t know what else to do. The spirit in the platoon was low, and it wasn\u2019t the best time to send any squad on another risky mission.<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, the hole housing Wukari under the bushwillow tree was enshrouded with gloom. His brother was no more. Vivacity had gone with him. In a world surrounded with enemies, he had nobody to chat with and share in his agony. Also, hunger stared him in the face. He decided to creep into the bunker to see if he could get any crumb. It was a wrong time to visit.<\/p>\n

Malik Zaki was sitting on the sofa with sagged shoulders in the silhouetted bunker when the rat stole in. He stiffened himself and allowed it to enter the store. Grabbing a club, he crept to the store for a showdown with Wukari. The rat never made it out alive. Malik Zaki relished the protein moments later as winds swished through the red bushwillow trees outside.  Two Alfa jets circled in midair. They had spotted a suspicious bunker.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sambisa Infidels<\/b>
\nThe sun had dropped behind the trees in the dreaded Sambisa Forest. The dimming sunlight met Ibra and his squad trudging in dusts and despair. His tatty jeans, which had known no wash for weeks, attracted a trail of inquisitive flies. They had trekked through soft, light hot sands and a range of mountains and, now, blearily, picking their way through the dense, thorny forest they called home. He spat out a gob of phlegm on a dry leaf, twisting his bristly moustache thereafter. The squad of twenty was dispatched to nearby town of Gworza to loot food and return to Sambisa Forest, housing the ruthless Mujahadin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2133,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-930","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/930","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=930"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/930\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2134,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/930\/revisions\/2134"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2133"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=930"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=930"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=930"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}