The girls the world wept for and forgot

Three months after its schoolgirls vanished into the clutches of Boko Haram militants, Chibok has become the town that never sleeps.

For the mothers of those missing from this dusty northern Nigerian town, nightfall is a time when rest is impossible, when three hours of fitful dozing is the most one can hope for. And for the fathers it is a time for around-the-clock-vigils, patrolling the edges of town in case of yet more attacks.

With Nigerian security forces now belatedly stationed around Chibok there should be no need for neighbourhood watch duty. Yet, two weeks ago, in a sign of how thin the government's writ still runs, Boko Haram attacked two villages only 10km away, killing more than 30 people and razing four churches.

"We have no idea when they might suddenly attack again," said Henry Wasi, 46, whose 16-year-old daughter is among the 223 girls still missing.

"My wife is praying every day at the church because she knows it is now only God who will bring back our girls."

It was not supposed to be this way. Until recently it was not the Almighty that Chibok's residents were pinning their hopes on but a social media campaign called #bringbackourgirls, which aimed to galvanise the Nigerian government into action by highlighting around the world the plight of the girls.

Backed by everyone from Angelina Jolie to Michelle Obama, it sparked demonstrations across Nigeria and the wider world, and pledges of assistance from Britain, France, Israel and the US - all desperate to stop Boko Haram's cackling leader, Abubakar Shekau, making good on his videotaped promise to sell the girls off as "bush wives".

For the past two months, British and US hostage negotiators and intelligence teams have been assisting their Nigerian counterparts on the ground. US drones have scoured northern Nigeria's vast expanses of scrubland, forest and mountains, mapping every road, track and bush trail to garner clues as to where the girls might be.

But the girls are yet to be brought back. Special Air Service-style rescues have been ruled out as too risky. Plans to swap the hostages for jailed Boko Haram prisoners have come to nothing amid pressure from Western governments not to deal with terrorists. Claims by senior Nigerian military chiefs to have located the kidnappers' hide-out last month turned out to be nonsense.

It is not hard to find Nigerians who believe their government has quietly closed the book on the affair. Lurid rumours abound that the girls have already been impregnated by Boko Haram militants, or sold for R220 a head in the dusty slave markets of neighbouring Niger and Cameroon.

Small wonder that many of Chibok's families say they have lost all hope of seeing their daughters again.

"Nobody has helped us, not even our president," said Wasi.

A devout Christian, he still has grim memories of the "unworldly" moment when he saw his daughter staring out forlornly from beneath a blue hijab on the hostage video released by Boko Haram.

"All we do now is stay here in Chibok and fend for ourselves. Some people have already left - they don't think it's safe any more," Wasi said.

With the worlds' attention turning to fresh crises in Iraq and Israel, #bringbackourgirls is no longer the hashtag it once was.

The regular downtown demonstrations in the Nigerian capital, Abuja, have dwindled.

There have even been fights between campaigners in red T-shirts and a rival group, which wears white T-shirts and campaigns under the name #ReleaseOurGirls.

Said demonstrator Lawan Abana: "About three weeks ago they began turning up at the location at which we hold a vigil every day and they have been outright aggressive with us.

"Recently they smashed up a whole load of our plastic chairs and fractured one of my colleagues' arms. We think they are being paid by the government because their message is 'release our girls'. That puts the responsibility for solving this case on Boko Haram rather than the government."

Though the schoolgirls might never be heard of again, the group that took them most certainly will be. In the three months since the raid on the school in Chibok, Boko Haram has carried out nine major gun and bomb attacks, adding another 1100 victims to the 5000 it has claimed since 2009.

In its heartland in northeastern Nigeria it continues to gain the upper hand against the Nigerian military, despite President Goodluck Jonathan deploying vast numbers of troops.

Even by the standards of terrorist fanatics, the latest video message from Boko Haram's leader was singularly disturbing. In one blood-curdling performance, Abubakar Shekau revelled in the carnage inflicted by two bomb attacks in Nigeria's capital, and mocked the social media campaign.

"Bring back our girls?" he asked derisively. "Bring back our army!"

Western diplomats privately believe there is no realistic prospect of the children being rescued or exchanged.

When combined with the maniacal ravings of Shekau, that bleak appraisal highlights the gulf between the simple good intentions of a social media campaign and the harsh realities of northern Nigeria.

It was commendable for so many people to voice their concern for the Chibok schoolgirls. But in the end robust military and political methods - not Facebook - will defeat the atavistic Islamist radicals.

©The Daily Telegraph