The Story of How Smoking Saved Chinedu from the Hands of ESN/Unknown Gunmen
In the tense and fear-ridden heart of Nigeria’s South-East, where the shadow of insecurity looms larger than ever, stories of survival often sound stranger than fiction. Yet, among the many untold accounts of kidnappings, torture, and miraculous escapes, one story has stood out — that of Chinedu, a young man whose addiction to smoking turned out to be his saving grace from the dreaded camp of the Eastern Security Network (ESN), also known as the Unknown Gunmen.
Chinedu’s story is not merely about luck or coincidence; it is a haunting reflection of what life has become in parts of the South-East region, where normalcy has been displaced by fear, suspicion, and violence. His experience offers a window into the unspoken horrors that countless victims have endured — and the tragic collapse of social order in communities once known for their peace and industriousness.
It began innocently, as most tragedies often do.
On December 23, 2023, Chinedu returned home from Lagos to attend the December 26th Memorial Ceremony of his late grandfather at Ihembosi, a quiet community in Ekwusigo Local Government Area of Anambra State. For him, the journey was meant to be a reunion with family and a celebration of life and memory.
Born and raised in Umuofor, Okija—a neighboring community in Ihiala LGA, Anambra State—Chinedu had not visited home for a while. Like many young Igbo men working in the city, he often cited insecurity and bad roads as reasons for staying away. But that December, nostalgia and duty brought him back.
On the morning of the 23rd, Chinedu decided to take a short trip across the state border to Eke Ututu Market in Orsu, Imo State, to buy a goat for the family ceremony. The market, once a bustling center for agriculture and livestock trade, was well-known across Anambra and Imo. But Chinedu did not know that Eke Ututu had become a ghost town — deserted and feared, following attacks and occupation by armed men suspected to be members of the Eastern Security Network (ESN).
Riding his family’s motorcycle, Chinedu set off without informing anyone. It was a decision that would nearly cost him his life.
As he rode into Orsu, the silence that greeted him was unusual. The once-lively market square stood empty, stalls abandoned, roofs half-burnt, and signs of bullet holes on nearby buildings. Before he could process the eeriness of the environment, a group of armed men emerged from the surrounding bushes.
They stopped him abruptly and demanded to know his mission. Chinedu explained that he had come to buy a goat for his family ceremony. But his explanation did not convince them.
“Who sent you?” one of them barked.
“You’re a spy! You came here to gather information for the security forces!” another accused.
No amount of pleading could sway their suspicion. They seized his motorcycle, tied his hands, and blindfolded him before dragging him deep into the forest — into what would later reveal itself as one of the numerous hidden camps operated by ESN/Unknown Gunmen across the South-East.
Chinedu would later recount that upon arrival at the camp, he met about fifteen men, all armed, and a few terrified captives — men and women whose fates hung by a thread.
He was immediately beaten and interrogated. His phone was searched, and his identity cross-examined. When they discovered he was from a neighboring community, they accused him of being a government informant planted to expose their hideout.
“I told them I was just a villager who came to buy a goat,” Chinedu recalled. “But they didn’t believe me. They said nobody buys goats from Eke Ututu anymore. They said I was lying.”
They ordered him to unlock his phone and withdrew all the money in his account using their Point of Sale (POS) machine — a common practice among these armed groups who extort victims digitally before deciding whether to release or execute them.
That night, Chinedu watched in horror as a young woman, one of the captives, was executed without hesitation. Her head was cut off in front of everyone. Her crime? She had reportedly insulted one of the gunmen.
“I thought I was next,” he said. “My whole body went cold. I didn’t even know when I started shaking.”
Desperation often brings out strange survival instincts.
As the night dragged on, Chinedu noticed that many of the men smoked heavily — cigarettes, hemp, and even local mixtures. He quickly told them that he, too, was an active smoker and could not go for long without smoking.
That revelation unexpectedly changed his fate.
They handed him a cigarette. He smoked nervously, coughing but pretending to enjoy it. They laughed, slapping his back and calling him “Nwoke nke anyi” — our man.
That was the moment the tension began to ease. Chinedu was no longer “the spy.” He had, in their eyes, become a fellow smoker, one of them.
Over the next few days, they allowed him to sit with them, smoke, and even share stories. He became something like their reluctant guest. In exchange, he had to maintain the illusion of camaraderie while quietly praying for an opportunity to escape.
But that chance never came easily.
While the world celebrated Christmas, Chinedu spent it in a forest, surrounded by men who spoke only the language of guns.
He could hear distant gunshots on some nights — signs of clashes between rival groups or security raids. The captives whispered among themselves, sharing tales of others who had disappeared, never to be seen again.
Back home, Chinedu’s family was thrown into confusion. They searched the roads, asked friends, and contacted relatives, but there was no sign of him. His phone line had gone dead.
Fear paralyzed them. Reporting to the police was almost impossible — the nearest station in the area had been burnt months earlier during a wave of attacks. His mother resorted to prayer, organizing nightly vigils with relatives and neighbors.
“That was the darkest Christmas of our lives,” his younger brother would later say. “We just kept praying and hoping for a miracle.”
After seven days in captivity, on December 30, 2023, the impossible happened.
The group’s leader, apparently moved by Chinedu’s friendliness and shared smoking sessions, told him he could go. They warned him never to tell anyone about their camp or how they operated.
He was blindfolded, led to the outskirts of the forest, and released.
When he returned home, his appearance shocked everyone. He looked pale, weak, and traumatized. His once lively eyes had turned hollow; he spoke little and preferred silence. His mother wept uncontrollably as he narrated his ordeal.
Neighbors gathered to thank God for his return — a rare miracle, considering how many others had vanished in the same forests and were never seen again.
On January 3, 2024, barely a week after regaining his freedom, Chinedu quietly left for Lagos. He could no longer bear to stay in the village. The memories were too painful; the fear too real.
He has not returned home since.
According to family members, he still struggles with nightmares and sudden panic attacks. Loud sounds remind him of gunfire. The smell of smoke — once familiar and even comforting — now triggers deep anxiety.
“He survived physically, but mentally, something inside him died there,” a cousin revealed.
Chinedu’s story is only one among many. Across the South-East, tales of abductions, killings, and mysterious disappearances abound. Communities in parts of Imo, Anambra, and Ebonyi States live under constant tension, caught between state forces and separatist elements.
What began as a movement for self-determination has, over the years, mutated into an unrestrained wave of terror — with armed gangs imposing curfews, extorting citizens, and enforcing “sit-at-home” orders with brutality.
Eke Ututu, once a commercial hub, has become symbolic of the tragedy that has befallen the region. Burnt markets, deserted streets, and displaced families now define daily life.
The government’s response has often been militarized — with joint security operations combing forests in search of insurgent camps. But for many residents, hope remains distant. Trust in institutions is broken, and fear of retaliation silences even the bravest.
Chinedu’s survival, while remarkable, raises broader questions about the state of security and social decay in Nigeria’s South-East. How did communities that once prided themselves on education and enterprise become breeding grounds for terror?
Experts cite several factors:
- The economic collapse that pushed thousands of youths into criminal networks.
- The erosion of community leadership and moral guidance.
- The weaponization of separatist sentiments by opportunistic warlords.
- And, above all, the vacuum created by years of government neglect.
“The line between ideology and crime has long disappeared,” said a security analyst based in Enugu. “What you have now are criminal gangs exploiting the chaos for survival and power.”
Chinedu’s encounter with ESN/Unknown Gunmen captures this tragic evolution — where ordinary people become both victims and pawns in a wider crisis that defies easy solutions.
There’s an eerie irony in the fact that smoking — a habit many condemn — became the tool that saved Chinedu’s life. In that camp, where violence reigned supreme, shared smoke became a strange bridge of humanity between captor and captive.
But behind the irony lies a sobering truth: survival in today’s South-East often depends not on justice or protection, but on sheer luck and improvisation.
Chinedu’s story reminds us that even in darkness, small human connections — however unlikely — can still make the difference between life and death. Yet, it also warns of a region on the brink, where countless others remain missing, their stories untold.
In Chinedu’s words:
“I don’t know why I’m alive. Maybe God used my bad habit to save me. I saw death face to face. I can’t forget those people I met there. I still see their faces in my dreams.”
For his family, gratitude is mixed with pain. His mother often repeats a line during her morning prayers:
“Affliction shall never rise again in Igbo land.”
Those words — part prayer, part prophecy — now echo across communities still trapped in the grip of terror. They are a call to conscience, urging leaders, citizens, and the government alike to act before more lives are lost.
Because for every Chinedu who returns to tell his story, there are many others who never make it back.
Source: Ikechukwu Emeka Onyia
This Story of how smoking saved Chinedu from ESN/Unknown gunmen
The story of how Chinedu come out from their camp alive is funny and sad at the same time in the hand of ESN/Unknown Gunmen:
On 23rd December 2023, Chinedu who returned back to for December 26th Memorial ceremony of their grandfather at Ihembosi in Ekwusigo LGA of Anambra State for and also for Christmas celebration.Chinedu himself is from Umuofor, Okija in Ihiala LGA of Anambra State.
Before then, Chinedu has not returned to village for awhile.
So on 23rd December, Chinedu without telling anyone, ride one of the family motorcycle 🏍️ to a nearby community which is in IMO State as Chinedu’s Ihembosi is one of those communities closed to IMO State.
Edu as he is called went to Eke Ututu market at Orsu in IMO State to buy goat 🐐 for the Memorial Ceremony. Eke Ututu market is a popular market and very big one for food and agriculture items around the area.
But he did not know that activities of ESN/Unknown Gunmen which have a camp in that community have forced the market to be shut down as nobody attend the market any longer.As he got there innocently, ESN/Unknown gunmen kidnapped him and accused him of spying. They wonder why he did not know that the market was no more functional.
As he was explaining, they took him to their camp and start beating him.According to him, they have their own POS machines as they forced him to use his POS to withdraw all the money in his account for them and also collected cash he had.
While he was there, he claimed to them that he is an active smoker and can’t afford few hours without smoking. They considered him a smoking partner and they started smoking together while he continued to beg that they let him go. Before him, they cut off a lady’s head just like that. He said that broke his heart as they informed him that killing him will mean nothing to them.
He spent Christmas there and also the Memorial ceremony came for there.
The family could not reach him and resign to prayer as that was a time you can’t even report to police because they have burnt most police stations in area. People turn to prayer 🙏 as only alternative.
He was in that camp till 30th December when they allowed him to go.
When he returned, he was like a ghost. He could not explain. He could not believe himself.
The family started thanking God that he even made it out from that camp as many were not lucky enough to to be alive to tell their story like he did.
On January 3rd, Edu traveled back and have not returned home again after that experience.
There are many untold stories from victims of ESN/Unknown Gunmen in South East
Affliction Shall NeveIkechukwu Emeka Onyia IInd !
#NeverAgainInIgboLand #IgboIsNotIPOB
Ikechukwu Emeka Onyia II
October 25, 2025