In a rare and deeply moving moment that captured the very soul of national unity and selflessness, Borno State Governor, Professor Babagana Umara Zulum, has once again shown why he remains one of the most admired leaders in Nigeria. On October 7, 2025, in the quiet and scarred town of Mafa, he presented the keys to a fully furnished two-bedroom house to a woman whose courage and devotion have transcended tribe, religion, and geography — Mrs. Marbel Ijeoma Duaka, a nurse from Anambra State who chose service over safety during some of Nigeria’s darkest years.
For more than two decades, Mrs. Duaka served in Mafa, a rural community repeatedly torn apart by Boko Haram insurgents. When many fled for their lives, she stayed. When hospitals were deserted and entire villages turned to ashes, she held her ground, treating the wounded, comforting the terrified, and saving countless lives. Her story is not one of headlines or social media fame; it is a quiet, enduring tale of courage — the kind that often goes unnoticed until a grateful leader shines a light on it.
Governor Zulum’s recognition of Mrs. Duaka was not just a ceremonial act. It was, in many ways, an acknowledgment of a truth Nigerians rarely celebrate: that humanity and patriotism are not bound by ethnicity or state of origin. In honoring an Igbo woman who risked everything to serve in a predominantly Kanuri community, Zulum not only rewarded a nurse’s sacrifice — he bridged one of Nigeria’s deepest divides.
A Lifetime of Service in the Shadows of War
To understand the gravity of this gesture, one must first understand the landscape in which Mrs. Duaka worked. The town of Mafa, located about 50 kilometers from Maiduguri, became one of the epicenters of Boko Haram’s brutal campaign between 2013 and 2018. Entire communities were displaced. Schools, hospitals, and government offices were burned. Many public servants — doctors, teachers, and nurses — either fled to the state capital or sought safety in neighboring states.
But Mrs. Duaka remained. A soft-spoken woman in her fifties, she arrived in Borno more than two decades ago as a young nurse assigned to the Primary Healthcare Centre in Mafa Local Government. What was supposed to be a standard posting turned into a lifelong calling. When insurgents began overrunning villages, she refused to abandon her post, even as colleagues packed their bags and escaped in the dead of night.
Governor Zulum, himself a man who has faced multiple assassination attempts while traversing volatile territories, was visibly emotional as he narrated her story during the award ceremony. Standing before a small crowd of local officials, health workers, and residents, he recounted how Mrs. Duaka’s resilience had not only saved lives but also touched his own family directly.
“During the Boko Haram crisis, most people fled,” Zulum said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “But she stayed throughout, despite being a non-indigene. She has been working here for over 24 years and has never left Mafa for a single month. She treated many people, including my own relatives — even my mother. She is a heroine.”
The audience erupted in applause, and for a moment, the air was thick with gratitude and admiration.
A Governor Who Knows the Value of Service
Professor Babagana Zulum is not one to hand out praise lightly. Known for his no-nonsense governance style and relentless work ethic, he has become a national figure for his hands-on leadership. From supervising school renovations to personally visiting IDP camps at night, Zulum has made compassion and accountability his signature. But even for him, this recognition stood out.
Those close to the governor describe how deeply moved he was when he first learned about Mrs. Duaka’s story. “He couldn’t believe she had stayed in Mafa all those years,” one aide revealed. “He said, ‘In a time when even indigenes fled, this woman chose to stay and serve. That’s true nationalism.’”
Indeed, the story of Mrs. Duaka runs counter to Nigeria’s prevailing narrative of ethnic tension and regional mistrust. She represents a kind of patriotism that is rooted not in flag-waving but in quiet acts of duty. In her small clinic, under the threat of gunfire, she embodied the idea of service beyond tribe — a notion that has grown increasingly rare in the country’s divisive politics.
The Gift That Speaks Volumes
The house Governor Zulum presented to Mrs. Duaka is more than just a structure — it is a symbol of gratitude, recognition, and belonging. Built under the state’s Civil Servants Welfare Scheme, the furnished two-bedroom home sits within a secure neighborhood in Maiduguri. Inside are modern amenities — a living room fitted with plush furniture, a kitchen equipped with appliances, and two cozy bedrooms — all paid for by the state government.
The gesture is part of Zulum’s broader policy of rewarding excellence and loyalty among civil servants. Over the years, he has donated cars, cash, and houses to teachers, nurses, and community volunteers who demonstrated exceptional dedication to duty, especially during the years of insurgency. But this particular recognition carries an emotional depth that few others have.
“Governor Zulum sees this as a moral responsibility,” explained Borno’s Commissioner for Health, Professor Baba Gana. “He believes that public service should not go unrewarded, especially when rendered under life-threatening conditions. Mrs. Duaka’s sacrifice reminds us that heroism is not just on the battlefield — it is also in hospitals, classrooms, and offices.”
A Family’s Reward for Shared Sacrifice
In an equally heartwarming gesture, Governor Zulum went beyond rewarding the nurse herself. He also announced automatic employment for her son, Anthony Duaka, a young graduate of Banking and Finance from Kashim Ibrahim University, Maiduguri.
The announcement drew tears from Mrs. Duaka, who stood humbly beside the governor as the crowd cheered. For her, the moment was not only a recognition of personal sacrifice but also a blessing for her family — one that validated years of hardship, loneliness, and danger.
According to close colleagues, Mrs. Duaka had lived most of her career without the company of extended family, sending her children to schools in Maiduguri while she remained stationed in Mafa. “Her courage came at a cost,” one co-worker shared. “There were nights when the insurgents attacked nearby villages, and we thought they’d come for us. But she would stay in the clinic, saying she couldn’t abandon her patients.”
Now, with her son gainfully employed and a new home to her name, her decades of sacrifice have finally been acknowledged.
A Heroine’s Journey Through Chaos
The insurgency years in Borno were marked by horrors that defy imagination. Health workers became unsung soldiers in a war that was as much about survival as it was about ideology. Hospitals and clinics were often the first targets of Boko Haram’s wrath, seen as symbols of government presence.
Many nurses, doctors, and midwives paid the ultimate price. Those who stayed behind worked under conditions of fear, scarcity, and trauma. In this chaos, Mrs. Duaka’s resilience became a quiet anchor for the community.
Residents of Mafa recall how she often slept in the clinic for days, refusing to leave even when attacks loomed. She tended to wounded civilians, malnourished children, and frightened mothers — often with little or no medical supplies. There were times when she had to improvise, using household items as medical tools.
“She would boil water, tear clean cloths, and use them to dress wounds,” recalled one villager. “When people were sick and afraid to come out, she went to their homes. She became our mother.”
Her dedication did not go unnoticed. Local chiefs and community leaders had long appealed to the state government to recognize her, but the insurgency and constant displacement made formal recognition difficult.
Beyond Borders: A Lesson in Unity
In Nigeria, where ethnic divisions often overshadow merit, Mrs. Duaka’s recognition carries a powerful message. She is an Igbo woman who found purpose in the heart of the North-East, a region with vastly different culture and religion. Her 24 years in Borno tell a story of coexistence, compassion, and shared humanity.
By celebrating her, Governor Zulum sent a clear message that service and sacrifice transcend tribe or tongue. His action stood as a rebuke to those who believe Nigeria’s unity is irreparably fractured.
“This is the kind of story that heals a nation,” remarked political commentator Yusuf Ibrahim. “When a Muslim governor from Borno honors a Christian nurse from Anambra, it shows that the human spirit is stronger than our divisions.”
Governor Zulum’s Broader Vision
This latest act of generosity is consistent with Governor Zulum’s leadership philosophy — one rooted in empathy and meritocracy. Since assuming office, he has championed the welfare of workers, especially those who stood by the state during the insurgency. Teachers, local government staff, and health workers who risked their lives have received various forms of reward, including promotions, scholarships, and housing.
For Zulum, leadership is about fairness and gratitude. “When we acknowledge people like Mrs. Duaka,” he said at the event, “we are not only rewarding an individual; we are strengthening the values of hard work, courage, and humanity in our society.”
An Example for a Nation in Need of Hope
At a time when Nigeria grapples with disillusionment, political corruption, and social fragmentation, the story of Nurse Marbel Ijeoma Duaka and Governor Babagana Zulum offers a glimpse of what leadership and citizenship can look like when guided by integrity and compassion.
The image of the governor handing her the keys — a northern Muslim leader honoring a southeastern Christian nurse — has become a metaphor for the unity Nigeria often dreams of but rarely practices. It reminds the nation that acts of goodness, however small, ripple across boundaries and heal wounds that politics cannot.
As the ceremony drew to a close, Mrs. Duaka, overwhelmed with emotion, could barely speak. “I didn’t do it for recognition,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “I just wanted to help people. Borno is my home now.”
Those words, simple and profound, echoed long after the event ended. In a country torn by conflict and mistrust, they served as a gentle reminder that the true measure of service lies not in where one is from, but in how deeply one chooses to care.
Governor Zulum’s gesture was more than a reward — it was a statement. That courage, loyalty, and humanity still matter. That even in the ashes of insurgency, kindness can still bloom. And that somewhere in Mafa, a nurse who refused to flee has shown an entire nation the meaning of devotion.
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