(CNN) Fati Abubakar knew something was wrong when a local preacher started to draw larger crowds with his outspoken rhetoric.
The place was Maiduguri, the capital of Nigeria's Borno State, and the man in question was Mohammed Yusuf, the late leader of Boko Haram.
Eight years on and the militant Islamist cell has become the deadliest terror group in the world. Boko Haram has unleashed wave after wave of brutal attacks across northern Nigeria, bombing schools, churches and mosques, kidnapping women and children and assassinating politicians and religious leaders alike.
In 2014, the last available year of figures, Boko Haram was responsible for 6,644 deaths according to the Global Terrorism Index. It was a number widely reported, but it only tells a fraction of the story.
Abubakar is doing her best to make up for that.
In photos: Life after Boko Haram
Aid worker and photographer Fati Abubakar captures the portraits and stories of those living in Nigeria's Maiduguri -- the heart of Boko Haram territory -- in her
Instagram and
Facebook series, "Bits of Borno." The city is also her home town.
"The Boko Haram insurgency has left a toll on our community, and the impact has been physical, psychological and economic," she explains. "There is a lot of trauma, but there is resilience as well. With this series I want to capture the strength, struggles, joy, sadness and the human spirit as the crisis abates and people move on."
Click through the gallery to read more stories of Boko Haram's survivors
"I don't know where my parents are. I don't know whether they died or are somewhere else after we all ran from our village. But some of my aunts are in another camp. I visit them occasionally. I live here in Kusheri (a new community that moved to Maiduguri). The Bulama (traditional leader) gave me a room. His family feeds me. I don't go to (formal) school but I have joined the other kids in the Islamic school in the neighborhood."
"I was an ex-soldier living in Bama when the Boko Haram terrorists came. They burned all of my property, my animals and killed my two sons. My son had married June 15th, 2013 and he was killed 1st September, two months after his wedding. We walked to Maiduguri and have been living here for some time now, but I struggle with food, clothing and a mattress to lay my head on. I still don't have food and I have a young 10-year-old and a wife to feed."
"Myself, my sons, their wives, and their children ran to Maiduguri. It's 16 of us in four rooms. We've left everything behind. We don't have money anymore. Not even food. I want my sons to find jobs so the family can survive."
"I am the Bulama for the compound we live in. We are about a hundred in number. Since we moved to this neighborhood from Yimimi, Konduga Local Community, we haven't received help, be it clothing, food or anything. They (NGOs) wrote our names (down) 10 weeks ago but we haven't seen them again. We sell charcoal to help pay rent. Its 1,000 Naira ($5) a room per month and the landlord has started saying there will be an increase in rent to 3,000 Naira ($15). Most of us might end up being evicted. That is what we are worried about."
"I come to the market at 6am and sit at my spot. I leave at 6pm. I check all of the women coming into Monday Market. We have to be strict. We have to ensure everyone passes by security checks. I'm dedicated to doing my job."
"Boko Haram attacked our village, Malari in Konduga Local Government, and killed my son. So my friend and I found a car and came to Maiduguri. We live with my other son, but he can't feed us all the time, so we beg on the street."
"I've a lot of problems with the university. It's seven of us in one room -- that's unhealthy. The water we fetch is also unhealthy. Then the mattresses we were given have all sorts of dirt on them. The toilet is terrible, it's a reservoir for infections. Lectures are 45 minutes per class because of the insurgency. Everyone wants to rush back home. We don't have even time with our tutors. And I'm a bookworm, I love studying, so that's an issue for me."
"The Boko Haram terrorists went away with two of my siblings and my brother was shot on our way to Maiduguri. Even after finding safety here, we have lots of problems. Food, rent. We've too (many) issues. And there's not much trade. I sew caps but sometimes you can't even buy the thread because there's no money. The government and NGO food distribution is yet to reach our neighborhood."
"She was so quiet it was disturbing," Abubakar recalls on meeting this anonymous subject. "I wonder what scars she came with. The mass relocation to Maiduguri during Boko Haram has brought a lot of the villagers to the town. And one wonders what they had to endure."
"(Boko Haram) didn't touch me because they said I was old. So they left with the other women in the town, I heard the women screaming. I didn't sleep for days. But I continued living in the neighborhood, selling groundnut. The (Boko Haram) boys used to come and buy the peanuts as they passed. Day and night I thought of ways to leave the town. Eventually I ran. It took me a week to walk from the village in Baga to Maiduguri."
"We used to live so peacefully with our elders, our neighbors, our families, before Boko Haram attacked our village. We had businesses and all of us were doing well, none of us had ever been idle. But then the terrorists chased us out and we ran to Maiduguri. We left with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We've lost everything and almost everyone: wives, children, parents. We don't know anyone, not a lot of people help with jobs. No one gives you a dime. We just sit under the tree, sew caps and go home. Occasionally we sell one and pay rent. We just hope to sell more caps to survive because all the (borders) for other businesses are closed and the terrorists will kill you at the borders if you attempt."
After the bomb blast
War has many terrible consequences. One of them is that it reduces human lives to statistics. Thousands have died at the hands of terror in Nigeria, though many times more have lived -- and are still living -- through it.
Abubakar is one of the survivors. During the ongoing insurgency, she has lost neighborhood friends and her mother's best friend was shot. Her family were forced to relocate for a time due to the hostilities. Remarkably, Abubakar maintains that she has not been directly affected by the conflict. Her story, she argues, is nothing compared to others.
She should know. Abubakar has made it her mission to document the lives of the people of Maiduguri, finding both deep trauma and steely resilience along the way. Her Instagram and Facebook series, "Bits of Borno," explores the lives of those who have been touched by the unrest.
A photo posted by Yerwa (@bitsofborno)
"The (media) focus has been entirely on the bomb blasts, the deaths and the displaced," she says, and though she concedes that those are not unimportant subjects. She adds "I feel there's less focus on anybody left... I wanted people to see after the bomb blast, who was left behind."
With her camera, Abubakar has patrolled Maiduguri for the last six months seeking out personal stories and captioning her images accordingly. So far she estimates she has taken about 1,000 photographs, only some of which have found their way online.
A photo posted by Yerwa (@bitsofborno)
Her lens has captured schoolchildren and grandmothers, vigilantes and merchants, all with a story to tell. People like Alhaji Bukar Tijjani (above), who complains that business has slowed since trade connections with Niger, Chad and Cameroon closed. Mohammed (below), like others Abubakar has met, is putting his trust in Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari, and believes change is already at hand.
A photo posted by Yerwa (@bitsofborno)
"I ask them about what has happened, how they are coping, just very normal questions," she explains. However with Maiduguri's newest residents "it's usually the same stories that keep occurring. People who have lost family, people who have lost parents," she says, trailing off.
'This Boko Haram era must end'
Maiduguri has seen an influx of internal migrants, particularly from surrounding villages says Abubakar. Not that the state capital is a safe haven. In 2015, militants attempted to overrun the city, and last month, two female suicide bombers disguised as men blew themselves up at a mosque, killing 22 people. The residents are surviving, but their plight is compounded by other issues.
"(People) have lived through terror, but still cannot cope because the economy is bad, they have health issues, (or) they cannot afford to live here," Abubakar argues. "I think it takes its toll across the region."
Bulama Mustapha is one such person who has fallen on hard times. Though he shares his compound with 100 other residents, he is the traditional leader.
A photo posted by Yerwa (@bitsofborno)
"We sell charcoal to pay the rent. It's 1,000 Naira ($5) a room per month and the landlord has started saying there will be an increase in rent to 3,000 Naira ($15). Most of us might end up being evicted," he says.
Others in less desperate situations are steeling themselves to take on the insurgents. Modu Aji, vice president of the Civilian Joint Task Force, says the government has provided his team with resources to "liberate Borno State."
A photo posted by Yerwa (@bitsofborno)
"In the past you wouldn't go two hours without running from a gunshot, a bomb blast, a perceived threat or hearing about death," he says. "But we sacrificed ourselves and decided to make sure we find the terrorists and hand them over to the authorities... We are aware of people who don't like our activities because the insurgency aids them in a way, but we don't care. This Boko Haram era must end."
Abubakar says that while some are hesitant to be photographed, many find sharing their experiences cathartic. "Although I find a lot of sad stories, I think you can still find a lot of different narratives," she says, suggesting her series "shows how people are continuing."
"I think that people become stronger after war; they're not exactly as traumatized," she argues. "People truly bounce back."