Held in The Creeks

Akinbiyi Marvelous Akinrodoye Commercial-Thriller
P.O. Box 30168 120,000 words

Secretariat Post Office
Ibadan
Oyo State
Nigeria
biyishine@yahoo.com
+2348165278057
HELD IN THE CREEKS

BY
AKINBIYI MARVELOUS AKINRODOYE
HELD IN THE CREEKS/AKINRODOYE
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There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all
one in God.
-Galatians 3:28
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Chapter 1
PortHarcourt, Nigeria
5.00 P.M
The Land Cruiser tore through the streets of Rumuomasi. With a

sudden swerve, it negotiated a sharp bend. For a moment, Anita Campbell
wished she were back in New York, sipping coffee in the large kitchen or
watching a movie with Max, her boyfriend. Even, the frequent arguments they
had seemed better than her present predicament. His earlier admonition rang in
her ears now: Nigeria is a kidnap haven. Not even Mexico can contend that.
She sighed.
Max’s dread of Africa had no ends although he had Zimbabwean
blood. Anita had always wondered the day he would finally summon up
courage and visit his roots, if only for a day. Above all, however, Anita would
never have played with fire. Chief Victor Doukpolagha, an Ijaw moneybag,
had promised her everything would go fine.
She trembled now, as the jeep climbed a bump fast.
Months ago, when she began planning the unaccompanied trip to
Nigeria, to cover an intriguing issue during her one-week break from work,
Anita never knew she would meet this. Just barely five hours in the country
and barely two hours in Port Harcourt, which was to be her base for the next
six days, everything was beginning to tear apart.
The jeep was still speeding. Nauseated, Anita covered her nose with
her hands. Her abductors smelt of hemp and something else that seemed like
vodka. The cold air from the air conditioner didn’t do much to suppress the
odour. Worse, a waft of blood from one of the abductors who was bleeding
hung in the air. The slim man had sustained minor injuries while picking her
wristwatch- a Valentine day gift from Max- that dropped as they changed
vehicles not long ago, at the scary moments when they wrapped her with a red
cloth, obviously not to make people know who she was.
Suspecting now that something was noble about these abductors, Anita
told herself, I’ll survive this. Something different bothered her, however. One
of the four men sitting with her at the back held an expensive high definition
camera recording. Why these? she asked inwardly.
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Her small body squeezed between them, her waist ached. Shifting
slowly, she tried to be calm. She wished her abductors were not all masked.
That compounded her fears. Their large bodies made it worse, making her feel
they would crush her from both sides. They were speaking in languages she
didn’t understand, occasionally mentioning English words like Chief with an
accent she couldn’t place. For the umpteenth time, a question crossed her
mind. Her eyes blinked. Where are we going? What has Chief done to these
people? She tried to listen for any clue, but all she heard were rapid
incomprehensible words.
Her eyes caught her bag, on the lap of the man sitting to her far right. I
just hope my passport, return ticket, and diary are intact. That thought made
her remember something else. My box. Shit. She looked away from the bag.
Her box was in Chief’s jeep. It seemed she had to forget about clothes and
makeup for now.
As the car sped on, Anita wished she could look outside the black
tinted window, watch people, and convince herself that humans still existed
and that she wasn’t alone in the world with these bulky men. It was
impossible, however. Every time she turned to look, her eyes met with those
of the men on both sides of her, their eyes red like her lipstick that had now
faded away.
‘I wan put on the light so she no go fear,’ the driver said, his voice
guttural. Anita didn’t exactly understand what she had heard. She could only
make sense of the last word, fear. The next moment, the jeep was illuminated.
Feeling a bit relieved, Anita looked straight ahead. The narrow road
was full of bends, and she marvelled at the magic with which the driver
manoeuvred the vehicle, driving speedily as if the vehicle were the only one
on a wide fast highway. The tyres screeched noisily as the driver slowed the
car to avoid knocking down a slim light-skinned girl hawking oranges. But it
had been so close. Shoving the tray aside, the girl abandoned her wares. Anita
heard a grinding sound as the tyres crushed the tray. Dozens of oranges rolled
down the road while some rolled forward into the narrow gutter. Immediately,
Anita looked back. Several young people jostled to have a share of the girl’s
goods, running away quickly as soon as they got hold of an orange or two.
Some even climbed into the gutter for the ones in there.
‘That is the life we live,’ the man by Anita’s right hand side, who had
been giving instructions to the others all the while, said.
Unhappy with what she had just witnessed, Anita turned and settled
her gaze on the man who had spoken.
He laughed, exposing a wide gap in his upper set of teeth. For the first
time, Anita saw the inner recesses of his mouth. The remaining teeth in his
mouth were black and rotten, but they looked strong, just the way he looked.
Anita shuddered. His tongue was a pale purple. His lips were black, several
shades darker than the colour of his hair.
‘Don’t blame them, they must be hungry,’ he added, adjusting his
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sitting position. The butt of his machine gun touched Anita’s leg. Cold. She
quaked and faced front, more overwhelmed by what she had just seen.
Anita had always thought she understood the peak of suffering from all
she had seen in the slums and ghettos of New York. From Bronx to Brooklyn,
to Kingston in Jamaica, and to Herat in Afghanistan where she had visited to
cover part of the Afghan war with her counterparts at the Cable News
Network. Of course, she had seen saddening images on the television, heard
stories from colleagues who had been to Nigeria before, and read a lot about
Africa and Nigeria as a History student at Columbia University. Now,
however, she suspected this was a different dimension to suffering and
injustice. All of a sudden, she felt guilt. Her abduction seemed to be the reason
for the reckless driving, the misfortune of the girl, and the ostensible luck of
those who made away with her oranges.
The squealing of the tyres again interrupted her reflections. Anita
couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The jeep had hit a motorbike, that had a
fat woman behind the rider, and it pushed the wobbling motorbike forward.
Pedestrians scampered for safety. Frightened drivers drove their cars off the
main road. Anita saw the way their driver tried to avert the impending disaster.
The other men in the vehicle seemed unperturbed, as they continued with their
discussions.
The road was a long slope now. The vehicle no longer made contact
with the motorbike but Anita saw the way the rider tried to gain control of the
motorbike. It was too late. As if without warning, the motorbike fell on its
side, sliding along the tarred road, sending tiny orange sparks of fire in the air.
Speedily, the jeep drove past the victims and the bike. Then, the driver turned
right. Anita wished she could catch a glimpse of the aftermath of the disaster,
but all she saw as she turned back were people raising their hands in the air,
shouting...apparently for help.
God save me, Anita prayed silently. It was hard to believe that less
than two hours ago, she was snapping pictures with Chief Doukpolagha, his
son and his mother at the airport, after Chief told her that a plane coming from
the Capital city had crashed there four years ago, two weeks before Christmas.
When Chief had instructed his driver to drive through a
neighbourhood, giving reasons that the neighbourhood was busy with people
and activities as soon as they left the airport, she kicked against this, saying
that she wanted some serenity. Eventually, Chief agreed to her request after
his mother and son intervened on her behalf. Not long after, the unexpected
had happened.
Ahead, now, she saw a police roadblock. About five police officers
with rifles. A large tree trunk crossed the length of the road from one side to
the other. As they moved nearer, one of the police officers walked towards
them, gesturing with his hands for the vehicle to stop.
‘These people with their wahala again,’ the man who had earlier
spoken to her said to the driver. ‘Don’t stop at all o, shey you hear?’
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The driver nodded, saying, ‘Trust me, if they fumble, I get chicken
laps for here.’ He switched off the light inside the vehicle. Everywhere looked
darker.
Chicken laps. The world of her abductors appeared filled with weird
jargons. Anita prayed they wouldn’t crash again, the way they did before when
they were trying to avoid running into a group of school students. This time
around, she knew, they might not be as lucky as they were the first time. Still,
she prayed a miracle would happen- a peculiar one that would make the police
capture her abductors.
Two words flashed through her mind suddenly. Stray bullets. A local
reporter had fallen when a stray bullet hit him the last time she was in
Afghanistan. If she would be out of this captivity, it had to be without any
bloody gun battle. Yet, she was more than sure that that was impossible, with
the men around her already cocking their guns, lowering the windows, getting
ready for battle. The camera operator dropped the camera on the floor of the
vehicle.
The police officer was still on their lane, walking towards them,
several metres away from the tree trunk. Anita watched in disbelief as they
neared him. Is this man crazy?
Just before the vehicle got to him, the officer jumped away from their
lane to the other lane, yelling curses. Anita wondered if the driver would climb
the trunk with the vehicle. Just then, he swerved, suddenly, to the right
towards the bush. Scared, Anita closed her eyes. The next moment, she felt the
vehicle swerving left again. Gunshots rang out from the police officers. Her
abductors fired back. Anita covered her ears. The sounds of the guns were like
thunders in a bad weather. In all of her twenty-seven years on earth, she had
never been as terrified as she was now.
To her, it seemed the world was about to end.
‘Don’t worry. No bullet will touch you,’ the man with the wide gap in
his teeth said with a confidence that reeked of boasting, in a voice that
reminded Anita of Voldemort in Harry Potter. The shootings stopped now.
Anita prayed the police wouldn’t give them a chase that would lead to an even
severe gun battle. The camera operator began recording again.
‘Don't let your blood stain that chair,’ Anita’s gap-toothed friend
cautioned the bleeding man.
Several minutes passed.
They got to a long narrow bridge, full of potholes. Scattered
everywhere, in the river, were canoes.
‘Do they think they can get any fishes with all the oil in there?’ The
question came from the man by her left. The others giggled, as if the answer to
the question were in the giggles.
Anita looked at the water again. It was blackish, with nylons, plastics,
pieces of wood and other dirt floating on top.
The driver pressed harder on the gas. A young man plunged into the
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river, as the driver veered towards him, trying to avoid a pothole.

‘Shit!’ Anita blurted, looking back. She didn’t know when the words
came out of her mouth. The distance from where the man jumped and the
water level was anywhere between forty feet. Not only that. The water was
dirty, clearly unfit for animals to drink or bath in.
‘Never mind, he won’t drown or get injured,’ her gap-toothed friend
said. ‘He’ll survive. He must have been born in the creeks.’
‘Pardon, can you repeat yourself?’
He repeated it again and this time, Anita understood and nodded,
thinking of what to expect next.
With a whirring sound, the windows wound up and the vehicle turned
off the tarred but pothole filled road to a lonely and dusty one. Dust settled on
the windscreen as the car sped along. Almost immediately, the windshield
wiper began working, tiny torrents of water following. Anita gave the driver a
quick look, amused that he operated a hijacked car as if it were his.
Far off, she saw a large mass of black water, of whose end she couldn’t
make out. Moments later, the jeep stopped by the bank of the large river and
the men went out of the car.
Her gap-toothed friend was making a call.
‘Oyinbo, come out now,’ the man who had sat in the front with the
driver shouted.
Anita wished she could ask him for the meaning of the first word he
mentioned but she put the thought aside. Slowly, she came out of the car. Her
legs felt heavy, as if she had the whole world in her ankles.
An engine boat was racing towards them now.
The sun had had almost completely disappeared.
Anita thought of Chief. Where is he? Without doubt, she trusted he
would get her out of this pickle. When and how was what she didn’t know.
The fear she felt when her abductors just kidnapped her during the drive from
the airport returned. Five of them were bare-chested, with red armbands tied to
their upper arms, and belts of cartridges wrapped round their torsos. Only one
of them, the driver, wore a shirt. They all tied red wrappers, one of which they
had used to cover her completely when they changed vehicles.
Anita watched as the driver threw the key of the jeep under the
vehicle. The racing speedboat stopped close to the bank of the river. The
masked driver of the speedboat smiled and gestured for them to come. The
man holding the camera turned and focused the camera on the driver of the
speedboat.
Few minutes later, they began to board.
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Chapter 2
In another part of town, Second Lieutenant Walter Opuowei was

engaging the gears of his V-booth. He was moving at close to a hundred
kilometres per hour, too fast for the busy road. He however knew that no one
would stop him, not with the sticker that read: ARMY, on the windscreen,
directly in front of the driver’s seat.
An aged man with a half-burnt cigarette between his lips crossed the
road, pushing a wheelbarrow full of peppers and tomatoes. Opuowei shook his
head. The height of suffering. The old man could be anywhere around seventy.
Opuowei expected such a person to be in his house, eating, sleeping, waking
up, and playing with his grandchildren, when they pay him visits.
Placing a stick of White London cigarette between his lips, Opuowei lit
it and puffed. Someone was horning loudly. Do you want to fly, he wanted to
shout. He lifted his head to look into the rear view mirror, but it was not in
place. What he saw was his baldhead, shining in the reflection. The long cut
he sustained from a fight with skinheads while he schooled in Russia stared at
him. He wished he wasn't bald. Adjusting the mirror, he caught a glimpse of
the truck that was horning as it turned away from the main road. He hissed and
increased his speed.
He had to be in Chief Doukpolagha’s house as quick as possible. Just
less than thirty minutes ago, the Chief had called him, as he took the last draw
from a cigarette, after finishing a delicious meal of eba and egusi with fresh
fish his pregnant wife had prepared...a welcome gift after a long absence from
home.
‘There is fire on the mountain,’ Chief said, his voice shaky. The
elderly man had never sounded that way before.
‘Sir, what happened?’
‘You’d better leave wherever you’re now and come to the house.’
Opuowei didn’t understand the type of fire the Chief meant. ‘Sir, can
you give me an idea of what happened?’ He hoped Chief wouldn’t be angry at
his question.
‘Anita has been kidnapped. Your boys disappointed me,’ Chief said
with a tone of finality and hung up.
Now, Opuowei feared what might happen to the white woman as he
sped along the highway. At the same time, he didn’t see how the boys were to
blame. The job was stressful. To Opuowei, they, including him, were like
elephants working so hard but eating foods meant for ants.
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For the past one month, he had been begging Chief to allow him pay a
visit to his wife and Chief gave the same usual reason for his refusals, you
want those people to come and kill me, abi, with a tone that made Opuowei
feel that flesh had blocked parts of Chief’s gut from too much of meat. Often
times, Opuowei wondered if Chief Doukpolagha believed that only God had
the key to human lives. Even considering the fact that the soldiers performed
their duties with diligence, Opuowei’s salary, and those of the other soldiers
the Commanding Officer of the 68th Battalion had assigned to Chief’s house
remained stagnant for years. On the other hand, Opuowei guessed, Chief
might actually be paying the Commander their bonuses. That, Opuowei might
never know. Still, if that was the case, Opuowei felt Chief Doukpolagha
should be able to hand them their bonuses one on one, seeing the hard life they
lived. Stingy souls, he said to himself.
Only that morning as Chief prepared to leave for Lagos with his
mother, son- Daniel and some of the soldiers in the house, Chief had
reluctantly permitted him- Opuowei to go home, for two days, after Mama and
Daniel pleaded on his behalf. And he had barely settled down to feel the
warmth of his wife than the Chief called him talking about fire on the
mountain.
Once again, Opuowei thought of the white woman. Anita, Chief had
called her. That sent him drifting back in time, to his days as a Literature
student in Moscow, when skinheads walked up to Africans and asked pachimu
ti chorni? Of course, the question of why one had black skin was a difficult
one to answer. The racists stabbed, beat, or kidnapped anyone who
overreacted or asked them why they, themselves, were white. Even the
Africans who replied that God made it that way were not always spared. The
best response one could give was to beg, pajalusta, a humble response that
didn’t guarantee the person would see the light of the next day.
A poignant memory that often haunted Opuowei re-emerged now. One
very cold winter evening, a month after he rebuffed an offer to go to the States
to continue his education, racists kidnapped him along with two of his tough
friends, Taddy and Ige. Their crime was that they had said God made them
black. Without food and heaters to keep them warm, they spent three days in a
small room, when the temperature was around minus forty degrees. Somehow,
luckily, they managed to escape. Ige, however, died in the process. The
skinheads had stabbed him with broken bottles. Subsequently, Tok’s parents
requested the Nigerian Students Association to bury him on behalf of the
family because they were Yorubas. In Yoruba land, they had said, it was a
taboo for parents to bury the corpses of their children. At the funeral, Opuowei
had read a long tribute he wrote, on behalf of the association of which he was
the Director of Publicity and the Public Relations Officer. People cried in their
hundreds... humane whites and blacks. Even the seeming impassive medical
students who claimed they saw cadaver everyday cried more than the others
did.
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On the contrary, the girl whom Opuowei chose to remain with, in

Russia, his then Nigerian girlfriend, Ruth, also a medical student, never shed a
drop of tear. She said that ever since her father died, no one’s death moved
her. After that sad incident, Opuowei along with Ojo- the President, and other
members of the association formed a team, naming it Rapid Response Squad,
laden with the responsibility of responding to distress calls from Nigerians and
other foreign students attacked by racists.
Now, Opuowei turned off the road, and the car descended a slope. The
gate to the estate like other estates in the GRA Phase 5 was closed. As he
approached, it swung open. The security men knew him.
‘Oga, well done,’ Opuowei greeted the man who opened the gate as he
drove in.
Gigantic structures with beautiful flowers around their fences lined
both sides of the road and as Opuowei always reacted when he saw these, he
shrugged. Someday, I’ll own mine, he mused. Even so, he knew Chief
Doukpolagha’s house was the largest and most beautiful in the estate.
From a distance, he saw the electronic black gate of the house.
Nervous, he wondered how his subordinates were feeling since Chief had said
they failed him. He hadn't even bothered to call any of them to find out more
about the fire of which Chief spoke. Nevertheless, he knew that in a short
while, he wouldn’t be as anxious as he was now.
The gap-toothed man named Miedide brought out a phone from his
pocket. The muscles of his hefty hands throbbed as he did so. He felt better
now that they were at a safe distance from town, though it was getting darker.
They might soon stop for a while at some point in the creeks, which flowed
into the river, but he had to make a call before they got there. The other men
were taking local gin- kaikai, smoking weed and chatting heartily, their rifles
placed across their laps.
Anita sat in silence, covering her nose with her hands.
‘Sorry, ehn, but you’ve to get used to this because...’ Miedide
shrugged. Anita gave a knowing look. Miedide guessed she already
understood.
Miedide glanced at one of the men, busy removing seeds from a pack
of weed. ‘You forget that I kpom the grass and the seeds.’ His tone was
interrogative.
‘No vex sir.’ Picking a rizla, the man proceeded to wrap the weed.
‘Guy, wrap am well o...with two rizlas’ Miedide added. Then, he
scrolled through the contacts on the phone he was holding. He dialled a
number. The phone rang twice.
‘Hello, how far?’ a man said.
‘Filatei we dey. Everything went fine. Just that one of our guys fucked
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up.’ Miedide noticed the men were quiet now. He didn’t care, however. He
had to report what had happened. That was the instruction Filatei had given
him earlier that day as they set out from the camp.
‘Which one of them? What did he do?’ Filatei asked with a raised
voice.
Miedide wasn't surprised. As a perfectionist, Filatei, his Chairman,
didn’t like fuckups. ‘Na Isaac. When we bashed and changed the jeep, the
Oyinbo’s wristwatch fell on the road. Then, he opened the door to pick it up
and fell down. If not that we were fast, they for don catch us.’ Miedide heard
Filatei sighing.
‘He wound?’ Filatei asked.
‘Yes, but very small. He dey bleed sha.’
‘Na wa o. You don reach Opu Kolo?’
‘No, but we go soon reach,’ Miedide replied, already imagining what
Filatei would say he should do.
‘Turn him back at Opu Kolo. He really fucked up, just as he always
does. When everything settles, he’ll get his own share.’ Filatei’s voice was
authoritative.
‘Okay.’
‘I dey expect you people.’
After that call, Miedide glanced at Isaac every now and then,
wondering how the injured chap was feeling. Isaac took a long draw of his
weed, inhaled deeply and blew out. Miedide smirked. Perhaps, Isaac wanted to
be high enough to forget his worries.
The other men had resumed talking. Anita looked perplexed. Miedide
smiled. Obviously, she was wondering why a man who had apparently helped
to get her wristwatch should be turned back. Yet, Miedide knew she never
loved any of these things. That she never could wait to become a free woman.
He nodded. Everything depended on Chief Doukpolagha and his actions.
Chief was the god that would determine her fate, whether she would get out of
the creeks alive, or whether a part of the creeks would someday become her
grave.
Miedide turned to look at the young man who had been wrapping his
weed. ‘Oya, pass me the slice and the lighter.’
The man handed him both.
‘You roll two packs, abi?’ Miedide asked. The man nodded.
Lighting the weed and taking a draw, Miedide turned to Anita. ‘But
you smoke cigarettes. Right?’
‘No,’ she replied.
‘I thought Oyinbo people smoke a lot.’
A look of confusion came upon her face. ‘What do you mean by o he
boy?’
Miedide laughed. ‘I mean white people.’
‘Oh, I understand now,’ Anita said, raising her head and lowering it
12
again. ‘Not everyone smokes.’

Miedide looked away. He picked a bottle of gin, opened it, and poured
some of it into the water- an act of libation to Egbesu, the Ijaw god of war and
peace. Taking another draw from his weed, there was crackling as the seeds
burnt. Miedide felt joy in his heart. They would soon be at the camp. Closing
his eyes and looking upwards at the sky as if meditating, he blew out a long
thin line of smoke and he felt cool breeze flow into his brain as the speedboat
sped along, lining the waters.
13
Chapter 3
The gate closed behind him. Opuowei got out of the car and watched
from a distance as the men saluted him one by one, guilt written all over their
faces. Even, Opuowei’s second-in-command, Charly Peters had that same look
of remorse. No need for that.
Opuowei wasn't ready to speak with them yet. After hearing from
Chief, he would do that. Closing the door of the car, he turned facing the
house, realising that he seldom went into it. Most times, Chief spoke with him
in the garden or in his- Opuowei’s- office, close to the gate. With slow steps,
he walked towards the building.
The house, popularly known as The Citadel, built by a construction
company that came from Italy occupied a hectare of land. With eleven floors,
the house boasted of over sixty rooms. Often times, Opuowei wondered what
Chief had been thinking when he decided to erect such a gigantic structure. He
had no wife living with him. His first wife was dead and his other wives lived
in different places. The only inhabitants of the building were the Chief, his
son, mother and some housemaids.
Opuowei passed through the garage, where Chief kept his regular cars.
Neatly arranged were two Hummers, a Phantom Rolls Royce, a Mercedes
Maybach, a Range rover Sports, amongst several other cars. The recently
acquired ones were in a larger garage which Chief could look into while lying
on a divan in his private sitting room or bedroom.
Opuowei looked to the right. He saw the sky blue bottom of the large
swimming pool through the clean water. He nodded. Chief’s hands are not as
clean as that. Full of dirty dealings...oil money, inflated contracts. That
moment, Opuowei recalled a rumour he often heard in town: Your Oga’s wife
made him. Opuowei dismissed the thought. People often said things they
couldn't prove. To him, Chief had acquired wealth dubiously and there were
many proofs of that.
Now, a slim housemaid wearing an apron came out of the house.
‘Welcome sir,’ she said, her voice like that of a bird. ‘Chief is waiting
upstairs.’
‘Alright, let’s go,’ Opuowei replied and the girl turned, leading as they
made their entry.
Following, Opuowei imagined what secret things Chief could be doing
with the maid and her counterparts. The reason for his imaginations wasn't
implausible. Chief was a man who had penchant for women. Anything in skirt
14
or trousers, so far it had mammary glands. White, Black, Chinese, Hispanics.

Name it. They had all slept in The Citadel at one time or the other. Opuowei
almost laughed now, remembering how an Indian who came on a visit, the
previous year, ended up in the hospital because Chief had done too much work
on her.
They got to the elevator and the maid pressed a button, muttering,
‘Someone must have gone upstairs as soon as I stepped out of it.’
Hearing the elevator as it descended, Opuowei wondered how many
people in Nigeria owned a home, not to talk of one with a staircase. Having an
elevator was something else entirely, a rare luxury. The doors of the elevator
opened and they entered. Then, it closed again.
As soon as they stepped out of the lift, what greeted Opuowei was the
reek of burning tobacco. Standing before him with a wooden pipe hanging out
from his mouth was Chief Doukpolagha, dressed in a T-shirt that revealed the
shape of his big navel.
Exhaling, the Chief stretched out his hand. ‘Good evening.’
Opuowei clasped hands. ‘Good evening sir.’ The maid disappeared.
Opuowei wondered where Daniel was.
The Chief gestured in a direction. ‘My mother is waiting there.’
To Opuowei’s amusement, Chief walked in silence with quick steps
and his potbelly danced up and down. Opuowei hoped Chief’s belly wouldn’t
touch the ground someday, considering the fact that Chief was a very short
man. Close to sixty, his hair was already turning grey. In the past, that often
made Opuowei wonder what the women liked about Chief, an ugly semi-
illiterate with a funny accent, who stumbled on wealth overnight, and was
always late for dates. Opuowei had however realised that what put Chief in the
good books of the women was money. Chief had too much of it.
Now, they passed by a small cat Chief had gotten five months ago
because he said Anita liked cats and he wanted to present the cat as a surprise.
It mewed. Opuowei gave it a glimpse. If it were before he travelled to Russia,
he would have been scared, but not after being in Russia for years, practically
living with dogs, cats, rabbits and parrots. Even small rats. Cats played
everywhere, at the entrance of banks, at his apartment door, on the streets, and
in cafeterias.
They entered a large room on the right now. Opuowei had never been
in this room before. Surprised, he looked round. Everywhere was pink...the
leather chairs, the wall, the floor and the ceiling.
On one side of the room, he saw a hand drawn portrait of a man sitting
on a chair. Before the man, several children sat on the ground. Opuowei
moved closer to the portrait. ‘Father of many nations’ was written boldly in
Ijaw above the drawing. Opuowei realised the man on the chair was Chief and
the children on the ground were of different races. Opuowei smiled. Truly,
Chief Doukpolagha was a father to children of many nations. Quickly, he tried
to catch up with the Chief who was already walking through another room.
15
Finally, he caught up and they continued quietly.

‘I just came back from the hospital not long ago,’ Chief said, breaking
the silence.
Hospital. ‘What happened?’ Opuowei asked, worry evident in his
voice.
‘Daniel was injured in the kidnap.’
An unfamiliar shock went through Opuowei’s body. ‘My good God!’
He moaned. ‘Hope he’s responding to treatment?’
‘Yes,’ Chief replied. ‘My only fear is that this will surely slow down
things in the company. His work will suffer.’
Nodding, Opuowei offered, ‘Asuquo should be able to handle some
things.’
Chief turned, giving him a sarcastic look. ‘Asuquo is an ordinary
personal assistant. He can never perform like my son.’
Opuowei nodded. They entered another large room now. Seated on a
long chair was Chief’s mother, watching a film. Opuowei smiled. He loved the
woman, though not sure if she condemned Chief’s womanising addiction.
‘Oh, he’s here,’ Mama said, looking away from the television set.
‘Yes o,’ Chief replied, prolonging the ‘o’.
Opuowei moved closer to Mama and prostrated...a show of respect.
Settling in the chair next to the one on which she sat, Opuowei perceived
something sweet, as always. Like flowers. To him, old people often gave off
an odour like that of dried fish, but Mama’s case was different. A clear
indication of wealth.
Chief sat on another chair, on the other side of Mama. Tensed, his eyes
were red. He shook as if afraid of something. That moment, Opuowei
remembered how Chief had been doing like an over pampered schoolboy
months ago when he- Opuowei- on behalf of all the security operatives
working in Chief’s house discussed with Chief for a raise in their salary.
‘I’m not owing anybody money,’ Chief had barked, ending the
discussion.
Now, Chief began relaying the events of that day to Opuowei. They
had picked a flight to PortHarcourt as soon as they welcomed Anita in Lagos.
On arriving at the airport in PortHarcourt, two cars had been waiting for them
and not long after they left the airport, masked men waylaid them, and asked
for Anita, even injuring Daniel who was beside her, in the process.
‘It was when I got home I realised I had shit on my pants,’ Mama
added. ‘They were just shooting like they do in all these American films.’
Opuowei shook his head out of pity, though only for three people-
Mama, Daniel, and Anita. Chief was excluded. The worst thing that would
happen, Opuowei knew, was for the abductors to ask for money that he didn’t
think should be a big deal to Chief.
‘Have they called you sir?’ Opuowei asked.
‘No.’ On Chief’s face was an expression that made Opuowei feel the
16
elderly man was afraid of what the kidnappers would ask for, when they
eventually called.
‘I must tell you,’ Chief began to speak, taking a draw from his pipe and
exhaling from both corners of his mouth. ‘Your boys failed me. They didn’t
even return a bullet. Those boys were just shooting and shooting into the air,
to scare people away. Your boys too were shooting in the air instead of
blasting the brain of those bastards. I knew if you were there, it would have
been a different story. You won’t have wasted bullets as if you were at a
recruit camp.’
Really. Opuowei felt there were certain things Chief Doukpolagha
didn’t understand. Like the fact that if the soldiers shot at the militants,
perhaps Chief himself, Mama, Daniel, Anita and every other person in Chief’s
crew would be in the world of the dead already. Opuowei looked up. Nobody
wants to die. The boys loved their own lives. ‘I’m sorry for that sir.’
Chief didn’t reply. Mama said nothing.
Opuowei was uneasy with the silence. To think that Chief had told him
to come just because he wanted to relay the events of the day to him seemed
like a bad joke. There must be something else to this.
‘Now, let me make a deal with you.’ Chief’s voice broke the silence.
Opuowei looked at Chief who stood up, motioning for him to follow.
Immediately, Opuowei got up, hoping the deal was going to be a fruitful one.
Like one that would cause a raise in his salary.
17
Chapter 4
Opuowei and Charly sauntered through the grounds of the Central

Police Station, Moscow Road. Often, Opuowei marvelled at the fact that a
road in Nigeria was named after the Capital of Russia. As they went, Opuowei
noticed several cars impounded for offences ranging from expired vehicle
documents to overloading. He knew some of them must have used years there,
decaying day after day. Perhaps, because of the inability of the owners to pay
the fines which were often inexpensive. Poverty is a big problem.
‘I hope they have recovered the vehicle used for the kidnap,’ Charly
said, his gait a mix of short quick steps and a sort of bounce.
Opuowei stopped. They were close to the entrance of the large building
now. ‘Well, I hope so too because without that, we won’t know where to start
from.’
Ahead, two police officers struggled with a man they were dragging,
on the ground.
‘This handcuffs too tight. My hand is paining. You wan kill me, abi?
Nothing dey happen sha. God will judge you and your children.’
‘Nobody wants to kill you. All we’re saying is that you should enter.
The key to the handcuffs is inside,’ the fatter of the police officers shouted.
Opuowei looked at Charly and they both almost laughed. Sensing they
didn’t have much time, Opuowei said, ‘Better let’s enter or else we’ll spend a
better part of the day here being entertained by the police and their clients.’
They entered then with Charly in front, his short body looking as if it
had lost some inches in recent times. Opuowei wanted to laugh. He had
realised months ago that Charly was eating much and the fat he added made it
seem he was shorter than he actually was.
The room was full of people- police officials, and civilians who had
come to lodge one complaint or the other. Walking to the wooden counter,
Opuowei said, ‘Good morning, I’m Walter Opuowei and this is Charly
Peters.’ He pointed to Charly who was by his side.
‘Good morning sir,’ the policewoman replied, looking up from a stack
of papers. Her face was spotless. Returning her gaze back to the stack of
papers, Opuowei realised that if he had worn his uniform, she would have
replied ‘Morning sir’.
In the Nigerian military and law enforcement agencies, the time of the
day never mattered when it came to greetings. Be it morning, afternoon or in
the dead of the night, they greeted ‘Morning sir’. A funnier dimension of the
18
syndrome was evident in situations when junior soldiers saluted female

officers saying ‘Morning sir’.
‘How may I help you?’ the female officer asked.
In a little way. ‘Well, we’ll like to see the DPO of this station. We’ve
something important to discuss with him,’ Opuowei replied, trying to sound
very official.
‘On appointment?’ the woman asked.
‘Not at all. Something just came up.’
She pointed to a long wooden bench behind the soldiers. ‘Please have
your seat there. I’ll contact him now.’
Settling on the bench, Opuowei prayed the Divisional Police Officer
was around and that they would be able to see him...very important as a part of
the deal he- Opuowei brokered the previous day in The Citadel.
About twenty minutes passed.
Opuowei was tired of waiting, all the while chatting with Charly. ‘If
we’d worn our uniforms, I’m sure we would’ve been with this man long ago.’
He wiped a bead of sweat, trickling down his face.
‘Yeah, but sir, don’t let’s forget that Chief doesn’t want any publicity.
So we might have to lay low for some time.’
Agreeing Opuowei nodded. Chief had told Opuowei he didn’t want
anything to get to the Press, the Police, Navy, or men of the Joint Task Force,
to protect his name and that of his journalist concubine. The climax of the deal
came when Chief promised him- Opuowei- what he needed most in his life,
though in a quantity that surpassed his imagination. There was a condition,
though. Opuowei had to get Anita Campbell out alive from the creeks. Chief
wasn't ready to pay any ransom. The militants, Chief suspected, would most
likely wait so that his anxiety would build, before they called to ask for the
ransom.
On a normal day, Opuowei would have been sceptical about getting
Anita out alive from the creeks without a ransom paid to the militants. That
was more like a white elephant project. Everything, however, became possible
the moment Chief promised to give him money, even when he hadn't given
this as a prerequisite for embarking on the mission. Who was he to do that?
Opuowei, now, looked at Charly who was typing something on his
phone. A feeling of guilt overwhelming him, Opuowei looked the other way.
Charly was his right hand man at The Citadel and in this mission. Even so,
Charly didn’t know all about the mission.
‘Walter, don't try to be too good. Don’t let anyone know I promised
you money,’ Chief had warned when Opuowei tried to convince him that
money would motivate the boys.
‘Not all of them will follow you. So if I give the others that will follow
you money, those that will keep watch at home so that we won’t have another
case of kidnap will be happy abi? You want them to begin to think that I’m
Father Christmas?’ Chief had asked rhetorically when Opuowei tried harder to
19
convince him to promise the soldiers money, to lift their spirits.

As Opuowei sat on the bench now, feeling guilt in his soul, he
promised himself he would give Charly a share of the money Chief would pay
him. Definitely, Charly would know that the money was from Chief.
Therefore, he might have to tell Charly the truth. Hope he would keep it a
secret.
‘Oga, oya o. He’s waiting for you,’ the policewoman announced,
entering the reception through an adjoining door that was ajar all the while
behind the counter.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Opuowei replied, glad that the moment they had been
waiting for had finally come. Quickly, he stood up and Charly followed him.
Opening the steel door, Opuowei was shocked to see that the potbellied
man seating on the black chair, rolling from side to side and reading a
newspaper with a pair of large glasses on, wasn't whom he had expected to
see. He tried to be calm. The potbellied man was new here apparently. That,
however, didn’t make much difference. What mattered most was the deal of
which the new Divisional Police Officer was already a part, whether he liked it
or not.
‘Good morning sir,’ Opuowei greeted. He still didn’t want to make it
seem that he was a military man. Upon entering, Charly closed the door
behind him.
Looking up from the newspaper, the officer adjusted his glasses.
‘Morning. You can have your seats.’ He pointed to two chairs opposite him.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m sure you’ve come to reclaim your jeep.’
I wish I own one. Surprised, Opuowei looked into Charly’s eyes.
Sensing that Charly who was already preparing to sit had a similar
amazement, he sat down. ‘We didn’t come to reclaim the car, we...’
‘Or are you the detectives working on the case of Chief Doukpolagha?’
the Police Chief cut Opuowei short, leaning on the table, to be closer to them.
How could he have known? Once more, Opuowei looked at Charly
who tapped the table quietly with his fingers, staring at the ceiling. Opuowei
realised it was better he concurred with the Divisional Police Officer. Turning
back, he responded in a low tone, ‘Yes, we’re the ones.’
The officer laughed. ‘Better don’t waste your time. No need to cry over
spilt milk.’ He lowered his voice. ‘If Chief wants that white woman out alive,
I mean with all parts of her body in place, he might have to start preparing
money for the ransom even if they haven’t called him.’
Opuowei turned to look at Charly. Their eyes met. Convinced that he
was seeing the same distress, the same suspicions in Charly’s brown eyes,
Opuowei turned to face the officer. ‘Well sir, I think we could try. There is no
harm in that.’
‘Who said that? Do you know how many JTF men get killed every day
because of venturing into such things?’ The officer’s voice was serious, as if
20
he was trying to warn them of an impending danger.

‘We’ll try anyway,’ Opuowei insisted, looking at Charly who nodded
in conformity.
The officer sat, resting his back on his chair. ‘If that’s the case, we
have the first car they used for the operation. It had a minor accident and they
abandoned it. We’re yet to get the second one. Maybe you would be interested
to check it out.’
Opuowei came out of the black Mercedes jeep minutes later.
Frustrated that there was no single clue, nothing that interested him, in
it, he brought out his pack of cigarettes and began smoking.
The Police Chief who had been speaking with Charly turned to look at
Opuowei. ‘You’re smoking here?’
‘Oga, na so o. I didn’t see anything.’
The officer shrugged. Opuowei called Charly aside. The officer stood
alone, watching several junior police officers carrying rifles as they got into
vehicles, preparing to go for roadblocks.
‘I think it is better we strike the deal with him now,’ referring to the
officer, ‘we don’t have to wait until we begin to see clues.’
‘Yes sir,’ Charly replied and they walked towards the officer.
As they went, Opuowei imagined how the officer would feel by the
end of the deal. Yet, to him, one thing remained certain. The deal would make
their work easier.
21
Chapter 5
More than hundred kilometres away, deep in the creeks, the birds
called and sang noisily. The frogs croaked nonstop. The crickets chirped as if
they wouldn’t live for a moment longer without this high-pitched sound. The
swamp was overgrown with several tall trees. Several tarpaulin tents were
scattered around the near waterlogged area of land. Anita’s abductors chatted
heartily, smoking and taking gin. An elderly man, probably in his seventies,
clothed in white, was among them. Some of them, carrying rifles, hung around
the camp, keeping watch. A tall, young dark woman in an armless top and
jeans was placing a large pot on three large stones, which had pieces of wood
in between, preparing food. Everything Anita saw looked odd to her.
That oddity, however, started the day before when they stopped at
some point in the creeks, with the bleeding young man coming out of the boat
on his own.
‘He tried to get your wristwatch, not because he wanted to return it to
you, but because he was too choked with the desire for real gold,’ Miedide had
told her as soon as the bleeding man left.
That evening when they arrived in the camp, when there had been a
thunderous applaud, continuous drumming and dancing, smoking and
drinking, Anita contemplated an escape. At the same time, she had wondered
how to go about it.
Unable to sleep that night, while sitting on a small mattress under the
small tent they said was for her, the man whom she later understood the gap-
toothed man had called during their voyage to the camp came to her.
‘Hello,’ he said, in a voice contrary to what Anita had expected. Truly,
as an upshot of smoking weed, she had expected his voice to be deep like that
of Miedide or the reckless driver who drove them that day. His was cool,
however...like that of a gentle man.
‘Hi,’ she replied, looking up. He wore no mask. Tall, light skinned and
smiling, though he smelt of weed.
Sitting on the white plastic chair beside the mattress, the man spoke,
‘Don't be surprised that I’m without mask. Our faces aren't for the camera but
our masks are. The camera isn’t rolling now. My name is Filatei and I’m the
commander of this camp. We’re not militants as some people call us. I must
tell you sincerely, we’re freedom fighters or ematers, fighting for the
emancipation of our people.’
The statement, the order in which Filatei placed the words one after the
22
other, his tone, and even the accent, which was clear enough, captivated Anita.
She turned and faced him, her eyes catching sight of a candle that burned in
one corner of the tent. They had put off the generator, which they used to
charge their phones, the camera, and other things, apologising to her with
explanations that the sound of the generator might attract people in the dead of
the night.
‘My name is Anita Campbell.’
‘Nice to meet you. But I’ll advise that you sleep because you’ve no
reason to worry. The burden isn’t yours. It’s for Chief Doukpolagha to bear.’
Filatei picked a packet of biscuits Miedide had given to Anita earlier on.
Tearing it, he pulled out a flake and ate it. Then he offered the rest in the pack
to Anita, saying, ‘Now, you can be sure it wasn't poisoned.’
Surprised that Filatei actually knew her suspicions when Miedide
handed her the biscuits, Anita couldn't say a word.
‘Damiete,’ Filatei called to one of the men guiding the entrance to
Anita’s tent. ‘Tell Ebiere to come.’
Not long after, the tall young woman who was now fanning the fire
burning under the large pot came inside. Anita looked at her very well for the
first time since her arrival in the camp. The dark young woman was taller than
she was, but they were both slim. Anita smiled, not because her medium
height dissatisfied her, but because she appreciated taller women.
‘This is Ebiere, my love,’ Filatei said. ‘She’ll be responsible for all
your needs for the period you’ll be with us. Anything you need, ask her.’
He turned to Ebiere next. ‘This is Anita Campbell.’ Ebiere stretched
out her hand and they shook hands. Filatei signalled for Ebiere to leave.
After Ebiere left, Filatei said something that touched Anita’s emotions.
‘That woman,’ referring to Ebiere, ‘has suffered so much. An aunt of hers
once took her to Italy, promising her a Masters Degree and a better life. But
when she discovered that the aunt- her mother’s sister- wanted to introduce her
to a prostitution ring, she ran back home.’ He paused. ‘Now, I hope you’re
beginning to understand the kind of life we live. There’re many souls, whose
cases are similar to hers, many people who discovered that the so-called
greener pastures were like a mass of dried hay.’
Encouraging her to be free and assuring her that no scorpion or snake
would come near her when she expressed her worry, Filatei left the tent
several minutes later, that night.
As the smoke from the fire made way into her nose now, Anita
coughed repeatedly.
‘Hey, sorry my sister,’ Ebiere shouted across.
Anita had heard her well. Your sister. She smiled. Africans had a way
of making someone feel like a close relative...whether Black or White. She
had experienced that several times in restaurants and public places in New
York when Africans said things like, my sister, I’ll attend to you in a moment.
‘It’s okay,’ Anita replied. She wished she could have some coffee.
23
Turning in the other direction, she saw Filatei coming with a live goat. Food.
To her, life was easier for the ematers than the ordinary Niger Deltans. She
had read certain things online, about people unable to afford a dollar a day for
feeding, transport and everything they did that day. Here, on the other hand,
the ematers were about to kill a life goat.
‘Funny, right?’ Filatei asked, exposing his white teeth, perfectly
arranged. He stopped and spanked the goat on the head.
Anita smiled. ‘Not really.’
‘Well, this is for our god Egbesu, the god of war and peace,
antagonistic towards doers of evil, and whose history can be traced back to the
ancient Egypt. We’ve to appreciate her. Look.’ Filatei pointed towards the
elderly man who was finishing a stick of weed. ‘That’s Pa Akpodigha, my
maternal uncle. He is our priest. Later today, we’ll perform the sacrifice but
I’ve a duty to carry out for the godfather first.’
Impressed at the way Filatei reeled out the brief history, Anita smiled,
wishing she were discussing with him as a reporter and not a hostage, even if
their discussion would still be in the creeks. Considering Filatei’s mentioning
of a godfather, she became convinced that more people were involved.
Despite that, the fact that an elderly man such as Pa Akpodigha was having
trees for breakfast amused her.
Dipping his hand in his pocket, Filatei brought out a phone. He pressed
some buttons and put the phone to his ear. Anita watched him. Filatei smiled.
Obviously, the phone was ringing. He removed the phone from his ear and
pressed another button, placing it on speaker.
‘Hello,’ a man said. Immediately, Anita knew it was Chief
Doukpolagha.
‘Sir, I’m one of the many ematers around and I’ve Anita Campbell. If
you’ll like to see her alive, in four days time, you should pay ten million
dollars or else, the creeks will become her grave. And it’ll be better if no other
soul gets to know about this. Not the Press, not the JTF or the US Embassy.
Failure to abide by this might as well lead to her death...’
24
Chapter 6
In another part of the world, Maxwell Foster stood up from his

computer and stretched his long legs. Removing a lock of hair about covering
his eyes, he looked at the large wall clock that ticked quietly.
It was well past midnight.
Why the hell hadn't Anita called since she arrived there? It was almost
two days now. Max couldn't imagine that things had gotten so bad. Truly, the
past few weeks had been full of arguments. But that never meant Anita
shouldn’t call if just to make him have some peace. This seemed like another
perfect proof that she preferred her job to him. Bullshit.
For a moment, he gazed at his laptop. The script he had been working
on for the past three months stared back at him. Damn. He had to submit to
Warner Bros the next day. Already, he had a quarrel with Anthony Morgan-
his agent and long-time friend- whom he believed never got good deals for
him. More worrisome, Max needed money badly and wasn't even through with
the editing. Anita’s decision not to contact him only complicated matters. He
clenched his fist. Surely, she must pay for this when she returns. Inwardly, he
read a line of dialogue from the script: the day of reckoning is coming. As if
the computer understood him, slowly, the screen became darker as it went into
hibernation. He had to smoke.
Closing the door of the large study behind him, several pieces in his
collection of artwork, sitting on several shelves near the marble wall, glowed
brilliantly, apart from two. The set of twins that made up his muse- a figurine
that his grandmother had given him and its counterpart, a small plaque. He
sighed. A bad day indeed. Finally, he closed the door.
As he climbed down the stairs hurriedly, it seemed to him that the
kitchen was more than a mile away. The house was so big and he found it hard
to believe he was the only human in it. It looked so empty without Anita.
Getting to the landing, something jumped on his back and immediately
disappeared.
‘Marquis, stop that shit and tell your mistress to call or else, I’ll
squeeze your balls out the next time you try that,’ he bellowed, as he looked
around for the cat. Unable to locate it, he hissed and continued to the kitchen,
at the far end of the corridor. Anita had begged him to give the cat food
regularly and he had done that. Still, it seemed the cat wasn't satisfied,
apparently oblivious of the fact that ever since Anita started splitting her
loyalty between him and it, he hated it with all passion. Worse, it seemed it
25
understood that he and Anita often had quarrels, and had decided to be on her
side.
Max entered the kitchen and immediately, his eyes settled on his pack
of Marlboro Red. Few moments later, he had a stick burning between his lips
and he thought of his script. Unsolicited, he trusted that somehow, the film
company would accept it. The story, about a beautiful model whom he met
through a friend, was perfect...too interesting to end up in a rejection bin
...better than Anita’s experiences in the war zones she covered.
Often times, Anita joked, saying, ‘A screenplay about my experience
in Iraq will get you tens of millions of dollars.’ Yet, he rebuffed her. He never
wanted her to feel she was giving him ideas, even considering the fact that she
was unruly. To him, it wouldn’t be a nice idea to hear people saying, ‘His wife
inspires him.’
Blowing out perfect circles of smoke, Max imagined what his life
would become when he signed a contract with Warner Bros. He would get a
nice ride, invest in shares, and pay the rest of the mortgage Anita’s late father
had secured for the house in which they now live.
Of recent, the economic recession was making the government hit hard
on the banks. Tapping the stub of the cigarette so that the ashes would fall into
the ashtray, Max imagined what would happen in the case of a foreclosure.
Sure, he had several other options. He could move into his father’s house; at
least they had reconciled, or he could move into a friend’s house. Better still,
he could rent a small flat for himself alone, without Anita. After all, they
weren't yet married, and only God knew if they would.
As the imaginations flooded Max’s mind, something else reminded
him that he wouldn’t want them to lose the house. He had fallen in love with
it. Three years ago, straight out of prison, when his father was angry with him,
when he reunited with Anita, his childhood love, the house had been his first
real home in four years. Four years, spent in a place that gave him hope,
shaped his life, and made him re-assess his thoughts. He tightened his lips. He
was doing all he could to put the past behind him, like trying to write stories
that would change their fortune. Yet, Anita was like a thorn in his flesh. She
rubbed more pepper into their wounds. She seemed never to trust him, but
trusted her job and even Marquis more. Max took the last draw of the cigarette
now. He never could imagine why Anita went to Nigeria.
Twice, while on official duty, she had escaped abduction in
Afghanistan, when the rebels were hunting for American journalists. And
those two times, he had warned her not to get into the region the rebels
controlled, but she never listened. It seemed to him she hadn't learnt her
lesson. Or why would she have travelled to Nigeria all by herself, at a time she
should have dedicated to restoring their relationship. Even making matters
worse, she hadn't informed the United States Embassy in Nigeria. Her reason
for this had seemed weak- by virtue of the fact that she was going to cover a
region that had to do with militants, it could be dangerous for her to inform the
26
embassy because information might leak out to the militants and she might
become a victim of a kidnap.
Throwing the cigarette stub in the ashtray now, Max nodded as if in
agreement with something. Anita’s stubbornness and insubordination will
someday kill her. He visualised her saying, all men are created equal, as she
often said when it came to making important decisions. Most times, she
behaved as if he was trying to reign supreme over her and she wanted to
wrestle the reins from him. He hissed. A mortal fight of unneeded supremacy.
Now, Max watched as Marquis crept into the kitchen slowly. Stopping
in front of him, the white Cymric stared at him and began mewing. Max
noticed its large, round eyes were wet and swollen.
‘Shit,’ he blurted. He realised it was already feeling Anita’s absence
like it always did when she was away from home. Bending to pick it up, it
moved closer to him and he carried it off the ground, and placed it on his laps
for the first time in more than three months. He felt an unusual sensation in his
leg. Marquis had grown so big, unlike how it was, that cold winter evening,
one and a half years ago when Anita brought it home after work. Stroking it,
he picked up another stick of cigarette and lit it.
He was cold.
Standing up, he walked to the heater and increased the temperature.
Winter was ending, yet the weather seemed unfriendly.
Anita. He really missed her. He longed to hear her voice. Suddenly, he
began to feel a sort of fear. Where was Anita? Had there been a plane crash?
Immediately, he switched on the television that sat on a glass shelf in one
corner of the kitchen. He changed the channel to CNN. What better option
than to switch to the TV station where she worked. The news was on. He
checked the headlines at the lower part of the screen. No breaking news. He
thanked his stars.
Switching off the set, he placed Marquis on the ground and it followed
him out of the kitchen. He got to their special divan in the passageway and
laid on it, wishing Anita were with him. There, they shared little secrets, ended
several quarrels and made love, at times. Smiling, he watched as Marquis
scampered away. He realised, however, that just lying there, reflecting on the
happy times they had together wouldn’t eliminate his fear, or encourage him
to complete the editing of his script. He had to do something, and it had to be
fast. Either he called the Police to inform them or the United States Embassy
in Nigeria. The second option seemed the better. He blinked his eyes. There
was a problem.
Their number. For seconds, he cracked his brain and finally stumbled
on something in his thoughts. He smiled.
27
Chapter 7
Anita was still trying to get over the shock of Filatei’s discussion with
Chief. $10 million dollars. She sighed. She found it hard to believe that the
ematers had requested such a huge amount in exchange for her life. Not that
the money was too small or too much, or that she was trying to value her life,
though. What bothered her was that she didn’t even have up to two hundred
thousand dollars in her account. Yet here, in a country where people are dying
from hunger, far away from her homeland, America, someone who was just a
friend of hers had to pay ten million dollars as ransom for her. An outlandish
irony of life.
‘Don't worry. Chief has the money. He will and he must pay,’ Filatei
had told her when he saw the worry in her eyes.
More surprisingly, when Chief had requested to speak with her to be
sure that she was with them and alive, the elderly man sounded unmoved.
‘My baby, don’t worry ehn. I’ll get you out of there as quick as
possible. They said in four days, right?’
She felt uncomfortable with the way he referred to her as my baby,
having cautioned him several times, but it seemed he was addicted to it. While
still talking with him, Filatei snatched the phone from her and switched it off,
saying, ‘That’s enough.’
Now, watching the men as they ate steaming rice, from under a tall
tree, Anita thought of Max and wished she had heeded his advice not to come
to Nigeria. She closed her eyes. It was too late now. All the same, she
wondered if she could ever heed his advice. Their differences seemed
irreconcilable. She bit her lower lip. Definitely, she would become free and
she won’t make him know about her abduction or the ransom. The shame
would be too much. To think that he would later say but I warned you before
sent shivers down her spine.
Watching the now unmasked men as beads of sweat trickled down
their faces, she imagined how Chief would get the money. She did a mental
calculation. That was close to two billion naira. Shit. But how possible was it
for the money to be in dollars as Filatei had requested for it.
When she asked him the reason for this, Filatei responded, ‘The white
men pay them in dollars, so why shouldn’t they pay us in dollars? Today, as
we speak, the Federal government and the oil companies will gross over a
hundred and twenty million dollars from pumping oil and gas in this region.
Tomorrow will be about the same too.’
28
Anita could see Filatei walking towards her now and she suspended
her thoughts. As he advanced, Filatei licked his lips and took a gulp from the
bottle of water he was holding.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Hi.’ Secretly, Anita hoped he hadn't come to tell her to eat something.
If she would put anything in her mouth, at all, it had to be coffee.
He sat down on the white chair next to hers. ‘I insist that you’ve to eat
something. I don’t want someone to die after the ransom is paid.’
Die. Anita believed death for her was still decades away. ‘Well if you
insist, then I think a cup of coffee will do.’
Few seconds after Filatei called Ebiere and instructed her to prepare
coffee for Anita, Filatei asked, ‘Did you only come to see your lover in
Nigeria?’
Anita thought she didn’t hear well. ‘Can you repeat yourself?’
‘I asked that did you only come to see your lover in Nigeria.’ Filatei
placed emphasis on lover.
Anita looked away. Only God knew what Chief had been telling
people. She couldn't imagine having that kind of a person as a lover. She
remembered the day they met, in a supermarket in New York, about a year
ago, when Chief didn’t know the difference between a Gillette gel for shaving
and a Gillette aftershave. ‘I must tell you that I’m in no way the girlfriend or
lover of Chief. We’re just friends.’
A look of surprise flashed across Filatei’s face. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Sure! Why will I lie?’ It seemed Filatei was more than convinced that
she was Chief’s lover.
Finally, Filatei shrugged as if he believed her.
Glad, she smiled. ‘Men could be funny sometimes.’
That moment, Ebiere appeared with a steaming mug of coffee, placed
on a saucer.
‘So fast?’ Filatei lifted his face to look up at Ebiere as if she had
performed magic.
‘I was boiling water when you asked for the coffee the other time,’
Ebiere replied.
Filatei nodded.
Ebiere moved closer to Anita. ‘Have it,’ she said, smiling.
Anita smiled too and collected the mug and the saucer. ‘Thank you.’
After Ebiere left, Anita examined the surface of the mug closely, for a long
time, trying to convince herself that it was clean. She feared typhoid; having
heard that it was abundant in Nigeria.
Moving closer to her, Filatei whispered into her ears. ‘Better drink
your coffee. We also know about hygiene.’
Anita smiled and put the mug to her lips. She took a sip, another and
the next moment, the mug became empty.
Filatei stared at her, his eyes widened. ‘I don’t understand. What’s
29
happening? I thought you people have soft tongues.’

Anita laughed, setting the mug and the saucer on the ground. She
understood his amusement. ‘Well, I take hot coffee every day, so I’m already
used to it.’
Filatei nodded. ‘Interesting.’ Anita watched him from the corners of
her eyes. He smiled, as the tethered goat bleated, few metres away. The other
men were in small groups. A group guided the camp and watched over her
from a distance. Another group discussed and laughed loudly. Most surprising,
a small group had just begun a sort of training with guns.
Amused at what she was seeing, Anita for a moment forgot that she
was discussing with Filatei. Gunshots that weren't very loud rang out as the
men shot one another in the chests and arms. Surprisingly, Anita saw no blood
gushing out.
‘Don't be surprised. They’re preparing for battle. Life itself is a battle,’
Anita heard Filatei say and she turned to look at him.
‘By shooting at themselves?’
‘Yes, but the guns are more like local guns that use small nails, rice
pellets, and maize grains for bullets.’
Anita nodded. To her, she was in another world. A world whose
language she never understood and which she feared she might never. ‘So
they won’t bleed?’ She gave him a questioning look.
Filatei giggled. ‘They will. Just little...but the pain they feel is more
than the blood they see. That is to teach them endurance. When they are done,
the doctor will remove the bullets.’
Doctor. ‘You mean you’ve doctors!’
‘Sure, we’ve men of every profession, from peasants to graduates. Like
me, I had a Bachelors Degree in Petroleum Engineering. Maybe someday,
you’ll understand better.’ Filatei looked away.
Anita nodded. Without anyone telling her, Anita knew that Filatei
unquestionably was an educated person with a rare intelligence. His
appearance, selection of words, the way he gave orders and his countenance
were enough proofs to back that up.
Filatei turned. ‘You’ve not yet answered my question, you know?’ He
pointed a finger at her.
Again. Anita wondered why he was so anxious to know what she had
come to do. In any case, she was already a hostage. Now, there was no need
for any introduction because it would make no difference.
‘Are you afraid to say what you came to do?’ Filatei’s voice was loud.
Anita sighed. Maybe it’ll be better to tell him the truth. Afterall, he had
a wrong notion that she was Chief’s lover.
She turned and looked at him in the eye. ‘I came to make a
documentary on the axis of evil.’
Unexpectedly, Filatei stood up from the chair and looked up to the
hazy sky as if he was watching something inside the clouds. Worried, Anita
30
stood up, lifted her chair, and moved away a little bit. She didn’t know what to
expect next especially when the axis of evil actually had to do with people like
Filatei- fighters. Sitting again, she watched Filatei carefully. A small leaping
frog passed in front of her.
He turned. ‘Do you actually know what the axis of evil is?’ His eyes
were red. Bringing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he removed a
stick.
Scared, Anita watched as he rolled the stub of the cigarette with his
fingers. Moments later, he pulled out the filter, threw it on the ground, and lit
the cigarette. Then, he began to smoke. Anita guessed he was nervous; Max
did it sometimes when he felt the same way.
‘Don't be scared. I just want to know if you know what the axis of evil
is.’ He pulled his chair and sat near her.
Anita remembered the day when she stumbled on an article about the
axis of evil online. ‘I know it is a place in this region, the Niger Delta where
militants, um sorry, I meant...’
Filatei interrupted. ‘Why sorry? That’s what everyone calls us. So I’m
not surprised.’
‘Okay, I learnt freedom fighters take hostages with high values there
while waiting for the ransom.’
Filatei laughed. ‘Is that all?’
‘Yeah,’ she nodded. The way he laughed made her suspect she didn’t
know something.
‘Now, I feel better. So how did you plan to get to the axis of evil?’
Filatei took a draw of the cigarette.
Anita was quiet. Max asked this same question before she left for
Nigeria. ‘Chief Doukpolagha actually promised to help me with everything I
need.’
Filatei laughed again. Watching him closely, Anita wondered why he
laughed repeatedly.
‘Did he say he knew where the axis of evil lies?’
That moment Anita realised that Chief hadn't even given her the
chance to talk about the axis of evil.
‘Anything for you, my baby...’ he had said when she told him she was
coming for a documentary about the Niger Delta. She felt he had been too
anxious to help her. Furthermore, he had told her not to inform the US
Embassy about her trip, saying that this info might leak out and militants
might come for her.
‘I didn’t even tell him about it,’ Anita replied. ‘I only told him I was
coming for a documentary in the Niger Delta and he said that anything that
had to do with this region was in his power.’ She hoped her explanation would
satisfy Filatei and they would change the topic.
Filatei nodded and threw the remainder of the cigarette into a small
pool where little insects buzzed. ‘The axis of evil entails a lot. Not just a place
31
people take hostages to while waiting for ransoms.’

‘So what else?’ Anita’s interest was building.
‘The hidden gods lie somewhere there.’ He looked at her as if he knew
she was lost.
Truly, she was. The hidden gods. She had never heard that before.
‘Were some gods really hidden there?’
Filatei chuckled. ‘Sure. Initially, I thought you came for them.’
Anita now understood why Filatei had reacted the way he did when she
said she had come to make a documentary about the axis of evil. She was
however curious to know what the hidden gods meant, their importance, and
who hid them there. ‘Please, can you tell me about the hidden gods?’
Filatei shook his head, ‘There’s nothing you need to know about it.
You’ve no help to offer. Several people have tried to get to the axis of evil for
them but they never go there. Even me...’ He shrugged.
The response only increased Anita’s curiosity. She remembered she
had copied something from the internet in her diary. Looking at him closely,
she said, ‘I think I can help you get to the axis of evil.’
‘You must be joking.’ Filatei almost laughed.
His continuous laughter, his sarcastic responses, and the look of doubt
in his eyes only made Anita more determined. ‘Alright, can I’ve my diary? It’s
in my bag.’
In silence, Filatei stared at her for a while. ‘Your diary,’ he said,
shrugging. ‘Why not? I’ll call for your bag now.’
Few minutes later, Miedide appeared with Anita’s bag- a medium
sized, sky blue leather bag she had bought at Wranglers for six hundred
dollars. Filatei handed it to her after Miedide went away.
She opened it. The first thing she saw was her international passport,
the cover looking a deeper blue as if the passport were complaining about
their location. As she rummaged through the bag for the diary, a small pink
postcard that Max had given her five months ago fell out of the bag. She
glanced at Filatei, hoping he didn’t see it. Filatei was watching the men.
Bending to pick it up, Filatei’s voice stopped her.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. It’s just a piece of paper.’
‘Bring it, let me have a look.’ Filatei stretched his hand, his face
emanating disbelief. Anita picked it up with shaky fingers. She didn’t want to
bring Max into this. Finally, she handed it to Filatei. Filatei read the words on
the postcard out.
I think of the days I was deserted

When pain was closer than a friend
I think of the days on the road
Alone in the cold of life’s blows
I think of the days I was told
32
I had no right to my home

I think of the days I was tricked
Into believing all I did was a sin
I think of the day that we met
When I’d thought my world would end
I think of that day when you said
Now it is time for my rest
Love you,
Max.
Anita stared at Filatei, anticipating what he would say next. She

wished she hadn't brought the postcard, but it had always been a companion
for her. Filatei was smiling. Anita knew the words definitely had given her
away.
‘From your boyfriend or husband?’
‘Yeah, from my boyfriend.’ In her mind, Anita was saying from my
difficult boyfriend.
‘You should’ve told me about him since yesterday. I’m sure he would
be seriously bothered about you. We need to call him,’ Filatei said in a voice
that showed his seriousness.
‘No please,’ Anita pleaded. ‘I don’t want him to know about this.’
Things weren't working out the way she had thought.
‘We have to. There’s a saying that it is better for someone to be dead
than to be missing. Because if the person is dead, loved ones know that the
person is gone forever and could begin imagining meeting again in the
afterlife but when someone is missing, this will cause anxiety that could even
lead to emotional imbalance and death of the person’s loved ones.’
As Filatei spoke, Anita wondered if Max could become emotionally
imbalanced or die because of not hearing from her. He was handsome and
intelligent, a man whom many women would like to date even if he never
heard from her for life.
‘I think it is better we don’t let him know about this. When Chief pays,
I’ll be back in the States.’
‘It isn’t that simple. If he really loves you, he might out of impulse
prepare himself and be on the next flight to Nigeria and that would be double
tragedy because he would easily become a target for militants, even if he stays
in Abuja or Lagos talking with the Police. The places I mentioned aren't
exceptions...’
Anita sighed. Filatei was still talking. ‘Freedom fighters or maybe I
should use the common word...militants will hardly see someone in yellow
skin and not be interested. Even albinos always try to get home before dark so
that they won’t be mistaken as foreigners.’
Anita almost laughed. It seemed no one was safe. She however knew
that several white people came to Nigeria often, and no evil befell them.
33
‘Few years ago,’ Filatei began speaking again, ‘a Lebanese was

kidnapped in PortHarcourt while waiting for a friend in an eatery close to a
Police station. On the way to the camp of the abductors, he told them he wasn't
an oil executive but that he was waiting for a friend who was to come and give
him transport fare back to Ibadan where he had come from...’
Ibadan. Anita remembered she had heard that name before,
somewhere...when she was studying History in the University. ‘That’s the
largest city in West Africa. Am I right?’
‘Absolutely correct.’ Filatei continued the story. The militants never
knew the Lebanese had been born in Ibadan by parents who were doing
business there in the seventies. He never even owned an international passport,
not to talk of travelling to his home country- Lebanon. The abductors called
the Lebanese Embassy and several numbers they saw on his phone, but the
money they were expecting never came. Then one day, when the boys had
almost lost their temper, they asked him to show them, on his phone, a number
they would call because someone had to pay his ransom. Eventually, they
called the number of a carpenter unknown to them and when they gave the
Lebanese the phone, on speaker, he started speaking in Yoruba. Subsequently,
they became angry with him because the rule was to speak in English which
they understood well.
What made them have pity on him was a sentence he uttered, ejo,
emaa je ki won pa mi, which literally meant please don’t let them kill me.
Some of the fighters who had learnt Yoruba while living in Lagos, trying to
make ends meet understood. The carpenter replied, emi carpenter lasan- I, an
ordinary carpenter. Next, they ended the call and got to know that the
carpenter was the person who helped the Lebanese with repairs in his flat in
Ibadan. Eventually, they dumped the Lebanese on a lonely road, after putting
transport fare in his pocket. Amusingly, he looked overfed, compared to how
he had been when they kidnapped him a week before then...
Briefly forgetting her dilemma, Anita laughed heartily after Filatei
recounted the story. A good story idea for Max.
‘Kidnapping Max isn’t the only risk here. If he informs the Police or
US Embassy, newspapers will carry the story. Automatically, we’ll kill you
and bury you somewhere around here.’ Filatei moved his finger in a
semicircle, as if trying to indicate the boundary of her would-be grave. ‘Then
we’ll let the Press know that you were actually Chief Doukpolagha’s guest. So
simple. They’ll never get to us. So it is better the whole world doesn’t know
what we cooked that got the house burnt.’ Filatei frowned.
Cold air touched Anita’s skin from nowhere. She understood the
situation better now. Even Max’s actions could determine if they would spare
her life. Still, she didn’t want him to know about it. His number was in the
diary she was actually looking for and most likely, Filatei will go through it.
Filatei interrupted her thoughts, in a calm voice as if he pitied her.
‘Don't be bothered, I know what to say when I speak with him. I won’t let him
34
know about Chief, okay?’

Feeling relieved, Anita nodded. Filatei handed her the postcard. Then,
he brought out another stick of cigarette and began to smoke. This time, he
didn’t remove the filter.
‘Yeah, I almost forgot, you said you can help me get to the axis of
evil.’
Anita nodded and began to search for the diary again. She opened an
inner compartment, anxious to get the small diary.
‘If we’re able to get to the axis of evil and discover the hidden gods,
your ticket to freedom is guaranteed,’ Filatei said. ‘I’m sure the godfather will
buy the idea. Fortunately, we’re having new guests soon.’
Anita looked at him, feeling hope build in her spirit, also wondering
who the guests could be. Other hostages like me.
35
Chapter 8
A petite nurse opened the door to the private ward where Daniel
Doukpolagha was receiving treatment. Opuowei and Charly entered and the
nurse left, closing the door. Opuowei could feel the cool from the air
conditioner. The room smelt of drugs and cleaning substances. A television at
one corner was showing a Nigerian movie. Daniel and his personal assistant,
Asuquo who were chatting stopped their discussion.
‘Hey, how far now?’ Daniel said, smiling as if trying to pretend that he
was not in pains.
Moving closer, Opuowei smiled and the soldiers sat down on two
chairs by the bed.
‘We’re fine. Sorry about the attack,’ Opuowei said.
Daniel shrugged. ‘Oh, thank God because if not for God, it would’ve
been worse.’
‘Sorry,’ Charly also sympathized.
They all exchanged pleasantries and Opuowei took a closer look at
Daniel. Bandage covered his left leg and the left side of his face was inflamed.
Attached to his right hand was a drip. Feeling bad that his friend was in such a
condition, Opuowei sighed and nodded as if dancing to music, which he alone
could hear.
‘Surely, I’ll get those boys and they’ll be sorry for everything. They’re
asking for ten million dollars as if their father worked for the money.’
‘Nonsense!’ Asuquo roared, banging his hand on a small table in front
of him.
‘Yes, nonsense,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s exactly what it is. We can't afford
to pay such an amount of money. In recent times, the company has been
plagued with financial crisis. We’ve to repay our loans.’ He frowned, sitting
up. ‘In fact, what’s the meaning of all that rubbish? If that’s how these boys
want to live lives equal to that of senators, then they must be joking. Ten
million dollars, just like that.’
‘If you have the number with which they called Chief, that will be a
good place to start.’ Asuquo turned to face Opuowei, a look of optimism on
his face.
‘They hid their number and gave only four days from today for the
payment,’ Opuowei responded.
‘And they said failure to do that would lead to her murder,’ Charly
added.
36
Opuowei could see an expression of sympathy on Daniel’s face. Like

him, Daniel often pitied people especially when it involved death. ‘Daniel, any
problem?’
‘No. But I just don’t want the woman to die. My father invited her and
should be responsible for her wellbeing. I pity his financial condition but...’
His voice trailed away.
Opuowei understood Daniel’s fear. It would be inhuman for a woman
whom his father had invited to die.
‘I think he’s just trying to say...that if we aren't sure we can get her out
alive, then we shouldn’t bother venturing into the game. As in, maybe it might
be better for Chief to pay even though it would affect the company
negatively.’ Asuquo said. He turned to Daniel, an inquiring look on his face.
With a sullen face, Daniel pursed his lips, shaking his head.
Opuowei turned to look at Charly. He removed his eyes and turned to
stare at Asuquo. The message was clear. No need to try if they knew they
would fail. He however felt Asuquo didn’t know that he and Charly were
taking the risk because of the goodies associated with it. On the way to the
hospital, Charly had told Opuowei, ‘Definitely, Chief will cause a raise in our
salary and give us some cash after the whole thing.’ And he had agreed with
Charly.
Daniel turned to Opuowei. ‘Well, I think I trust you with the job. I
can’t imagine my father going bankrupt. Not at this time. Not ever.’
Feeling relieved, Opuowei looked at Charly who also nodded.
‘So, how far have you gone with the investigations?’ Asuquo asked.
The question made Opuowei remember what happened after they
finished speaking with the Divisional Police Officer.
‘We found nothing in the first car at the police station. Coincidentally,
the owner met us while we were still there. Nothing showed that he was guilty.
Then, about the second car, the owner is most likely innocent because we
learnt the boys hijacked it after the small accident they had.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Please, just be quick so they won’t kill that innocent
woman. You know it is Chief that keeps inviting them to come, even if they
don’t want to.’
That moment, Opuowei’s phone rang. He picked it.
‘Hello,’ the caller said.
Opuowei identified the voice as that of the DPO. ‘Hello.’
‘We’ve the second car and we found in it something that gave the
exact identity of the kidnappers.’
‘Alright, we’re coming straight away.’
Opuowei drove into the premises of the Central Police Station on

Moscow Road and parked the car hurriedly. Immediately, he got out, not even
37
waiting for Charly who was still closing the door of the passenger’s side.
Opuowei could see many cars parked around, but he couldn't make any
guesses about the car they had come to inspect. He continued to the entrance
of the station. Finally, Charly caught up with him.
Getting to the reception, the same policewoman who attended to them
earlier that morning said, ‘Oga is waiting for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Opuowei replied as they dashed to the boss’ office.
Charly whispered, ‘I hope what they found is something that would
really help us. You know, this police people, they can make something that
isn’t important look very big.’
‘I hope so too,’ Opuowei replied. He couldn't wait to see the thing.
Getting to the door, Opuowei rapped on it and they entered when they
heard the officer say, ‘Come in.’
The DPO was smiling as they entered and Opuowei thought he knew
the reason for that.
The officer opened a file before him. ‘I think everything is working for
good. We found the jeep at the bank of a river, not far from the Eleme
Junction Flyover.’ His eyes were on the file.
Opuowei couldn't understand why the man didn’t just go straight to the
point...say what they found in the car, or take them straight to check it.
Opuowei took a quick glance at Charly and guessed Charly had the same
amazement. Opuowei wanted to say, so let’s go and check it out but he didn’t
want to sound rude or too forward, especially when the officer had concurred
to the deal.
Opuowei watched the man as he went through the opened file before
him. He was still smiling as if waiting for them to ask him if they could go and
see the vehicle. Perhaps, Opuowei guessed, he was savouring the glory of the
discovery of the vehicle, which had something that gave off the exact identity
of the militants and would most likely lead to Anita Campbell’s recovery.
Sighing, Opuowei thought of the actuality that he was now trying to locate a
kidnapped white woman, when whites had almost killed him in the past. Still
watching the officer, he hoped the man didn’t just call them to come because
he wanted it to seem as if he was playing his part of the contract.
The officer looked up, closing the file. ‘So, maybe we should just go
and check out the vehicle.’
Finally. Feeling relieved, Opuowei felt the pounding of his heart
reduce. The man stood up and they followed him out of the office.
Moments later, Opuowei stared at a Land Cruiser; neat, save for little
scratches on the body.
‘The evidence is still inside,’ the officer said as he opened the door of
the driver’s side and gestured to them to climb in. The other doors opened
automatically.
Opuowei climbed in through the driver’s side and Charly entered
38
through the passenger door. The officer looked on, smiling. On the floor of the
passenger seat was a long red and white fabric. Charly picked it and gave it to
Opuowei. Opuowei examined it carefully. Not very wide, it smelt of stale
sweat and alcohol. Its ends were in shreds and Opuowei realised it was an
armband. Probably, it unknotted by itself when the militants were in the
vehicle. Good. Holding it few inches away from him, he realised the red on it
was actually a drawing.
‘A sort of logo,’ the officer offered.
Opuowei nodded, trying to decipher what the drawing depicted. Two
cutlasses crossed in the air and a skull under the intersection. Below these was
a slogan, The Struggle is Stubborn. Opuowei squinted, wondering which
militant group owned the emblem. The commonest ones included a man
carrying a machine gun and another, just the torso of a skeleton.
‘Come out, let’s talk,’ the officer said, interrupting his wonderment.
39
Chapter 9
As Miedide carried a bucket of water Pa Akpodigha had just

consecrated, he thought of where he was going. He smiled and imagined what
life would’ve been like for him if he weren’t an emater. His heart skipped.
Militant. That’s what people in the dark called them. Ignorant souls. That
moment, he felt more convinced he would have died. In the past one year that
he had been with Filatei and the others, his life had turned around completely.
Now, he ate the type of food he wanted and didn’t eat what he came upon. He
could also afford good clothes, and even owned a bank account...a miracle he
never thought would happen in his life. He smiled.
Setting down the bucket in the makeshift bathroom made of wood and
aluminium-roofing sheets, Miedide felt energy rising inside him. It was time
for them to enjoy life and harvest the yields of the struggles of their fathers.
Afterall, people often said that three consecutive generations of a family must
under no condition wallow in penury. If that happens, then such a family is
under serious spiritual manipulations of the powers of darkness. Even so, in
his case, before he decided to get involved in armed struggle, no generation in
his family had broken the jinx of poverty. Not even for a moment.
Removing his cloths now, to begin bathing, Miedide heard a bird crash
against the walls of the bathroom. He giggled. These witches are here again.
The next moment, he heard the fluttering of the bird’s wings as it flew away.
Miedide could hear the other men chatting loudly. He recalled his first few
weeks in the team, when they marvelled with resentment at the way Filatei
treated him. After two delicate assignments, Filatei made him his right hand
man for special and delicate missions. As time went on, the men began to love
him, an outcome of the successes he recorded...like leading the team that
abducted a fugitive American at the US Embassy in Lagos.
Now, Miedide could hear Pa Akpodigha telling the boys that the ritual
would start very soon. Good person. Pa Akpodigha was the only one who
didn’t show resentment towards him then. Miedide recalled how the elderly
man would give him confidence before he set out for operations.
‘Go in peace and come back well my son. If they shoot at you, you’ll
only hear the sound, it’ll not touch you. When you open your mouth, bullets
will come out. When you point at them, bullets will come out from your
fingers. When they shoot at you, they’re shooting at their firstborns at home,’
Pa Akpodigha would say before he set out for any mission. And that was
exactly what he had said, moments ago when he was consecrating the water.
40
Miedide realised he was getting late now. He heard the sound of

hammer as some of their men constructed new tents. Scooping up some water
with a small bowl, he poured the water on his head. It was cold.
41
Chapter 10
The tall red brick fence of the house seemed to stretch to eternity. As
Charly spoke with Opuowei, Opuowei speculated what he would discover
when he got into the compound which was obviously large. He could hear the
sound of the large bus, carrying some of the other soldiers working in Chief
Doukpolagha’s house, behind. Men desperate for a raise in their pay.
Opuowei’s thoughts focused on the fence of the house again. He
wondered why anyone should build a house with a fence so tall that the only
thing someone coming from outside could see was the cloudy sky, not even
the roof of the building inside.
‘Na wa o. Even the fence at The Citadel is not as tall as this,’ Opuowei
blurted, interrupting Charly who had been mentioning possible locations of
Anita and her abductors.
‘Yes o.’ Charly waved his right hand. ‘Only God knows what they’re
hiding inside.’
Dogs started barking loudly. Opuowei strained his ear, to be sure that
the sound came from the compound. He turned to Charly. ‘Can you hear that?’
Charly grinned. ‘What else should we expect when going to the house
of a militant godfather?’ He paused. ‘If the fences could be as tall as this,’
pointing, ‘then why won’t they have dogs? I think I heard the officer saying
something like the Chief liked dogs, I don’t remember well.’ He paused. ‘In
fact, I won’t be surprised if we discover they are raising pythons and
crocodiles in there. You know what rich people can do.’
Opuowei laughed. ‘If you see a crocodile, better run for your life.’
Charly giggled.
‘Well, I’m just joking. Crocodile or no crocodile. Snakes or human
beings. To hell with them all. I’ll blow any obstacle off,’ Opuowei declared.
‘Na so o oga.’
They got to the gate of the house and Opuowei tapped the horn twice.
No one came out. Instead, barks and growls were the responses they got. The
big bus at the back had stopped too. No one stepped out of it. That was the
order Opuowei had given the soldiers in it before they set out from Chief’s
house. Irritated that no one was responding, Opuowei pressed the horn; this
time he held it down briefly. Still, he got no sign that someone was coming to
open the gate.
‘Maybe they’ve seen us,’ Charly offered.
Opuowei removed his gaze from the gate and faced Charly. He was
42
about to say it was impossible for the occupants of the house to have seen
them just the way it was impossible for someone coming from outside to see
what was going on inside the house. He remembered however that truly they
could have seen them. Militants had eyes and ears everywhere. Perhaps, some
of the people whom they saw as they drove through the road of the estate were
Chief Tuburu’s men, on covert surveillance. Information about their visit
might have arrived in the building before them.
‘Even if they saw us, I know they’re still inside the house. They
couldn't have absconded so quickly. Besides, we’re in mufti and they should
have no reason to run in the first place,’ Opuowei said, pressing down the horn
again.
Sounds of human feet hustling made him stop.
The middle part of the gate slid upwards and downwards again.
Apparently, someone was checking to see the visitors. The gate slid sideways
slowly and stopped, giving a narrow space, enough for a short, very muscular
charcoal skinned young man to come out. He came to them.
‘Well done o,’ Opuowei said, unsure of how to greet the young man.
‘Yes sir.’
Opuowei could smell alcohol as the young man responded. The silent
man was glaring at him now.
‘Is Chief Tuburu around?’
That instant, a tall skinny man came out from the gate. The charcoaled
skinned man turned to look at him and returned his gawk on Opuowei. ‘He’s
not around. Any problem.’
‘Wetin dey always do you sef? You no even know the kind of people
they be and you want them to go sharply,’ Opuowei heard the tall man rebuke
and he felt relieved that someone who had some courtesy was coming.
The tall man stopped in front of them now. ‘Oga, good morning jo. I
hear you mention Chief Tuburu, abi?’ He shot Opuowei a questioning look
and bent to look at Charly. The charcoaled skinned man was looking at the bus
behind, with a smirk on his face, whistling as he did so.
‘Yes,’ Opuowei replied.
‘No mind this guy,’ the man gestured to his partner, with his head.
‘Chief is around. Hope no problem sha?’
‘No.’ Opuowei replied, smiling. Nice.
The charcoal skinned man grumbled, ‘Na thunder go fire dem mama.’
My late mother. Opuowei watched the muscular man as he walked back into
the house and realised that if it had been on a different day, he would have
forced cow dung down the young man’s throat for insulting his mother.
Opuowei turned to Charly. ‘You heard him?’
‘I heard, but I think that for now, we can easily put it aside. Next time
he says that, I’ll rub red hot pepper on his dick.’
Opuowei burst into laughter, amazed at the manner, with which Charly
often amused him.
43
The gate slid open completely. The dogs had stopped the barks and
growls. Moving forward, Opuowei looked into the rear view mirror and saw
the bus advancing too. My men are ready. He looked sideways as he drove
into the compound, descending a steep slope which made him understand why
they could see nothing from outside at their arrival. Seated with bottles of
alcohol and butts of cigarettes scattered around them were several men, most
of whom Opuowei guessed were in their early and mid twenties. The effect of
joblessness.
Parking the car near some cars and two large new trucks on a large
lawn, Opuowei and Charly came out. Beautiful flowers grew everywhere. The
other soldiers were still in the vehicle. Force isn’t always necessary but when
there is need for it, act fast, Opuowei remembered telling them this.
The tall man hurried to meet the duo. He stopped in front of them and
said, ‘This way,’ pointing to a stairway.
They followed him and Opuowei looked round. The house, painted in
white was very big, in a way he hadn’t imagined when the DPO described it as
the abode of the godfather, heading the militant group that owned the emblem
on the armband they found in the Land Cruiser. Making the sign of the cross,
Opuowei envisaged what to expect inside the house.
Max sipped from his cup of hot coffee as he saved his work on the
system, closing the page. The moment he had been waiting for had come. The
moment to check for the phone number of the United States Embassy in
Nigeria on the internet. He hibernated, changing his mind for a second time
that night.
He felt an upwelling of anger. Earlier on, he had wanted to check it but
decided otherwise, when he considered the possibility of Anita calling him
eventually and apologising, saying something like, I’ve been trying you, but
the network is bad. He had heard that the telecommunication system in Africa
could develop faults, that it could make someone lose business deals, for
several days. Therefore, he had decided to wait for a while. Yet, no call had
come in.
He hissed. He would smoke now and if no call still came in by the time
he finished smoking, he would have no choice than to get the number from the
net and call immediately to report that Anita was missing. And just if she
called after that to express her displeasure at this action, considering the fact
that she had told him she didn’t want the Embassy to know, she would be the
one to blame.
He wouldn’t wait for eternity. If something bad happened to her, Max
knew he wouldn’t escape interrogation from the Police. That, he hated. After
years in the penitentiary, he didn’t want anything to taint his reputation again,
especially now that he had a growing popularity in the mainstream literary
44
circle...a result of some books he authored and published with the assistance of
Tony Morgan, when things still ran smoothly between them.
Climbing down the stairs now, Max imagined what he would tell
Anita’s boss in a situation if the man called and asked after her. Anita’s
mother calling didn’t really matter. The woman knew that at times when Anita
was angry with him, Anita left the house for days on the ruse that she was on
official assignment. That moment, it dawned on Max that he was the only
person, at least close to Anita, who knew she was in Nigeria. She had stated
that she didn’t tell anyone and that he shouldn’t bother doing that.
‘When people ask after me, just tell them I’m in LA,’ she had told him
when he was worrying about the response he would give their friends.
Entering the kitchen now, Max watched Marquis as it devoured its
food- some Whisker pellets. He glanced at the wall clock. The time was three
thirty. Cool. After the call, there would still be time for him to catch some
sleep. Dropping his phone on the table, he started smoking, anticipating
Anita’s call, an act that only increased the anger inside him.
Minutes later, he was on the way back to the study. He concluded the
Embassy was the best place for him to call. Afterall, journalists often ran to
their country embassies in times of trouble even if they didn’t inform the
particular embassy of their visit to the country previously. Entering the study
and settling before the computer, he opened Google. He typed in the search
bar, The US Consulate, Embassy Nigeria. The computer beeped and several
options appeared on the screen.
He clicked the first hit. Immediately, the home page opened. Max
smiled. CONTACT US was at the right upper side of the screen and he clicked
on it. Another window popped up and he gazed at the address of the Embassy
in Lagos. He noticed ‘Victoria Island’ as part of the address. Island indeed.
Below that, he saw what he was looking for. He reached for his phone that lay
by the side of the computer.
He started typing, +2340...
When he finished typing the number, he checked it to be sure he made
no mistakes. As he was about to dial it, his phone vibrated and began ringing.
He looked carefully at the phone screen.
The number calling him was unknown.
45
Chapter 11
Miedide gazed at the waters as the engine boat he had boarded at Eku
bobbled with speed. Soon, he knew, he would be at Ojikwa, around Sapele,
and he couldn't imagine what he would meet there. Rehearsing the lines he
had memorised once more, he grinned, happy that their payday was coming.
In front of him was a couple deep in a discussion, unaware that their two little
boys kept looking back, staring at him.
‘Papa, see, rat remove his teeth,’ the darker of the boys teased, tapping
his father and pointing at Miedide.
Immediately, the parents looked back. Miedide saw panic in their eyes.
‘No yawa,’ Miedide said, shrugging. Someday, Miedide knew, he
would replace the missing teeth.
‘No vex abeg,’ the father apologised. The mother smacked the two
children next, saying, ‘Better face front, little rats.’
Amused that the woman called her children little rats, Miedide giggled.
‘Na them remove the teeth.’
The couple and the boat driver in front exploded in laughter. The two
children also laughed as if they understood the joke.
Looking away, Miedide recalled he had experienced such scenes of
humiliation in the past. Not once, not twice, but many times he couldn't
reckon...far worse circumstances that changed his outlook of life. Staring at
the dark waters of the river, sad memories he had tried hard to put behind
came flooding back.
Suffering and smiling, he thought. Until the day when luck shined on
him, when he did a favour that was returned, when he helped fellow brothers
because he understood their hustle, he had been suffering, smiling, and
surviving instead of relishing every minute of his existence.
As a child, Miedide had witnessed how his paternal uncles forcibly
took control of the properties his late grandfather bequeathed to his father.
Assets that were not expensive, but that he was sure would have made life
much easier for his nuclear family. Visualising the two canoes, a small oil
palm plantation and a large hut from which his uncles evicted them, he felt a
familiar sensation pass through his body...an awareness that made him doubt
his own continued existence, bearing in mind that he had helped his parents
bury his younger ones, as they died one after the other.
Left alone with his parents, he had promised them he would make
them proud one day, so they would worry no more. However, fate changed his
46
path and the winds of destiny altered his course. Life for him became a ladder
of thorns, one that made his limbs bleed with so much hurt.
After writing the last paper of his final exams at the secondary school
stage, he rushed home hungry, that windy evening, anxious to eat abanga and
celebrate the completion of his secondary education with his parents. His
mother, however, didn’t prepare abanga. He met her preparing a white cloth,
to wrap his father’s corpse. The man had fallen down from a palm tree,
practising his profession, struggling to put food on their table. As if the
tragedies weren't enough, five months later, his mother died from a serious
illness.
As the breeze whooshed against his ear now, Miedide bit his lower lip,
remembering his mother’s death. The driver made a sharp turn, making the
dirty water splash on their bodies. Miedide didn’t care. Staring up, he
convinced himself as always that he could have saved her life. Five thousand
naira. Less than fifty dollars. The doctor in the hospital had asked for that, but
they couldn't afford it. Yet, just behind their house, an oil company made
millions of dollars every day.
Helpless after his mother’s death, he went to the oil company for a
menial job, a job they didn’t give. Adding to his predicament, a violent rain
blew off the thatched roof of their small hut. A week later, while he was still
trying to get the roof repaired, another turbulent downpour destroyed what was
left of the small dwelling.
With no food and no shelter, Miedide took to the streets, mixed with
different kinds of people, and realised his story was not as pathetic as those of
some others were. When he opened his mouth to speak, people made jest of
him. Then, only two teeth were gone, though.
Determined to survive no matter what, he began to do different things
for survival. He sold nylon water- pure water, but the trade was highly
competitive. Consequently, his gains were paltry. Gathering all he had, he
started selling musical discs, a trade hampered by the Censors Board
Monitoring Group because the discs were pirated goods. He began selling
weed next.
One harmattan morning, he landed in police cell when police officers
caught him with a large quantity of Indian hemp he had gone to buy for retail.
For three weeks, the Regular section of the cell was his home because he
couldn't afford the money the cell lord, a criminal who had been there for five
months, charged to put him in the Suite or Executive section of the lockup.
There, in the overcrowded Regular section, they ate, chatted, sang, urinated,
and defecated.
After his release, made possible by a senior police officer who pitied
him for reasons he never would know, Miedide found a home under an
overhead bridge. The dirty area below that overpass was home to dozens of
people; young and aged, the strong and the sick, deaf husbands and their
crippled wives, whose moans were perceptible while making love at nights.
47
Feeding was a challenge then. Often, they ate leftover rice gathered
from parties by the little ones among them. After eating, they dried whatever
remained in the sun and re-cooked it again when hunger arrived. One evening,
Miedide got involved in a fight with a stranger who wanted to take over his
sleeping place. That day, he lost the third teeth.
Months later, one Sunday morning when Miedide went to buy roasted
plantain, adjacent a church, five masked men ran out of the church with a
white man and drove off immediately in a waiting vehicle. Minutes later as he
walked away reflecting on what he just experienced, a police officer came out
from a police van that stopped by his side.
‘Which way did the militants go?’ the officer asked.
Miedide wanted to point in the direction they went but changed his
mind, remembering that his own mother died because the money from the oil
never flowed into their hands. He misdirected them and watched as they drove
away on a wild goose chase.
At the same spot, a week after that, when Miedide went to buy roasted
plantain again, one of the militants, Damiete, who had been on furtive
surveillance after the kidnap accosted him, telling him that he saw how he led
the police astray a week ago. Subsequently, Damiete told him that his
Chairman, Filatei was grateful and would love to meet him. Miraculously, that
meeting changed his fortune.
48
Chapter 12
Max was certain the call was international, most likely from Nigeria,
and he pressed hard on the answer button, angry.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hello.’ The voice was that of a male.
Accented, a bit. Disappointed, Max hissed. He had thought he would
hear Anita’s voice so he would reprimand her straight away for not deeming it
fit to call him when she got to Nigeria. ‘Yeah, can I help you?’
‘Is that Maxwell Foster?’
‘Yeah. And what’s your name?’ Max was wondering what the call was
about.
‘Don't bother. Someday you might know...’
Shit. That was rude.
The caller was still talking, ‘Now, to the main business. Your fiancée
is here with us and she would be with us for a while. In your interest, no other
ear must hear this or else...’ the voice broke off.
Max thought he was dreaming. Nigeria. Ransom. He realised the caller
was probably a militant. He had to talk calmly. ‘Okay, what should we do?
Are we to pay any ransom?’
The caller laughed and said, ‘In her case, we need no ransom. She said
she came to make a documentary about our lives and we’re helping her do just
that.’
Max suspected something was wrong. If Anita had her freedom, she
would have called him since. Better still, she would have been the one to
speak with him first and the caller wouldn’t have warned him that no other
person must know about this. Danger. He had to speak with her.
‘Okay, is she there with you?’
‘Sure, she’s been with us here in the creeks since she arrived.’
Not in the hotel. That instant, Max became convinced they kidnapped
Anita on arrival in Nigeria. Anita had told him she would stay in a hotel
throughout her stay in Nigeria. Too bad.
He asked again, ‘Can I speak to her?’ He heard giggles.
‘I understand you’re surprised she’s here with us in the creeks,’ the
caller said. ‘That is necessary so that she would experience what life is like for
us here. She can’t sleep in an air-conditioned room, cruise town in a posh car,
eat what she wants, and then say that she has produced a documentary about
us. We told you white people that we want to tell the world our stories by
49
ourselves because you can’t effectively portray our hardship. Yet, you remain
adamant. Therefore, we’ve decided to tell our story while using your fiancée’s
expertise as a reporter. In any case, a good documentary is on the way but if
you don’t want it to be aired posthumously, better keep quiet...’
Threats. Going back in time to his days as a gangster, Max wished he
could see the caller, size him, and knock him down. He remembered the
incident that landed him in jail.
Just a little patience, he told himself. The fault was Anita’s because if
she hadn't gone to Nigeria, this militant will not speak to him in such manner.
‘Hello,’ Anita’s voice interrupted Max’s thoughts.
‘Hello. Are you satisfied now, Mrs Reporter?’
He heard her giggle. ‘You don’t wanna answer my question. I warned
you, but you’ll never listen.’
‘It wasn't actually my fault. I’m trying...’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Max interrupted her. ‘Those weird dreams of yours
will kill you someday. You wanna do what no one else has done before, right?
Is money and fame everything?’
‘It’s not what you think. Love can’t put food on our table and... ’
‘Just shut your fuckin mouth up.’ Max hissed. ‘Love can do everything.
I’m sure you listened to all the guy said. So better don’t bother thinking of
running away. I know you well, you could decide to run and be lowered six
feet under the ground.’
‘You don’t wanna give me the chance to speak,’ Anita shouted. ‘I
don’t give a damn about what you say. All I know is that I’m gonna come out
with a good documentary, the type never seen before...’
The phone went dead. Max looked at the screen, boiling with rage.
Anita will never change.
50
Chapter 13
Filatei Perembowei watched as Anita Campbell frowned, obviously

because of her discussion with Max. The wind blew several strands of her long
gold hair and she removed the strands covering her face. Thinking of her
discussion with Max, Filatei admired her courage, the fact that she believed so
much in her abilities. Yet, something reminded him that talking to a man one
would marry in such a manner as she did was unacceptable in his culture.
Maale, his mother respected his father and he couldn't imagine Ebiere talking
to him in such a manner.
Standing up, Filatei walked over to some of the other men, all masked,
discussing about their past missions. He glimpsed at his wristwatch. The time
was eleven thirty. There’s still time. He was expecting their latest guests. He
adjusted his mask, to be able to breathe better. Almost immediately, he began
hearing hushed sounds. He smiled. Think about the devil and he appears.
Not long after, five masked men, armed to the teeth arrived with two
blindfolded foreigners. A Filipino man and an English woman. One of the
men who carried a big camera led the way, walking with his back, recording,
with the others facing him.
‘Welcome, how you dey now?’ Filatei asked, facing their direction.
‘We’re fine,’ Damiete replied, smiling.
The other men exploded in an uproar immediately they saw the new
arrivals. Anita sat in silence, her eyes filled with awe. The camera operator
turned and focused the camera on her briefly.
‘O boy may we do bo. Time don reach,’ one of the men earlier chatting
said and dashed to the tent with supplies of food and drinks. Moments later, he
appeared with several bottles of wine and gin. Ebiere brought cups with some
pieces of meat from the goat they killed earlier and Pa Akpodigha shook hands
with the men who just arrived, congratulating them as they sat on white plastic
chairs.
The new hostages stood quietly, unaided by anyone now.
Lighting a cigarette Ebiere handed him, Filatei held the Filipino man
by the right hand and nudged him to walk towards one of the new tents. Two
other men with pistols followed closely. Ebiere and two other men were
leading the English woman to another tent.
The camera operator followed Ebiere’s group.
On getting to the tent, Filatei removed the cloth covering the man’s
face and smiled when he saw that the area the cloth had covered was red. That
51
was normal. Gesturing for the man to sit down, Filatei said, ‘Mr. Lumantas,
don’t be worried. As soon as your employers pay, you’ll be a free man.
Okay?’
The Filipino gave no reply. He just stared at Filatei as if he were deaf
and dumb. Filatei noted the look of hatred and bitterness in his eyes.
‘This man looks tough.’ Filatei turned to face the men with him.
‘That’s his palaver,’ the man next to Filatei replied and Filatei returned
his gaze to the Filipino who was bending his head, staring at the ground.
After a while, Filatei left the tent leaving the two men at the entry to
watch over the man. He saw Anita sitting alone and looked round, only to
discover that no one was watching her. Angry, he turned to face the other men
engrossed with their drinks, laughing and speaking loudly.
His voice stopped their discussion. ‘How come no one is watching
over this camp?’ He would have said, looking after this woman but he didn’t
want Anita to feel that he feared she might escape.
Those whose duty it was to guard Anita and the camp jumped up
immediately. The men apologised saying different things, No vex abeg...It’ll
not happen again...Sorry...
Filatei nodded. ‘No dull yourself o.’
The other men continued chatting, quietly this time around. That
moment, Filatei saw Ebiere coming out of the tent alone. The two men who
had followed her also came out and stood by the entrance to the tent. The
camera operator appeared next and went to the Filipino’s tent.
Filatei smiled, remembering what the white woman had done. Racism
in another man’s land. He walked over to Anita, hoping to interest her with
the story of the English woman. As he moved nearer to Anita, he thought he
saw a look of curiosity in her blue eyes.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Just cool.’
‘Hope you’re no longer angry about your discussion with Max. From
everything he said, I think he was really worried about you.’
Anita shrugged. ‘I don’t care what he says. I’m already used to it.’ She
shrugged again.
Filatei could see from her eyes that she was anxious to know about the
new hostages.
‘I hope you don’t feel bad that the phone was on speaker and I listened
to your discussion. We always do like that, so we would be able to hear what
hostages discuss for security purposes.’
‘It’s okay,’ Anita replied. ‘So what’s up with the new people?’
People. Filatei laughed, sensing something. ‘You don’t want to call
them hostages because you are one.’
‘Not that.’ Anita gave a stern look. ‘I mentioned the first word that
came to my mind.’
Filatei realised Anita could be rigid at times, but he wouldn’t drag the
52
issue. ‘About the hostages. The English woman actually did something stupid.
About a week ago, one of our men doing undercover in town drove into a
filling station to buy fuel. The attendant, maybe influenced by the woman’s
colour, decided to sell fuel to her first even though she arrived after our man...’
Filatei paused. Anita was nodding.
Filatei continued and explained how the man asserted his right that the
attendant should sell fuel to him before the woman. Subsequently, the woman
called him a big black fool and he, in turn, called her a white wandering idiot.
That started the problem. Immediately she called policemen who later caught
up with the undercover who had left the filling station furiously. Following
that, the man spent a night in the cell and the police released him on bail the
next day, when another of their men went to the station to pay.
‘Not so bad,’ Anita said.
‘But bad enough to make me place a ransom of a million dollars on her
life. Trust me, without that money, she’s a goner.’ Filatei watched Anita as
she covered her face with a hand. He nodded. Perhaps, Anita was feeling pity
for the woman.
‘Don't feel bad. She should learn her lesson. Your case is far more
pitiable. You did nothing to offend us. You’re here because Chief bit the
fingers that fed him. He forgot things so easily. And don’t think we asked for
ten million dollars because you’re American.’
Anita waved her hand. ‘Okay.’
Filatei sensed what he just said had the type of effect he wanted on
Anita. She shouldn’t pity these people.
Anita shot him a quizzical look. ‘Then the man?’
The man. Filatei realised the man not only offended him, but also
offended all those suffering souls in the Niger Delta indirectly. ‘The Filipino
works for Shell.’ Filatei paused to see Anita’s reaction to that statement. Of
course, he didn’t expect her to feel bad about it...not with the black waters of
the river and the hardship she had seen in their lives. The oil company was
tormenting them fiercely.
‘For that, I’m not surprised because I learnt about kidnapping of oil
workers long before I decided to come,’ Anita said.
‘The funniest thing is that the Filipino government has warned its
citizens about coming to this region to work when we declared a war on the oil
companies, telling them to stay away from our region,’ Filatei remarked. ‘But
they wouldn’t listen. They are addicted to our oil and the money that comes
with it as if it is food for their soul. Oil is too much here and they don’t want
to leave us alone...’ The words coming out of Filatei’s mouth were beginning
to overwhelm him.
Anita sighed. ‘That’s life.’
Filatei called Ebiere and when she came, she handed him a paper,
having the number of the English woman’s husband.
‘For the Filipino, we’ve had several deals with Shell in the past, so
53
we’ve their number,’ Filatei said, typing on his phone.

He dialled the number and placed the phone on speaker.
‘Hello,’ a man answered.
‘Hello, I’m one of the freedom fighters of the Niger Delta and I’ve
your...’
‘Ah, I’ve been expecting your call since,’ the man interrupted Filatei.
Smiling and taking a glimpse at Anita, Filatei smiled. ‘If you ever want
to see her alive, you should pay a ransom of one million dollars in three days.
I’ll call you back tomorrow so that you’ll know how to get the money across
to us. No one must know about this.’
‘Okay sir.’ The man sounded relieved. Filatei smiled at Anita.
‘Please can I speak to her?’
‘Sure.’
Beckoning to one of his men, Filatei gave the man the phone to take to
the woman’s tent.
When the man returned with the phone minutes later, Filatei typed a
number offhand and dialled.
‘Hello,’ a man picked the phone.
‘Hello, we’ve Mr. Lumantas. His price is seven hundred thousand
dollars. I’ll call back tomorrow to know your preparations. Then you’ll speak
with him.’ Filatei ended the call and looked at Anita.
From the expression on Anita’s face, Filatei suspected she was
wondering why he had spoken so briefly.
‘Don't be surprised,’ he said. ‘Shell knows us very well. They are
regular customers. No need for much talk because they already understand.
I’ve another call to make.’
Opuowei and Charly sat, talking in muffled voices. A large plasma

television was showing a musical video titled: Hard life. A young woman,
wearing an apron like that of a housemaid entered and asked, ‘What can I
offer you sirs?’
Studying Charly’s face, Opuowei concluded, from the expression he
saw. The message was to turn down the offer.
‘We’re okay,’ Opuowei rebuffed. ‘Thank you.’ With that, the young
woman turned and left the large visitors room.
‘That’s better,’ Charly said, ‘because these rich men can say that we
ate their salt and pepper and then decided to stab them in the back.’
Russia. Opuowei recalled how an unknown enemy poisoned him years
ago when a popular Nigerian musician came for a performance in Saint
Petersburg. ‘That’s not as serious as poisoning. Its effect could be chemical or
spiritual in nature.’
‘Right.’ Charly nodded. ‘What if we take a drink and then forget what
54
actually brought us here. Worse, we might end up vomiting blood.’

‘Tufiakpwa,’ Opuowei exclaimed. ‘God forbid bad thing.’ He tapped
his fingers twice, waving it over his head.
Charly groaned. ‘In fact, what’s this man doing since? Would he say
he doesn’t know we’ve been waiting for the past forty-five minutes?’
‘Let’s just be patient. He can’t run away, not with the men outside
there,’ Opuowei said, nodding.
‘Oga, you see that thing there?’ Charly pointed to a small framed
drawing, hanging from the wall to their right. Immediately, Opuowei stood up
and walked towards the frame, feeling the weight of the pistol concealed in the
pocket of his trousers. For a moment, he turned to look at Charly who was still
sitting, watching the door through which Chief Tuburu would enter.
Peering at the drawing, Opuowei turned and signalled for Charly to
come for a look. Slowly, Charly stood up and walked towards him, turning to
look at the door as he advanced. Opuowei smiled, knowing that Charly was
nervous, perhaps because Chief Tuburu would enter any moment and might
feel it was rude for them to be sniffing around his house, especially when they
were there without invitation and hadn't informed him of their visit, prior to
coming.
Charly studied the drawing. ‘It seems the officer is telling the truth.
This drawing is exactly like the one we found on the armband,’ Charly
whispered, a glint of optimism in his eyes.
Nodding, Opuowei studied the drawing again. Exactly as he had seen
earlier that day, the skull was under the intersection made by the two cutlasses
crossed in the air. The background of the drawing was white and the drawing
itself was in red. The slogan in red was more legible than it was on the
armband: The Struggle is Stubborn.
‘We’ve gotten our man,’ Opuowei said and held Charly by the
shoulder, leading him back to their seats.
Just after they settled in their seats, they began hearing voices as
people approached. Opuowei tapped Charly. The door opened and a tall
medium sized man came into the room. Opuowei had expected to see more
than one person. He was however sure that the lone man he was staring at was
Chief Tuburu. Chief Tuburu wasn't what he had expected. He had thought the
Chief would be fat, with a potbelly. What he saw, on the other hand, undid his
conjectures.
The two soldiers stood up. ‘Good morning sir,’ they said in unison.
‘Good morning,’ Chief Tuburu replied. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.
You can have your seats.’
Sitting down, Opuowei realised the man’s Itsekiri accent was thick.
‘So hope no problem?’ The Chief’s voice was throaty.
Filatei glanced at the drawing and faced the Chief. ‘No problem sir.
We’re soldiers and we discovered you run a group of militants.’
The expression on the Chief’s face changed. His eyelids lifted.
55
‘Militants?’ His tone was questioning. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking
about.’
56
Chapter 14
Miedide walked slowly and looked round, trying to be sure he hadn't

missed his way. He could see no one to ask questions. Nevertheless, he saw
the tracks left behind by a car. Following the trail, he was determined to locate
the house. Most likely, he knew, it would be the only house in that vicinity
because since he started walking from the junction, he had seen no houses.
Rubbing off some dust on the leather folder he was carrying, he remembered
he had some other things to do later that day. I’ve to be quick.
The house he needed was a white bungalow without a fence and with
several trees around it. In Anita’s diary, he had also read that the house had a
big black monkey, the closest companion to the occupant of the house. He
nodded. Oyinbo. Only God knew how they got certain information.
Looking ahead, Miedide saw several clusters of trees and guessed that
the house was hidden, somewhere, among the trees. Smiling, he proceeded.
The time had come for them to possess their inheritance. He remembered
hearing about the hidden gods as a young boy. Then, he had never imagined
that one day, the onus would be on him to clear the path for their discovery...a
reality made possible by a woman from a different part of the globe.
The tracks were no more visible now and he saw a boulder on the right
side of the un-tarred road at some distance. As he removed his glance from the
boulder to look ahead, a monkey jumped from behind the boulder and landed
on it. A good sign. He was close to his destination. Reducing his pace, he
watched the ape as it unpeeled a banana that magically appeared and ate it in
bites. Amused, Miedide almost laughed, at the same time hoping that the
monkey wouldn’t attack him. To start with, he carried no weapon, not when he
was to feign his identity at his destination.
Looking straight, his eyes caught several banana trees, arranged in a
random manner. Plenty of food for the monkey. At once, he became
convinced he would soon be where he was going. The monkey jumped away
from the boulder and crossed the road. It ran into the bush. Good. The only
thing Miedide worried about now was the aura of the place he was. He
imagined what would happen if someone attacked him where he was going to.
He wondered how he would escape. It would be too bad.
The greatest fear he had as he neared the clusters of trees, however,
was if he didn’t achieve his mission in the house. For once, he had never failed
Filatei and now, he wasn't ready to that. Filatei had made him realise that God
had a purpose for his life. In his life, Filatei had actualized the aphorism that
57
there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Miedide meandered between trees. Guavas, mangos, bananas, oranges.
Various types of trees grew there. Then, he crossed a flowing stream.
Eventually, he came out of the trees. Everywhere was silent. The clouds were
thick. Before Miedide was a small white bungalow, with red roof. The house
looked as if it was newly painted. He scanned for the door. Closed, the black
door was to the far right of the house. Tucking in his shirt properly, Miedide
proceeded to the entrance.
Just then, he saw the door open and a well-built man who had his
apparently bulgy hair covered with a bandana came out of the house, carrying
two big nylon bags, with a frown on his face. Glancing at Miedide briefly, the
man moved on, turning to the side of the house, away from Miedide’s sight.
Miedide presumed the man must have wanted to bribe the occupant of the
house and the latter refused as people said she always does. He smiled and
continued to the door which he could hear someone latching from inside.
Getting to it, he knocked. Then, he heard the sound of a car start and zoom off.
58
Chapter 15
Chief Tuburu stared as if in confusion, as if he never knew what the

word militant meant. Opuowei fixed his gaze on him. Used to seeing situations
when people tried to simulate ignorance of things that were unambiguous,
Opuowei wasn't surprised. He had expected that Chief Tuburu would ask for
some form of identification to be sure that they were real soldiers, considering
the rate at which hungry people impersonated as soldiers to make quick money
from unwitting offenders.
‘Chief Tuburu, I know you’re a responsible man and we wouldn’t have
come here if we’d no evidence to support our findings,’ Opuowei said,
breaking the silence. ‘The news is all over our battalion. Your name is
everywhere,’ Opuowei lied, turning to face Charly who nodded in false
consent. Opuowei believed that with that, the Chief would cooperate, having it
in mind that so many people were involved. He turned back to look at the
Chief.
‘I still insist that I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the Chief
said, in a tone that indicated his effort to prove purity.
Criminals. No criminal, Opuowei realised, would accept blame even
when it was clear from every indication that he had no hiding place. He
glanced at the drawing on the wall again. Facing forward, he was quick to see
the Chief remove his gaze from the direction of the drawing. The man’s eyes
were already red. Now, Opuowei assumed the Chief was regretting that the
drawing hung on the wall, of a room where they, his accusers were sitting.
Correct. Why waste time when a piece of evidence stared at them in the eye?
‘Chief,’ pointing to the drawing, ‘what is the meaning of that
drawing?’ Opuowei asked, his face rigid.
‘Which drawing?’
‘I mean that one. It’s the only one there.’ Opuowei pointed to the
drawing again.
Charly’s gaze was still on the Chief.
‘Oh, that one. An artist made it for me. I never requested for it and I
didn’t give him a kobo for it.’
The response was funny to Opuowei. He had anticipated the man
would lie, but he hadn't expected that sort of lie from the elderly man. His
number six must have worked so fast. That moment, Opuowei remembered the
other soldiers who were in the bus outside. The last time he had spoken with
one of them on phone was when they were waiting for Chief Tuburu. They
59
must be wondering what is going on inside, he thought.

Opuowei dipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans trousers and
brought out the armband they had removed from the Land Cruiser in the
police station. He stretched it out. ‘Chief can you see that this is similar to
that?’ He gestured with his head towards the drawing on the wall.
The Chief collected the armband from him and stared at it, as if it were
strange. ‘Where did you get this from?’
Stupid question. Disgusted, Opuowei shook his head. ‘From the
vehicle that was used to kidnap a foreigner.’
‘A man or a woman?’
‘Chief, that isn’t important.’ Opuowei knew they had to be careful with
their investigations. He also guessed that the Chief had hostages but wanted to
be sure about the one they were looking for. The Chief was still examining the
armband. Opuowei eyed him.
‘What’s the acting for?’ Charly asked, whispering into Opuowei’s
ears.
‘I no understand too.’
They were still watching the Chief, waiting to hear what he would
eventually say when he finished his performance when a short light-skinned
woman, wearing an armless top, walked into the room. As she walked to a
chair near Chief, Opuowei noticed the way the muscles of her short fat arms
bounced up and down, as if a spring were in there. Sitting down in silence,
Opuowei realised she had the face of a young child. Overgrown babies.
The Chief’s phone rang. Standing up, he handed the armband to
Opuowei. ‘Excuse me. I would be back shortly.’ Immediately, he left as if
ignorant of the fact that he was under interrogation. Even so, Opuowei didn’t
mind. At least, the woman, who was most likely his wife, was with them. She
wasn't going anywhere.
‘Maybe I should go outside and see what’s going on,’ Charly
suggested quietly.
‘Don’t bother.’
‘Oga, I’ve been listening to your discussion with my husband since,’
the woman said in a voice similar to that of Chief Tuburu. ‘Seriously, we’re
not militants. If everybody God blesses is labelled as a militant, nobody would
want to be blessed.’
Like husband like wife. Opuowei wasn't willing to speak. At the same
time, he wasn't ready to make wrong judgements because of the lures of a
woman. His mind, briefly, went back in time to Russia when he was dating
Ruth.
‘We would cross the bridge when we get there,’ Ruth would always
say when he asked her about things he wasn't certain of...concerning the
future. They never crossed any bridge, though. As the woman waited for
Opuowei’s response, Opuowei realised the bridge actually collapsed while he
and Ruth were still on top, contemplating how to cross it. Recalling the
60
manner in which he came back home from Russia, when he had thought he
had no hope again, Opuowei felt tears about to come out from his eyes. He
blinked to fight the tears. All that is history now.
‘You no answer me?’ the woman asked.
‘Madam, take it easy,’ Charly who had been quiet since said.
‘What should I say?’ Opuowei gave a mocking look.
‘I asked you what’ll happen now since you’re claiming that we did
something we didn’t do.’ The woman spread her palms out; an act Opuowei
knew was to feign innocence. Then, Opuowei realised she had actually been
talking while he was deep in thoughts.
Opuowei grimaced. ‘All of you’ll be arrested and you’ll have to
explain how this,’ raising the armband up, ‘got into the vehicle that was used
for a kidnap.’
Immediately, the woman stood up, holding her waist. ‘You no fit arrest
us, lailai. Is it our fault that God made us rich?’
That moment, Charly put his mouth to Opuowei’s ears. ‘This man
might be planning an escape.’
‘Impossible,’ Opuowei blurted. The woman stood up and left the room
hurriedly. Shit. Opuowei would have held her down but he didn’t want to
rough-handle a woman.
‘Don't worry. He would definitely come back here,’ Opuowei assured,
referring to Chief.
All of a sudden, they started hearing gunshots. Dogs also barked
loudly. Bringing out their pistols, they stood up and ran out of the house. On
getting outside, they discovered from their men that Chief Tuburu and his
boys had escaped through another gate at the back of the house. To make
matters worse, they discovered that bullets had deflated the tyres of their bus
when Opuowei suggested giving the Chief and his men a chase.
‘Why didn’t you shoot then?’ Opuowei asked, angrily.
‘You instructed us not to shoot anyone without your orders,’ one of the
soldiers replied, amidst the barks of the dogs.
‘So the gunshots came from their guns?’ Opuowei asked again.
‘Yes sir,’ the man replied.
Shit. Couldn't you use your intuition? Opuowei remembered Chief
telling him that yesterday when the militants kidnapped Anita, the soldiers
were just shooting into the air. As he glanced one by one at the soldiers, now
holding their rifles as if ready to shoot at anybody they saw, Opuowei realised
that they had no faults. The major advantage of giving orders to young soldiers
was that it helped them to avoid making grave mistakes, like wasting an
innocent soul. Though only few soldiers like Opuowei who had human
feelings worried when an innocent person died in crossfire. On the other hand,
the drawback of orders was that sometimes it made criminals escape arrest.
Moreover, it served as alibis for soldiers who actually weren't willing to risk
their lives, especially when they knew they had nothing special to gain.
61
As Opuowei stared at the large house now, he concluded the soldiers

with him actually didn’t want to risk their lives since they all believed that
Chief Doukpolagha was stingy and they had nothing to gain if they ever
discovered Anita.
‘Well, we’ll go back inside the house now,’ Opuowei said. ‘Maybe
we’ll discover something. Take positions all around the house and make sure
you arrest anyone you see going out.’ He turned to return inside the house.
Charly followed behind. The dogs were still barking, though not so loud.
62
Chapter 16
As the door opened slowly, Miedide perceived the smell of dried fish
and he imagined what he would see. Stooping before him was an old frail
looking woman with thick-rimmed glasses, almost bald, save for few strands
which were completely white. In her right hand was a short brown walking
stick, whose colour matched that of the wrapper she tied. Miedide hadn't
imagined the woman would be as old as that when Anita showed them what
she had written in her diary.
He laid flat on the cemented floor. ‘Good afternoon ma,’ he said,
trying to make his accent look as chic as possible.
‘Good afternoon my son,’ he heard the woman respond in a thin voice
as he stared at her wrinkled toes, devoid of nails. ‘Get up and let’s go inside,’
she added. He stood up immediately, praying he would accomplish his
purpose, this first time. Paying a second visit to this remote place would be
like punishment, he thought.
Following her with short steps on the dark corridor because she walked
at a snail’s pace, Miedide still perceived the smell of desiccated fish and
remembered that people often said old people gave off a similar odour.
Despite that, with each step he took, Miedide promised himself he wasn't
going to smell like that at old age...not when he would be swimming in money
and have the latest deodorants and cologne from the biggest boutiques in the
United States and Paris. He smiled. Filatei had promised him all of that. He
however had to get out of the gloom and pong of this woman’s house alive, if
that dream would ever come through. The dream didn’t depend on the success
or failure of his mission in this seeming desert, though. All he had to do was to
get out of here. He believed he deserved the good life because he had paid his
dues fully.
When they got to the second door on the left, the old woman parted the
curtains, whose colour he never knew.
‘Remove your shoes and come in,’ she said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
Afraid. The only time he had been afraid in the real sense of it was
when he was a kid, when he had experienced the perfidy of his uncles. When
he had doubted the survival of his family. When he had discovered a new
interpretation to the popular adage that blood was thicker than water...a
realisation that proved to him that even the fluidity of water could be more
valuable than the viscosity of blood. An understanding, validated by Filatei’s
ever-increasing benevolence towards him, even though their meeting was like
63
that of a creek flowing to connect a river.

As soon as Miedide entered the dim room, a large creature hurdled
over him to land on the other side from which it came. Shocked, Miedide
stopped and moved back a bit.
‘Sorry,’ the elderly woman apologised. ‘That’s my monkey. We’ve
spent over forty years together.’
Miedide sighed. He never expected to meet the monkey at the
woman’s place already.
‘No problem ma.’ Entering inside the room, Miedide sat on a seat he
couldn't see, realising that his expectations had gone the other way. Yet, he
decided to play the game to the latter, reminding himself that if one wants to
catch a monkey, one had to do like one. Perhaps, everything he had
experienced were part of the criteria the woman used to test the courage of
anyone who would go in search of the hidden gods. Now, the woman sat
facing him and somewhere in the darkness, Miedide could see the bulky image
of the monkey.
‘So who’re you?’ she asked. He knew the question would come and he
grinned, having it in mind that it was impossible for her to see his grin.
‘I’m a journalist ma.’
The woman laughed loud and long, longer than Miedide had ever seen
a human laugh. ‘You’re a liar.’
Walking through the house with Charly by his side, the things
Opuowei saw astonished him. The number of plasma televisions hanging
virtually everywhere- even in the walkways, the large bar that had an array of
imported wines, the many Jacuzzis scattered everywhere, the basement filled
with Cuban cigar stubs. Yet, as Opuowei tried to convince himself that the
edifice was in PortHarcourt, where thousands of lives couldn't afford to rent a
room, he realised the DPO hadn't given them all the information they needed
about Chief Tuburu.
The officer had said the Chief was a complete illiterate, loved his
people, and was a philanthropist. He however hadn't mentioned that he was as
rich as this. Almost richer than Chief Doukpolagha, Opuowei thought.
Now, they were in the basement of the house and as Opuowei looked
round for anything that could point to Anita’s kidnap or a secret abode Chief
Tuburu might have fled to, he perceived a familiar odour that transported him
back to cafés in Russia, when Taddy and Ige downed bottles upon bottles, at
the height of winter. Vodka.
Opuowei tapped Charly. ‘Can you smell that?’
‘What?’ Charly turned away from a shelf of files he had been
examining.
‘As in the smell of vodka.’
64
‘Haba, oga, you know my head is small. I don’t know many of these
big big words you always use.’
Giggling, Opuowei said, ‘Okay, at least you know the smell of gin,
akpeteshi, or ogogoro.’
‘Ehn Ehn, if it is that one, I know it. Sure.’ Charly left the shelf and
moved nearer to his boss. He sniffed repeatedly. ‘I dey smell am now oga.’
Nodding and gesturing for Charly to return to the shelf, Opuowei
crouched to check under the large mahogany tables for the source of the
odour. Not that it really mattered to him, but he just wanted to convince
himself that it was actually Russian vodka...Stoletov or Kortisya.
He moved away from the table and began to check the edges of the
wall, perhaps the bottle laid somewhere there. As he did this, the smell
became stronger. Suddenly, he stepped on something hard and he almost lost
his balance. Regaining his stability, he bent to squint at what he had stepped.
Staring at him was a bottle that had written on it: Stoletov Travel.
Examining the bottle in his hands, Opuowei smiled as the reality that it
had been fifteen years since he last clutched a similar bottle dawned on him.
Bottles he drank alone, without Taddy because Taddy came back to Nigeria
three weeks after Ige’s funeral.
The journey home had been unplanned. Taddy’s uncle who read about
the murder of Ige in a newspaper instructed Taddy to come back to Nigeria to
acquire an American visa, so that Taddy would follow the uncle, back to
America. The weeks following Taddy’s return home brought loneliness,
sorrow, and an emptiness Opuowei didn’t comprehend. Even Ruth’s presence
didn't assuage the pains he felt. Her later betrayal only added to his problems,
making him see the younger brother of death and madness. Luckily, however,
in that wilderness, God used a sister of the racists, a Russian girl to comfort
him. Olya.
Fighting tears now, Opuowei heard Charly calling him, ‘Oga, oga, I
see something.’ Immediately, Opuowei let go the bottle. It landed on the floor,
giving a ricocheting sound as it rebounded. Opuowei knew it wouldn’t break.
Never. He hurried to meet Charly who had a look of amazement on his face.
‘Oga see. This is a list of places they were obviously planning to
destroy.’ Charly handed a paper to him.
Opuowei collected the foolscap from Charly and studied it, marvelling
at the names of the locations marked for attack. Float stations, oilrigs,
refineries, petrol stations. He shook his head, wondering when the destructions
would stop, simultaneously realising that it wasn't the fault of the militants.
Their hope was in armed struggle, which of course had started yielding fruits.
He handed the paper back to Charly. ‘Good. We’ll take this along with us as
another piece of evidence.’
Watching as Charly placed the paper inside a file, Opuowei’s eyes
caught some other papers. ‘Let me take a look at that.’ Charly handed the file
to him and he realised it was heavy. The front cover had the emblem and the
65
slogan: The Struggle is Stubborn.

‘What’re these militants doing with so many papers? I thought they
only had business with guns and weed.’
‘Oga don’t forget that many of them are educated fellows. Believe me,
they can write anything,’ Charly said and as Opuowei sifted through the
papers, he confirmed Charly’s claim. The contents of the file looked like a
business proposal. It included mission statements, goals, and results of
feasibility studies. In addition, it had photocopies of letters written to oil
companies, informing the companies about the abduction of their workers. As
Opuowei was about to close the file, he saw small newspaper cuttings about
kidnapping of oil workers and politicians. He didn't know when he said,
‘These people are so organised.’
Charly nodded.
Opuowei handed the file back to Charly. ‘We still need a document or
anything at all that would point to their camp and possibly the identity of their
hostages.’
‘Yes sir.’
Moments later, they were out of the basement, walking down a long
corridor on the fifth floor of the house. One after the other, they opened the
doors lining both sides of the corridor. All they saw were furnished bedrooms
with no indication that people slept in them. Everything still smelt new, just as
if the builders finished work the previous day.
Surprised, Opuowei stopped, turning to Charly. ‘I’m sure this house
isn’t brand new because the officer said the Chief has been living here for the
past three years.’
‘Me too but....’ Charly paused and pointed to the end of the corridor.
Opuowei followed Charly’s hands. Ahead, something was glistening.
Immediately, Opuowei held Charly by the shoulder and nudged him forward.
On getting to the glistening thing, they realised that it was a door...a metal one.
The only metal door on the corridor.
66
Chapter 17
The old woman’s response jarred Miedide’s nerves. A liar. That

moment, she began to stand up slowly. Miedide watched her, hoping she
wasn't angry that he had lied, praying that the unexpected wouldn’t happen. A
brief recollection of Pa Akpodigha’s assurances and the thought of the water
with which he had bathed that morning however calmed his nerves
completely...Go in peace and come back well my son.
As if confirming his calmness, the woman didn't come to him but
walked to the almost completely closed window, through which faint light
filtered into the room. The window opened next, swinging on its creaky hinges
outwards. The visibility in the room became improved and Miedide saw the
large monkey now, holding something to its nose, sniffing at it repeatedly.
Entertained, Miedide stared at the creature as the woman returned to her seat,
removing her glasses.
Suddenly, he made out something. My shoe.
About to stand up in rage, the woman’s voice stopped Miedide.
‘Brainy, go and drop it and scout for the next caller.’ At once, the
monkey got up and walked to the door like an obedient child. In disbelief,
Miedide watched as it dropped the shoe, positioning the pair properly. It then
disappeared.
At the monkey’s exit, Miedide re-evaluated the woman’s instruction.
Go and drop it and scout for the next caller. Definitely, the woman knew of
his coming even before he arrived.
She began to speak. ‘You shouldn’t have lied to me. People only come
here for one thing. The location of the hidden gods.’ For the first time,
Miedide saw the insides of the old woman’s mouth...only deep brown gums,
with no single tooth.
‘Yes ma, that’s true.’ Miedide had said that before he realised it.
Feeling that he said that because of the effect of what he just experienced with
the monkey, he sat up telling himself. Miedide, think before you speak.
‘I know you’re here for the same purpose,’ she said, looking away
from him.
‘Absolutely correct.’ Miedide wiped his hand across his face, trying to
convince himself he wasn’t dreaming. Now, he feared the lines he had
memorised might be unnecessary in the end.
The woman turned to look at him, smiling. ‘Have you ever been to the
axis of evil before?’
67
‘No ma.’ The tie Miedide wore appeared to be suffocating him. He

loosened it.
‘So, you’re ready to go there with a hostage now?’
‘Exactly.’ The answers came out of his mouth faster than he imagined,
effortlessly.
‘Many people go to the axis of evil getting directions from people who
have one way or the other visited the place through the help of the late
magician. Why did you decide to come here?’
‘Actually, for some time, we’ve been looking for someone to show us
the way but nobody wants to. So the...’
‘They wouldn’t,’ the woman interrupted. ‘Selfish souls the magician
showed the way. It isn’t anyone’s fault that they lacked the brains to discover
the hidden gods.’ Her voice portrayed anger.
‘So the hostage showed us some things from the internet about you and
I found my way to your place.’
The woman blinked her eyes repeatedly and shrugged. ‘Well, you
might just get what you asked for. Who is your hostage? I mean nationality
and occupation.’
‘An American reporter for CNN.’
The woman looked up, smiling. ‘Ah, this Oyinbo people. They’re
never tired. For a very long time, they’ve wanted to know the location of the
hidden gods...’ In silence, Miedide watched her as she soliloquised. Lowering
her head to face him, she began talking. She told him about her experience in
California, thirty years ago when she paid her only child, a lawyer, a visit.
Some white people surprisingly identified her as the custodian of the hidden
gods and offered her money and a good life in the States. Everywhere she
went, they accosted her, and her son couldn't help but wonder how they had
gotten to know her identity, when virtually no one in Nigeria knew then.
When she finished recounting the story, she asked, ‘Well, where’re
you from?’
‘Ikiyan.’
Nodding at his response, the woman said, ‘A true Niger Deltan who
has seen suffering at its peak. I would’ve turned you away just as I do to
many, but I won’t. I’ll start your team on the journey to the axis of evil mainly
because of you and maybe your counterparts.’ She paused and continued. ‘I
really don’t wish to do this because I don’t know why a white person should
want to unearth the hidden gods.’
Anita. Unearth what. Miedide realised the elderly woman must have
judged wrongly. ‘She didn't even know about the hidden gods,’ he objected.
‘She just came to make a documentary about the hostages there and life
generally in this region. We told her about the hidden gods.’
‘Oh, so the person is a she.’ The woman grinned, once again exposing
her toothless gums. ‘That’s good.’
The venerable sight made Miedide wonder how old she was now. He
68
decided he would ask Filatei some other day. All around the region, there were
so many legends about her, the mysterious woman who held the key to the
hidden gods.
‘Follow me,’ her tiny voice cut short his thoughts.
Staring at the metal door, Opuowei wondered how they would get it
opened. Apart from the fact that it was made of solid steel, he was sure it was
thick. He turned to look at Charly by his side. The Staff Sergeant was gazing
at the door, with the file in his hands. Opuowei knew he was also
contemplating on how to get the door opened. Charly think fast, Opuowei said
to himself.
‘This door must be opened. I’ll not leave this house unless that
happens,’ Opuowei said and waited to see Charly’s reaction to his declaration.
Charly only nodded.
‘Charly, are you with me?’
‘Sure sure. Oga, you know I’m always with you.’
The reply lifted Opuowei's spirit. ‘That’s my man.’ He patted Charly
lightly on the shoulder. ‘So what do you suggest?’
Blinking, Charly replied, ‘We’ve not even tried to know if they didn't
lock it like the others.’
Sure, they did. Opuowei was more than convinced that the door was
under lock. The location of the room, the steel that glistened continually in the
bright light from the fluorescent, the aura of the place they were standing,
everything convinced him they wouldn’t have left it opened. Even so,
something else told him Charly’s statement might be true after all.
‘Ironies do occur. Maybe they don’t lock it all the same.’ Saying that,
Opuowei held the handle of the door. Cold. Facing Charly, he turned the knob
with all his might and pushed the door with his shoulder inwards. It didn't
move. Locked.
‘I guessed as much but I know it won’t be locked forever. Any moment
from now, I’ll get it broken down.’
The statement seemed to shock Charly as Opuowei noticed something
unusual...a sort of trepidation in the former’s eyes.
‘What?’ Opuowei shrugged.
‘Ah, nothing o but what if the man turns out to be innocent about
Anita’s kidnap. Our actions might be tantamount to vandalism and...’
‘Just stop that. Don't we’ve enough proofs that he’s guilty? The
documents we saw, the slogan and the logo, the manner he fled. Are they all
props and action scenes of a film?’ Opuowei interrupted Charly, wondering
what had come over his assistant.
Charly turned to stare down at the marble floor. Opuowei continued,
‘Don't forget the men we saw at the gate. Or what were they all doing there?
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Don't forget the question he asked, a man or a woman. Don’t forget everything
we’ve been seeing since. Would anyone who really suffered to get money
spend it lavishly on household items like that? An illiterate who didn’t even
attend primary school not to talk of acquiring secondary education.’ Pausing,
Opuowei realised he had to talk more, to drive senses into Charly’s head
because Charly just remained mute and stared as if he wasn't convinced
enough.
Again, Opuowei began ranting. ‘Don't be deceived o. He never went to
school. After all, you know that even our grandmothers pick up English and
pidgin from the younger generation. These police people know the history of
many of these rich men moving around town with big cars. Many of those rich
men at one time or the other cooled their heels in cells and prisons. So, don’t
let anyone deceive you, and if you think he’s innocent about Anita’s kidnap,
that’s a mistake. Militants work with networking. They know who has who in
the creeks. But I’m more than convinced that he has Anita. If not, he wouldn’t
have bolted like that.’
To Opuowei’s surprise, Charly smiled.
‘What’s funny?’
Shrugging Charly replied, ‘Oga, we all know that sometimes these
police officers themselves could be unpredictable. They could have
questionable characters. I remember what the DPO said the first time we went
to the station.’
Opuowei knew where Charly was going. Better don’t waste your time.
No need to cry over spilt milk. ‘I know he said we shouldn’t risk our lives but
you and I know the reasons for that. He was just trying to be realistic. Or do
you think I would have accepted to go in search of Anita if not because of the
wahala of the Commander that posted us to Chief’s house. Remember that
during the kidnap, I wasn't with you people. So now, I’m trying to amend your
mistakes.’ Opuowei stared at the door, knowing that he had lied about his true
motivations. Plenty money.
‘Oga I understand you very well and I’ll stick with you till we get to
the root of this matter.’
Opuowei looked away from the door and smiled as his eyes met
Charly’s eyes. And I will surprise you too. He checked his wristwatch.
‘Charly we’re running out of time. We must pull down this door.’
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Chapter 18
Miedide stopped and looked round the backyard of the old woman.
With her staff in her hand, she was still going at her snail-like speed. Large
enough for a football field, the yard was quiet and lonely but Miedide
preferred it to the room they had just left. Scattered everywhere were no other
trees but coconut trees of similar heights, neatly arranged unlike the trees he
had snaked through when he was coming.
Pammy. Licking his lips briefly, Miedide wondered if the old woman
made palm wine from the sap. As he carefully gazed at the top of the trees, he
didn't see any container for collecting sap, however. She must be missing, he
thought. For him, not only the palm wine and the fruit itself made him happy,
but the roots he chewed at times made him high.
At the trunks of the trees were different marks in red paint. Maybe
blood, Miedide thought. From the moment he started giving replies he didn't
want to the woman’s questions, he knew anything was possible. More
fascinating, the pinnate leaves of the coconut trees were more than thirty and
few curved upwards, while the others curved downwards.
To the right, Miedide saw a narrow muddy road, with fresh tracks.
The dreads guy. Miedide remembered the tracks that later disappeared
mysteriously on his way to the house.
‘Walk up. I thought you were a man. I’m even faster than you,’ he
heard the woman joke. Faster really. Continuing to meet up with her, from
behind, he saw, clearly, the wrinkles on the upper part of her brown back, and
those on her legs and arms as she placed her left hand on her buttocks.
Reaching her side, he saw a heap of coconuts, without husks, ahead. Would
I’ve to chop these as part of the criteria?
As Charly, along with some of the other soldiers, searched the large
store in the boys’ quarters that they never knew existed frantically, all they
discovered were cutlasses, shovels, shears, and other garden materials. His
hands on his waist, Opuowei watched them, already feeling exhaustion.
‘Na so so hoes and rakes we see as if they’re farmers,’ a Sergeant
blurted out, standing upwards and wiping dust off his corduroy trousers.
‘O boy, try harder. As big as this house is, it can’t be without a drill.
Or do you expect us to send someone to town just to get a drill?’ Charly asked
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the Sergeant, rhetorically.

The response made Opuowei nod, a guarantee, that he had someone on
whom to rely, augmenting somewhere in the recesses of his mind. ‘We might
even discover more than drills,’ he said. ‘Therefore, no time to play now.
We’ve to leave this place as quick as possible. Or you want to sleep on their
water beds with air conditioners on?’ Opuowei had said that to put them in a
light mood. Afterall, their allegiance should be to the Federal Government of
Nigeria and not one potbellied Chief who felt he needed security because of
the illegal meal he was eating.
At once, the other soldiers who had gathered in front of Opuowei
dispersed, removing things placed above others, searching for a drill or more
than drills as Opuowei had said.
‘Oga,’ one of the soldiers called as he rushed to meet Opuowei.
Something else. As Opuowei watched the man who hurried to meet him,
Opuowei assumed it wasn't about a drill. If the man had seen one, he would be
carrying it.
‘Oga, I heard water rushing as if someone is bathing.’
The rushing water interested Opuowei. He knew however that it was
most unlikely that someone was bathing. ‘Well, let’s go there,’ he said. ‘But I
doubt if someone will have the effrontery to bath when we’re here, when the
house is on fire.’ Opuowei realised he had used from the vocabulary Chief
Doukpolagha used the previous day. There is fire on the mountain.
‘This is the spot where I started hearing it,’ the soldier said at some
point.
Opuowei stopped and tried to listen well.
Sounds like that of a shower were all he heard.
‘It seems like a shower is running. What I had in mind was that you
were referring to a tap.’
The soldier nodded. Opuowei advanced a bit and the sound became
louder. Finally, he got to a long curtain. There, the sound was at the highest
and he raised the curtain up. Behind the sliding windows, he saw a small
building, smaller than the boys’ quarters. ‘Come and see.’
The soldier walked to him and looked outside the window. ‘Uhn, na
waya for this people. What’ll we call this one now?’ He pointed to the
building.
Opuowei knew the expression was rhetorical, but he had a response to
it. ‘Maybe it’s actually the boys’ quarters.’
Few minutes later, holding rifles ready for action, Opuowei, Charly,
and other men were out, on their way to the small building they had just
discovered.
Opuowei whispered, ‘Don't shoot unless someone shoots at you first.
Okay?’
The men nodded in response. Opuowei suspected they were not
satisfied with his order, considering what had happened when Chief Tuburu
72
and his men escaped from the house. Yet, he was satisfied with the order
knowing that they might kill off someone who might serve as a lead to Chief
Tuburu’s hideout or even Anita’s location. Cutting off a head is not the cure
for a headache.
Now, they were at the door. Facing the men, Opuowei gestured for
them to halt. He pointed to Charly and three other armed men and made a sign
that they would follow him while the others had to stay to watch. Bringing out
his pistol, Opuowei walked to the wooden door, with the selected men
following him closely.
The sound of the water was more audible.
Opuowei turned the handle. Stiff. He knew the next thing was to break
open the door. Shifting back a bit, he beckoned to Charly and together they
kicked the door opened with their boots.
The room had a small bed and in one corner stood a musical system.
On a small table was an ashtray smelling of hemp. Opuowei removed his eyes
from the ashtray. He wasn't surprised. Hemp was common among militants.
Opuowei forced open an adjoining door that led to a small passage.
The other men went past him to open the other doors. The sound of the water
seemed to be coming from the first door on Opuowei’s right. He didn't even
bother to turn the knob.
Kicking the door, it opened, swinging rapidly. With his pistol pointed
out before him, Opuowei entered and he saw...no one.
‘Oga, we found a drill in the kitchen,’ he heard Charly shouting
repeatedly.
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Chapter 19
Miedide was still wondering the significance of the coconuts when

Brainy, the monkey, appeared by the side of the old woman who had stopped.
Standing on its feet, Brainy put its mouth to the woman’s ears and the woman
nodded as if the monkey were giving her some information. Miedide watched
keenly, straining his ears to know if it was actually speaking Ijaw or Itsekiri.
Miedide heard nothing. Yet, the woman kept nodding, as if taking in
some information. Some sort of gossip. The woman pointed to the heap of
coconuts next and the monkey immediately dashed for the heap.
Still surprised by everything going on, and having it behind his mind
that he would entertain Filatei and the others with the tale of the monkey and
its owner, Miedide watched as the monkey selected one of the coconuts,
setting it aside on the ground. Adding to his amusement, Brainy dug deep
down the heap, removing coconuts and sniffing them one after the other. The
monkey set aside another one, placing it by the first it had selected. The
others, it threw back into the heap. After a while, it rearranged the heap neatly
and came up to them with the ones it had chosen.
Miedide stared at the two coconuts that were now on the ground before
him and the woman. One was bigger than the other was. The monkey watched
as if anticipating something.
‘At any time, only two of the coconuts are important,’ the woman said.
‘All others are ordinary. It’s difficult for outsiders who might come here
secretly to know the two right ones. Even if by chance, they pick either or both
of the two, they’ve to prove themselves wise...’
Miedide understood. An initiative to prevent theft.
She was still talking, ‘...these coconuts have only slight differences.
The way of one is more straightforward than that of the other. All the coconuts
I’ve given out both show the same road to the hidden gods. Only that a lane
has potholes while the other has none.’
Miedide nodded.
‘Now, pick your choice,’ the woman instructed.
Choice. The word had an effect that brought back memories of
Miedide’s late parents. They would tell him, ‘When you’re asked to pick from
a number of things, never pick the largest but go for the smallest because the
biggest might be pregnant with dangers. That’ll also teach you modesty and
contentment.’
That moment, Miedide could hear their voices whispering to him: pick
74
the smallest. Without hesitation, he bent down and picked the smallest one.
#
With anticipation of what they would come across when they finally
got the door opened, Opuowei watched as sparks of fire came off, a result of
the heavy twist drill that chiselled into the lock, deeper and deeper. The smell
of something, burning, hung heavily in the air and slivers of steel covered the
floor, defacing the marble.
‘I guessed as much that the door was very thick,’ Opuowei said,
nodding and staring at the hole which the large bit of the drill had produced.
Beyond the darkness in the hole, Opuowei saw nothing else and he wondered
how deep they still had to drill.
‘Oga, what if they actually kept the white woman in here and we meet
her corpse,’ Charly muttered.
Opuowei didn't buy the idea. Militants often kept hostages far in the
core of the creeks, where the latter see the other side of life. ‘That can't be.’
‘Then, what if this turns out to be their safe?’ the young soldier drilling
asked.
Charly giggled and shrugged. ‘In that case, only God knows what’ll
happen.’
The young soldier nodded as he continued with the drilling,
painstakingly. Opuowei noticed the soldier wasn’t sweating and realised that
was because of the cool air from the central air conditioner. He however
decoded Charly’s statement in a different way. Turning to point to Charly,
Opuowei said, ‘You and money.’ emphasizing on money. He continued, ‘If we
see stacks of money in there, you can be sure that I’ll not take from it, neither
will I allow any of you take from it. Am I clear?’
‘Yes sir,’ the two subordinates with him chorused in unison.
‘Good.’ The men, Opuowei knew, were aware that he never got
involved in anything illegal. Still, they had said that, perhaps to test his
weakness, to see his reaction, knowing that they were all together in the
school of poverty...a case like that of a child of a butcher eating bones, when
his father slaughters cows every morning. Chief Doukpolagha.
The feeling that Opuowei had in the police station the previous day
re-emerged suddenly. Watching as the young soldier held the heavy machine,
digging deeper into the steel, with his veins visible from stimulation, Opuowei
realised that any money Chief would give him shouldn’t be for him and Charly
alone. The soldier drilling and the others, who were risking their lives
searching the rooms and those at the gate, deserved a part of the largesse.
Opuowei heard the sound of something dangling and hitting against
something else now. ’What’s that?’
The soldier smiled. ‘Sir, it’s the lock about to fall off.’
With that, Opuowei leaned towards Charly, pointing to the door. ‘Get
ready,’ he whispered and immediately radioed the other men who were
75
searching some of the other rooms.

Few moments later, they appeared.
Finally, they all heard the sound of heavy metal falling off, giving a
clanking sound as it did so. The soldier who was drilling moved backwards
and quickly unplugged the drill from the outlet they discovered close to the
metal door. The other soldiers held their rifles, at alert.
His pistol in his hand, Opuowei thrust the door open with his right
boot.
Dark. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, he put his left hand into the
room and traced the wall of the entrance for a switch. Luckily, he found one
and switched on the light.
The room was large. Before Opuowei was a wide canvas, covering
something. Bulging. He entered the room and the other men followed.
Opuowei stood at one corner of the canvas and bent to hold it. It was cold and
thick. He knew it must be heavy. Charly and two other men took positions so
that each corner of the canvas had a man.
Now, all bending down gripping the canvas, Opuowei commanded,
‘Let’s lift. One, two, three go.’
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Chapter 20
Light, the coconut felt like feathers in Miedide’s hand, as he stood

upright. Turning to look at the old woman who was smiling, he wondered
what to do with the coconut. The monkey turned to look at the woman, then at
him and at the woman again.
‘That’s okay but I must warn you that small things sometimes could
pose strange challenges,’ the old woman said, pointing her index finger
upwards. ‘Life is a game of dice. When you throw a dice up, a dot or six dots
could stare back at you after it falls. However, we shall see...’
Miedide felt his heart thudding. The old woman’s declaration had
undone his assumptions. Yet, he consoled himself, considering part of the
statement she made, however we shall see. In addition, he realised she had said
we and not you. He suspected that one way or the other, she might get to know
their progress in the quest.
She was still talking, ‘...surely, the hidden gods lie somewhere in the
axis of evil, but only the wise will ever discover it. It’s one thing to be strong,
but it’s something else to be clever. Many ambitious men have visited this
place, determined just the way I think you’re but none of them ever went past
the first stage of the quest, not to talk of getting to the axis of evil and
unearthing what lies there. The first stage of the quest, funnily, is something
almost everyone knows about. Sometimes, those men over relied on their
strengths which beclouded their senses of reasoning. Some of them thought
they knew the creeks well. Sometimes the pitfalls they encounter cut them
short. Others, who after they failed, even when they had thought they had all it
took to get to the gods, finally realised that they were in fact unworthy to
unearth them.’ She paused and sighed. ‘At the start, they didn't understand that
the foods meant for children shouldn’t be given to slaves and the food meant
for slaves shouldn’t be given to the children of their sellers.’ Again, she
paused and watched Miedide as if she knew her words were deep for him.
Miedide, however, understood a bit. The dead magician. Within
Miedide, he was still wondering what they would do with the coconut.
She continued again, ‘You’ll pass through forsaken routes. You will
see weird things. You’ll meet forgotten ones. Even, you’ll fight with your own
brothers, also involved in the same struggle.’ She turned to look at the monkey
who was now sitting on the ground.
‘When you get back to your base, break the coconut, and don’t be
surprised by what you find inside.’ She nodded and scratched her arm. ‘Then,
77
you start from there. I wish you luck in this quest and hope you’ll achieve your
desires if and only if you’re worthy.’
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Chapter 21
Looking fixedly at the stockpile of ammunitions on the floor, Opuowei

and the soldiers stood in silence. Automatic rifles- Russian Ak-47s, American
M4 assault rifles, machine guns- M249 Squad Automatic Weapons, M2s,
M240s, M60s, cannons, rocket launchers, grenades, butt stocks, belts of
cartridges, large magazines and chips were all lying before them. The other
men who had been outside the door had come inside to see the weapons too.
To Opuowei, it wasn't a surprise to see AK-47s, but what amazed him
were the machine guns, M4s, and rocket launchers. ‘See the weapons these
people deal with when we barely have AK-47s,’ he said, scanning the faces of
the men, one by one.
The statement made the men glimpse at their HK G-3 rifles, BM-59,
and PM-12 handguns. Only one of them had an AK-47 with him. Opuowei
thought he was seeing expressions of fear on their faces. The things they were
staring at, he knew, were enough to make them run for their lives and abandon
the mission. Still, he was sure they would never do that. He had to give them
confidence, though.
‘Once a soldier, always a soldier...’ About to say that they were one
way or the other, more experienced in weaponry and combat than the militants
were, Opuowei paused, realising that many militants had actually donned the
berets and khakis of the Nigerian military at one time or the other. Dismaying
circumstances had made them take to militancy, however. Hard life, he
thought, remembering one of the songs that played on the television, in the
visitor’s room downstairs, hours ago.
‘My brothers,’ Opuowei said in a low and warm tone. ‘Don’t be
disturbed by these things. We shall surely overcome. In fact, I think these
people are trying to work on our emotions. They want to instil fear in us and
we’ve to stand up strong and resist them.’
The soldiers nodded, lifting and lowering their heads repetitively,
turning to look at whomever was by their side, in a manner that made
Opuowei feel they were spirited.
Opuowei heard Charly ask, ‘Sir, what’ll happen to the ammunitions
now?’
Opuowei peeked at Charly whose eyes were on the large mass. The
next thing. Opuowei had also been thinking about that for some time now.
Informing their Battalion or the Police about the discovery didn't seem
comfortable to him. The Commander would wonder what they had gone to do
79
in Chief Tuburu’s house when they were to be guarding Chief Doukpolagha.

Automatically, Anita’s kidnap story would become food for the Press. On the
other hand, if the Police discovered, one way or the other, the story would get
to the Press.
That moment, they began hearing footsteps and Charly went out of the
door. Moments later, he reappeared with one of the soldiers at the gate who
said that some people were asking for Chief Tuburu.
Hope. Opuowei realised that somehow, they could get nearer to the
Chief with the visit of the people. He glanced at his wristwatch. Few minutes
after two. ‘Charly and three others should follow me,’ he ordered, looking
quickly at the file now on the floor by the weapons.
Five of them were matching down the corridor, seconds later.
‘Good afternoon sir,’ one of the visitors, a thin man with bushy hair
and a stethoscope around his neck greeted as soon as Opuowei got to the gate.
‘Good afternoon.’ Opuowei studied the seeming professor and the two
medium heighted ladies with him. Nurses, perhaps doctors. Wearing white lab
coats, each of the young women carried a small box labelled Vets.
Vets. At once, Opuowei’s mind went to the dogs that had now stopped
growling, inside. Their masters, he knew had come. Opuowei hoped the
visitors would feel comfortable, and not otherwise, seeing their strange faces.
‘Please sir, we’re asking for Chief Tuburu?’ the man said.
‘He was out of town but most likely he’s back,’ Opuowei lied. ‘Maybe
he’s in the other house.’
‘Okay. What of the guy in charge of the dogs?’ the man asked again.
‘He’s also out.’ Opuowei loved the way the questions were coming,
and the replies he was giving.
The man played with his small goatee as if hesitant to say something.
‘Feel free to come inside and check the dogs.’ Opuowei gestured with
his hands. ‘We’re new here but Chief mentioned that he had vets who came
for routine checks on the dogs.’
The man nodded, taking a brief look at the woman closest to him.
Glad that he was getting closer to his goal, Opuowei smiled. ‘Come
in.’
As they passed by the side of the soldiers, who were all now by the
gate side, Opuowei noticed that the three doctors walked with unsteady gait.
Scared. The guns in the hands of the plain clothed soldiers, Opuowei knew,
were enough reasons for them to be afraid. He wished he could tell them to be
calm, but also realised that they could suspect something. Therefore, he
decided to keep his mouth shut.
As they turned towards the kennel, Opuowei saw Charly and two other
men going back into the house, based on the instruction he had given them
80
moments ago when they were coming to meet the vets. Possibly, there were
still many things to uncover in the house. The other soldiers locked the gate
and followed closely.
From a distance, Opuowei saw the large segmented cage housing the
large dogs. The dogs jumped up and down, bringing out their tongues as soon
as they set eyes on the doctors. Masters. Opuowei smiled.
With the coconut in a black nylon bag that the old woman had given
him, Miedide thought of what they would discover inside the light, hard-
shelled fruit. For maximum security, Miedide had told the boat driver of the
speedboat in which he travelled now that he preferred to be the only
passenger.
‘I get headache and I no want any disturbance from crying pikin or
people wey don shayo,’ he had told the driver.
‘Me sef na chatter I like. I don’t want my boat to spoil quick because
some of our people decide to travel with all their properties on small small
boats like this one,’ the driver replied.
Peering at the coconut through the narrow space at the upper part of
the nylon now, water splashed on Miedide's forehead and he wiped it with the
back of his hand as the speedboat bounced up and down.
‘Sorry o,’ the driver apologised.
‘Don't worry.’ Miedide felt an urge and he decided to satisfy it.
Afterall, he was the only passenger the driver was carrying, and who knows,
the driver might be interested.
‘Guy, I wan slice igbo,’ Miedide said, raising his voice as if that would
make the driver have no other choice than to concur.
Turning briefly to look at him, the driver smiled. ‘For now wey we dey
so, na you get this boat. Anything you want, you fit do.’
Miedide was impressed with the response. Hardly would boat drivers
permit passengers to smoke marijuana while on the move.
JTF or Navy fit dey for road, many of them said as a reason for
disallowing.
Now, Miedide said to the driver, ‘You be correct guy, abi you sef will
smoke with me. I no wan kpom alone, so I no go die alone.’
He heard the driver giggle. ‘Oga, anyhow you want am o. Me, I dey.’
Immediately, Miedide thrust his hands into the folder containing plain
sheets of paper and a pen he didn't use at all. He fumbled briefly and found
what he was looking for. A big wrap of cannabis. Then, he dipped his hand
into his pocket and brought out a rizla.
Proceeding to begin wrapping the weed, he said, ‘Guy, I dey smoke
am with the seeds. Hope you no mind sha?’
‘Macawhy? Na the seed sef be the koko.’ The driver swerved left,
81
sending water splashing again. Hissing as if regretting that, he uttered, ‘Sorry!’

Miedide nodded and began wrapping the weed.
Miedide had a big wrap in his hands, minutes later, and he searched his
pockets for a lighter. Lighting the fat stick, he began smoking, giving long
hissing sounds as he inhaled the smoke repeatedly. It had to get to where he
wanted. My brain.
When the wrap had burnt to the middle, he leaned forward, towards the
driver. ‘My guy take am.’
The driver stretched his right hand backwards and collected the
smouldering wrap from him. After a while, Miedide heard the man inhaling,
also with long whizzing sounds. Like me, Miedide thought.
Shifting his attention from the driver, Miedide remembered where he
had to get to before returning to the camp. He also realised that he had almost
forgotten entirely about the place.
Supplies. He had to get drinks, cigarette, and more weed for the camp.
They were already running out of stock.
‘Brother man, I just dey feel like say I be president with this sensimila
I blau,’ he heard the driver say.
Smiling, Miedide responded, ‘Me, I dey feel like say I be the saviour
of our people.’ He dipped his hand in his pocket. He had to inform Filatei he
might arrive a bit late.
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Chapter 22
The eight dogs were of different breeds. Rottweiler, German Shepherd,

Doberman, Bulldogs, and Dalmatian. Opuowei watched the doctors as they
wore their masks, still shaking as if uneasy. When they were through, they
started with the first dog to the left, a Doberman.
They examined its ears, eyes, skin, claws, and virtually all part of its
body. After that, they moved on to the second, a German Shepherd and did the
same. On and on, until they got to a bulldog.
‘I fear this dog o,’ one of the soldiers joked.
Another soldier replied, ‘If you fear this, what then will you say about
the Rottweiler. Six Rotts in a house as big as this can effectively secure it in
place of human beings.’
‘You mean if Chief gets more of them, then we might lose our jobs,’
another soldier said.
Good actors. Opuowei was enjoying the conversation. Now, there was
no way the vets wouldn’t trust them. He might even suggest following them to
another of Chief Tuburu’s houses if they decided to see the Chief.
Another of the soldiers was talking, pointing, ‘...and the bulldogs too
are very good guards.’
One of the women, the dark one turned, smiling as the dog she carried
licked the side of her face. ‘It’s actually a French bulldog and not an ordinary
one. A result of a crossing between a small type of English bulldog and other
breeds. You can see,’ pointing, ‘that the ear is standing unlike that one.’ She
pointed to an English bulldog.
Archibald. As Opuowei watched the Frenchie licking the woman’s
face, he found himself back in time, more than a decade ago, in his kitchen in
Moscow playing with his puppy. A cute dog, he had bought because of
loneliness, the vacuum created by Ruth’s vacation in Nigeria, that hot summer.
Brown and black with some brindle just like the one the vet was holding now,
Opuowei remembered the day he bought Archibald.
‘Ti uverin chto tibie sabaka nujna?’ Olya had asked him as they
strolled that Saturday evening to get the dog. Opuowei explained to her that he
needed it to fill the space that Ruth’s absence created, at least until Ruth
returned from Nigeria. Unfortunately, Ruth never did.
Now at the thought of what he later did with Archibald, Opuowei felt
guilt in his heart.
‘One of these dogs needs to be taken away to mate,’ a female voice
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interrupted Opuowei’s thought.

Coming back to reality, Opuowei turned to the direction from which
the voice came. It was the fairer of the women who had spoken. She stared at
Opuowei as if waiting for a response. Opuowei was glad the vets behaved
more at ease now. The other soldiers were joking with the other doctors who
were still examining the other dogs. Turning to look at the French bulldog,
now already finished with, Opuowei thought of the response to give the
woman about the mating.
He didn't want a situation where anyone would take Chief Tuburu’s
properties out of the compound, when he was still there. Still thinking of an
appropriate response to give, the male veterinarian who had been checking the
heartbeat of the Dalmatian stood up and turned to him, slinging the
stethoscope, back on his neck.
‘I think it’ll be better we call Chief about that,’ he said and turned to
attend to another dog the dark woman approached with.
The soldiers were talking in murmurs. Opuowei was thinking of the
next step. Perhaps, he should suggest going to Chief Tuburu’s other house,
saying that possibly Chief Tuburu had arrived there. Besides, Charly had said
he thought he heard the DPO saying that the Chief liked dogs. But how would
he be sure there were dogs there too?
That moment, Opuowei saw Charly and the other soldiers coming
towards them, dragging their feet. Tired.
‘When last did you see the other dogs?’ Opuowei asked, praying he
would get an answer like last month or just before we came here.
The man who was squatting now turned. ‘Which ones?
Shit. ‘I meant the ones with whom you want to mate the dog that you
said needed to be taken away for mating.’ Opuowei turned as if he wanted to
look at something behind, trying to get over the disappointment the question,
to which he had just given a witty answer, caused him. A fast one.
‘Oh, those ones, we take care of them in our clinic,’ the man replied,
turning away to continue what he was doing.
Turning back, Opuowei said, ‘Good because I know Chief wouldn’t
like his dogs to get infection from another dog.’
‘We know too,’ the man responded.
Now glancing at the trio surreptitiously, and listening to the soldiers
who were talking in hushed tones with Charly, Opuowei knew they were
waiting for him to do something. Yet, the only thing that occurred to him
hadn't worked.
Again, he thought of arresting the vets, but something told him that
most likely they didn't know Chief Tuburu’s whereabouts and it would amount
to unfairness, a turpitude he had fought against all his life, even outside the
shores of the country.
‘This dog needs vitamins,’ the male doctor declared. Hurriedly, the fair
lady opened one of the boxes and brought out a metal container, which she
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handed over to the man.

Before Opuowei knew what was happening, he heard the sound of
someone spraying something. Something strange. Not tear gas.
Then a blackout. Darkness. He heard sounds of running feet. Loud
barks of dogs.
As he went down, images of his pregnant wife and the result of the
scan that confirmed that she was carrying a boy appeared before him. I must
not die. My parents died before I knew them. My son must enjoy me. ‘Don't
shoot, don’t shoot...’ he shouted to his men continually, knowing well that
they might shoot at anything, even at him mistakenly. He however was
oblivious that they were already falling too, over one another.
After what seemed like ages to Opuowei in a world where he

remembered nothing, he found himself awake with some of his men by his
side. They were in a dark room. He recognised it as the room in which they
had discussed with Chief earlier that day. The Visitors room. His throat felt
dry and he began to cough. He could smell something acrid. His eyes were
peppery. Some of the men too were coughing and their eyes were red.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Oga, they sprayed us with sleeping chemical,’ one Sergeant replied.
‘You too?’ Opuowei asked.
‘All of us,’ Charly replied and paused. After a moment, he said, ‘You
woke up last because you were the closest to them. So you inhaled more.’
Surprised, Opuowei blurted, ‘For God’s sake, they are also human
beings. Or how do they breath?’
‘Don't forget sir. They wore masks and they directed the spray towards
us,’ Charly noted.
That moment, everything became clearer to Opuowei. The dogs
weren't as tall as they were and it would’ve been difficult for the animals to
inhale the substance. Besides, things that affected humans might not affect
animals. ‘What happened to the light?’ he asked, uncomfortable with the
dimness.
‘Sir, we realised they were actually using a silent generating set,’
Charly replied. ‘Those people put it off before they left and they made
adjustments so we wouldn’t be able to put it on.’
Scratching his itching eyes, Opuowei imagined what other things they
had done again.
Remembering the file and the stock of weapons, he sat up.
Turning to the men, he asked, ‘What of the evidence?’ The question
was for no particular person, because he wasn't sure of who saw what.
The young soldier who drilled open the metal door said, ‘When I woke
up, I saw them driving out of the compound in a big truck with the dogs. Then
when the others woke up, we went to check the room upstairs but everything
was gone.’
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‘Even the file and the drawing. We couldn't find anything,’ Charly
added.
God. Opuowei wondered how long they had slept, that the impostors
had the time to pack out everything. ‘What time is it?’
‘Almost five, sir,’ Charly replied.
Five. The fake doctors, Opuowei remembered, had come around two.
‘We’ve to leave this place.’
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Chapter 23
Dusk was coming and Filatei sipped from his bottle of gin, happy that
any moment from now, Miedide would arrive. Discussions were taking place
all over the camp. His men were laughing, arguing, and joking about what
they would become in future. Filatei listened as Anita and Ebiere chattered
like sisters. Within him, he wished they got to the axis of evil and the hidden
gods early enough, so that Anita would return to live her normal life. Yet, he
admired a quality in her, the fact that she blended so easily into the system,
though, only after he had given her some encouragement.
That moment, one of his men, short and dark came to him. ‘Chairman,
that guy no wan chau even after I ate part of the rice in his presence,’ the man
said.
Filatei eyed the man. ‘Why are you stressing yourself? I thought I told
you not to bother about that onion. When he is hungry, he’ll be the one to beg
for food.’
‘No vex Chairman,’ the man apologised. ‘I just feel say it’ll not be
good for him to die before his money lands.’ The man bowed and left.
Nodding after taking another sip of his drink, Filatei weighed what he
just heard. He didn't care about Mr. Lumantas enough for him to force food
down his mouth, nonetheless. The same about the English woman. As a
human, he always did his best to provide food for their hostages. Even when
needed, he tried to make friends with them, to make them understand that their
kidnaps weren't by accidents. To make them become determined, to clamour
for an end to the suffering of his people, when they got out of the creeks.
Most of them after getting out of captivity surprisingly continued
wining and dining, hobnobbing with those whose sins were the reasons that
landed their arses in the creeks, in the first place. The more humane ones, who
had their emotions stirred, by the things they saw, resigned their appointments,
cutting off all connections they had with those whose sins they had paid for in
the swamps of the creeks. Good people, Filatei thought.
Filatei could hear the men on guard singing now.
Miedide na you be dem mama soldier o

You be dem sister soldier o
You be dem brother soldier o
You be dem papa soldier o
Na you be our soldier o
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Realising that Miedide must have arrived, Filatei smiled. Anita and
Ebiere had stopped their discussions and Ebiere joined in the chorus. The
other men who were talking before also joined in the chorus and Filatei
noticed the way Anita looked around, feeling left out. I’ll teach you pidgin, he
wanted to shout across to her but he dismissed the thought. He would say that
some other time.
Now, Filatei saw Miedide approaching like a soldier that he truly was.
Miedide’s tie was unknotted, the shirt he had earlier tucked in was now flying.
Beads of sweat streamed down his face and his black shoe, covered in dust,
had a light brown colour. On the shoulders of two of the guards, following
him from behind, were two big cartons of drinks. As Filatei watched them
inch closer, he knew that weed and cigarettes would also be inside the cartons.
Weed. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Filatei sighed, nodding. Over bottles of
alcohol, he had re-examined his life. Over sticks of cigarettes and wraps of
weed, he had re-evaluated his thoughts. The singing stopped now.
The men with the cartons went in the direction of the tent that served
as the store.
Miedide reached Filatei’s front. ‘My Chairman,’ he shouted. ‘Respect.
I’m back.’ He bowed and handed the nylon bag to Filatei.
Light. It never occurred to Filatei that the coconut would be that light
when Miedide called him earlier, telling him that the woman had given him a
coconut which they had to break. Parting the mouth of the nylon, Filatei
peered and closed it up.
‘Good, my man,’ he said.
‘My Chairman, I’m always loyal,’ Miedide responded, lifting his right
hand and waving it, at the same time lifting his feet one after the other,
repetitively, as if he were matching on the same spot.
Filatei turned to Anita, who was still sitting with Ebiere and he guessed
she was anxious to know what was in the nylon. Wanting her to be surprised,
he didn’t tell her or anyone about the coconut after Miedide informed him. He
really wanted to see the way she would react to the things they would discover
inside the fruit, and then ask her if Chief Doukpolagha would have been able
to understand the things, assuming everything went the way she planned,
assuming she wasn’t in their captivity and assuming Chief had located the old
woman’s place.
‘Now, the work has begun,’ Filatei said, facing Anita. ‘Your
documentary is about to begin,’ He beckoned to her and she smiled, getting up
from her seat.
‘Get someone to handle the camera and get two masks,’ Filatei
instructed Miedide who disappeared immediately.
‘I think we’ve to go inside one of the tents,’ Filatei said, as Anita
settled on a chair near him.
‘Yeah, I think it’s gonna be better.’
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Moments later, Filatei, Anita, and Miedide were sitting on chairs

inside a tent. The two men were wearing masks and the camera operator
arrived with the high definition camera and a tripod in his hands. He began to
set the equipment up.
‘Why did you buy cameras?’ Anita asked.
Filatei faced her. ‘We bought them so that people who’re to pay
ransom for hostages can have proofs that we actually have the hostages with
us. Remember that there was recording yesterday when they were bringing
you here. Now, the camera is for your use, your documentary. You’ll have
your documentary and you’ll be free so far we get to the hidden gods.’
Saying that, a thought passed through Filatei’s mind. My own
ancestors. His mask in place, Filatei brought out the coconut from the nylon
and stretched it to Anita. Obviously surprised, Anita stared at the hard-shelled
fruit, still in Filatei’s hands. Glancing at Filatei, Anita returned her eyes to the
fruit, before taking a glimpse at Miedide.
Just as I guessed. Filatei smiled, turning to his side to look at Miedide
who was also smiling as if he understood that Anita never expected that kind
of thing from the woman to whom she had directed them.
‘Or you’ve never seen a coconut before?’ Filatei turned to Anita.
She blinked her eyes. ‘Sure, I’ve seen. I’ve even eaten coconuts in the
past. It’s just that I never expected this from the woman. How does it get us to
the axis of evil?’
‘That’s what we’re about to discover now,’ Filatei answered. ‘She said
we should break it and not be surprised by what we find inside.’
‘Okay.’
Next, Filatei hit the coconut against a large stone, shooting out at an
angle from the ground. There was a small crack and he anticipated that the
white milk would come out. No milk came out, however.
He sighed. ‘O boy, I never see this kind coconut before for my life.’
Again, he hit it against the stone, this time harder. It broke into two and
something dropped on the ground. Bending down, Filatei stared at it.
It was a small white cowrie shell.
‘Jeez!’ Anita exclaimed.
‘Wonders shall never end,’ Miedide blurted.
Cowrie. Filatei wondered what the shell signified. He looked up. The
man recording removed his eyes from the side screen of the camera and bent
to look at the cowrie for a moment.
‘Sorry, how did this get into the fruit?’ Anita asked, pointing at the
cowrie that was still lying on the ground, untouched.
Filatei tried to think. He had seen something similar to this somewhere
before. Magicians. He smiled. ‘People often claim to perform magic by
drilling into the shell of coconuts, maybe with a nail or an electronic driller...’
As he explained, Anita nodded, evidently captivated as he talked about how
people insert straws into the drilled hole. Then, they fold paper money into a
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very thin mass, and put this inside the straw. Afterwards, they push the money
down, through the straw into the coconut, with broomsticks or tiny long pins.
After that, they remove the straw and seal the hole on the shell of the coconut
with glue and sawdust or a flat brown splinter of wood.
Another variant was a situation where people drain the milk of the
coconut and pour blood from an animal into it. Then, breaking the coconut
before spectators, they claim that the blood got into the coconut through
supernatural means.
‘But I’m wondering how a cowrie as big as this got into it,’ Filatei
said, picking up the two pieces of the coconut. Examining the shells, he
discovered that there had been an alteration under a mass of fibres, on one side
of one of the shells.
Turning the piece upside down, he saw that the white kernel just below
the spot was gone. He turned it again and rubbed his hand over the spot. He
felt something hard but it wouldn’t drop of. Taking a closer look, he saw
traces of dried glue.
‘The glue she used was very strong,’ he said, turning to Anita.
‘What does the cowrie mean?’ Anita asked.
‘Would you’ve been asking Chief the same question? I thought you
said you were prepared.’
As if ashamed, Anita turned to look away.
‘I never meant to hurt you.’ Filatei smiled. ‘Just want you to know you
should have done your research well before coming to Nigeria. You should’ve
tried to find out sacrifices people who venture to get to the axis of evil make.’
Bending, Filatei picked the cowrie shell. Studying every part of it, something
told him the woman was trying to pass across a message. He thought of
something odd. Maybe inside.
‘Guy, bring a stick of broom,’ he said to Miedide who went outside
immediately and returned shortly with a stick of broom.
Carefully, Filatei inserted the stick of broom into the narrow opening
of the cowrie. Pushing it down, a folded tissue paper fell out and rolled on the
ground.
‘Seriously, I think more than two people is a crowd already. So, I

prefer to work with you and you alone,’ Opuowei shouted, irritated.
Charly turned to stare at the glass of beer in his hand. For almost an
hour now, in the bar in which they were discussing, Opuowei had been trying
to convince Charly that it would be better to drop the other men out of the
mission, considering the successive woes. Charly however argued, though
respectfully, that it was safer and more promising to go with a bunch of
soldiers.
Now, as Opuowei lit a cigarette, moving in rhythm to the soft music
90
coming from loudspeakers he couldn’t see, he realised Charly was afraid for
their safety and that Charly had the right to speak his mind. Truly, he-
Opuowei was the one who asked Charly for Charly’s opinion, about the
decision.
‘Honestly, I think we shouldn’t be arguing here,’ Opuowei said.
‘Remember that just moments ago when Chief called, we told him we were
doing some investigations.’ He looked at Charly. Charly was nodding.
Opuowei continued, ‘In fact I can’t imagine how a man, two women,
and eight dogs were able to overpower us...more than eight soldiers with
rifles.’ He shook his head, out of pity for what they suffered in the hands of
the fake vets.
‘That happened because of the thing they sprayed,’ Charly noted.
‘Assuming they used only guns and dogs, I’m sure they would all be dead by
now.’
Opuowei recalled the moment before they sprayed them, when the man
said that a dog needed vitamins. He never could have imagined that the
container actually contained a strange sedative spray. They had acted perfectly
as doctors, and now, as he watched Charly opening another bottle of beer,
Opuowei realised that the assailants had actually fooled them, when he had
thought that he and his men were the ones doing the fooling. So funny.
‘We were all acting a film. But we didn’t know that each of those
doctors had dual identities like us.’
Charly laughed, setting down the glass on the table. ‘We were Chief
Tuburu’s security men and they were the vets of his dogs, abi oga.’
‘Exactly my brother.’ Opuowei burst into laughter too.
When the laughter stopped, Charly asked, ‘So what do we do next
now? Today is already over. We’ve just three days left.’
Soldiers. Opuowei knew the question would come. Subordinates were
used to asking their bosses what would happen next. He didn’t see anything
wrong in it. Even so, he felt that sometimes, the junior soldiers should also
think and give ideas. A problem often prevented this. Some of them never
loved doing the thinking. Most times, they would wait for the orders or
suggestions of their bosses, saying that they were to act on orders. When they
made mistakes they could have prevented in the course of carrying out orders,
they said the same.
‘Well, I doubt if Chief or any of his men would go back to that house
for a long time. They’ve taken what they needed. The file, the drawing, and
their weapons. Everything that points to them as militants.’ Opuowei paused,
in thoughts. ‘So we’ve to find out where he must be hiding. I really regret that
we didn’t arrest him immediately we got there that day and then tell him that
he would make any explanations he needed to make later.’
‘Oga, that’s because you’re too nice. Treat others, as you want them to
treat you. That’s what you always say.’
Opuowei suspected that Charly’s response had an undertone. And he
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didn’t want anyone to put blame on him. He lived his life on

principles...principles that guided him all his life and helped him take certain
decisions.
Ojo, Oleg, Russia. For a moment, a choice he made, that seemed like
foolishness to other people, in his last days in Russia crossed his mind.
He pointed at Charly. ‘The earlier you realise that life is not gragra,
the better. I’ll repeat again, do unto others, as you want them to do to you.
Simple.’
‘Yes sir.’ Charly stood up and saluted.
‘Funny boy.’ Opuowei knew Charly was trying to please him, to
honour him, to make them work together in peace. ‘So, first thing tomorrow
morning, we’ll go back to the house for a moment and see if there will be any
new developments.’ He wanted to add that they would call the officer and
inform him of Chief Tuburu’s escape but he changed his mind. Afterall, they
had given him money, enough for a man to mind his business, keep his mouth
shut, and let them continue with their investigations quietly.
That moment, Opuowei thought of Chief’s promise to him and he felt
his heart thump faster.
Charly was nodding, pouring more beer into his cup.
Opuowei smiled. ‘My man, don’t worry ehn. Both of us will get Anita
Campbell out alive, without Chief paying a dollar. I place my life and blood
on that.’ He paused, licking the beer foam on his upper lip. ‘Slowly, together,
we’ll infiltrate the camp of the militants, unnoticed. But it will be almost
impossible for that to happen if we go like a herd of cows.’
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Chapter 24
A toilet paper. Anita stood up, afraid that the tissue paper would touch
her. She didn’t comprehend all that was going on. For once, as a reporter, she
never experienced sceneries, like the one she was now witnessing. Everything
just seemed anomalous. Somewhat diabolical and complex. Surpassing her
imaginations.
Even, two years ago, when she went to Murambi Technical School, to
do a short film on the relics of the Rwandan genocide, things weren’t as
enigmatic as now. Then, she had expected to see the exhumed, contorted, and
mummified skeletons and skulls, of some of the forty-five thousand Tutsis,
crammed into a classroom and slaughtered there, on the night of April 21,
1994 by Hutu Interahamwe militiamen. Vestiges of a tragedy, that didn’t
transcend her expectations.
Now, she watched as Filatei picked the white tissue paper that had
stopped rolling. She admired his guts, the way he held it between his fingers.
As if he had been expecting it.
‘Careful,’ she cautioned, as he unrolled it.
Filatei looked up and smiled. ‘Don’t worry... little sister. This,’ raising
the still crinkled tissue paper, ‘is something I’ve dreamt of doing, long ago.
Finding the hidden gods...and claiming the dividends of my forefathers.’
Dividends. Anita knew something must be very peculiar about these
gods. She wondered what they could be. Their connection to Filatei’s
progenitors.
About to ask Filatei to expatiate further, Filatei said, smiling down at
the paper that was now stretched out, ‘Anita, we owe you so much
appreciation. What I’m looking at appears to be real, to have come directly,
from the custodian of the gods. Thank you for putting us on the right track.’
He paused, looked at Miedide briefly, licked his lips, and continued. ‘But with
all of that, you still have to remain with us for a while. The deal isn’t yet
finished. The gods... for your freedom.’
Slowly, Anita sat back on her chair. From what Filatei said, she
deduced that even if they got to the axis of evil and didn’t locate what they
wanted, her liberty wouldn’t come except Chief Doukpolagha paid the ten
million dollars. In spite of that, as she watched Filatei who looked fixedly at
her, she began having a secret desire to unearth the hidden gods with them, to
add to the flavour of her documentary. An extra touch. She however decided
not to be too forward.
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‘If I may ask, what’s on the paper, a drawing, or something?’

Returning his eyes to the soft paper in his hands, Filatei replied, ‘No.
Have a look.’ He stretched it to her.
Anita hadn’t expected that Filatei would give her the paper, a result of
her suspicion that he didn’t trust her fully. However, he was handing it to her
now. The fear came back again. And she decided to be bold. Afterall, Filatei
had held it for minutes and hadn’t disappeared mysteriously all that while.
She collected it and stared at a text, written in longhand in red.
The first thing that caught her attention was the calligraphy of the
writing...just like that of Max. She read it out aloud.
As the first wife

They robbed and raped you
They stole your virginity
They sucked you dry
They left you to die
Yet you found water
And dashed for a drink
Done with the reading, Anita turned to look at Filatei and smiled, at the
same time realising that the text was like one of the several pieces Max wrote
in his journal. ‘A poem?’
Filatei nodded. ‘It seems like one, but like one pregnant with
meanings.’
Connotations. Anita sighed. Max had told her that words could have
implied additional meanings. Risks are involved, nevertheless. ‘You’re trying
to say this piece has a connotation.’
‘Yeah!’ Filatei blurted, pointing at her. ‘I forgot. That’s the right word
to use. So do you have any idea of the foetus inside those words?’
Anita laughed. She was about to say that Filatei was crazy, out of
impulse, but she was fast not to, not wanting to sound rude, when they were so
nice to keep her alive and joked with her as if they were all siblings. ‘Well,
we’ve to be careful at this juncture so we wouldn’t make wrong conclusions.
Connotations are often subjective...’
‘Sorry o, wetin be subjective?’ Miedide who had been quiet all the
while suddenly asked, cutting her short.
Anita focused on him, smiling. A fighter yearning for knowledge. ‘It
means that if we make a conclusion based on our feelings or opinions, we
might be wrong because the conclusions might not tally with another
conclusion that is based on evidence or facts.’
Miedide nodded and she turned back to Filatei, forgetting what she
wanted to say before Miedide’s question. ‘Sorry, I can’t remember what I was
saying.’
‘No lele. I mean no problem. I’m just wondering the identities of the
94
woman, her husband, and those that robbed and raped her,’ Filatei said, much
to Anita’s surprise, even after he had asserted that the words were pregnant
with meanings.
‘Filatei, I think you’re getting something wrong. The text has seven
lines and you’re making up your questions by reading just the first two lines.
Everything here points to an entity and for us to comprehend that fully, we’ve
to consider every single word that makes up the text.’
‘Even if we discover the entity, how does it point to the hidden gods?
Let’s imagine that I’m the entity,’ pointing to his chest with both hands, ‘how
can I lead us to what we’re looking for?’ Filatei paused. ‘And don’t even
begin thinking that the entity is the axis of evil because the woman knows that
we know that the hidden gods are there. Everything about the text just seems
dirty, you know. Polygamy, robbers, rapists, virginity, sucking,’ Filatei lit a
stick of cigarette. He handed the pack to Miedide who removed a stick and
smiled.
To Anita, it seemed Filatei was trying to make everything a kind of
jest. Something else was however telling her he wouldn’t do that. For the fact
that he was hell-bent on getting the supposed dividends of his ancestors.
‘Really, it’s not what you’re thinking.’
‘Then, what is it?’ Filatei exhaled loudly.
What is it? Anita asked inwardly. Perhaps, the text was referring to
something unusual, not a human. Perhaps, it was the story of the old woman.
Maybe she wanted them to be in her shoes for a while. She gave the text
another look. ...they stole your virginity...they sucked you dry... they left you to
die...yet you found water...and dashed for a drink.
Surely, Anita knew, the victim survived and finally found something
that eased off the pains. ‘Do you know something about the old woman?’
Giving her a look that told her he wasn’t interested in the question,
Filatei replied, ‘We heard several things about her as little children but if you
think this is about her, it’s an expensive joke. Her life wasn’t full of such
tragedies.’ He turned to Miedide. ‘Abi?’ Miedide nodded repetitively, in
consent.
Too bad. Anita coughed. ‘Then, I can’t think of anything exactly, but I
know that this isn’t about any real woman and even if it is about a woman, the
text might just be an allegory of her experiences.’
‘Let me tell you something. That old woman is more like a living dead.
No one would have dared to do any of those things written on that tissue to
her, denotatively or connotatively.’ Filatei collected the tissue paper.
Anita watched his lips move, as he read the words silently. Looking
away from the paper suddenly, he turned to Miedide. ‘In fact, I wan blau. I
want to charge my brain, men. Go collect one stick for me.’
Miedide stood up and came back almost immediately with three fat
sticks. Anita immediately knew these were wraps of cannabis and understood
that blau meant smoke. Without wasting time, the three men including the
95
camera operator began smoking in silence and the odour in the air of the
enclosed space irritated Anita’s nose. Bowing, she closed her eyes. She
wouldn’t complain. That determination made her realise that it seemed she
was already a part of them. Afterall, the treatment they gave her was different
from that which they gave the Filipino or the British woman.
Hissing sounds, caused by the manner the men inhaled deeply as if
they wanted every atom of the weed they inhaled to get into their brains,
reminded Anita of snakes. A bit scared, she opened her eyes and looked up.
She saw perfect rings of smoke, becoming bigger as they drifted upwards in
the air. Like Max. It seemed every smoker had his peculiar style. Once, she
had seen Chief Doukpolagha bring out straight lines of smoke from the
corners of his big lips. Reclosing her eyes, she made quick guesses about what
Chief could be doing. Then Max. She thought of their discussion on phone
that morning.
Deep in thoughts, she heard someone hitting against something
continuously. She opened her eyes. Filatei was hitting the right side of his
head with his right hand, and at the same time removing the tissue paper from
his face. Getting high, she imagined.
That same moment, Filatei dropped the remnant of the weed, on the
floor, between his legs and crushed it. ‘Yeah, now, I’ve my inferences,’ he
said loudly. ‘I’ve looked at all sides of the matter at hand.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t
doubt it, claro does real wonders. It makes you see what no one else can see.
You suspect what no one else suspects. You anticipate what no one else
anticipates. You doubt what no one else doubts and you understand what no
one else does...’
As Anita listened, she was eager to hear his conclusions, what she
hadn’t realised that he had. She was anxious for them to move a step further in
the unplanned quest of circumstances.
‘...it’s about human blood and injustice perpetuated by some people.’
Filatei’s conclusion wasn’t the kind Anita had expected. ‘Blood!’ she
exclaimed. ‘Sure, when someone is raped, blood would most likely be
evident.’
Filatei laughed loudly. ‘I thought you said this has to do with implied
meanings. I’m not talking of physical rape. Have a look.’ Filatei leaned
towards her, pointing at the text. She saw Miedide leaning also, trying to have
a look at the paper. The camera operator panned the camera and turned it,
apparently to focus on the text.
Staring at the paper, Anita saw nothing she hadn’t seen before.
‘Nothing new here.’ She pointed at the text and turned to Filatei who was
smiling.
‘I noticed something you didn’t notice or maybe you did but didn’t
give it importance.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The writing is in red.’
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‘And is that all?’

Filatei giggled and squeezed the paper into her palms. ‘No, why not
sniff the tissue paper?’
Anita held the paper close to her nose, but without contact. Blood. ‘I
smell blood.’ She lowered her hand.
‘Yeah, blood, but we don’t know the kind of blood it is. Whether that
of an animal or a human. All I know is that it has to do with prejudice. A kind
of inequity. Something that shouldn’t have happened...’
Filatei was still speaking when someone coming from outside cast a
shadow on them. ‘Chairman, I fit enter?’ the man asked.
‘O boy, you dey wear mask?’ Filatei asked.
‘Yes, the boys told me you’re recording.’
That moment, the camera operator gestured to Filatei that he was
putting off the camera.
‘Come in then.’
The man was slim, not too tall, and was dressed corporately like a
banker. ‘Chairman,’ he began talking, ‘while on undercover in town, I heard a
rumour that some people claimed we hired a white woman for the sole
purpose of discovering the hidden gods.’ He paused as if the next words were
too heavy for his mouth.
‘Continue,’ Filatei commanded.
‘I’m not sure but I heard that they said they would kidnap her and use
her for their own interests.’
Filatei smirked. ‘Stupid people. How for God’s sake can Anita know
the location of the hidden gods?’ He glanced at Anita. ‘She doesn’t even know
what they are yet. She only gave us directions to the woman.’
‘Chairman, maybe someone is betraying us. How could those guys
have known that Anita did that?’ Miedide asked, standing up.
Now frowning, Filatei pointed to the man that just entered. ‘I know
you want to suggest that we move camps. Believe me. We’re not moving
anywhere. The godfather must hear about this.’
Anita sighed deeply, not wanting to imagine that some other people
would re-kidnap her.
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Chapter 25
The music blared continuously and Walter Opuowei was in a high

mood. Having taken just four bottles of Star beer, he knew that any moment
from now, they would be leaving the bar. Charly was on his feet, moving
slowly to the rhythm of the song.
Opuowei tapped him on the waist. ‘We’re leaving soon.’
‘Yes sir.’ Charly continued dancing.
Opuowei’s phone began to vibrate in his pockets. He brought it out and
glimpsed at the screen, before picking it. Police Chief. Charly stopped dancing
now and watched his boss.
‘Hello,’ Opuowei said.
‘Hello Walter,’ the DPO said. ‘I’ve important information for you.’
Info. Opuowei couldn’t guess the topic. ‘Yes.’
‘The Chief is in a hotel outside town.’
God. Opuowei stood up and began to walk out of the bar. The music
was disturbing. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Have you forgotten that I’m a police officer? I’ve enough access to
information.’
That moment, Opuowei suspected the Police Chief was doing his own
investigations, secretly, even after they had wet his palms, to mind his
business. ‘Oga, I hope you didn’t send your boys out on this case.’
‘Haba, I didn’t forget what you said. I would never do something like
that. I just got the news and decided to tell you or am I wrong to have called
you to give hints that would help you in your investigations?’
The question was somehow accusing. Opuowei didn’t want to sound
like an ingrate; more so when it was the directions the officer gave them that
got them in Chief Tuburu’s house that day.
Opuowei was now outside the bar. ‘Oga, no be so. You know all these
rich men. I just don’t want him to feel that we’re not doing the job he asked us
to do.’
‘Okay,’ the officer said in a satisfied tone. ‘So let me give you more
details. As in, getting to the hotel...’ Opuowei listened attentively as the officer
explained, marvelling at the ease and confidence with which the man spoke.
Minutes later after the call ended, Opuowei returned and poured the
rest of the beer in the bottle before him inside his glass. Sipping, he faced
Charly who was now on his seat. ‘See what five hundred thousand naira can
do.’
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‘What sir?’
‘He just gave a hint that Chief Tuburu is in a hotel outside town. First
thing tomorrow, we’re going to bust them. At least, they wouldn’t suspect we
could know their whereabouts so quick.’
Obviously amazed, Charly narrowed his eyes. ‘But I wonder how he
knew about that?’
‘I’ve thought of that already. Only God knows. The main thing is that
without this officer’s help...maybe our investigation wouldn’t have a
direction.’
Charly looked at Opuowei in the eye. ‘Most likely, he knows many
other things.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like that we were attacked by fake doctors, with stethoscopes and vet
boxes.’
‘And a strange sedative spray,’ Opuowei quickly added, wanting to
accentuate that if not for the spray, it would have been a different story. The
thought that two women and a man overpowering them seemed to insult that
special pride of being a male. The feeling next to machismo.
Max heard scratching on the door of the study. Marquis. Hissing, he

placed what he was holding on the table, got up from his chair, and opened the
door. Immediately, he saw a figure scurry under his crotch, into the study.
Shit. He wasn’t in the mood for the cat’s pranks that afternoon. He turned
back, to look into the study. It seemed he was the only creature in there.
However, he knew the feline was hiding, somewhere there.
‘Marquis, Marquis,’ he shouted. ‘You’d better come out before I
eliminate you. And your obstinate mistress might just join you, any moment
after that...’ Simmering with rage, Max bent to check under the black table.
The cat wasn’t there.
He checked under the divan. It seemed it had disappeared. Walking to
the shelf, Max thought it definitely would be hiding around it, but he found
nothing. He hissed again and walked out of the study. I’ll teach this cat a
lesson today, he swore.
Down in the kitchen minutes later, Max was lighting a stick of
cigarette with the glowing fire of the stub from another one he had just
finished smoking. He puffed hard repeatedly. It was as if all was working
against him...Anita, Anthony Morgan, Marquis. His inspiration included. He
scratched his head.
Since the time he finished speaking with Anita, his inspiration waned
continually. He had thought some sleep would make his condition get better.
But for hours, he rolled incessantly on the bed, just thinking about one person.
Anita. Something told him persistently that he would never see Anita again,
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and he couldn’t imagine not seeing her. For many reasons.

Deciding to take some tea, Max got up, walked to a table, and switched
on the electric kettle. He returned to his seat and visualised the manner in
which Anita hurried out of the house to a waiting taxi, two days before.
‘Take care of yourself and be nice to my cat,’ she had said, standing on
the patio, fondling Marquis tenderly. Moments later, he was watching,
seething as the taxi sped off.
Max knew that Anita’s departure shouldn’t have been like that. At
least, it was a thing of honour and an act of love to accompany a woman he
loved to the airport. Secretly, he had wished for that, as he watched her open
the door of the taxi. But he couldn’t show it, not to talk of speaking it out.
Anita’s pride was too much. Now, he heard the gurgling sound of the boiling
water.
Shortly, he was sipping hot tea, smoking more and more. Unseen
forces fought in the entrails of his brains, drifting his mind farther away from
The Last Model, his screenplay. Still, he was determined to submit it the next
day, no matter what it would cost. Enough of all the agonies. Enough of
peanut advances and royalties. Enough of personal promos of his works. It
was time to take the bull by the horn. He drained the mug and set it on the
table. He would go back, to continue with the editing.
Marquis. He opened the cupboard in front of him scanning it. He had
to get that animal out of the study and make it realise it should never come
there again.
In few minutes, Max was standing in front of the entrance to the study.
The door was half-closed. Confused, he began to doubt that he banged it
before leaving for the kitchen. Glancing at the small cudgel in his hand, he
knew that the cat must have disappeared. You must be lucky, he soliloquised,
entering the room.
Quickly, he settled down before his laptop and looked round the table.
Something was missing. Furiously, he got up from the chair and picked the
cudgel that was lying on the divan and darted out of the study shouting,
‘Marquis, come back here. If I get hold of you, I’ll kill you...’
Marquis was nowhere to be found. The usual sounds the cat gave were
absent. Max checked its favourite spots around the house. The corridor, its
small winter haven, and the living room. He didn’t find it. Guessing that it
could be in the garden, he recalled that the cat never loved going outside. Still,
he went into the garden and checked under the hedges and flowers that were
just blossoming.
He didn’t see it.
Back in the study, he worried. For two reasons. First and least
important, if Anita returned alive and discovered the cat was missing; all hell
would break loose. Her spontaneous conclusion would be that he maltreated it
and it ran for its life. With that thought, Max felt vindicated, that he didn’t
meet the cat in the study not to talk of walloping it. That, he would tell her and
100
she had the choice to believe it or not.

Satisfied with the decision, Max didn’t know when he started
wondering if the cat actually figured out that he wanted to strike it when he
shouted its name, saying insulting things, before storming out of the study.
He hissed. That’s their luck. If things got so difficult with Anita, he
would buy another Cymric or Manx for her and that should give some peace.
He hoped she would bulge, considering the strange bond, between her and
Marquis.
‘I would’ve loved to take him along with me but I really don’t want to
risk his survival in Nigeria. I don’t know how these cats do there,’ Anita had
said to him some days before she went to pick up her flight ticket.
Now, as the main reason why he needed to get the cat crept into his
mind, Max wondered if recent happenings weren’t forewarnings that
something terrible was about to happen. Marquis had to return what it took.
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Chapter 26
The hotel was big enough to hold at least fifty guests at once, Opuowei
thought, as he parked his V-boot by the side of the fence and watched Charly
leave the car. Stepping out himself, Opuowei touched the side of his pocket to
feel his pistol. He studied the length of the fence of the not very tall building
and imagined how someone would have decided to build such a beautiful hotel
in that kind of isolated area. Not inside the metropolis, where the prospects for
clients were high. Worse, the DPO had said that it was nameless. Only specific
people knew it existed. Seeing the sun rising now, Opuowei felt the air smelt
better, unlike how it was, back in the city.
Charly came to his side and said in a low voice, ‘Oga, what if the
officer made a wrong judgement about the Chief’s whereabouts?’
‘That man is more than sure about what he was saying. I told you that
yesterday. Don’t be pessimistic. The only thing we’ve to try to do now is to
get the Chief at gunpoint. His men would not dare shoot when they know their
godfather’s life is at risk. Okay?’
‘Yes sir,’ Charly saluted. ‘Oga, I believe you o.’
Opuowei smiled, knowing that Charly was trying to tell him indirectly
that his- Charly’s- life was in Opuowei’s hands. Nudging Charly forward,
Opuowei led as they proceeded to enter the hotel.
Opuowei knocked lightly on the metal gate. It opened almost
immediately. A slim uniformed man came out.
‘Good morning,’ the man said, bowing his head.
The way the man greeted them impressed Opuowei. ‘Good morning.
We...’
The man interrupted him. ‘Lodging abi? Why not bring the car inside
the compound?’
So warmly. Opuowei shook his head. ‘No thank you. We actually came
to meet someone lodging here.’
Quickly, the man opened the gate, making way for them to pass.
‘Come in.’
After they entered, the man pointed. ‘That way. You turn to your right
and you’ll see a door. Go in and someone will attend to you.’
‘Emiyenkah,’ Opuowei appreciated.
As they walked towards the door, Opuowei imagined how the security
man would feel when the drama started. Perhaps, he would regret that he
allowed them into the premises in the first place. The management would
102
definitely heap blames on him for allowing people come in to arrest a guest.
He has no choice, Opuowei thought. Afterall, they had lied that the guest was
expecting them.
Now, they entered the glass door.
Very large, the reception had several cream coloured leather sofas and
glass tables. A television was on and it seemed the lanky receptionist, whom
their presence distracted, was the only person watching it. They walked to the
receptionist who greeted them warmly, just like the guard at the gate.
‘You need rooms?’ he asked, smiling.
Enthusiastic workers. ‘No. We’re here to see one of your lodgers.’
Immediately, the expression on the face of the receptionist changed.
Like he wanted to be aloof.
‘Any problem?’ Opuowei asked.
‘No problem. I think I’ve to call the manager.’
Opuowei didn’t understand why the lanky chap was getting worried
when he was yet to know whom they were there to see. Opuowei thought of
the possibility of the hotel being a hideout for criminals. Perhaps they didn’t
allow outsiders see their clients. Perhaps, that is the reason the hotel is far
from town.
Watching as the man began to dial the intercom, Opuowei said ‘At
least, you should find out whom we want to see first.’
The receptionist looked at him. ‘Sorry this is how we do here. Maybe
other places are different. Anyone who wants to see any of our guests has to
speak to the manager. I’m to attend only to people who want to lodge.’ Giving
Opuowei a look of finality, the man looked away.
That moment, Opuowei heard the lanky man talking in a language he
couldn’t make out. Angry, Opuowei stared, the way he did often, when people
did things he felt insulted his status as a soldier.
‘Oga, why everything just be like this these days?’ Charly asked,
whispering.
‘Na because we don’t wear our uniforms. But don’t worry o.’ Opuowei
stared at the receptionist, imagining what would happen after the call.
The receptionist put the receiver back in its place and lifted his head,
still frowning. He pointed to a sofa. ‘You can have your seats. The manager
would be here in a moment.’
Settling down, Opuowei looked around, trying to be at alert. To think
that some people would come in and abduct them at gunpoint made him
nervous. He hadn’t anticipated that things would go this way. He had thought
that as soon as they requested to see Chief Tuburu, the receptionist would ask
for their names and they would mention the names the officer had mentioned
to them.
‘Once he hears those names, he would definitely want to see you, not
even considering whether he was expecting visitors before or not. Those are
the people doing undercover for him,’ the Police Chief had said.
103
Now, Opuowei felt Charly move nearer to him on the sofa. ‘These
people might escape again, like they did the last time,’ Charly said quietly,
lifting his head to glance at the receptionist.
Straight away, Opuowei got the message. Once beaten, twice shy.
Standing up, Opuowei walked to the receptionist. ‘Can I smoke outside?’
The man shrugged. ‘You’re free.’
‘When the manager comes, please tell him we’re outside.’
Immediately, Charly got on his feet and they went outside the room.
As Opuowei smoked, they discussed the possibility of the hotel having
other gates. Subsequently, they took a stroll round the grounds of the building.
They saw few cars parked behind. Seeing no other gate, they quickly returned
to the spot where they were discussing earlier.
Still rubbing minds together, a fat medium height man came outside
from the reception. ‘Good morning,’ the man greeted. ‘I’m the manager. Who
do you want to see?’
Kind of rude. Opuowei decided not to reply the greeting. ‘Chief
Tuburu.’
The manager put a finger between his lips and looked up as if
pondering over something. ‘I’m not sure he’s still around.’
Opuowei faced Charly to see his reaction but Charly’s eyes were on
the manager. Opuowei faced the manager. ‘Okay, can you help us check?’
‘Why not? Is he expecting you?’
‘Sure.’
‘Then, he must be around.’
The soldiers watched as the manager disappeared into the building
with quick steps.
Minutes later, he resurfaced with a disappointing look on his face.
‘Sorry,’ he expressed remorse. ‘Our register says that Chief Tuburu checked
out few minutes before you came in.’
Now, Opuowei knew if he didn’t tell a lie, he might never be able to
stand on his feet to prove that Chief Tuburu was still inside the hotel.
‘Checked what?’ he retorted. ‘That’s impossible. I just spoke with him outside
the gate before we entered and he said he’s still waiting...’ He shrugged.
The manager sneered. Charly turned to look at his boss. Opuowei
knew what his assistant was expecting, but he didn’t want to lose his temper.
He waited for the manager to say something, meaningful. The manager,
however, said nothing. Instead, he brought out a stick of cigarette and a lighter
from the pocket of his shirt. Then, he began smoking.
‘You don’t have anything to say about what I just said.’ Opuowei
moved closer to the manager.
The man exhaled in Opuowei’s face and as if under a force, Opuowei
slapped him hard on the face. Instantly, Charly moved closer, pointing a gun
to the manager’s head. ‘You’re under arrest. Down on your knees,’ he
commanded.
104
The half-burnt cigarette the manager was holding dropped and he

raised his hands, going on his knees at once.
Bringing out his identification card from his pocket, Opuowei
displayed it for the terrified manager to see. ‘You can never know who is who.
I know the Chief might have oiled your palms with money.’ He paused. ‘Now,
if you don’t want your brains to be blown off and if you don’t want your hotel
to be closed down, tell me. Is Chief Tuburu still here or not?’
105
Chapter 27
Sipping from the steaming cup of coffee Ebiere prepared for her, Anita
thought about the news the man doing undercover brought to the camp the
previous day. Within her, she hoped Filatei and his men were strong enough,
to resist any attack from external bodies. Surely, she believed, that becoming a
hostage to another group would be a nightmare. Already, she was getting used
to the unpleasant life in the camp. In the two nights she had spent there, she
had managed to adjust after discovering several odd things. Like the fact that
her toilet was actually a small, enclosed space, covered with iron sheets.
‘Spread some paper on the floor and shit. When you’re done, you wrap
it up and throw it into the bush,’ Filatei had told her. Nonetheless, the urge to
empty her bowels never came, not even for once. Whenever she needed to
urinate, Anita would request Ebiere to follow her to a nearby tree and she did
it very quickly.
On the other hand, she noticed that the others went into the bush when
they needed to empty their bowels, even at nights, as if they were not worried
about snakes or scorpions. When she made her concerns known to Ebiere,
Ebiere said, ‘That’s what we were trained with as kids. Thank God, now at
home, we’ve toilets but here in the camps, we’ve no choice.’
That wasn’t all. The rhythm of life in the camp included the chatting,
drinking and smoking of the men for several hours, Ebiere fanning embers
while cooking for most part of the day, occasional music from a small sound
system, the men taking turns to wash clothes, the cleaning and servicing of
weapons and Pa Akpodigha’s early morning rituals, amongst several other
things.
The day before, after the man doing undercover left, Ebiere offered to
wash Anita’s clothes and Filatei had appeared with a new jeans trousers, a sky
blue armless top, and a blue slippers, which she was wearing now.
‘This is for you. Many other things are on the way. Like clip mics in
case we’ll need them.’
That had put Anita in high spirits, making her want to decipher the
message the old woman was trying to pass across, discover the gods of the
creeks, tell the story of the Niger Deltans with a good documentary and regain
her freedom.
Now, as she placed the mug that still had some coffee on the saucer by
her feet, she thought of the text they had seen the previous day. She mulled
over Filatei’s conclusion that it had to do with human blood and inequity.
106
Something that shouldn’t have happened.

Anita knew many things that shouldn’t have happened had happened in
the world. Felony, corruption, massacres, wars, robbery. They were too many.
But she didn’t know the particular thing Filatei was referring to and she knew
that he also didn’t know the exact thing. The thoughts of crimes made her
remember Max. Really, many things shouldn’t have occurred, she thought.
Bending down to pick up the mug for a sip, she heard Filatei coming
from behind, speaking on phone, in a local dialect. She turned and saw him
smiling. ‘...one love. I’ll call him now,’ she heard him say as he ended the call.
He sat on a chair near her and grinned as he lit a stick of cigarette. She
couldn’t but wonder the reason for that. She thought of the likelihood of him
having solved the text. He was pressing his phone.
He looked up. ‘Our payday is here. The husband to the white woman
just paid one million dollars through our secure channel of intermediaries, half
an hour ago.’
Anita forced a smile; but within her, she marvelled at the manner with
which the freedom fighters made money. One million dollars, just like that, in
less than twenty-four hours. The type of money some people wouldn’t make in
their lifetime, even if they juggled five jobs a day. Briefly recalling all that she
had seen and heard, she inferred that the ematers had some sort of
justification, which only someone with a compassionate eyes, ears, and heart
would perceive.
‘Anything?’ Filatei asked, interrupting her consideration. Back to
reality, Anita saw his eyelids raised as if waiting for a response. He puffed.
She giggled. ‘Nothing.’
‘I know there’s something,’ Filatei objected. ‘You think we’re just
making dough so easily. Listen carefully. We’re fighting with our blood. What
we did that looks so easy is the same thing that sends some other powerful
ematers to their untimely graves. Life itself is a struggle, where everybody
wants to live like a king.’ He shrugged and continued to press his phone.
In silence, she watched him put the phone to his ear. The phone began
to ring on the speaker mode.
‘Hello,’ a man said.
‘Hello sir. My boys said they got the money from you this morning
and...’
‘Yes yes,’ the man responded, excitedly. ‘Hope they’ve delivered it
sir?’
‘That’s no problem. I just want to inform you that we’re going to
release your wife soon...’
Anita heard the man at the other end of the phone laugh lightly.
Filatei was still talking, ‘... endeavour to teach her manners.’
‘I’ve been trying sir,’ the other man responded. ‘I don’t know what
else to do. That’s how she always does. So rude.’
‘Well, I understand your plight but you just have to continue trying
107
before her insolence lands her in a coffin. You know she’s in Africa...’
‘Abi o.’
‘So if she can’t change, you’d better go back to England with her. I
know most likely, you met there.’ Filatei paused, biting his lower lip. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay sir.’
‘Any questions?’
‘Yes, I want to know where you’ll drop her.’
Filatei laughed. ‘Of course, you should know I won’t tell you that. I’ll
call you to tell you where to pick her from after dropping her.’
‘Thank you sir. God bless you and your family sir.’
‘Okay. Bye.’ Filatei smiled and ended the call. Then, he dropped the
butt of the cigarette on the ground.
Anita drained her mug and waited for Filatei to speak. He didn’t,
however. Instead, he brought out the tissue paper from his pocket and fixed his
eyes on the text. That moment, Miedide appeared with another chair in his
hand. Sitting down, he stretched his neck to look at the text Filatei’s eyes were
on.
‘Chairman, that Mr. Lumantas or what do you call him asked for
cigarette and me I gave him o.’
Filatei looked at him. ‘Good. Even if he wants claro, we’ll give him.
The main thing is for Shell to pay us our money. I can’t wait to get rid of him.’
He returned his eyes to the text.
‘They’ve no choice. They must to pay.’ Miedide laughed, exposing the
gap in his mouth.
Anita quickly calculated the total ransom from the two new hostages.
A million and seven hundred thousand dollars. Secretly, she admired the
manner Miedide said they must to pay- his confidence and the unusual accent,
which sounded like sweet reggae music in her ears.
Filatei began to speak, turning to Anita. ‘This text is puzzling. If not
for you, I wouldn’t be in a haste to solve it and get to the hidden gods. Now,
you’ve only two or three days left, to go back to the States and resume your
work. Therefore, we all have reasons to want to discover the axis of evil and
the hidden gods. And we must do that fast.’ He looked away.
Anita saw sense in what Filatei had just said. Really, she didn’t wish to
change the date on her ticket. More so, her job was at stake. No one ever asked
her to come to Nigeria for the documentary.
That moment, she felt determination rising within her. She would
compensate herself with a good and unique documentary for all the pains here
in the creeks. Going back empty handed didn’t seem pleasant to her. Besides,
Max would ask, where is the documentary you were making with those
people?
#
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Anita’s thought had metamorphosed into a daydream. She was

imagining the rave the documentary would get. She was considering the
available paraphernalia. At least she had seen one of the high definition
cameras of the ematers. Filatei had said they had many more, that some even
had lights for recording in dark places. Also, he had said they had tripods,
microphones, extra batteries, light stands, gels for filtering and a mobile
generator to produce electricity. She wondered if they would go about with all
the equipment.
Still in that fantasy, four masked men appeared in front of them. One
of them whom Anita suspected to be Damiete spoke, ‘Chairman, we’re going
to drop the woman now.’
Filatei asked, ‘Are you through with Pa Akpodigha?’
‘Yes sir.’ The thick muscles of Damiete’s large arms glistened in the
morning sun.
‘Okay. Go in peace.’ With that, the men went away and the next thing
Anita saw was someone leading the English woman, now blindfolded, out of
her tent.
Anita realised now that none of the hostages actually saw the other. In
fact, the Filipino and the exiting English woman didn’t leave their tents since
they arrived the previous day. Observantly, Anita watched as the men and the
women disappeared from the camp. To a speedboat, she imagined.
‘Don’t bother about her. One day, you’ll leave us just like that,’ Anita
heard Filatei say and turning to face him, she smiled.
Miedide moved closer to Filatei. ‘Chairman, abeg can I see that
paper?’
‘Oya now, take.’ Filatei placed the soft tissue in his hand.
Anita watched Miedide from the corners of her eyes. His lips were
moving as he read the text rapidly.
‘Chairman, we’ll solve this poem no matter what. I know say the rest
will be simple.’
Anita didn’t comprehend what Miedide said. She turned to Filatei.
‘Pardon, I didn’t get him well.’
‘He’s trying to say that once we’re able to solve this text, we would
know the context we’re dealing with. And that will give us quick answers to
other issues we might meet in our search.’
Anita nodded, admiring Miedide’s mental acumen. ‘I absolutely agree
with him.’ She paused and turned to glimpse at the tissue that Miedide was
now examining. ‘I just wish we could figure out something reasonable. We’ve
to think. I know it’s something that concerns your lives. I mean the Niger
Deltans or at most Nigerians. But nothing more than the shores of this country.
The poem definitely has nothing to do with the States. If it had to do with the
States, I know many incidents I could associate it with...’
‘My Chair, I see something o,’ Miedide interposed her.
At once, Filatei asked, ‘Wetin?’
109
Anxious, Anita moved her chair nearer.

Miedide grinned. ‘See.’ He spread the tissue paper before them.
Anita looked at the paper. Hope this guy isn’t kidding. All she could
see was white. Plain white.
Filatei who was also looking at the paper faced Miedide. ‘What?’
Miedide smiled. ‘Pencil.’
Immediately, Filatei collected the paper and held it close to his eyes.
Anita watched with keenness. Filatei was smiling and he looked at her,
nodding.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Take.’ Filatei gave her the tissue. The same way Filatei had done, she
held it to her eyes. She saw another text, written in pencil.
The stupid merchants got their cargo

Packed like sardines in the middle passage
Bones full of aches and pains
That gave way to their fame
However, God created man in twos
Everything under the sun too
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Chapter 28
Repeatedly, Anita read the text. To her, things were getting more
complex. A moment ago, they were trying to interpret a text, trying to connect
it with human blood and an injustice perpetuated in the past. Now, they had
another text about stupid merchants and some cargo. Traders and
merchandise.
She turned to Filatei who had bowed his head, apparently deep in
thoughts. ‘What do you think about this?’ She held up the tissue paper.
Filatei sighed, lifting his head. ‘I just don’t understand anything.’
Miedide who was gazing at the sky faced Filatei. ‘My Chair, make we
get the camera, abi?’ Filatei nodded and Miedide left.
Not happy with the way things were going, Anita stood up from the
chair and paced back and forth. She had to think of something. The old
woman, Anita knew, had given them more than enough clues. They only had
to crack their brains.
Miedide returned with the camera operator and masks. Anita saw
Filatei looking at her and she returned to sit on her chair. ‘Do you’ve an idea
of the merchants?’ she asked.
Filatei adjusted his position. ‘Really, there are different types of
merchants dealing in various goods. So, I don’t have the slightest idea, for
now. I just don’t understand why she’s speaking to us in parables.’ He raised
his shoulder and hissed, collecting a mask from Miedide.
Sensing that the whole conundrum was beginning to stress Filatei,
Anita looked away, deciding to think on her own...find a suitable answer to the
puzzle, and make it known to the others. And if they arrived at the solution
before her, it would be just as good.
Miedide and Filatei were now wearing their masks and Anita
wondered if they would always have to do that whenever they were to appear
before the camera. His mask in place, Miedide settled on a chair, near his boss.
The camera was rolling already, focusing on the pencilled text. They sat in
silence, an act that made Anita uncomfortable.
Craving to start a meaningful discussion, Anita decided to make out
some important points from the second text. She studied the text again,
concentrating on the third and fourth lines. When she felt she had a point to
make, she decided to speak.
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‘See, this text talks about the pains of the merchants and the fame that
came after that.’
Filatei stared at the bush for a while and turned to look at Anita. ‘That
sounds brilliant. It means we’re to discover the merchants whose cargo made
them famous and most probably wealthy.’
Anita nodded. ‘Yeah. And I think we’re a bit lucky with this particular
text because it is somewhat self-explanatory. Already, we know the trade is
full of obstacles.’ She paused. ‘So, in Nigeria or maybe we start with this
region, what sort of difficult trade which brings plenty of money and fame to
their dealers goes on?’
Filatei and Miedide exploded in laughter. Anita wondered the reason
for that. She felt she would never understand the characters of the men fully.
Sometimes, they laughed when she didn’t expect. Other times, they frowned
when all she expected of them was to laugh.
The laughter stopped and Filatei settled his eyes on her. She gazed in
awe. Then he spoke, ‘Your question is funny. I expected you to answer it
yourself. Everybody knows the kind of trade you’re talking about.’ He turned
to look at Miedide who was nodding like an agama lizard.
Disappointed, Anita heaved a sigh. She had thought Filatei would
answer the question straight away. ‘Which trade?’
‘The oil business, of course,’ Filatei replied. ‘Or don’t you know
Nigeria is one of the highest oil producing countries of the world?’
‘Sure, I know that. But Filatei, this is more than oil. I think it’s
something distant from oil. The text talks about the cargo packed like
sardines.’
‘So, you mean they don’t load oil like sardines before exporting it out
of the country?’ Filatei giggled and shook his head. ‘Anita, you started a
clever idea and now, you’re about to tear it down.’
Anita felt Filatei didn’t understand the text at all. ‘I still insist that it’s
far from crude oil.’
‘It’s not near crude oil but crude oil itself,’ Filatei insisted, his loud
voice emanating certainty. ‘The companies face many problems. Go and ask
Shell, they’ll tell you how many of their flow stations and pipelines we
destroy every day. They’ll tell you what they’ve suffered in the hands of boys
who use hot tapping to steal oil from their pipelines at nights. They’ll even tell
you how they pay us protection money sometimes, so that we wouldn’t
sabotage their properties.’
Anita decided to change the topic from that of oil. ‘Alright, I
understand you. Is there any lucrative trade other than that?’
For a while, Filatei didn’t say anything. The only sound Anita heard
were the cracking of his knuckles. Perhaps, he’s thinking, she thought.
Eventually, he replied, ‘Before now, the main trade was agriculture and I don’t
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even see the way that has to do with this text at all. What other trade would the
woman be referring to if not that of oil? The oil is our blood.’
Agriculture. Within Anita, she admitted she wasn’t sure of the exact
reply she wanted to hear from Filatei. Yet, she was sure it wasn’t agriculture,
and sure that when she heard the right answer, she would immediately
recognise it.
She shot Filatei a questioning look. ‘Any other thing apart from that?’
‘I don’t think so. Those people forgot about farming as soon as they
heard that we had oil. This is the result now.’ He waved his hand.
‘Okay.’ Anita decided to recall things she had learnt about Africa and
Nigeria in school. She would make her own guesses about the trade thereafter.
‘That reminds me, I’ve to call this Shell people,’ Filatei said and
dipped his hand in his pocket. He signalled to the camera operator to stop
recording.
Moments later, the phone was ringing aloud on speaker mode. Anita
listened, hoping that the discussion would be a fruitful one, so that the Filipino
would be out of the camp as soon as possible. She heard the call connecting.
Filatei didn’t wait for the person to speak. ‘Good morning. We called
you yesterday about Mr. Lumantas. Any development?’
A male coughed and said, ‘Nothing o. Just keep calling, we’ll let you
know when we’re ready.’
Filatei sneered. ‘No problem sha. Don’t forget. Seven hundred
thousand U.S dollars.’
The phone bleeped twice as Filatei ended the call.
Filatei faced Miedide. ‘Stupid people. It seems they’re ready to lose
another worker this time around.’
Anita deliberated on what she just heard.
Suddenly, Filatei said, ‘Anita, no amount of money we collect from
this oil companies can compensate for all the pains they’ve caused us. If they
like they pay...’ Now his tone was high. ‘...if they like they shouldn’t. All I
know is that Mr. Lumantas blood will to some extent help in replenishing the
oil they’re scooping from our land. Afterall he’s a stupid merchant like the text
said. He wouldn’t have come to a house on fire if he weren’t stupid. Stupid
enough to risk his life for money. That’s all.’
Clearly, Anita understood. Mr. Lumantas will die if Shell doesn’t pay
his ransom. So unfortunate. Returning her eyes to the tissue, Anita saw the red
text and realised that they were spending all their energy on the second text,
practically neglecting the first.
‘Maybe we’ve to make comparisons...’
‘Between what and what?’ Filatei asked, interrupting. ‘There’s nothing
to compare when it comes to the issue of these oil companies.’
Shit. Now his mind is on the ransom, Anita thought. ‘I was talking
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about the two texts.’

‘Oh, sorry. I just don’t like anyone pleading on behalf of hostages.
Especially my own mother who keeps saying that the solution to all these
sufferings is not armed struggle but looking up to God.’
Strange. Anita pointed to Filatei. ‘You mean your mum knows about
this?’
Filatei closed his eyes and opened it again. Then he smiled. Anita
guessed he was happy about the question.
‘Not only does my mum know about this. My father also knows and
he’s one of our fans. I remember when I was a kid. He used to say, Filatei,
someday you’ll whack these Oyinbo people’s buttocks. And now,’ shrugging,
‘I’m even doing more than that.’
Filatei’s explanation about his parents amused Anita. Ally and sceptic.
Anita imagined how the house would look like when Filatei’s parents argued.
One, against armed struggle and the other, for it. Even Pa Akpodigha, his
mother’s elder brother was an associate. Crazy world.
‘Back to the texts, is there any way we could connect ideas?’ she
asked. ‘Really, I believe they are related, though the connection might not be
obvious on the surface.’
Filatei smiled. ‘Let’s try. The first talks about injustice and blood. The
second talks about stupid merchants like Mr. Lumantas and cargo. Right?’ He
paused.
‘Yes.’ Anita smiled, amused by Filatei’s illustration of the stupid
merchants. Mr. Lumantas.
Filatei continued. ‘Okay, we’ve concluded the cargo is the oil. Right?’
Anita didn’t want to argue. She was only interested in knowing where
he was going. ‘Yes.’
‘So that means there’s a connection between oil and blood.’
As soon as Filatei said that, Miedide and the camera operator who had
resumed recording applauded, uttering praises.
‘The Chair.’
‘The Prof.’
‘You too much.’
Watching them, Anita had an understanding and guessed that the same
awareness had made them hail Filatei. Oil and blood. That said it all. The
clapping stopped and Filatei continued.
‘Then, we’ve another connection between the oil workers and
injustice, which every eye can see all around us. Even you.’ Filatei pointed at
Anita.
Me. ‘Sure. I’ve seen a lot and I wish to still see more.’
Filatei fumbled in his pocket for his phone. ‘My phone dey ring.
Maybe na godfather be that.’
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Bringing out the phone, he looked at the screen, smiled, and picked it.
‘Guy, how far?’
Filatei nodded as he listened. Then he hissed and said, ‘Guy thanks
men. Sha, we no dey move anywhere. Anybody who thinks he can come and
kidnap her from us must be ready to face death.’ Filatei stopped talking and
listened again.
Anita watched him but couldn’t hear what the person on the other side
was saying. However, she was sure that it had to do with the same story the
undercover who came the previous evening gave them. Nervous, she turned
and her eyes met with that of Miedide, who smiled at her, exposing his teeth.
‘Don’t worry,’ Miedide whispered.
At the same time, Anita heard Filatei saying, ‘Why’s my uncle with us
then.’ He stopped talking again. She listened.
‘Okay, one love,’ Filatei said and returned the phone to his pocket.
He faced Anita. ‘It seems we’ve made enemies. But I don’t send
anybody. We’re determined to get to our destination. And I know God is with
us because my mother’s prayers aren’t just like ordinary words spoken by a
woman who doesn’t know God.’
Egbesu and Christianity, Anita thought. ‘But you said you believe in
Egbesu?’
‘I believe in everything good. Egbesu, Christianity, Islam, Otsighi,
Otororho, Sango...whatever. Ose keni. We’re all one. God created all.’
Anita nodded. At the same time, she had a feeling that Filatei had
mentioned something familiar but she wasn’t certain about the exact thing.
Perhaps, she came across it while in school. Perhaps not. She however became
conscious of the fact that she, herself, believed in God, but not in a fanatical
way.
Filatei turned to Miedide. ‘O boy, you no go lem.’
Eat. Anita was more than sure that lem meant to eat. Filatei turned to
her. ‘I talked about eating.’
‘I know.’
‘How?’
‘Ebiere taught me some slangs yesterday.’
Filatei giggled. ‘Okay, make we go lem.’
Several minutes later, deliberating on the last call Filatei received,

Anita watched the activities going on in the camp. Ebiere was washing some
of the plates the men had used. The men were smoking.
‘We’ve to smoke now, because without it, it just seems the food won’t
digest,’ Filatei had said as Anita stood up from her plate of rice, stew, and
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fried chicken that she barely touched. She had been worried about the turn of
things. The fact that some other people wanted her.
Now, she brought to mind the events of the past. The happenings that
made her decide to hold dearly to her career.
It had all started one autumn evening, a day after Max bade her bye,
and said that he was leaving for California. Later that day, she drove to a café
to wait for a female colleague at work for some discussions. Just at the car
park, she saw Max’s sport car which he had claimed was with some repairer.
Curious she entered the café, glimpsed at the faces of the men and
women who sat in the dim light. Max wasn’t there. Eventually, she climbed
the stairs and opened a door. What she saw shocked her. Before then, she had
thought Max’s violent past and reckless life had ended in prison. That moment
of sorrow however changed it all. Immediately, she closed the door, climbed
down the stairs, and drove away.
On getting home, she called the colleague and fixed another meeting.
When Max came back home, three days later, he only increased her anger and
suspicions by telling her tales about how his trip went. Ever since then, she
decided not to trust him or any other man again. Believing that her career was
more important, she made up her mind, to stick tight with it.
Consequently, her attitude to Max changed rapidly. She went ahead
and bought Marquis, spent hours with it, far more than she did with Max. In
reaction, Max began to behave as if he didn’t give a damn. He shouted at her,
never cared to listen, and stopped doing the things he did when he first moved
into the house, in his first few months out of prison.
She had thought he would change and try to make peace with her so
that they would live together happily. That thinking made her pray every day,
that he would talk humbly, possibly admit his mistakes and reconcile. That
never happened, however. The only proofs that they were still together were
the occasional sex they had, the postcards and little gifts he presented her
intermittently.
Sometimes, when she couldn’t bear his excesses anymore, she asked,
‘If you know you don’t love me, why are you still dating me?’
And he always gave the same reply, ‘Ask yourself that. If you also
don’t love me, why are you still dating me?’
All those times, she never could give him an answer. She only knew
that she loved him, with vague reasons. Moreover, she always had a
confounding feeling in her heart. Sometimes, the feelings manifested in
whispers, that came from sources she never knew. Maxwell Foster loves you.
Yet, she tried to tell herself that he never loved her more than her career did.
That her career would never fail her.
Nonetheless, as thoughts of Filatei’s call crept into her mind again,
Anita bowed and wondered if her career was now not beginning to fail her, if
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she would survive in the creeks and if she would one day watch the airing of
her documentary on the television.
‘My sister. Wataguan?’ she heard Filatei say and she jerked. Sighing,
she lifted her head.
‘I’m cool.’
‘Don’t tell me a lie. Your face is becoming red.’
Anita wished she could look into a mirror. She would ask Ebiere for
one later. ‘Just like that.’ She shrugged.
‘You’re thinking about the news right. No one will take you from us. I
cross my heart.’ Filatei paused briefly, as if to see her reaction. Then, he
walked over to the recording equipment and lowered the tripod. ‘Enough of all
that. We’ll record later. Where’s that tissue?’
Opuowei was just arriving in town when his phone rang. Quickly
parking the car, he brought out the mobile. Police Chief. The line clicked.
‘Walter, any progress?’
Progress. ‘Chief Tuburu is the only one making progress. He has
escaped again.’
Opuowei heard a muted sigh, from the other side.
‘Don’t worry ehn. In a few hours from now, I should know his
whereabouts. Then I’ll call you. Alright?’
Opuowei, turning to Charly who was watching him with twisted lips,
shrugged. ‘Okay. Thanks.’ The call ended.
After that, a befuddled Opuowei played with his scruffy beard, staring
through the windshield. I need to shave. Events of the past few days had really
taken a toll on him. He wondered the next possible place the officer would say
Chief Tuburu was. In a politician’s house...Aboard a flight leaving for
England...In a spiritualist’s shrine. Everything just seemed possible. Chief
Tuburu and his crew had proven themselves sharp and unpredictable.
‘Oga, where do we go from here?’
Opuowei didn’t turn. ‘Just wait.’ Ahead of them, he could see a young
man and a woman fighting. He hissed. The dilemma he was going through
was enough for him.
Hours ago, back in the nameless hotel when they went upstairs to
check the room where Chief Tuburu had been lodging according to the clients
register, they met a freshly tidied room. Practically, there was no sign that
anybody had slept there, overnight. Yet, the register claimed Chief Tuburu
came at 4.30pm the previous day and checked out at 8.15am, that morning.
‘Sir, our cleaners make the room look clean and fresh as soon as a
guest leaves,’ the manager had said when Opuowei expressed his doubt that
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Chief Tuburu slept there, the previous night.

After that, Opuowei and Charly searched other rooms, with the hotel
manager following. Next, they inspected the cars in the car park. No one to
apprehend. Tired and admitting that possibly, the Chief had checked out, they
left the hotel.
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Chapter 29
‘No need for concern,’ Filatei said, staring at the tissue in his hand,
wondering if the godfather didn’t have confidence in his abilities.
‘Filatei,’ the godfather said. ‘Are you sure about what you’re saying?’
‘Very sure sir.’
‘Okay. Extend her my regards and take care of her. Bye.’ There was a
faint beep as the call terminated.
Now, Filatei lit a cigarette, turning to face Anita. ‘The godfather sends
his regards.’
‘Nice of him.’ Anita stared at her lap, apparently thinking about the
utterances Filatei had been making, moments ago.
Puffing, Filatei gazed upwards, his thoughts awash with the threats
they faced now. Two threats to take Anita from them. The first from the other
ignorant group that wanted her. The second, and perhaps the most bloody and
potentially catastrophic one, from Chief Doukpolagha who wasn’t relenting in
the bid to get Anita from them. Filatei shook his head, pity flashing through
his mind. He would just kill the poor woman. He hissed.
Lowering his head to look at the tissue in his hands, a flash of
enlightenment hit him. ‘There might be more clues in the cowrie shell.’ He
turned to face Anita. ‘Or the shell could be significant in another way.’
Anita who was now looking at him nodded, saying, ‘Um.’
‘Actually, there is a connection between the cowries, our culture, and
the area we occupy.’
Anita moved nearer. ‘The area you occupy?’
‘Yes, Filatei said sharply. ‘But I think I’ll like to elaborate on its
relationship with our way of life. Really...’
‘Excuse me, why not tell me how it relates to your territory first?’
Anita interrupted.
Filatei considered her request, briefly. ‘It’s just history upon history
and I don’t want to bore you with that. Don’t forget, this is a quest for the
hidden gods and not a history seminar.’
Anita laughed. ‘History can never bore me. I just feel like I’m back to
those days in History class at Columbia.’
Filatei smiled, glad that he had an audience in her and pleased that he
could prove that freedom fighters had many things upstairs and were not
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militants as many people claimed.

‘Alright. But I would say that after these.’ He inhaled and continued.
‘Cowries are important for our women. They use them as ornaments for their
cloths, their bodies, and hair, just the way you people use hair clips.’
Anita giggled.
‘Then my uncle, Pa Akpodigha makes use of cowries during
divinations. Yoruba diviners in their case make use of palm nuts to create
binary data. Some people also use cowries for counting... a sort of
calculator...’
Anita cut in, ‘We can say like a traditional or old fashioned computer.
Right?’
That clicked something in Filatei’s head. ‘Yes. In fact, you Oyinbo
people stole that idea from the Ifa oracle of the Yorubas when you built the
computer called Oracle.’
Anita looked bewildered. ‘I don’t believe that.’
‘But it’s the truth. The generous god of divination of the Yorubas-
Orunmila- was the first computer.’
Anita smiled. ‘I came across that deity somewhere, but I find it hard to
believe what you just said.’
‘Okay.’ Filatei lifted his hands. The tissue fell to the ground. ‘No
problem.’
‘I’m sorry. You know it kinda sounds incredible to me. That’s all.’
Filatei nodded. Quiet, he felt there was no need to continue. The
hidden gods were far more important to him than arguments.
‘Won’t you tell me how the cowries relate with the Niger Delta?’ he
heard Anita ask and he eyed her. She looked away, as if ashamed.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘On one condition that you’ll just let me land. You’ve
your history. So also we have ours.’
‘Okay.’ The tone of the voice with which she replied convinced Filatei
she would cooperate.
‘According to what we heard, there was a man called Namurudu or
Lamurudu and he was the provincial ruler of the upper Egyptian territory of
Yeb or Yoba in about 640 AD...’ Filatei started, watching as Anita moved her
head like an attentive student. He continued, telling her how prior to 640 AD,
the ancient Egypt had decayed and had been colonised several times. Many of
the original Black founders of this great civilization had relocated into Nubia-
Lower Sudan- and inner Africa- West Africa, but a large remnant remained.
Due to the Arab invasion of Lower Egypt, those who remained took a decision
to relocate finally to the inner lands of Africa- West Africa. Their immigration
continued from 640 AD up to 1,000 AD.
Lamurudu and his people made their way from Upper Egypt, first to
the Lake Chad region and then to the Bussa and Nupe regions in the middle
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Niger. It was here that they made a temporary home. While Lamurudu died at
Bussa, Adumu, his eldest son led a group of immigrants to explore the
southern forestlands and eventually chose the Ife region as a place to establish
a permanent community. However, already established in the land, in scattered
communities were the Ugbo or Ooyelagbo who had arrived earlier from the
area, within the confluence of the Niger-Benue. Some of the Ugbo welcomed
the newly arrived settlers and supported the foundation of a city-state, while
others opposed it. Consequently, there was war between the two opposing
factions and the city-state of Otu-Ife, later called Ile-Ife emerged.
Anita jolted as if something stung her. ‘Ile-ife… the ancestral home of
the Yorubas,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ Filatei substantiated and continued, telling her about how
certain sections of the Ooyelagbo communities, led by the chief Obatala priest
Oreluere, opposed the establishment of this new city. They argued that since
they were the ones who arrived first, the king of the city must be from their
group. That led to a war told in the ancestral traditions as the war between
Oduduwa and Obatala. In reality, however, it was a conflict between two
theocratic systems of government. On one hand, they had the new form of
centralized government based on a theocratic monarchy focused on the
Supreme Mother Goddess- Woyingi in Kumoni language and Oduduwa in
Ugbo language. The Ooyelagbo form of traditional chief’s council opposed
this with the position of the head chief given to the godhead- Obatala.
Led by Oba-Meri and Oru people living in the Nupe region, the
sections of the Ooyelagbo communities that were dissatisfied helped the
leaders of the Kumoni people, headed by Prince Adumu to defeat the opposing
factions of Ooyelagbo in a war. Adumu then established his centralized city-
state government. In addition, Prince Adumu was also a priest of the Supreme
Mother Goddess Lodge, known in Kumoni language as Woyingi, and in
Ooyelagbo language as Oduduwa and at the same time, a high initiate of the
ancient Adum spiritual Initiation Lodge of ancient Egypt.
Before the final setting up of the new government, Prince Adumu
invited the leaders of the hostile Ooyelagbo communities and his own allies,
the Oru-Kumoni and Ooyelagbo supporters to a constitutional conference. At
that conference, they agreed to form a confederacy where all the communities
living in the area would swear allegiance to Prince Adumu, but have control
over their own internal affairs. In addition, they declared Prince Adumu the
Alaafin, which meant Lord of the Fortress and people addressed him as
Alaafin Adumu-Ala, modified to Olofin in present Yoruba language. They also
addressed him as Oduduwa, as it was the term in the Ooyelagbo language for
the Mother Goddess of which he was a priest, even though his actual name
and title was Adumu-ala.
‘I know Oduduwa too,’ Anita cut in and Filatei almost laughed,
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realising that the manner in which she pronounced Oduduwa was more
hilarious than his because of dissimilarity in accents.
He went on. Subsequently, even though King Adumu had established
his city-state through superior warfare tactics, he could not subdue all the
opposing sections of the Ooyelagbo communities who continued to trouble the
new city from the surrounding forests. At that early stage, even while
unification was yet complete, some sections of the Kumoni-Oru left Ife to
establish themselves elsewhere, after accomplishing their task of setting up the
City-state with King Adumu- Oduduwa- as the first dynastic king. The sons of
King Adumu headed these exoduses.
Prince Ujo, his first son, also known as Idekoseroake or Kalasuo led a
migration to the present Benin region and finally central Niger Delta. Prince
Nana led a migration to the present Ghana region. Prince Igodo led a second
group to the present Benin region, and established a centralized government to
become the first ruler or Ogiso. Prince Ogbogbodiri known as Ala-fun or
Lufon 1 settled at Old Oyo- Oyokoro- and went back to become the third King
at Ile-Ife.
Prince Ujo’s responsibility was to go to the Niger Delta, and establish
a strategic base from which to defend the coastal region. Clearly, his father
King Adumu regarded the entirety of the southern region as a virgin territory,
which he would bring under his- King Adumu’s direct control. Moreover,
King Adumu told Prince Ujo that the prince would find a crown of cowries, in
his place of final settlement. Prince Ujo set out, determined like a true fighter.
Before then, as a war commander along with the warlord- Ogun- in the
military alliance, Prince Ujo had taken parts in the battles fought to subdue the
hostile Ooyelagbo communities and establish the Yoruba Kingdom.
Luckily, between 650 AD and 700 AD, Prince Ujo led his migration
out of Ife to the Benin region, where he encamped and established a settlement
called Uzama, which was later to become the basis of Benin City. At this time,
other Oru people, as well as the Efa people were settling the Benin region.
Later, Prince Ujo proceeded to the central Niger Delta with his
followers and came across isolated ancient communities of Oru people in
remote settlements of the Central delta. Together with these people, they
formed viable communities in the Central delta originally based on the City-
state formation. The Kumoni-Oru settled in the Niger Delta with the most
ancient inhabitants known as the Oru or Tobu-Otu whom some legends
claimed descended from the sky, and whom historians said came from Sudan
between 500AD and 700AD. Together, they gave birth to the Ijos.
Filatei paused and sighed. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
‘Sure. But how did you know all these?’
Filatei had guessed she would ask the question. ‘I’m a true born Ijaw
man. I’m a freedom fighter. So why won’t I know the genesis of the people for
122
whom I fight. I asked questions. I listened to my parents, my uncle. I read

books. I did all.’
Anita had a seeming mien of acceptance. ‘Yeah, I’m listening.’
Filatei rode on. ‘The original settlements were in the western and
central delta, from where they spread out to populate the whole Niger Delta.
The Tobu Otu were spiritual initiates of the ancient African spiritual initiation
system of the Creator Tem- Temuno. They made heavy symbolic ritualistic
use of the water, and were referred to as the water people, Beni-Otu.’ Cupping
a hand, Filatei put it to his mouth and coughed.
‘Later on between 1200 and 1600 AD, the Ijos of the Niger Delta
received immigrants from their relatives, who were part of the original
ancestors. These visitors were the Orus that had remained at Benin while the
others continued to the lower Niger and the Central delta. The new arrivals
had fled due to various upheavals and power struggles in Benin City during
the time of the second dynasty. Collectively, they gave birth to the Ijo nation
with its City-states and collective clan communities. This is the birth of the Ijo
people, otherwise known by the ancient name of Oru.’ Filatei stopped. Filatei
was nodding.
Filatei realised that Anita was obviously carried away by the story that
she didn’t remember to ask a question. ‘Let me quickly add that Prince Ujo
did find a crown of cowries, but it belonged to priestesses of the water-
mermaids in the legend. He seized this and enforced his right to rule over the
Niger Delta region. The lost City of Ujo and other settlements within the
Igbedi Creek area and Central delta under one central unified authority- The
Pere, The Indo-Oru- would have existed from upwards four hundred years,
starting from about 670 AD to about 1070 AD. During this time, the ancestors
evolved the Ijo ethnic identity, so that by the time they started to disperse, the
ethnic identity had become fully established. Customs and culture evolved in
harmony with the delta water environment, so that we, their descendants
described ourselves as the Ijaws. Ijaw is the anglicized version of Ijo or Ejo,
which is a variation of Ujo, our ancestor that gave us, the Ijaw people our
name…’
Filatei went on to explain how some other legends claimed that Ijaws
originated wholly from the city of Ijon in ancient Palestine, and some others
that the Ijaws wholly constitute the remnants of the lost Israelite tribe of Dan.
However, there is not enough evidence traditionally, archaeologically,
anthropologically or otherwise, to suggest that. Filatei mentioned that there
might be a core of historical truth imbedded in this historical theory, based on
two premises. One, some of the ancestral Ijaws may have come from the
Canaanites, the original owners of the land of Palestine who were absorbed
and intermarried with the Hebrews, who then took over their cities and then
modified their religious culture. He paused.
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‘We can compare the Ijaw term for Great Chief or Lord Ala with the
Canaanite Al and the Israelite El meaning God or Lord. Elohim is the plural
form of El. Some of the ancestral Ijos, derived from the resident Hebrew
populations of Upper Egypt based at Yeb, fled the land into inner Africa
during the Arab invasion, and migrated with other Africans to the West Africa
region. In traditional history, we also have it that a people known as Eburu-
Otu or Eburu people came with other ancient ancestors and settled in the area
now known as Burutu, a name derived from the people. From there, some
moved on to the Kalabari-Ijo and Efik areas of today.’ Filatei smiled and
shrugged. ‘If that is true, then these Eburu or Hebrew people are part of the
ancient Ijo population that settled the Niger Delta. That’s all about the
history.’
Anita began to clap her hands. Within, Filatei was feeling proud.
He stared at the tissue again and a reality struck him. The slave trade.
‘Yes, cowries were also used as a form of money in the past. Even
white merchants bought slaves with cowries.’
Anita closed her eyes as if daydreaming. Then, she opened it. ‘You’re
absolutely correct. But…,’ pointing a finger to the tissue paper, ‘I don’t think
the matter of slave trade is for now. The first text talked about an entity and
we made connections. You said the second text had to do with oil merchants. I
think the merchants have a first wife, whom they sucked dry.’
Their first wife. Enlightened, images of Filatei’s native village, where
he had been born and where his parents lived, played in his mind. ‘The answer
had been so obvious. You can’t believe that it’s my hometown. Surely, their
first wife is Oloibiri.’
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Chapter 30
The loud buzzing engine boat heading for Oloibiri had Filatei,
Miedide, Anita and some other armed men who were discussing, aboard.
Everybody apart from Anita wore masks. With a small bag hanging from his
neck, a man was recording, balancing the camera on his shoulder. Swaying
and watching the borders of the black river as they advanced, Anita couldn’t
but feel a deep sense of empathy for those who lived in the region. All she saw
on both sides of the waterway were dead trees, coated in black, and a long
stretch of worn away soil. An aftermath of several oil spills, she thought.
‘Nothing grows around here no matter the amount of fertilizer
applied,’ Filatei said, diverting her attention. ‘But you haven’t seen anything
yet. If this could happen to our land, then imagine what’s happening to our
lives, our people.’ Filatei briefly raised his shoulders and dropped it.
Anita’s imaginations began subsequently. She formed images and
ideas in her mind. She however doubted if the mental pictures were accurate.
Ever since she arrived in the region, everything she saw and heard had been in
conflict with the expectations she bore in mind when she decided to come to
the country.
‘Wait and see,’ Filatei said, deflecting her thoughts, yet again. ‘Many
things are yet to come.’
What things? Anita hoped it wasn’t what she was thinking that Filatei
referred to as many things. ‘Like what?’
Filatei smiled. ‘This chick. You’re scared again. You’ve to try to be
strong because everything you see around you is strong…the souls, the
weapons, the waters of the river, the alcohol, the cigarette, even the
speedboat.’
Nervous, Anita knew he had seen right through her thoughts. ‘I’m
trying.’
‘Don’t worry. I was birthed in Oloibiri and I promise you that no
one…’ He paused, ‘I repeat, no one will harm you. No bullet or machete will
get into your skin as far as the bullet is not from our guns and the machete
isn’t ours.’ He paused, briefly. ‘I don’t even pray that any of us will have
cause to shoot you.’ Looking at the tissue paper in his hand, Filatei faced
Anita. ‘I think it’s better for us to solve as much as we can of this puzzle
before we get to Oloibiri.’ He gave her the tissue.
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‘Okay.’ It seemed to Anita that the other men weren’t interested in the
academic aspect of the quest. Or maybe they felt she and Filatei were up to the
task. She studied the penciled text. …however God created man in twos…
everything under the sun too. She tried making inferences. Twins. Not
everybody was born as a twin and not all twins are identical. Furthermore, a
set of twins could consist of a boy, with dick, and a girl, with boobs.
Then triplets. Quadruplets. Deliberating on these, Anita concluded her
inferences were more like denotations.
Baffled, she faced Filatei. ‘What does this stuff about God making men
in twos and everything under the sun about?’
‘About that,’ Filatei exclaimed. ‘I think it’s a common saying amongst
our people. They often say that God created double of everything. For
instance, in future, you could meet another person who looks exactly like me
but the person might not be me, in the true sense.’
Anita nodded. ‘Alright.’
Concentrating on the tissue again, Anita read a line that made her
realise she had been slipshod. The middle passage. She realised that earlier
that day, back in the camp day, the desire to hear the story of the genesis of the
Ijaw had made her fail to see details. Even when Filatei had mentioned the
relation of cowrie shells to slave trade, that same desire had carried her away
and she hadn’t realised what she should have.
Now, she felt as if a ray of light was entering their world of darkness
and ignorance. Even so, she realised she still had to know more things like
what the hidden gods were.
Many kilometers away, Opuowei was with Charly in Elewe, a local

hangout that regularly hosted men of questionable characters. Kidnappers,
armed robbers, assassins, gamblers, and dealers in hard drugs often met there,
making new alliances and striking deals. This afternoon, however, Opuowei
and Charly were not there for any pact. But for a different and hazardous
reason. A motive the owners and customers of the joint would kill for, if they
discovered.
Before the two soldiers, on short long benches were bottles of
Guinness Stout, tall glasses, a pack of cigarettes, and plates of hot fish pepper
soup. Gathered under the large structure made of thatch were several men,
who were drinking and smoking and young women whom they were fondling.
Reggae music that boomed from four large speakers drowned the sound of a
large generator that was roaring outside. In addition, the smell of weed hung
heavily in the air.
Now, a brief gentle gust of cool air touched Opuowei’s face and he
126
turned to the right, looking down at the flowing river, by the side of the joint.
He faced Charly again and wished the music wasn’t so loud. Sweat rolling
down from Charly’s face soaked the Staff Sergeant’s shirt as he devoured the
hot soup. We deserve to eat at least, Opuowei thought. He felt grateful to
Chief for giving them enough money for welfare and other miscellaneous
things as they tried to help get Anita.
That moment, a young woman in a short skirt that revealed her lap
came to them. ‘Abi you don’t need hand fan?’ She handed two matted hand
fans to Opuowei who gave Charly one.
‘Thanks,’ the men said simultaneously and Opuowei watched as she
handed out cup covers to some men whom houseflies were disturbing as they
drank palm wine.
Minutes later, as Opuowei fanned himself, another young woman, fair
skinned and dressed in a blue jeans bum shorts, came over to display her
wares. Opuowei watched as she paced back and forth, shaking her large
buttocks, and showing her big breasts which the backless top she wore didn’t
cover.
Prostitute. Opuowei felt it was safer not to show his detest for this and
smiled, turning to look at Charly who was obviously enjoying what he was
seeing, as he didn’t take his eyes off the woman. When Charly finally
removed his eyes from her, she walked away to some other men who began
caressing her all over.
Charly leaned. ‘Oga, this life don spoil.’
Smiling, Opuowei removed a stick of cigarette from the pack on the
table and lit it. As he took the first draw, his phone rang. The Police Chief.
Opuowei gestured to his pocket, trying to communicate to Charly that it
seemed they would soon leave the hangout.
He brought the phone out. It was Chief. Somehow disappointed,
Opuowei walked out of the room, outside to a place where the noise was low.
He picked. ‘Hello sir.’
‘Hello.’ The voice was deep. ‘How far?’
Opuowei would have said not too far had it been it were his colleague
that asked the question. ‘We’re still trying to get her. But sir, did those
militants call you again?’
‘No.’
A bit worried, Opuowei said, ‘Everything is fine sir. Very soon. We’ll
get her.’
‘Okay now. Greet Charly for me. Bye.’
Walking back to meet Charly inside, Opuowei felt a surge of fear. That
the militants hadn’t called Chief again made him feel that trouble was
looming. Militants called regularly to make associates or families of hostages
certain that their loved ones were alive and in good health. What could have
127
happened to Anita?
As he settled back to his seat, Opuowei put some of the pepper soup in
his mouth and hoped the volume of the music would go down. People shared
many secrets in this joint. He and Charly had to eavesdrop.
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Chapter 31
Now ashore, Anita and some of the men trod on dead plants and
debris. Watching as two men dragged the speedboat to the bank of the river,
the notion that she was in the first locality where the white men discovered oil
in commercial quantities in Nigeria hit Anita. She looked round the whole
place. No other person was in view.
‘Guy,’ Filatei said, pointing to one slim, tall young man, ‘you’ll remain
here with the speedboat. You know everybody will be surprised to see you
with us like this. For me, I’ve no problem. They already know. But your case
is different. You agree?’
‘Yes,’ the tall man replied, nodding.
‘And maybe one other guy will remain with you. We’ll soon be back.
Watch carefully. In case of any problems, call me. Okay?’
‘Yes sir.’
With that, the group proceeded into the village, leaving behind the tall
man and another man behind. Going past a large expanse of destroyed land
and numerous plants, Anita wondered why Filatei’s case was different from
that of the other man whom he had just instructed to stay behind at the
riverbank. Nevertheless, she felt it might be impolite to begin asking questions
that had to do with safety or identity of the men. Bringing to mind that they
had done enough to make her feel at home, she tried to overlook her
wonderment. I’m not Oliver Twist.
She brought out the tissue from her pocket again, studying it, trying to
solve more lines. After a while of walking, Filatei turned to her.
‘Have you solved any other thing there?’ he asked.
‘Not something I shouldn’t have solved before. About the middle
passage. It has to do with the Atlantic slave trade.’
‘Um,’ Filatei exclaimed. ‘Many more things about the slave trade are
coming up. We’re on the right track.’
That instant, they veered off the path on which they had been treading
and Anita stared at several mud huts with thatched roofs that needed much
repairs. Only few huts had corrugated roofing sheets, red in colour… in her
understanding.
As they neared the houses, Anita perceived a pungent odour she
couldn’t make out. ‘What’s giving off that smell?’
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She got no response.

Filatei and the other men continued marching, their guns in their
hands, as if they didn’t care that they would interest people who would see
them. Guessing that they didn’t hear her question, Anita asked again, this time
raising her voice.’ What smells like that?’
Filatei turned, giggling. The other men giggled too.
‘Can you imagine that this is the village that fetched and is still
fetching millions of dollars every day for the country?’ He paused.
Anita guessed that was a rhetorical question.
Filatei spoke again, ‘The only thing I think you might perceive is the
odour from goat dung.’
Anita scanned the ground, from her side to far away. ‘But I don’t see
any goats or dung.’
Filatei laughed. ‘Yeah, you can’t see any because they all died after
drinking contaminated water. The smells of their dung are the only things that
remind their owners that they once lived.’
Anita heaved a bleak sigh. Hardship. She said nothing else.
Filatei broke the silence. ‘However, if anybody has goats in this
village, I’m sure the goats are very few and the person must be doing a lot of
work to keep them alive.’ Apparently agreeing, the other men nodded.
Anita nodded also. She could feel the afternoon sun, burning deep into
her skin.
Getting to the first few houses now, Anita noticed spaces like holes in
some of the roofs. In her confusion, she was still fixing her eyes on one of the
roofs, trying to convince herself that she was actually seeing holes when
Filatei said, ‘Those roofs are rusted. They were once silver in colour. That’s
what poverty causes. When rain falls, it beats them. When sun comes, it enters
through those holes. Tell me…’ shrugging, ‘why shouldn’t we fight for the
emancipation of our people?’
Anita shook her head, out of pity. Ahead, she could see thin figures of
little children; some clothed in pants, some stark naked. Moving nearer, she
realised the obviously underfed children were playing in sand, their disheveled
hair filled with dust and dirt. The children began to point at Anita and the
others, shouting, ‘Oyinbo pepper.’ As they pointed, the outline of their ribs
became more visible. The camera operator stopped to focus on the children.
Dazed. Anita, from all the discussions she had had with Filatei and
Ebiere in the past, knew what Oyinbo meant. White person. Now, however,
she wondered what that had to do with pepper. Surprised, she turned to look at
Filatei who laughed.
‘It’s normal for them to call you that. It’s a slang whose meaning I
can’t really explain.’
She turned away and in awe, watched the children whose heads were
130
covered with dandruffs and ringworms, as they displayed their stained and
irregular dentition, smiling and waving as if they were next to heaven. The
adults however only rested their chin on their hands, as if deep in thoughts, as
if they were not seeing something unusual. Life could be so bad, Anita said to
herself. She suspected that the grownups must have seen many Whites in their
lives. Foreign oil experts.
Moments later, they passed through a dumpsite that gave off an odour
of animal or human decay. Covering her nose, Anita was stunned to see some
children in front, stooping on a large heap of waste covered in hordes of
maggots, with big flies buzzing all around them. Instantly, she tasted bile in
her mouth.
‘Goddamnit!’ Wanting to be sure that the camera operator was
videoing the children, she turned to glimpse at him.
‘God damn what?’ Filatei blurted. ‘That’s our life. We here all grew up
like that…’
Shit. Anita tried to visualize Filatei as a young boy, crouching on
dump. The mental image just wouldn’t form. The Filatei she knew was not a
village boy, but a man whose intelligence and appearance rivaled that of
several young men on the streets of New York.
Filatei was still talking. ‘…that’s why we’re struggling so that we and
our children wouldn’t live the kind of lives our forefathers lived…’
‘The lives they lived then are even better than what many people in
this community have now,’ one of the men cut in.
Considering that deeply, Anita found herself agreeing. Things should
be getting better every day, yet it seemed civilization was centuries away from
this community in which she was.
‘And the irony of it all is that all these children you see trying to shit
hardly get food to eat, Filatei said. ‘Many of those ones waving at you are
playing on empty bellies, will even sleep on empty bellies, and wake up on
empty bellies. Still, they have to answer the call of nature. Let’s just hope that
they wouldn’t force out their intestines before ematism comes about.’
Ematism. Anita gave Filatei a questioning look. She wanted to ask for
the meaning and express her concern but she didn’t want to open her mouth
now that flies buzzed everywhere. They mustn’t just get into my mouth.
‘Oh!’ Filatei exclaimed. ‘I see the confusion. Ematism is a government
of a people who fought for emancipation and secured it or simply it is a
government of the ematted.’
Anita nodded. Ematers using their own terminologies to define their
lives.
Away from the dump now, Anita’s legs felt weak and hot. She wished
she had worn short skirts but about an hour and a half ago when they had been
preparing to leave the camp, Ebiere had said, ‘I think it’ll be better to wear
131
trousers because of the nature of your trip. You might have to climb or jump
something.’
To their right, Anita noticed a little baby crawling on the floor, crying.
On a low stool by the side of the child sat a young woman who was examining
the nipples of her bare breasts. Anita guessed the woman was the mother.
As always when she was perplexed, Anita turned to Filatei. ‘Sorry,
what’s going on?’
‘The baby must have bitten hard on the mother’s nipple and the mother
must have put him away.’
Anita had never mothered a child, but she knew women sometimes
experienced this. She shrugged. ‘Then what? It’s normal for children to do that
occasionally.’
‘For us, that doesn’t happen occasionally. It happens frequently.
Almost every day.’
Amazed, Anita closed her eyes and opened them again. Everything just
seemed different, somewhat strange here. ‘Why every day?’
‘Because our nursing mothers have no food to eat which means there is
no milk for their children to suck. And the frustrated innocent children do
what their immature minds say next. Bite hard. Because of this, the mother
might develop abscesses and more complications since there’s no money to
take treatment. The free health programme is a failed venture. That’s it.’
Filatei waved his hand briskly, as if angry.
As they moved on, Anita felt nothing but sorrow and pity. She
wondered if, and when things would become better for these people. The
scenes were too appalling. Enough for her to begin crying; but she wouldn’t
attempt it. Her face becoming red in the hot and sunny afternoon meant
everybody would know something was wrong.
‘Now, I hope you understand better,’ Filatei said, interrupting her
thoughts. ‘You can see that our land has been raped, defied, and ruined.
Animosity grows in the hearts of these children day by day. I wonder how
they won’t want to carry guns when they grow up.’ Filatei kept his eyes on
her, even as he continued going.
‘But the government,’ Anita stammered. ‘Aren’t they doing anything
at all?’
Filatei looked at the faces of the other masked men with him as if he
wanted them to answer the question. He turned back to Anita. ‘Well, I must
tell you, every day our government and many international organisations say
they want to give us human rights…But I don’t think that’s possible…’
Why? Anita seemed not to get Filatei right.
He was still speaking, ‘…according to the late Afro beat music
maestro, Fela Anikulapo Kuti, human rights is everybody’s property. So how
would they say they want to give us our property?’
132
Sighing, Anita nodded. The words were deep, with impact.

Filatei spoke again, ‘Everyday on TV and newspapers, the government
claims it’s doing everything possible to allay our sufferings by sending funds
and setting up Commissions to look into our plight.’ Twisting his lips, he
paused briefly. ‘But we never know where the money the government gives
lands finally. We don’t have any idea. All we just know is that it disappears in
transit.’
‘So whom do you blame?’
‘Of course, I don’t blame anybody just as I don’t expect anyone to
blame us or call us militants,’ Filatei responded, emphasizing on militants.
‘Everybody is just trying to survive. According to my mother, I think we’ve to
look up to God. He’s the only one who can solve our problems. Some of our
leaders are determined but along the way, they face many problems
themselves. Still, it is only human beings that God can use to make corrections
in the system…’ Filatei’s voice trailed away.
Anita nodded. Absolutely, she agreed with him. ‘Okay.’
Filatei tapped her. ‘I’ve to show you some things before we get to
work.’
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Chapter 32
The house was relatively large, compared to the number of people

Filatei had told Anita lived there. Paale and Maale. But like most other houses
Anita saw on their way, it was made of mud, and had thatched roof, which
were still pristine.
As they neared it, Anita noticed more differences. The odour of goat
dung was absent. The dirt and debris littering the paths they had passed
through were gone. The sounds of little children that played in front of many
of the dilapidated houses had vanished. The tang of bile had evaporated. And
that severe feeling of grief had diminished.
Now, at the entrance which a door blocked halfway upwards, Anita
stared at a long dark corridor and wondered if the corridor always had that
gloom. The men around her were chattering in hushed voices. Filatei, putting
his hand over the door, unlatched it from inside. As the door swung on its
creaky hinges inwards, a short slim woman, with some grey on her hair
appeared. She wore a long akwete gown.
‘Eh. Maale, good afternoon,’ Filatei greeted, prostrating on the ground.
The other men followed suit, all uttering greetings.
‘Kaeteh…’
The guns gave off clanking sounds, as they touched the ground and
made contact with one another.
‘Tebra, my sons. God bless you,’ Maale responded, stressing the last
three words.
‘Eyofar…ebikah,’ the men replied as they stood on their feet and
clapped their hands to remove sand.
Impressed at the show of respect, Anita watched the men. Maale’s eyes
now focused on her.
Turning to Filatei, Maale asked, ‘Tekepamah?’ She gestured to Anita.
Filatei laughed.
Maale asked again, this time in a raised voice. ‘Teke imo duwoh
derimini?’
‘Maale, nothing sha,’ Filatei replied. ‘Shebi you understand already?’
Maale nodded. ‘Sesei o. I’ve told you several times to stop kidnapping
people for money. Everything would be fine. Kalajuh Kekoh. Guns won’t
solve this problem. Only God, Tamara can solve this problem. I’ve told Bro
134
Akpodigha to stop encouraging you people but he’s stubborn… ’

As Maale continued with her rebuke, the men smiled quietly. Later,
apparently amused by the comic looks on the men’s faces, Maale burst into a
laughter that magically infected the others. Everyone began laughing including
Anita. As Anita laughed, she had a sudden consciousness that she had fallen in
love with Filatei’s mother.
After the laughter subsided, Maale spoke. ‘Enih, owohma, God is
watching everybody. Please stop this thing. Saramoh. Abeg. Ehn?’ Her face
now had an imploring look.
The men replied, bowing their heads.
‘Okay ma.’
‘Werebrah ma.’
Maale responded, ‘Emiyenkah.’
Then, she faced Anita. ‘Oyinbo, how’re you?’ She waved her hand.
Anita replied. ‘Just fine.’ Truly, she had a feeling of peace in her.
Smiling, Filatei asked, ‘Abeg where’s Paale?’
Giving Filatei a look embedded with meanings, Maale responded
sarcastically, ‘He went to see a friend.’
‘Okay.’ Filatei turned to Anita. ‘Let me take you inside. But the
camera won’t go with us because everything I want to show you is for your
personal consumption and not for the whole world to see. My home is still a
palace compared to that of some others. The world should see those types. In
any case, we would soon vacate this house.’
Now, as Filatei led Anita by the hand, on the dark corridor, Anita
prayed she wouldn’t fall. Deciding not to complain, she remained mute.
‘Slow, slow. I know my way round the house so well. There would
soon be light,’ Filatei said, making Anita wonder what kind of light.
They stopped and Filatei disengaged their hands. The sound of
someone releasing the bolt of a door followed.
‘Move back a bit,’ Filatei instructed.
Next, light from outside flooded the corridor as a door swung open.
Breeze followed. Just at the back of the house, Anita saw a river with black
flowing water. In contrast, she visualized waterside houses with lakes of white
clean water flowing around them.
In a distance, she saw orange fire, flaring. Surprised at the force and
magnitude of the fire, she turned to look at Filatei.
‘Sister,’ Filatei said, narrowing his eyes and head. ‘That’s what we go
through. Many people can’t even afford a liter of kerosene to cook their meal
and volumes upon volumes of gas are wasted every minute. Still, those people
suffer the consequences of this flaring because it kills them slowly when they
inhale. And it kills plants and animals too.’
Anita sighed. Strange as usual. ‘Many things are wrong with this
135
system, really.’
‘Alright. Don't bother yourself too much. Let me take you to our living
room, though it isn’t beautiful.’
The not very bright room was big and had brown chairs with a wooden
round table in the centre. To Anita’s surprise, she perceived no smell. The
voices of the men, talking with Maale outside were audible.
‘I’m coming,’ Filatei said and disappeared through a door leading to
another room. Anita looked round her. On the wall were calendars and
almanacs of churches. The Apostolic Church, Oloibiri. Christ Apostolic
Church, Otuasiga. The Mountain of Mercy, Usere…
Plenty churches. Anita cracked her fingers. It seemed Maale loved the
things of God in an unusual way. Anita turned and went in the direction of the
door.
Standing behind the opened door was a demarcated shelf, with framed
black and white photographs of a couple, a dictionary whose pages were dog-
eared, some fascinating carvings, finger batteries, three hand bells and a Bible.
Picking a frame, Anita smiled as she studied the pictures. Possibly, Filatei’s
parents. Next, she examined the batteries, the creations, and the hand bells. As
she was opening the pages of the Bible, she heard Filatei’s steps. Turning, she
saw him, holding about three sheets of paper.
He handed them to her and she studied them. Credentials. These
included his certificate from University of Portharcourt.
Surprised, Anita lifted her head. ‘So you’re a summa cum laude
graduate?’
‘Yes, First Class.’ Filatei smiled, shrugging, in a way that convinced
Anita he was trying to justify his armed struggle.
Quickly, Anita went through the other papers. His West African
Secondary School Certificate. His Youth Corps Certificate. His Birth
Certificate.
She faced him. ‘You’ll be thirty this year?’
‘Yeah, but jobless even after I paid my dues…’ Anita thought she
noticed his voice laden with emotions. He was still talking. ‘…I went to
school, studied hard while my mates were playing, served the nation and still,
they refused to give me a job. So why shouldn’t I carry guns. Tell me.’
Anita wished Filatei wouldn’t ask the question. She had seen enough
to understand their plight. To her, however, it didn't seem armed struggle was
the best solution. Even so, as she returned the papers to Filatei, she couldn't
presume the right solution.
She heard footsteps and Maale entered the room. ‘Filatei where’s your
younger brother?’ Maale asked, a look of hope on her face.
‘I’ve so many,’ Filatei responded. ‘Which one of them?’
136
‘Pastor Caleb’s son?’

‘Oh!’ Filatei exclaimed as if he remembered something he shouldn’t
have forgotten. ‘He told me he was going to Lagos.’
‘Ehn. That was the same thing he told his father but he hardly calls his
father.’
‘Maale, don’t worry. He would be fine. I’ll call him and correct him
about this. Enateh?’
Maale shrugged. ‘Okay now.’ She exited.
As soon as Maale left the room, Anita, from the window, heard the
men clapping and hailing. ‘Paale…Papa…’ Suspecting that Filatei’s father
had arrived, she pointed to the window, and Filatei gestured for them to go
outside. On the corridor, he handed Maale the envelope containing his
documents. ‘Help me keep it back. I might still need it someday.’
To Anita, the statement had an implication. She recalled Filatei had
told her he would someday relocate to the States, with Ebiere and his parents-
Paale and Maale. He was their only child.
In Paale’s hands was a newspaper. Heavily built unlike Maale, Paale

was tall. Looking closer, Anita realised that Filatei was more like an imitation
of the elderly man. As Filatei made to collect the newspaper, Paale hurriedly
flipped the pages of the tabloid.
Staring at the page Paale opened to now, Filatei frowned.
The other men moved nearer and Anita did the same. Shocked and afraid of
what might happen to Mr. Lumantas, she read the caption repeatedly.
FILIPINO OIL WORKER KIDNAPPED. MILITANTS ASK FOR

$700000 RANSOM.
As the other men giggled and muttered curses, Anita did a quick read
with Filatei. The Joint Task Force was out to get Mr. Lumantas and bring the
abductors to book. Would that ever happen? Anita sighed. Filatei closed the
newspaper and handed it to Miedide.
‘Filatei, nothing dey happen.’ Paale said, patting Filatei on the
shoulder. ‘God dey. Egbesu dey too. So don’t be afraid.’
Paale turned to Anita. ‘Oyinbo, don’t be afraid o. Just cooperate and
everything will be fine. You’re the first white person to enter this house in a
long time and it’s because you’re different from many. I remember several
years ago… 1953, when the white men newly arrived in our village, saying
they were looking for a black substance called oil. Faithfully, every day after
school… sometimes I didn't even go to school because of them, I followed
them everywhere until they discovered the oil, down the road there, three
years later.’ He pointed in a direction. ‘That day, they made us dance like
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trained monkeys all over here.’ He waved his hand to indicate, ‘We drank and
smoked together, just the way we did when they were still searching for the
oil. After that, they never came to this house again. The royalties didn't flow
into our hands. Now, the oil boom has become the oil doom.’ Paale turned to
look at the men. They were nodding.
Anita who had been enjoying the flow of Paale’s exposition nodded
too. The elderly man’s English had been clearer unlike Maale who had spoken
mostly with slangs and dialect. Anita smiled. Here was someone who knew
the beginning of everything. The best of times and the worst of times. The
times corn, cassava, oil palm and everything grew, and the time when all
refused to sprout.
‘Paale, thank you,’ Filatei said. ‘I’ll take the paper along. We’ve to
leave now. We still have a lot of work to do.’ He paused briefly, then asked,
‘Hope you’ve shared the money we sent the last time?’
Paale smiled. ‘Trust me.’
Filatei turned to Anita. ‘For some time now, we’ve been feeding some
people in this village and the neighbouring ones. Though, we do it in such a
way that they won't know the direct source of the funds.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ Anita said, realising she was falling more in love
with this fighters. They’re truly their brothers’ keepers.
Filatei turned in the direction of the entrance. ‘Maale,’ he called.
When his mother appeared, he said, ‘We dey go now sha.’
‘Okay,’ Maale responded. ‘May the spirit of the Lord go with you
people. No evil shall befall you…’
Anita listened as all the men chorused Amen continuously. After the
prayers, Maale said, ‘Make sure you greet Bro for me o and don’t forget what
I told you people and...’
‘Woman, that’s enough, jo,’ Paale interrupted her.
Filatei turned to look at his mother. ‘I’m trying to give you what
belongs to your great grandfather.’
‘What?’ Maale was apparently puzzled, as she blinked her eyes.
‘The hidden gods.’ Filatei gave a funny expression.
‘You must be dreaming.’
‘We shall see.’
After that, they said their goodbyes and departed, and Anita began
wishing she could spend some more time listening to Paale. At the same time,
she wondered the connection Maale’s great-grandfather had with the hidden
gods.
As Anita stared at the ruins of the building Filatei had told her was
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once Maale’s church, the reporter told herself that it was impossible for her to
see all of the sufferings of the people of the Niger Delta. Everywhere she
turned, she saw things that struck her emotions.
‘Government forces destroyed the church in a raid. Now, they’re using
another small shed somewhere else. And Maale is saying that we should look
up to God. She keeps praying for them every day; praying that God should
protect them, give them the energy, and will to rule us. Funny,’ Filatei had
said when they first got to the rubble.
Now, Filatei nudged Anita forward, saying, ‘We’ve to go to the first
oil well.’
Curious, she asked, ‘Why?’
‘All the while I had been thinking of where we would go to. But
something occurred to me when Paale was talking about the discovery of oil.
Truly, the first wife of the white people was Oil Well One.’
Impressed, Anita walked on, happy that she would soon see the first oil
well in Nigeria. At that moment, Filatei’s phone rang. He brought it out.
‘Hello, any problem?’
Anita didn't hear the voice of the caller.
‘We’re coming soon,’ Filatei said and put the phone back in his pocket.
‘Hope no problem?’ Miedide, who was in front with the other men
turned, inquiring.
‘No, na Pastor’s son,’ Filatei replied. Miedide faced front. ‘That
Pastor’s son I told to wait is actually like a brother to me. His father and Maale
mustn’t know he’s with us. Paale is also hiding this as a secret from Maale,’
Filatei suddenly said as if in answer to Anita’s puzzlement.
The son of a preacher. Anita concluded Filatei’s men were probably
from diverse backgrounds.
Minutes later, they arrived at their intended destination. With no single
industrial structure around to confirm some previous form of industrial
activity and cobwebs hanging all around abandoned tangle of pipes, the oil
well looked abandoned.
Written on two decrepit signboards that marked the well, furred with
rust, were:
OLOIBIRI WELL
NO 1
DRILLED JUNE 1956
12008 FEET
All around the well were tall green grasses and Anita thought the fact
that the grasses survived was a symbolic reminder that truly, the well was the
first wife of the oil explorers.
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‘This well started production with about five thousand, one hundred
barrels a day in 1958. Over the years, the money was too sweet and irresistible
for them and they drilled more wells and increased production to more than
two million barrels a day, a figure we the ematers have halved,’ Filatei said,
pointing to his chest with his thumb and nodding proudly. The other men were
nodding too, with a mien that gave off some pride.
Anita took in the words. From about five thousand to over two million
barrels, now halved. She guessed the country now produced just above a
million barrels.
‘You can see that the goose that lays the golden egg has now been
dumped, after they sucked it dry. I even heard they have plans to come back
after a while and extract oil that must have accumulated.’ Filatei paused and
hissed. ‘If I catch their mama, I’ll let them know that sleep is different from
death.’
The men erupted in laughter.
‘I think that is what the woman meant by they left you to die, yet you
found water and dashed for a drink,’ Filatei said. ‘I think we’ve to check
around here. The old woman must be trying to pass across a message. Is there
any other place to hide something except a place that has been forgotten?’
The men began to search.
Afraid of snakes and scorpions, Anita watched the ematers as they put
their hands into the grasses, examining the bends in the rusted pipes and
checking behind the signboards. Suddenly, Filatei who had moved a little
farther from her exclaimed. ‘Yes!’
Interested, Anita asked, ‘What?’
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Chapter 33
In astonishment, Filatei and Anita stared at an address, written on a

small parchment of paper, earlier wrapped inside a thick nylon, and hidden
inside a pipe.
T6, The True Story Church

27, Shimmy Street
Atali, PortHarcourt
Anita looked up to face Filatei. ‘Something hidden in a church, or

what?’
Filatei knew that definitely it couldn’t be the hidden gods. ‘Maybe.’
Anita seemed not satisfied. ‘Then what could most likely be lying
there?’
Journalists. Always curious. Filatei wished he could guess something
meaningful, at least, to calm Anita’s nerves. But as he considered the likely
thing or things that could be in The True Story Church, he knew he could
make no speculations. ‘I’m afraid that at this stage, we’ve no way of knowing
what is there. We’ll only know that when we go there…’ After making that
statement, a realization came upon him. Going to Atali with Anita would be a
difficult feat. He turned to Miedide, to see Miedide’s reaction to his last words.
Perhaps, Miedide had also grasped the implication of such an action. Miedide,
however, was deep in a discussion with the other men.
‘Anita, ‘Filatei said. ‘I don’t think it would be safe for us to go to Atali
with you. That place is too open and any confrontation with the Police or
anyone else might be dangerous for you.’
Turning, Filatei called, ‘Miedide.’ Immediately, Miedide moved
nearer.
Filatei spoke, ‘You see we won't go to that address as a group. You’ve
to go alone. Okay?’
‘Yes sir.’
Correct guy. Filatei smiled, proud and glad that Miedide was ever
ready for any job. Quickly, Filatei collected the newspaper which was with
Miedide, tore off a small piece from a blank edge, and copied down the
address.
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‘Take and bring the kala.’ Giving Filatei the gun, Miedide set out for
Atali alone, the paper in his pocket.
As they sauntered away quietly now, Filatei imagined Miedide in a
house of God. Miedide had told him that as a kid, his deceased parents never
took him and his equally late siblings to church. Filatei’s case had been
different, however. Maale had almost turned their own hut to a chapel. Filatei
smiled now as images of Maale praying loudly, as if she wanted God to come
down, appeared in his mind. Maale prayed almost every time…while bathing,
while cooking, while sweeping, while washing clothes. To Filatei’s delight,
many nights, he awoke to see her by his side, praying for him. After that, she
would go to her mat which he had now replaced with a bed and prayed until
she drifted away in sleep.
Filatei loved many more things about his mother, whom he often called
a virtuous woman. Humble and simple, nothing seemed to freak Maale. She
often said that her main goal in life was to make heaven. So, often times, she
prayed for her enemies, apologised to people who hurt her, lent money to
people whom she knew would never pay back, helped the poor and the needy,
and never had time for gossips.
Maale’s belief in God and aversion for evil was so serious that often,
her actions amused Filatei and Paale. Whenever she saw little creatures-
crickets, cockroaches, wall geckoes, rats and red ants, she made sure she killed
them.
‘They’re the agents of darkness,’ she would say when Filatei and Paale
laughed about this. And when Filatei worried about the future, she would say,
‘Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all other things
shall be added unto you.’
Now, the ringing of Filatei’s phone broke his line of thought and he
made to get it from his pocket.
Damiete. ‘Hello.’
‘Chair, we’ve dropped the woman and we saw a newspaper about that
client.’
‘You dropped her at that safe spot, abi?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. And about that client, don’t worry. Everything is in control.
Paale showed us the story. I’ll call the woman’s husband to pick her up
immediately. I’m expecting you back in the camp. We’re on our way now.’
‘Later. Bye.’
Few minutes later, at an isolated area, as Filatei was ending the call he
made to the English woman’s husband, a man in dreadlocks appeared from a
corner. Then another man and two others followed. Standing in the way of
Filatei’s group, they brandished their rifles. The looks on their faces were
unfriendly and desperate.
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Chapter 34
On the dusty road leading to the okada garage, Miedide, now

unmasked, walked at a fast pace. Anxious to get the job Filatei had given him
done, he couldn’t wait to get on a motorbike that would take him out of the
village to the motor park, from where he would board a bus going to Atali.
Concerned about his appearance, he wished he could see a reflection of
himself in a mirror. A black T-shirt and black jeans trousers. Miedide felt like
the black was a sign of a sinner. I’m going to a church. Glimpsing at the
address on the paper, he hoped his dressing was acceptable, at least to enter a
house of God. He knew most likely that he had to get something from the
church. And he presumed that if that would happen, he didn’t have to give the
people in the church reasons to suspect him.
Now, he began to think of what he would say. I need counseling…I
need deliverance prayer…I’m a missionary who needs a place to stay. He
seemed not to get the exact thing. Remembering how Filatei had tutored him
on what he should have said at the old woman’s place the day before, Miedide
wished the mission to Atali were properly planned. By the master schemer-
Filatei.
He however knew it wouldn’t be long before he got on a bus, before
the right thing to say would come, and before he got the mission done. At the
same time, the thought that he would be in a church for the first time in his life
crossed his mind. He felt a pang of guilt at the subsequent thought that he was
going there not to pray, or worship God, but to impersonate and get something
for their cause. Moreover, he realised that in recent times, he had been
impersonating. He shrugged. It wasn’t his fault.
Anita shook in trepidation as she stared at the weapons the men

pointed at them. Filatei and the other men, apparently surprised by the
incursion, stood in silence, also gazing at the unexpected guests. Shit. Anita
wondered what would happen next. Are they taking me away?
‘What’ve you discovered?’ the man with dreads asked, a frown on his
face.
Nobody spoke.
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The man recording lowered the camera.

Guessing that the unmasked assailants were becoming provoked as
they growled, Anita anticipated what they would do. She knew her team had
discovered many things- important papers- which were in Filatei’s pocket.
The dreads man whom Anita suspected was the leader of the group
asked again, shouting, ‘What have you discovered? Or you didn't hear me?’
Anita heard Filatei sigh.
Filatei asked, ‘Did you send us to look for something. Or what do you
think we discovered?’
Their attackers smirked, looking at one another in the faces briefly,
before returning their gazes. Knowing the sardonic question Filatei had thrown
to them was inciting them, Anita feared for her team. Yet, she hoped a miracle
would happen. She couldn't imagine the attackers going away with her and the
papers, or either. Despite that, she wondered the nature in which the miracle
would come. Filatei and his men had their guns slung over their shoulders. On
the contrary, the dangerously looking attackers seemed ready to pull the
trigger at the slightest opportunity.
‘I see that you’re stubborn,’ the man in dreadlocks said, his voice
denoting rage. ‘Now, I think you want us to use force which we didn't want to
use before.’
Filatei giggled, turning to his own men before he faced front again. ‘I
thought we were brothers, together in the same struggle. Why do you want to
kill your fellow brother...?’
‘Shut up man,’ the leader of the group shouted Filatei down and
sniggered, glancing at the faces of his comrades, whose eyes remained on
Anita’s group with their guns still trained. ‘All our mothers know how many
children they had. So, you don’t need to claim that we’re brothers or sisters.’
‘I still insist we’re all siblings of different mothers.’ Filatei pointed to
Anita. ‘She’s my sister and your sister as well.’
‘Sister! For where?’ The leader exclaimed and twisted his lips. He
pointed to Anita who jerked out of fear. ‘These stupid Oyinbo people who
come here to steal our money. ’ The man blinked his eyes.
Anita turned to face Filatei.
Filatei made an arc with his hand. ‘We all together are one…whether
black or white or yellow or blue.’
‘I didn't come here for you to lecture me. All I want is what you’ve
come across,’ the man stressed.
‘Sorry,’ Filatei said as if apologising for a misdeed. ‘About what?’
‘Do you think I’m a baby? Why pretend as if you don’t know I’m
talking about the hidden gods and the axis of evil.’
‘Oh!’ Filatei exclaimed, in the exact manner he had done back home
when Maale asked him for the whereabouts of Pastor Caleb’s son. ‘We didn't
144
discover anything.’
‘Alright, by the time we’re finished with you, we’ll both know whether
you saw something or not.’ The man turned to his men and gestured with his
head for them to move on.
Two of the men proceeded immediately. Anita was shaking in fear.
They’re coming to get me. Suddenly, Filatei’s voice calmed her down.
‘Stop!’
To Anita’s surprise, the men came to a dead stop, few metres away,
and lowered their guns as if electricity shocked them. Anita noticed the other
men in her group removing their guns from their shoulders. The leader of the
other group aimed, clearly about to pull the trigger of his rifle.
That moment, like thunder, Filatei’s voice rang out. ‘If you shoot that
gun, you’re shooting at your firstborn…’ Like magic, the man lowered his
rifle. Anita didn't understand what was happening. A moment ago, it seemed
like they were captives of these attackers. Now, it seemed Filatei was in
control. She started having recollections. Pa Akpodigha. Charms.
Filatei was still speaking. ‘…The sacrificial hen is not a meat one will
eat and suffer no consequences. Completely, water quenches fire and
completely, rain dissipates drought. Who is the man that will hit his head
against a rock except he’s ready to die? Whatever one tells a hearer, the hearer
perceives. Whatever one says to a listener, the listener hears. When a nursing
mother hears the cry of her baby, she automatically responds with haste. Now,
I tell you,’ pointing at their attackers, ‘drop those guns.’
Anita anticipated the response of the men. But they didn't move an
inch. Filatei was still gazing at them as if waiting for them to let go their
weapons.
Finally, the man in dreads laughed out; an act that made Anita begin to
fear again. ‘There’s no need to chant incantations because we’ve overpowered
you already. Who pounded yam for you and said the soup isn’t difficult to
prepare? We came here to fight with guns and you decided to fight us with
words. Alright.’ He paused, frowning. ‘A man believes his father’s farm is the
largest until he sees that of another person’s father. Frogs are food for snakes,
just as chicks are food for hawks. You drop those guns, begin to talk about all
you’ve seen and hand over all you’ve discovered.’
Filatei who was now holding a small red amulet laughed wildly and
kissed it. ‘If not for this woman here,’ he motioned with his head towards
Anita, ‘I would have continued with this war of incantations. But time isn’t on
our side. We all have things to do. Therefore, I say to you, go away from this
village, and return no more.’
His voice sounded irrevocable.
Anita thought Filatei’s order was a joke, until the men turned their
backs and began to run as if a loose lion was pursuing them. Filatei and all the
145
men laughed.
‘Jeez! Magic is real,’ Anita blurted.
Filatei nodded proudly, raising the amulet. ‘This amulet even does
many more things which I always pray would never happen. Magic exists for
sure. I don’t know if you ever saw that in your Bible. The Bible confirms it.’
Anita could count the number of times she had read a Bible in her life.
She couldn't remember coming across such a passage, though. But she had
heard it from several sources several times. Magic exists. ‘Almost everyone
knows it really does.’
‘Some people say the power is from the devil. But who created the
devil if not God?’ Filatei asked rhetorically. ‘If not for magic, maybe they
would have disappeared with you by now. Who knows? I just think God is too
patient. He watches as some people cheat others, but he might choose not to
avenge the cheated. That makes me remember what Maale used to say, what
will the righteous do when the foundations have been destroyed?’
One of the men whom Filatei had told Anita was a graduate of
medicine and the doctor of the group spoke, ‘Like many people think, I
believe that if our public office holders take oaths with Egbesu, or Sango, or
any other real deity, honesty will return to our system and the country will
develop at the speed of light.’
Filatei ended that discussion. ‘Sure, but we know that would never
happen. I think we’ve to get back to the boat quickly. Those guys must be
waiting for us and besides, we still have one more important thing to do.’
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Chapter 35
The afternoon sun was searing and Miedide felt his face parched by the
heat. Now, having alighted from the bus he had boarded to Atali, he strode
along Domino Road, occasionally glancing at a newly purchased Bible in his
hands, contemplating many things.
All through the journey, as he sat in the overcrowded rickety bus that
moved at a snail’s speed, he had cracked his brain for the exact thing he would
say; but he didn't stumble on anything.
As he crossed to the other side of the road now, he considered claiming
that he was a Pastor from Lagos, whom God had specifically instructed to
come to The True Story Church to give some prophecies. Jumping over a wide
dirty gutter, he pondered the topics of the sham prognostications. A bright
future for the church…Impending danger for the members that only serious
prayers would forestall…Better life for the ministers… The ideas came in
quick successions. Even so, he thought of the possibilities of the pastors
receiving revelations from God about his deceit, either after he must have
given the prophecies, or worse, before he got to the church. That means they
might not allow me in. He put the Bible under an armpit and wrung his hands.
Subsequently, he thought of the likelihood of the prophecies ruining
his plot. He began to ask himself questions. What will happen if the church
was already flourishing; if the pastors were holy men who didn't believe in
better life in this world but focused on paradise like Maale? Then, they might
walk him out or call the Police to arrest him without his knowledge.
Sighing, he realised that was very possible. In recent times, the rate at
which people who paraded themselves as men of God went about swindling
people was alarming. Such false prophets gave false and frightening visions,
slept with church members, asked people who had spiritual death threats to
part away with expensive properties to redeem their lives, and amassed wealth
for themselves and their unborn sons.
A bit perplexed, Miedide didn't see a stone which his right foot
bumped into. Hissing, he continued going and decided to fabricate the
prophecies only after seeing the church building and the appearances of the
people there. Correct. Walking faster, he couldn't wait to get to the turning the
Bible seller told him led to Shimmy Street.
After a while, he began to see the junction from a distance. It wasn’t
147
what he had expected, however. Cars moved in and out continuously. Several
hawkers stopped to sell their goods. Men pushed wheelbarrows. Some people
were in a brawl. And the sounds coming from there were noisy.
Nevertheless, he continued, even faster. He was more than convinced
that The True Story Church was on that street and he was ready to fish it out,
no matter the circumstances. The old woman wouldn’t have lied to them. All
the clues they had discovered were rewarding. Besides, she had told him he
would see weird things. A church in the midst of a chaotic place seemed odd
to him. Really.
Finally, he got to the junction. Shocked, he didn't know when he
blurted, which kain thing be dis now? Before him, a market extended.
Guessing that the church was after the market, he tried to spot the end of the
market with his eyes. As he saw the farthest his eyes could see, he suspected
that the market continued, far beyond that point. Number twenty-seven seemed
to be within the mad commotion.
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Chapter 36
Close to Egbedi now, Filatei’s team discussed the possible actions they
would take in response to the publication about Mr. Lumantas’ abduction.
Attentively, in between the drone of the engine boat, Anita listened to some of
the suggestions the now unmasked men gave.
‘Chair, make we kpai the man straight away…’
‘No! Make we no give am food till he quench…’
‘Abeg, make we just ask am what he expects us to do…’
Every man tried to convince Filatei that his recommendation was the
best. Despite that, it seemed to Anita that Filatei didn't buy any of the ideas.
She watched as he blinked his eyes several times, as if far away in thoughts, as
if thinking of a different idea.
Finally, his voice made the men quiet. ‘It’s okay. I’ve listened to you
all and I’ve considered your ideas. But you see, this man doesn’t deserve any
of these things you suggested…’
The men looked bewildered.
Filatei was still talking raising his voice, apparently an upshot of the
looks on the faces of the men. ‘…in the first place, he didn't employ himself.
Shell employed him. Therefore, Shell is to account for him.’ He stopped
briefly. ‘Now, what we will do is to call Shell, ask them that question the doc,’
pointing to the doctor, ‘said we should put to the client. Then, we’ll listen to
their reaction and act based on that. I really don’t want to do any of those
things you’ve mentioned. I’m beginning to get tired of unnecessary bloodshed
already.’ He scanned through their faces obviously to see their reaction. They
began nodding.
‘Agreed then?’ he said.
‘Yes o…’ the men shouted in unison and Filatei smiled, bringing out a
packet of cigarette. Picking one stick, he handed the packet to the man near
him. The man picked and passed it on to the next, until everyone had a stick.
Then, they began smoking.
Anita shifted her gaze to the waters of the river. All the while when she
had noticed the look on Filatei’s face, she had wondered what he would
suggest. Now, she realised his suggestion seemed modest. She considered his
statement carefully…unnecessary bloodshed. Looking up to the sky that was
now getting cloudy, Anita deliberated upon the words. Shortly, she made her
149
conclusions. Some murders were essential. Some others were not. She
guessed, perhaps, this was the reason Filatei didn't decide to kill the men who
attacked them at Oloibiri.
She recalled what happened after they left the spot of the attack and
returned to the speedboat. They headed in another direction, different from
that in which they had journeyed to Oloibiri. Getting to a spot in the water,
one of the men jumped into the river, and the others applauded loudly. Then,
the man disappeared into the waters. Baffled and in the dark, Anita asked
Filatei the reason for that.
‘Very soon, you’ll know. Just in a moment,’ he replied and she waited
anxiously to see what would follow. She couldn't guess what a man, dressed
only in shirt and trousers would go underwater for in oil-contaminated water.
Suddenly, she noticed a mass of large bubbles coming out from the
point through which the man submerged. Another round of applause rang out
from the men.
Confused, she asked Filatei, ‘What’s that?’
Filatei smiled. ‘So, you still don’t understand?’
‘At all.’ She focused on the bubbles.
‘That’s oil. He went to loosen the pipe.’
Strange as usual. ‘Gush! You mean he risked his life to go in there to
release oil without any instruments. How did he see through the water?’ The
men burst into laughter as if she had asked a foolish question. Then, she saw
the water getting darker in colour, with oil floating everywhere like when one
poured vegetable oil inside a glass of water. Concurrently, at a short distance
ahead, she saw the diver’s head appear. He began to swim towards them.
Anita turned to Filatei who replied her question, ‘Actually, he had a
spanner in his pocket. Don't forget, we’re children of the soil. We see what
belongs to us. We know the exact spot the pipes pass through…’ Filatei
continued, telling her how months ago, they had destroyed the pipeline
because many spontaneous oil spills had already occurred there and all the
fishes in the river died. Then, one day, the oil company got some hungry
locals to get into the water to make repairs.
‘Now, we’ve come back to loosen it again. Why should they get oil
when we cannot have fishes to eat? Those spontaneous oil spills have made
many people lose hope of ever eating animal protein in their lives because this
is the only option they have. They have no money to go to the market for
shopping. Can you believe that between 1970 and today, more than seven
thousand oil spills have occurred, more than one each day? Now, imagine how
many fishes must have died and how many farms must have been destroyed...’
As the boat moved away with the diver aboard, Filatei ranted on and
Anita felt an intense feeling of sympathy grow in the depths of her soul.
Visualizing the slums and ghettoes of Bronx, she acknowledged that things
150
were not that bad as here. Switching back and forth between mental images of
Bronx and the places she had seen in her short time in this region, she made
comparisons.
Here, children played around naked, defecated on waste dumps, didn't
have right to health care, didn't have the slightest idea of what to expect in the
future, became hungry because negative effects of oil exploration impeded
their parents’ professions, had no electricity, and had abysmal shelter. Bronx,
however, was better off uncountable times and over.
Even so, Anita fathomed that emotive similarities were evident. In both
Bronx and places in Nigeria she had seen, the children experience many
tragedies on the parallel- like witnessing the murders or demise of their loved
ones, due to some other people’s misdeeds. Anita also realised that a form of
discrimination existed in both places- racial in Bronx, hierarchical in Nigeria.
However, what disturbed her most was the violence which played before the
young and innocent eyes of the children every day. A menace that makes the
kids long for the day they would grow up and retaliate for the inequities
against their gone ones.
Now, returning her eyes to watch the men as they finished their sticks
of cigarette, Anita wished unfairness never had a place in the world, at all. If it
never existed, she knew, she wouldn’t be here now, as a hostage, whose ticket
to freedom was the discovery of some gods she was yet to comprehend. She
sighed.
Across, Filatei was talking with his men; apparently, they had
abandoned her when they saw she was lost in thoughts. Alright. Turning her
head to watch the waters again, Anita’s thoughts hit on Miedide. She
wondered where he was now, wondered what he would see, and wondered
when he would return to camp. Then, an important truth struck her. She felt
her heart beat faster. The outcome of Miedide’s trip was a determinant to
getting the hidden gods and the freedom she longed for.
Jeez please. She had to return to work in less than a week. Besides, the
date on her ticket would arrive in five days time. Coming across Marquis in
her thoughts, she felt a sort of guilt. She however found herself thanking her
stars that she didn't bring it along with her. She couldn't even imagine what it
would be going through now, at Chief Doukpolagha’s house, back in the
camp, or wherever her unanticipated kidnap might have caused to be its abode.
With tender emotions, she wondered how Marquis was coping in her
absence… if Max fed it regularly, cuddled it, and made it feel loved. The
thought about Max made her remember the day she saw him at the café where
she had gone to wait for a colleague. Shit. The images of the scene appeared in
her mind’s eyes. When she saw his car at the car park, how she entered and he
was not in sight, then her climbing up the stairs, then when she opened the
door…
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The succeeding mental pictures were clearing away the preceding

ones rapidly. Out of the blues, she heard Filatei exclaim and she came back to
reality.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
He pointed. ‘Look far away. Those are men of the Joint Task Force.
We’ve to do something.’
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Chapter 37
From experience, Filatei knew what could happen if they didn't find a
means to evade the obstacle ahead. Now, having ordered the driver to halt,
their speedboat floated behind tall masses of water plants, completely out of
sight of the soldiers ahead. With keen eyes, Filatei stared at the four white
speedboats, scattered at random, carrying the camouflaged uniformed men of
the Joint Task Force. Unable to see their actions in particular, he was
convinced they were out on a mission, probably acting on a tip off. To rescue
a hostage.
He recalled his first conversation with the godfather after Anita’s
abduction. The godfather had said that Chief Doukpolagha, in an effort to get
Anita, recruited the services of two soldiers attached to his house.
‘They’re just wasting time and risking their lives,’ the godfather said
and they laughed over it.
But that had been all… no additional information about the Chief
informing men of the Joint Task Force. Lighting a cigarette, Filatei calmed his
nerves with the belief that if any other person were on their trail, the godfather
would have informed him. The godfather has access to lots of information, he
thought.
‘Is there no other route we can pass?’ he heard Anita ask, whispering.
He turned, the thought that Anita was already becoming a part of them
coming over him. Glad, he replied, ‘The only other route will get us back to
camp in days. And that might make our journey look like that of the Israelites
who travelled to Egypt in forty years instead of forty days.’
Anita sighed. Looking away, Filatei took another glimpse at the boats
ahead and returned his eyes. Twisting his head, he looked through the faces of
his men who were also smoking, watching, with red eyes. At once, he realised
that any little mistake he made in his decisions could mean calamity for them
all. In addition, this would determine many important issues. Like if they
would ever continue in their quest for the gods, if he wouldn’t fail the
godfather and if Anita’s documentary would see the light of the day.
Facing front to look at the murky waters, a foreboding of evil crawled
into Filatei’s mind. ‘I think those people will pass through here any moment
from now,’ he said on instinct and his companions, disturbed by this, adjusted
their positions. ‘Guy, make I drive this thing away from here.’
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Immediately, the driver stood up and they exchanged seats. Then, with
his heart beating very fast, Filatei started the engine and began to navigate
away. Maneuvering the boat through a water sparse course, grinding sounds
came off as the underside of the boat made contact with the earth.
Filatei turned briefly to look at his passengers. ‘We might have to sleep
overnight where we’re heading to if the men of the JTF don’t leave on time.’
That moment, he noticed Anita’s pupils enlarge in response to his declaration.
For the past forty-five minutes, Miedide had been searching through
the long shelves lining the both sides of the music shop curiously. I need a
sign, he had told himself all the while. Yet, it seemed no clue was
forthcoming. All he had been seeing were loads of discs; MP3, movies, music
and comedy performances. And that dissatisfaction he had felt when he
assumed that the True Story Church was inside the market increased as the
seconds ticked away.
Looking round Shimmy Street Junction for the True Story Church
signboard that he never found, he had entered the market, optimistic, almost
an hour ago. With slow steps, he checked the numbers of the buildings he
passed as he went. Then, he got to Number twenty-seven eventually, and saw a
signboard whose words were already fading.
In utmost disappointment, he read the words on the signboard that was
already falling apart. Sensimila Music Shop. Still trying to recover from the
shock that a place he had assumed to be a church was a music store named
after weed, a skinny young man, in combat shorts and white singlet came out
from the shop.
‘Oga, wataguan? Me get everything you want.’
Miedide understood that the man was trying to speak patwa, a variety
of French or English related Creole, spoken in the Caribbean. A local popular
vernacular, now widely spoken in Nigeria and other African countries, by
people like Miedide and millions of other souls who had tasted the hardship on
the streets and knew what it was like to take solace in Jah.
Still, Miedide doubted if the shop assistant had everything he wanted,
as he had stated. He decided to speak in plain English. Perhaps this was a trap.
He had to pretend like the man of God he had decided to become, for this
mission. ‘Sorry, no church around here?’
The assistant gave him a wary look. ‘No.’
Miedide sighed. That was his last bus stop. Entering the shop, he made
sure his Bible was clearly visible. Ever since then, he had combed the shelves
of the store to no avail.
Now, he saw the shop assistant who had just finished attending to
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some customers approaching. Immediately, he removed his hand from the

back of the shelf he was examining.
‘Oga, what’re you finding since?’ the assistant asked with a voice that
signaled to Miedide that the young man was already getting pissed off. The
assistant took a glance at Miedide’s Bible that was lying on a shelf. ‘I think
you’re a pastor. We don’t sell Christian tapes here. Everything here is
entertainment- comedy, Night of a thousand laughs, music, films- different
types, American, Nigerian, blue. That’s what we have here sir. So, if what you
want is different from all these I’ve mentioned…’ pointing to the door, ‘you
can have your way out.’
Unimpressed by the attendant’s performance, Miedide picked his Bible
and removed the address paper he had tucked in between some pages. He
stared at it again, to see if he had been missing something. He discovered no
mistakes.
Suddenly, an urge to show the attendant the paper or read out the
contents came over him. He realised, however, that that was what he had
feared from the beginning. He couldn't risk anyone knowing about the quest
for the hidden gods and the progress they made. The risk might be too
expensive.
Then, unexpectedly, he saw a hand flash before his eyes. By the time
he looked up, in shock, he saw the attendant’s eyes already on the paper.
In swift reaction, Miedide made to collect the paper, but the young
man threw the paper at him and said, ‘Oga, why are you disturbing yourself.
You should’ve told me since that you wanted True Story Album by Timaya.
Simple as ABC…’
Few minutes later, with his Bible and the disc he had bought in his
hands, Miedide left the music shop, amused at the reality that the True Story
Church never existed.
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Chapter 38
The sun was now beginning to set and Anita and the others came out of
the speedboat, weary, with sluggish movements. As they proceeded to the
camp, Anita could perceive the smell of food, like fried chicken and spiced
stew. In response to this, her stomach gave off sounds, similar to the ones she
heard throughout the time they spent in a mosquito-infested spot, which served
as their hideaway from men of the Joint Task Force.
In that scary refuge, Filatei enlightened her about the Joint Task Force,
operating under the name Operation Restore Hope. A section of the Nigerian
Military, he had said, whose responsibility was to protect oil facilities and oil
workers, both foreign and indigenous.
Listening to Filatei’s accounts of several encounters with the Joint
Task Force in the past, Anita overwhelmed with fear, prayed the men of the
Joint Task Force would leave. She couldn't imagine sleeping in the midst of
frogs, mosquitoes, and dragonflies overnight and so had longed to return to
camp on time.
Even as her stomach churned, and as she listened to everything Filatei
and the other men said about their violent experiences, the reality that she was
a hostage who had fallen totally in love with her captors struck her. When she
asked Filatei what would happen if the soldiers saw them, Filatei replied, with
a stern look, ‘You might lose your life because a gun battle will be inevitable
and only God knows what would happen.’
Remembering that Filatei had told her only that morning that no bullet
or machete apart from theirs would touch her, she noted, ‘I thought you said
nothing will touch me…’
‘I understand,’ Filatei interrupted. ‘But you know we can never be too
sure. They might also be spiritually inclined.’
After that, doubt developed in her heart. She however realised Filatei
had said the truth. She grasped that where one man’s knowledge culminated,
another man’s intelligence started.
Fortunately, for them, more than two hours later, they saw the
speedboats of the Joint Task Force racing away.
‘Thank God, they’re going in another direction,’ the doctor had blurted
and they continued their journey back to the camp.
Nearing the camp now, Anita saw Pa Akpodigha, sitting on a chair. A
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man was massaging his legs and another man, with something white like a
plaster on his forehead, was standing, fanning the old man from behind. Very
unusual, Anita thought. Pa Akpodigha looked like he was in pains. Filatei who
had also seen the odd scene, obviously troubled, ran forward with a man,
leaving some other men who now increased their paces with Anita.
Instantly, Anita felt passion in her soul. Watching Filatei running as if
he were going for gold, she could feel a connection…the love between a
nephew and his uncle. The kind of devotion she had wished for all her life, but
that she had since concluded she might never get. The type she had desired
from Max that seemed would never come. Curiously, she wondered what was
happening as they inched nearer to the camp.
Minutes later, Filatei was reprimanding the men they had left behind
on guard and Damiete who had earlier returned from town was recounting all
that happened, to Anita. Mr. Lumantas had tried to stage an escape, which
Damiete and some other men aborted.
The Filipino sensing that the men guarding him were high on weed and
alcohol got a large chunk of wood from a fresh pile they had gotten for
cooking. Then catching the men unawares, he began to batter them violently.
One after the other, they fell on the ground into unconsciousness. Next, he hit
Ebiere on the shoulder and left her writhing in pains. Even more pathetic, he
hit Pa Akpodigha on the legs and trampled on the elderly man as he thought
his freedom had come. He was however oblivious of the fact that the day was
a bad day- a day the devil would have a drink of blood.
Most likely confused because of the uneven layout of the creeks,
nestled in the bush, Mr. Lumantas headed in the direction Damiete and the
men who had gone to drop the white woman were coming from. Immediately,
they saw him, they spread out in such a way that even if he tried to elude
them, they would capture him. All that while, he didn't see them. Then, like a
grass cutter walking into a hungry hunter’s snare, they seized him from behind
and dragged him back to the camp.
Please can I see him?’ Anita asked, anxious to see the face of the man
who had performed all the feats she had just heard about.
Turning towards Filatei, Damiete said, ‘Chair, she wants to see the
street fighter.’
Filatei, who had now ended the rebuke, twisted his mouth as if
considering something, ‘Um… No problem about that. You’ll soon see him
and he would soon see you too. But you’ll be the last white person he would
see in his life.’
The last white person. At once, Anita comprehended what Filatei had
said. They were going to kill Mr. Lumantas. Shit. Anita didn't know when she
began promising herself never to attempt escaping from Filatei and his men,
whatever happens.
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Her head now bowed out of pity for the Filipino, Anita heard Damiete
exclaiming, Miedide. Looking up, she discovered Damiete already strolling
towards Miedide and she guessed he couldn't wait to give an account of Mr.
Lumantas’ botched escape to his comrade.
‘Guys, go and dig the grave abeg,’ Filatei instructed the many men
around him. ‘We don’t have time. You know the type sha.’
Nearly an hour later, when the sun had finally disappeared, and the sky
cast a dim shadow over the camp, Filatei led almost everybody to a short
distance away from the camp. At first, Anita requested that she didn't want to
witness any of the things that would happen; that she didn't even want to see
Mr. Lumantas face again. Filatei, however, insisted that she must be present at
the slaying and the burial which would take place immediately, at a location,
about a hundred meters from the camp.
Now, Anita stared into the shallow grave having reddish black soil on
its sides. Inside, tied and gagged, Mr. Lumantas struggled with the ropes,
apparently defiant even when his end was near. Anita looked up. Everybody
wore masks, Ebiere included. The camera operator was recording. Pastor
Caleb’s son was holding the new Bible Miedide brought. Pa Akpodigha was
sitting on a small white chair. Miedide was pointing a long rifle into the grave.
Filatei pointed another one. Damiete held a piece of white cloth. Some men
held axes, spades, and shovels. Other men looked round, at alert, with guns.
Anita wished she weren't here. She wished she weren't witnessing all.
Memories of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars appeared before her mind’s eyes.
The incessant sound of guns and cannons, blood, mangled bodies,
dismembered corpses…
‘Boom, boom, boom…’ The sound of guns cleared the sad images and
she jerked in fear, looking up, with her hand on her chest. She took a quick
glimpse at the grave. There, with blood splattered all over was Mr. Lumantas.
Dead. Gone forever.
Subsequently, Damiete and some men jumped into the shallow grave
and covered Mr. Lumantas’ corpse with the white cloth. After they climbed
out, Pastor Caleb’s son opened the Bible and read the passage that talked
about the sting and victory of death. The new appearance of the corpse now
reminded Anita of corpses in Afghanistan, wrapped in white cloths before
burial.
As Pastor Caleb’s son read other passages, Anita now more
comfortable with the white cloth the men had used to cover the corpse stared
at it. Some sand descended and landed on the bloodstained cloth. After the
Bible reading, the pastor’s son prayed and some of the men, with shovels and
spades, began covering up the grave.
Anita stood, staring as the increasing mass of sand covered the blood
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stained white cloth gradually. She was still staring, with tears rolling down her
face, when she felt an arm across her neck. She heard Filatei saying, ‘Don't
cry, everything will be alright. But that man almost killed my uncle, my fellow
men, and my future wife. He deserved to die.’ The words only made Anita cry
more and Filatei embraced her.
Few minutes later, as they headed back to the camp, Ebiere held her by
the shoulders, patting her like a big sister, saying continuously, my sister don’t
worry.
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Chapter 39
This night, the regular activities of the camp were not going on.
Nobody ate anything and it seemed like everybody had put away the desire for
food. The men were drinking and smoking, but their conversations were in
low voices. Waiting for Filatei and Miedide to bring the disc, Anita could hear
the unpleasant sound of the generator, like that of a power driven saw.
A repulsive odour, similar to that of incense hit her nose. Removing
her eyes immediately from the glowing naked light bulb hanging from the
ceiling above the entrance, she took a glimpse at the mosquito repellant that
burned in one corner of the tent. The cinder from the burning coil gave off a
light orange flicker. She hissed. Many things were disturbing her, the noise
from the power generating set and this offensive smell. What she witnessed
that evening, however, bothered her most.
Now, Anita heard Filatei and Miedide exchanging pleasantries with the
men keeping watch at the entrance. Sitting upright, she tried to put a bright
look on her face. The curtain parted and the two men entered.
Filatei sat down, smiled, and handed her the disc. ‘That’s it.’ Pausing,
he giggled. ‘But I wonder how this is related to what we want.’
At first, Anita studied the pictures on the disc jacket. Three similar
pictures of a man in dreads wearing white, with a determined look on his face.
The dreads reminded her of the incident that happened at Oloibiri, that day.
But she knew within her, that the person she was staring at now was different
from the man whom she took to be the leader of the group that attacked them.
This face looked like one of an indomitable musician.
Next, she read the songs list. Intro, True Story, Timaya, Honey Na
Money… She didn't see any connection with the axis of evil or the hidden
gods. Then, reading the record label, she looked up, glanced at Miedide who
was now sitting, and finally shifted her eyes to rest on Filatei. ‘Maybe this has
to do with the address of the producers of the album. Perhaps we’ve to get
something from there. But the address is not here’
Filatei grinned. ‘I don’t think so men. The old woman won't go to the
extent of making everything so open. I think we should forget the idea of
trying to locate that address. I just know this has to do with a place in the
Niger Delta.’
Convinced, Anita gave the songs list another look. One title caught her
160
attention. Ogologomma.
She leaned in Filatei’s direction, and pointed with a finger to the title.
‘See, what does this mean?’
Filatei read it out, ‘Ogologomma. It means long knife or long cutlass.’
Miedide added, ‘In that song, Timaya said something like Jehovah
ogologonmagha meaning God is my mighty sword of warfare.’
Anita nodded and thought of the translation Miedide just gave. God is
my mighty sword of warfare. It seemed to her that the musician believed so
much in God. She guessed that there might be a connection between him and
their quest. ‘Can you tell me about this Timaya?’ She turned to Miedide and
Filatei in turns.
Filatei sneezed.
‘Bless you,’ Miedide said, turning to Filatei.
Filatei spoke, ‘Timaya is a true son of the soil, a true Niger Deltan,
from Odi. He’s someone who believes so much in God’s intervention in man’s
difficult circumstances. People also call him Egberi Papa one of Bayelsa
meaning the people’s town crier of Bayelsa. He’s someone who fights for the
good of his people, because he also experienced hardship in the past.’ Filatei
turned to Miedide who nodded. He rode on. ‘Some ignorant people say he’s a
militant, but really he’s not a militant. He’s just a true soldier of his people.
Fighting for their rights with the lyrics of his music.’
Anita sighed. ‘Niger Deltans are using everything they have to fight
their cause.’
‘Yes, that’s how it should be.’ Filatei exclaimed. ‘Everyday, people
say Nigeria would be great and things would get better. Absolutely, I believe
in this. However, our struggle is stubborn. Our struggle is determined. Our
struggle will never give up and our struggle will never compromise. Because,’
he stressed because, ‘we don’t want our parents, brothers, children, friends,
and people to die before Nigeria becomes great.’
The fear of the future. The fear of what is still to come. Anita
understood clearly. ‘Perhaps, we should try to listen to the album.’
‘Alright.’ Filatei shrugged and signaled to Miedide to get the music
player.
While they waited for the music player, Anita sat in silence, pondering
over what could be inside the songs of the album. Later, her thoughts
transformed into crushing emotions about the killing and burial of Mr.
Lumantas. Not long after, Miedide came in carrying the music player with two
speakers arranged on it. Quickly, he connected the power cable to a socket in
the lamp holder holding the bulb.
Moments later, they began listening to the subdued sounds of the songs
in sequence. Straining her ears to listen, Anita could only make out the
English words. After more than an hour, they were through. Yet, Anita
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guessed the men with her hadn't discovered anything solid from the way they
stared into space.
Then, she had a recollection. ‘I thought you said this artiste is a true
Niger Deltan and a soldier of the people.’
Filatei who was now resting his cheek on his palm with his elbow on
the armrest replied, ‘Yeah.’
‘Do any of these songs ring a bell?’ Anita asked, in anticipation.
Filatei turned to Miedide. Suddenly, he said, ‘Yeah, Dem mama.’
Good then. ‘Maybe we should play it again.’
Immediately, Miedide stood up. ‘What track is it?’
Collecting the jacket from Anita, Filatei looked at it. ‘The sixth.’
As Miedide bent to select the song, Filatei closed his eyes as if trying
to remember something. ‘God!’ he blurted. ‘This woman had specified the
exact song we should listen to but we missed it.’
‘How?’ Anita asked. Now, the music was playing and as Miedide
stood up, Filatei instructed him to pause it.
‘Where is that address paper I gave you?’ Filatei turned to Miedide
who was now standing upright after stopping the song.
Miedide dipped his hand into his back pocket, removed the paper, and
handed it to Filatei who smiled as soon as he set eyes on it. ‘See.’ Filatei
pointed with a finger. Anita moved nearer to see.
T6, The True Story Church. Anita looked at Filatei’s face and saw a
smile there. Track six, she realised. Next, the smile on Filatei’s face advanced
to a laugh and they all began laughing at the fact that the key to the song they
needed had been with them all the while.
Following that, Miedide played the music again. Anita tried to listen.
Filatei, obviously realising that she was finding it difficult to hear, asked
Miedide to get the remote control. When Miedide returned, Filatei started the
song all over again and paused intermittently to repeat lines in plain English so
that she would understand.
Nigeria is my country oh, Bayelsa is my state oh…Nineteen ninety-
nine oh, I swear I will not forget it oh, When they killed the people oh, And
made the children orphans oh, Anytime I remember it, Tears roll down my
eyes oh…They kept on marching oh, Ten thousand soldiers on road oh Asked
them where they were going, They said they were going to Bayelsa oh, Where
in Bayelsa oh, One village that is called Odi oh, They entered our village, And
raped our young girls, And made us homeless oh…
Anita loved the way Filatei repeated the lines to her. The lyrics of the
songs almost made her begin weeping, though. She could hear the sound of
the song fading away as it ended now. Filatei pressed the stop button and
turned to her.
‘That’s a true life story. It happened years ago, when the government
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sent thousands of soldiers in more than fifty trucks to Odi for a raid. The
biggest internal military operation, since the Nigerian Civil War. In that raid,
more than two thousand people were killed.’
Killings everywhere, every time. ‘Why was the raid necessary?’
Filatei twisted his lips. ‘Well, two weeks before then, youths in Odi
protested the presence of police men and killed seven of them. After that,
another five were killed again…’
‘Why should the youths protest against the presence of law
enforcement officers?’ Anita asked, bewildered.
Filatei laughed. ‘My sister, it’s a long story. The nation has internal
problems, which I believe God would solve one day…’ Filatei continued with
the story. In response to the killings, the then president, enraged, gave the
governor two weeks to fish out the killers and restore peace in the area but the
task of getting the killers was a difficult one. It was impossible to point
accusing fingers at all the youths of the community, especially considering the
different stories and conflicting reasons from different sources, for the murder
of the police officers.
Therefore, the president ordered soldiers to raid the village. Mortars
pounded houses and rockets caved in on babies. Forty-eight hours later, the
village was in rubbles. Only three buildings survived the attack. Nothing,
which had life, animal or human, was moving. Every creature was either dead
or hiding in the bush. The troops established a mini garrison there. Nobody
could go in or move out. The lucky ones who cheated death remained in the
bushes, feeding on wild fruits. It was not until the Senate president came that a
handful of them who were thoroughly malnourished came out. Later, the
soldiers moved out and the other survivors came out to pick the shattered
pieces of their lives, to stare at the remains of what had once been their houses
or dismembered bodies of their loved ones.
‘Did the government do anything to help them after?’ Anita asked,
overwhelmed.
‘The president tried. He gave the state five billion naira which included
aid package for the victims of the massacre.’
‘That place looks interesting. Maybe it might help if we go there.’
Looking at each other, Filatei and Miedide nodded their consent.
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Chapter 40
The breeze wafted, carrying the odour of weed. Now, with the
generator off and almost everybody asleep, the camp was quieter. But Anita
couldn't sleep. Standing up from her mattress to sit on a chair, she could hear
the muffled sounds of the men on guard. Next, she focused on a candle
burning on a candle stand, on the ground at the corner where the exhausted
mosquito coil had been. The flame from the candle wavered back and forth, as
the breeze hit it. For a while, she kept her eyes on this, imagining that Mr.
Lumantas life ended like when one blows a candle off. Suddenly as if the
flame read her thoughts, the light went off.
Darkness.
Rapidly, Anita stood on her feet and went outside to ask the guards for
a lighter. As she returned with the lighter, looking up to the sky to admire the
full moon, Filatei’s voice stopped her.
‘What’s up? You’re not yet sleeping?’
Frightened, she stopped. ‘No.’
‘Why?’ They were walking together towards her tent now.
‘I just can’t sleep.’
‘Try to sleep. Don’t forget, tomorrow, we’re setting out for Odi, early
in the morning.’
At the door, Filatei collected the lighter from her and entered the tent,
using the light from his phone as illumination. After he lit the candle, Anita
entered.
‘Now, tell me. Are you bothered because of what happened to Mr.
Lumantas this evening?’
Anita didn't want to admit this, considering the fact that everybody had
petted her, telling her to forget about the tragedy. Even so, she found herself
saying, ‘Yes.’
That moment, Filatei brought out a wrap of weed from his pocket, lit
it, and puffed.
‘Anita,’ he started, ‘I think this night I need to tell you important
things. You see, no one wishes to fight anybody with guns, or be called a
militant. As I told you, we’re humane and intelligent people, fighting for the
freedom of our people. Amongst us, we’ve doctors, engineers, accountants,
even many that have seen the hard life outside. Together, we’re continuing the
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fight for a cause that those before us started.’ He paused briefly. ‘For example,
people like Ken Saro Wiwa. I think you should have read about him. He was
from Ogoniland also here in the Niger Delta...’
Anita knew she had heard that name just like many other notable
Africans. She nodded.
Filatei puffed again. ‘As an author, a television producer, and an
environmental activist, this man fought for the cause of the people of the Niger
Delta. He wrote many books and even had a satirical soap opera- Basi and Co
which some claim is the most watched soap opera in Africa...’
Anita nodded at the ingenuity of this man. She continued listening as
Filatei talked about Ken being among the earliest members of the Movement
for the Survival of the Ogoni People- MOSOP. He was also the president of
the Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organization- UNPO General
Assembly for two years. Before then, in 1992, the then Nigerian military
government had imprisoned him for several months without trial. Later, they
set him free.
Sadly, however, on the twenty-first day of May 1994, unknown
persons murdered four Ogoni chiefs, all on the conservative side of a schism
within MOSOP over strategy. That same day, some people had denied Saro
Wiwa entry to Ogoniland. Yet, the government arrested him and accused him
of incitement to the murdered chiefs.
Even though Saro Wiwa denied the charges, they got him imprisoned
for over a year. Then, a specially convened tribunal found him and eight other
MOSOP leaders guilty and sentenced them to death by hanging, in a widely
criticized trial. Those trying periods, people thought the hangings wouldn't
take place. The government, however, shocked them when on the tenth day of
November 1995, military personnel put the noose around the necks of the nine
activists.
After that, the victims’ families took Shell to court in the United States
under the Alien Tort Statute, a 1789 statute giving non United States citizens
the rights to file suits in US courts for international Human rights violation.
The families also rode on the wings of the Torture Victim Protection Act,
which allows individuals to seek damages in the United States for torture or
extrajudicial killings, regardless of where the violations take place.
Thus, The United States District Court for the Southern District of
New York set a trial date, which was yet to come.
‘…People like him said all they could with words, poems, essays, and
speeches. Yet, they were murdered. Now, we’ve been forced to carry guns.’
Filatei shrugged. ‘And really our generation is making impact. The
government, the oil companies and the whole world is feeling our impact…’
Anita watched as Filatei puffed again and she admitted within her that
the activities of these freedom fighters sent the price of oil, fluctuating from
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time to time, the world over. Sometimes, it soared up. Sometimes, it fell.
‘…It is that impact you felt that made you decide to come here and see
for yourself. Am I right?’
Anita nodded.
‘Really, nobody would risk coming to a place that has been labeled
unsafe unless something intriguing that the person wants to experience is
happening there... He paused. ‘Though, some people come for our money or
what are all these white people coming to do even when their government and
embassies have warned them to stay away. And you’ve seen some of the
things happening here. You’ve seen how they raped our land, and turned it to a
land of poverty, joblessness, degradation, kidnapping, and violence. A country
where young children and some already addicted adults shout for joy as if
they’ve won a reality show when the erratic electricity comes on.’ Filatei
threw away the remnant of the weed and crushed it under his foot.
Anita remembered. She had once heard from a colleague who had been
to Nigeria that when light came, people chanted a phrase. Now, she couldn't
remember that exactly. ‘Yeah, I’ve forgotten what they scream when light
comes on.’
Filatei lit another wrap of weed. ‘Up NEPA, right?’
That phrase sounded familiar to Anita. ‘Yes!’
‘Well, NEPA was the former acronym for the establishment that
supplied electricity and it meant National Electric Power Authority. It now has
a new name, Power Holding Corporation of Nigeria, with an abbreviation of
PHCN.’ Filatei shrugged, shaking his head. ‘However, our people, even
children who were born after it had been renamed still refer to it as NEPA and
shout Up NEPA when light comes on. In those days, many people took NEPA
PLC to mean Never Expect Power Always. Please Light Candles. Now, they
feel the corporation in charge of electricity is living true to its name. They
always hold or seize power when we need it most.’
The mindset, theory, and acronym amused Anita who burst into
laughter.
Filatei spoke on. ‘You see our struggle for change didn't start today. It
started as far back as the fifties, though not in a violent way like the one we
have now. That struggle developed through stages or let me say phases and
now we’re at the fourth phase where we’re no more fighting with poems,
essays, speeches, and debates, but with weapons of destruction. A situation
where we’re carrying guns because we don’t want our children to carry…’
Anita was listening with rapt attention; trying to know why these
fighters kidnapped, destroyed oil facilities, and tried to chase the oil
companies away.
Filatei talked about the colonial period, when the core Niger Delta was
a part of the Eastern Region of Nigeria, which came into existence in 1951.
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Then, there were only three regions and this later increased to four regions.
The Eastern Region included the people from colonial Calabar and Ogoja
divisions, which are the present Ogoja, Annang, Ibibio, Oron, Efik, Ijaw, and
Igbo people, with Igbo as the majority and the NCNC- National Council of
Nigeria and Cameroon as the ruling political party in the region. The NCNC
later became the National Convention of Nigeria Citizens after Western
Cameroon decided to break away from Nigeria and became a part of
Cameroon due to the feelings of ‘not belongings’ in the then Eastern Region
of Nigeria. Unfortunately, the ruling party of the then Eastern Region of
Nigeria never cared and perhaps, encouraged loosing Western Cameroon for
their political interest.
In 1953, the old Eastern Region had a major crisis due to the expulsion
of Professor Eyo Ita from office by the majority tribe of the old Eastern
Region- the Igbos. Eyo Ita, an Efik man from Calabar was one of the pioneer
nationalists for Nigerian Independence. Consequently, the minority in the
region, mainly the people of the old Calabar Kingdom, the Ijaws, and the
Ogoja demanded a state of their own- The Calabar-Ogoja-Rivers State. The
struggle for the creation of this state continued and was a major issue on the
status of minorities in Nigeria during debates in Europe for Nigerian
Independence.
‘That was the first phase,’ Filatei said and puffed. ‘Then, the second
phase of our struggle had to do with the feats of Isaac Adaka Boro, who is
perhaps the greatest Ijaw Nationalist. He was a Chemistry undergraduate and
President of the Students’ Union of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Also,
he was a police officer. Shortly after the Nigerian 1966 coup, that brought
Aguiyi Ironsi to power- the era of the January boys, Adaka Boro with a squad
of about one hundred and fifty volunteers declared the first independent
republic within Nigeria called the Niger Delta Republic, in an attempt to
liberate us, the Niger Deltans from the oppression of the then Eastern Regional
government. Unfortunately, that republic lasted for only twelve days.
Subsequently, acting on recommendations of the Supreme Court of Nigeria,
the Major General Aguiyi Ironsi led administration jailed him. But luck shone
on him when Lieutenant Colonel Yakubu Gowon’s government pardoned and
released him. After that, the Nigerian Army commissioned him as an officer to
help liberate the Southern territories under Biafra control. During that war,
however, while fighting for the unification of Nigeria, he died at about thirty
years old on May 16, 1968 under mysterious circumstances.’
Filatei exhaled. Anita was enjoying the discussion and couldn't wait to
hear the third phase. Already, she was witnessing the fourth phase.
Filatei started again. ‘The third phase is the first one I told you about
Ken Saro Wiwa. And this is the fourth phase that I think you know a lot about
already.’ Filatei paused, nodding. ‘We’ve dedicated our lives to fight for the
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cause of the more than thirty million Niger Deltans in this region and every
day, several of us sacrifice our lives on that basis; as martyrs, just like Saro
Wiwa, Adaka Boro and some men in my team who’ve fallen to death, in our
struggle.’
Death. That moment, Anita felt an upsurge of emotions and she bowed
her head. Upon raising it, she saw Filatei inhaling from the wrap of weed, just
as tears streamed down his face. To be sure that she was seeing clearly, Anita
leaned forward a bit. The tears had increased. It seemed unbelievable because
she had thought that when people smoked weed, it inhibited their emotions.
For once in her life, she had never seen someone smoking weed and crying at
the same time. The memories must be excruciating.
Filatei dabbed his tears with his shirt and began again. ‘You see, when
we were younger, our generation thought it could change the system. So we
decided to go to school unlike our fathers and their parents. Now, that seems
to be a grave mistake.’ He puffed again. ‘This is a country where someone
who studied agriculture might end up working in an oil company and someone
who studied languages or theatre arts might sit in the position of manager in a
bank…’
Anita was nodding, telling herself that she was learning new things of
which she had been unaware before.
‘...now, tell me, what business a farmer has in an oil company. Is he to
teach them how to farm at the flow stations or is the linguist or theatre artist to
teach them phonetics or acting in the bank.’
Anita nodded. She had been wondering the same.
‘Yet, out there on the streets, many trained, qualified and intelligent
engineers, miners, chartered accountants, lawyers and bankers are jobless.’
‘Their parents continue to feed them and their wives forever?’ Anita
asked, surprised.
‘For some people, yes. But for many, no. In the past, jobless graduates
took to telephone booth business, but the trade became too common and their
profits reduced. The rave of the moment now is okada business.’
Okada. ‘What’s okada?’
‘It is a form of public transportation on motorbikes. I’m sure you saw
many of them on your way here in PortHarcourt.’
The motorbike with the fat woman we hit two days ago. Anita nodded
in response to Filatei’s statement.
‘My sister,’ Filatei said, ‘bad man plenty for we society. They put their
loved ones in positions of power and affluence.’ Filatei paused and lifted his
head as if thinking. Then, he lowered it. ‘But must the rich keep getting rich
when the poor becomes poorer?’
Inwardly, Anita asked herself that question again.
‘Some people think they have money and power.’ ‘Filatei shifted the
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position of the chair. ‘I think what they call power in this context is the
influence and connections they have in high places. Power belongs to God.
For us, we might not have wealth and influence, but I can boldly say that God
has given us confidence, strength, and brains.’ He breathed deeply.
Anita heard the sound from his nose as he exhaled.
He pointed to her. ‘Some of our people justify their actions by saying
that the white people are paying for the sins of their fathers, the years of the
slave trade…’
Slave trade again. Anita was feeling an urge. Yet, she decided to listen
to Filatei. Some other time, she told herself
‘…even the internet fraudsters, popularly known as yahoo boys justify
their activities with this same reason. However, I don’t think anybody who
says that has any faults. Poverty,’ he stressed on poverty, ‘has made people
bring up issues of the past as alibis or justifications of their actions.
Personally, I feel bad about the slave trade, although before the white men
began trading with the lives of our people, slavery existed amongst us.
Fortunately, now, the generations of those shipped there centuries ago are
doing fine in every sphere of life and I admire them. Just think about
musicians, television personalities, sports professionals, several of them, many
of their ancestors were from Africa. They grew by their numbers, suffered
together but eventually overcame. At least now, you have an African
American President. I don’t think that would have happened if not for the
large population of African Americans there even with the existing racism…’
Max. Anita briefly remembered the months leading up to the last
American Presidential election. Max had been optimistic that Barack Obama
would win.
‘I know his father was from Kenya and my root is Zimbabwe. It still
makes no difference. The two countries are in Africa. We’re all one,’ Max had
said one day when Anita joked that Obama had an Eastern African origin
while he had a Southern one.
Filatei was still talking. ‘I hope for the day when I would become a
changed man and cause positive change in the world too. But I must tell you
that at this point of our lives, many graduates and other people on the streets of
this country don’t mind going to the States, even if they would wash toilets or
corpses to survive there. Some others regret that their forefathers weren't
among the slaves shipped to America and Europe during the years of the slave
trade. Now, tell me, how people who have this type of mentality won’t do
anything to make life better for themselves when they’re trapped within the
corners of this country. Go to foreign embassies in Nigeria, every month, they
receive thousands of visa applications, of which they turn down almost all.’
Filatei stood up and signaled that he wanted to go out to ease himself.
As he stepped out, Anita visualized images of Nigerians and Africans
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in pubs and other public places in New York City. As days turned to years,
their population increased. Times without number, she had met male and
female cab drivers and security guards who told her that back home in Nigeria,
they were doctors or engineers and had found their way to the States to search
for a better life. Unable to cope with the demoralizing experiences, some
returned home. For the patient ones among them, however, after several years
doing menial jobs, light might arrive at the end of the tunnel. Then, they might
get white-collar jobs that paid well. For some, the story could be different.
They might continue to earn eight dollars per hour until death arrived.
The impatient ones often ended up worse. Their enthusiasm to make
quick money made them get involved in dirty dealings like drugs, prostitution,
robbery, and fraud, which could be internet based or not. Some lucky ones
amongst them garnered wealth from these; some became guests of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation and the Police while some others met their deaths
because of complications that arose during their illegal dealings.
Now, Filatei returned and sat on the chair. ‘To buttress my point, the
foreign oil companies and the Western world are not wholly responsible for
the pitiable state of our region and the country as a whole. Our governments
have faults too and I blame them more because it’s impossible for a visitor to
come into a man’s house and begin to dictate what should happen without the
man’s encouragement. It seems to me that we charted the course of our lives
with our hands. That is why I decided long time ago to collect money from the
filthy rich and give to the poor. They caused it. They made us begin to do
things we didn't want to do. Now everybody kidnaps. They don’t bother to go
to school anymore. Sometimes, when people are very hungry, they kidnap
little children and ask the parents for ransoms of five thousand naira… about
thirty dollars. To us, schooling now seems to be a waste of time because after
struggling to pay our school fees, sometimes sleeping on empty stomachs,
because our parents have nothing on which to farm and make money, after
enduring the incessant strikes that prolong our education, we still get no job
after completing our studies...’ He paused and lit another stick of weed.
Anita guessed that this night, Filatei was trying to suppress his
emotions. She also doubted this, remembering how Filatei was crying minutes
ago, even while smoking weed.
‘I learnt that in the States, a new student knows the day he would
graduate even before starting his education… knowing the end before the
beginning.’
Anita nodded.
‘Here, a new student doesn’t know when he would resume- the
beginning. He doesn’t know what to expect in the middle, not to talk of when
he would finish. So, many of us already take this struggle for self-
determination as our profession. At least proceeds from ransoms put food on
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our tables, pay our rents, and buys us clothing. Emation gives us some
emotional satisfaction. It helps us to survive even though, I personally think
we should be dominating and living normal lives as God had proclaimed.’
‘I’ve heard everything you’ve been saying since,’ Anita said. ‘But
can’t the government help in some way?’
‘Well, they’re trying their best, but they should put in more efforts.
Even now, the number two citizen of this country is a son of ours. That shows
they’re beginning to regard us but we want more. I know of some
commissions the government established to alleviate the sufferings of our
people. Now, they’re also talking about granting the ematers in the region
amnesty as part of the steps in their efforts to make things better for the Niger
Deltans. They said we should submit our arms and that they will help in
rehabilitating us, training us, and providing jobs and financial support.’
Good. ‘So, will you cooperate? Anita hoped Filatei would say yes.
‘Sure,’ Filatei replied. ‘We still have time to surrender our weapons
until October this year. And I would encourage many ematers like me that I
know to embrace the amnesty and give the government the benefit of doubt.
Sincerely, I hope for the day that we will reconcile our differences with the
government. The day we’ll sit together and draw up the blueprints to rebuild
our shattered home.’
Happy about that, Anita raised her right thumb exclaiming, ‘Yes.’
Following that, the thought of what they were trying to discover flashed
through her mind.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘can you tell me more about the axis of evil and the
hidden gods?’
Filatei uttered a low moan and played with his goatee for a while.
Finally, he said, ‘Maybe, I’ve to tell you about the discovery of the axis of evil
first.’
‘Okay.’
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Chapter 41
‘In the late fifties, just before Nigeria gained her independence from
Britain, some white men arrived,’ Filatei began. ‘At that time, they said they
were looking for more oil sites and with the support of locals, they began to
search all over the creeks, travelling in three houseboats. As they went, they
drew maps and snapped pictures. Eventually, they got to a forest and
discovered oil. After that, they went back into the village and threw a big
party. Everybody drank foreign wines to stupor. However, the next time they
wanted to return to their newly discovered oil site, they faced a big challenge.
They couldn't find their way even with all their maps and pictures. Then, they
returned to meet the village head to report the strange incident. In reaction, the
village head called the village herbalist…magician to intervene. After several
consultations with the gods, the herbalist proclaimed that the oil explorers had
gotten to the axis of evil where some white men had earlier placed the hidden
gods. He also said that the explorers should forget about the oil there because
they would never get there again. In addition, he said that any white person
who ever sets foot on the soil of the axis of evil would be there for other
reasons.’
As an hostage, Anita thought.
She listened as Filatei talked on. ‘…Then, for those who might want to
uncover the hidden gods, he said that the task would be complicated.’
‘Why did he say it would be complicated?’
Giggling, Filatei replied, ‘Because it has connections with the years
when the white men paid for the lives of our people and shipped us to work on
their plantations.’ Bringing out a stick of cigarette, Filatei lit it.
Slave trade, yet again. Reflecting on the Middle passage, Anita found
herself back in Columbia. Finally, it seemed it was time to talk about it.
Please can I’ve that tissue? There’s something I’ve been dying to talk
about.’ Anita was in Manhattan, Columbia, in her imaginations already.
Moments later, she was telling Filatei about the Middle passage. That
it was the crossing of the Atlantic Ocean during the voyage of African slaves
from the African coast to the Americas. The Europeans loaded the African
slaves unto specially constructed ships with platforms below decks that were
four or five feet high, designed to maximize the number of slaves they
transported.
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During daytimes, captains kept the slaves above deck as much as the
weather allowed. On the contrary, at nights for two to three months, the slaves,
confined in irons in the hold of the ships, laid on their sides to preserve space
that was less than half of the space allotted to soldiers or convicts transported
by ship at the same time. Men remained in shackles. Women and children,
however, were freer and the crew encouraged movements and activities.
The slaves ate twice every day, and their meager diet included rice,
yam, corn, and beans. With every meal, each slave received a pint of water.
More horrible was the hygiene which was crude even as the captains made
efforts to guard food and water from contamination, and to isolate the sickest
slaves because they couldn't separate all the sick ones. In spite of that, sanitary
facilities were inadequate and slave ships harbored a wealth of diseases. The
biggest killer was dysentery. Day after day, slaves died in multiples.
Consequently, only about half of them ever saw the coasts of the Americas.
Luckily, in the mid eighteenth century, ships became faster, meaning
lesser time for the spreading of diseases and contamination of food and water.
In addition, the captains learnt preventing scurvy with citrus fruits and
producing fresh water by boiling and evaporating salt water. Even so, some
slaves still never saw the Americas, though now in a reduced quantity.
Filatei sighed. ‘Na wa o. We’ve really suffered.’
Anita nodded. ‘I decided to tell you that after considering what you
just said and also what you mentioned that cowries were used to purchase
slaves in the slave era. Definitely, we’ve more than enough reasons to
conclude that this has to with slavery too. Remember the merchants getting
their cargoes, packed like sardines in the middle passage.’ She focused on
Filatei. ‘Does this sound like what I just talked about.’
‘Yes.’ Filatei nodded.
She waved her hand. ‘Now, it seems I’m getting out of the dark. But
knowing what the hidden gods are exactly would help.’
For a while, Filatei concentrated on his smoking and did as if he was
deliberating something. Troubled, Anita watched, waiting for him to respond.
Then, finally, he looked at her in the eyes. ‘You Oyinbo people. For
years, you’ve used our own revelations and testimonies to fight us and take
advantage of us. Sincerely, I’m not sure if…’
His voice trailed off. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he began to
fumble for something. ‘A call,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ he greeted, picking the call.
Anita removed her eyes. Filatei, she knew, was finding it hard to make
a decision of telling her about the hidden gods. That made her remember the
odd reaction he gave when she first told him that she had come to make a
documentary about the axis of evil. She could hear him concluding the phone
conversation now.
173
Putting the phone back in his pocket, he said, ‘The godfather has an
important job for Miedide tomorrow. Also, he requested that I allow you speak
with Max. Will you?’
Max. Anita deliberated for a moment. She shrugged. ‘Okay.’
It was evening in New York. In a bad mood, Max had just returned
from the Warner Bros New York office, where he learnt that they had a movie
with a storyline similar to that of his script- The Last Model. More painful was
the fact that the motion picture was already at the filming stage.
Now, he entered the kitchen, dropped his phone on the table, picked a
stick of cigarette, and began to smoke, pacing back and forth. Suddenly,
Marquis crossed his mind and he wondered where the cat could be. Actually,
he knew, he wouldn’t have cared so much for its whereabouts, but for what it
disappeared with, he had to find it out. Perhaps, that has to do with my
rejection today, Max thought.
Still pondering, he heard his phone ringing behind him. Turning, he
looked at the screen. Unknown.
‘Good,’ he blurted. The time seemed right to pour his grievances on
Anita.
He picked. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi, wazz up?’
Up. ‘Our beef has been upped.’
‘What do you mean? I got no beef with you.’
He giggled. ‘That’s what you always say.’ He paused. ‘I just came
back from Warner Bros now.’
‘So?’
That sounded more like a sarcastic response. ‘And what happened is
the fault of that your thief of a cat.’
The line was silent for some time. Next, he heard Anita cackle. ‘How
would you blame Marquis for your misfortune, your rejection?’
Max had thought she would ask for what happened. That she would
express some remorse. Notwithstanding, she had guessed perfectly right.
Bullshit. He hissed. ‘If I catch that cat, I’ll make sure it spends a night in the
microwave.’
‘That’s absolutely impossible. Don't forget that the law protects it too.
Besides, no need of making empty threats. If you wanted to do that, you would
have done it already.’
Max giggled sardonically, knowing that the next thing he would tell
her would get her bothered. ‘Sure, I would have if not that it disappeared.’
Anita was mute. Max tapped his fingers twice near the mouthpiece of
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his handset.
‘Speak, Marquis’ mama,’ he said with a tone that depicted scorn.
‘Well, just make sure you get my cat or else…’
‘Or else what?’ Max shouted, pressing the phone harder to his ear.
‘You aren’t ashamed of yourself. You even prefer your cat to my job. Are we
going to pay off the rest of the mortgage with its furs or claws? Or you think I
got no other place to live in the case of a foreclosure…’
Abruptly, he heard the phone go dead.
Within him, Max knew he had overreacted. In the depths of his heart,
and with the memories of the day he got out of the penitentiary, he couldn't
imagine them losing the house. That moment, reminiscences of the day the
FBI arrested him in a bar emerged…how they handcuffed him, and had a
tough time pushing him into a black tinted jeep.
‘I’ll definitely come back,’ he had yelled at two chaps who were part
of the bystanders.
Moments later, the jeep zoomed away, with him, cursing the two
dudes, and ignoring the caution of the FBI men.
175
Chapter 42
The engine boats veered, causing their occupants to rock back and
forth and interrupting Anita’s reflections. Before then, she had been thinking
of her heated discussion with Max the previous night. Regaining balance now,
she felt some guilt that she had responded the way she did when Max said he
just returned from the film company and that Marquis caused something,
which she knew, from his tone, was the rejection of his script.
Feeling that she shouldn’t have been too forward, Anita repeated to
herself that she should just have pretended as if she didn't know what
happened and tried to find out what Marquis did and then, pacify Max even
though Max had spoken accusingly about the innocent cat. Truly, she knew,
she had encouraged Max in his writing career, at the beginning when he first
regained his freedom.
Straight from prison, Max had informed her of his plans to write his
autobiography, thinking that it would fetch them some money and their lives
would become better. She had however discouraged this idea.
‘It’s too early for that now. You could do that after some years, when
you’re old with kids, when you must have touched lives of multitudes
positively, one way or the other,’ she had told him. Accepting her suggestion,
he wrote two books, for which he got meager advances, and she continued
with her encouragements and he seemed never to give up.
But ever since that day when she began to have a different perception
about him, the day he betrayed the trust she had in him, everything turned
from sweet to sour. Even so, they lived under the same roof, even slept on the
same bed.
Secretly, she wished she could apologise for last night; the manner in
which she spoke and the way she banged the phone. Now, the thought of the
last word he mentioned before she ended the call abruptly made her shiver.
Foreclosure. She wouldn’t risk forfeiting a house in which she had grown up.
In her father’s last days, when he had struggled hard to survive, she promised
him she would work hard to pay up the loan. Clenching her fist now, she said
to herself quietly, I would pay up the loan.
Then, another issue came. Marquis. Max, she remembered, had said
that it disappeared. She couldn't imagine any other reason for its vanishing if
not that Max had festering grudges to settle with it. She hissed mutedly.
176
Where could it be?

She felt someone tap her on the shoulder and jerking back to reality,
she turned.
‘We’ll soon get there,’ Filatei said.
‘Yeah.’ She wanted to add we would soon get to the axis of evil too.
Filatei smiled. ‘I felt you were getting tired of the journey already.’
‘No not at all.’
Turning to face Ebiere and the other men on the speedboat in which
she was, Filatei continued with their discussion. She tried to listen. But she
couldn't understand because they were speaking in slangs. Apparently, it was
nothing that would be of interest to her, not about Odi where they were
travelling to because if it were, Filatei would have involved her and they
would be speaking plain English.
Odi. She formed possible visual images of the village in her mind. Yet,
with every picture, something told her she wasn’t getting it right. That same
voice was audible: wait till you reach there and see for yourself. She however
craved to have an idea of what it looked like, presuming that it would have no
semblance to Murambi Technical School.
‘Pardon me for breaking in,’ she apologised. The men stopped talking.
She faced Filatei who had turned to her. ‘Have you ever been in Odi before?’
Filatei turned to look at the faces of everyone on that speedboat and
returned his eyes to her. ‘For me, I haven’t been there since the raid. Or has
any of you been there after that massacre?’ he asked, turning to the men.
One of the men replied. ‘Yes, I went there once, a month after the
massacre. It was a shadow of its former self.’
‘One thing I’m sure of is that with the pictures we saw, and the stories
we heard, Odi will never remain the same again no matter the amount of
money the government pumps in there,’ Filatei said. ‘Remember, what makes
up a community or a nation in the real sense is not the structures on ground,
but the people who live there. Apart from the shacks, huts and other buildings,
many families were completely wiped out in that raid. Some others were
reduced in numbers. People, who were fit before, became sick. Able-bodied
men became crippled. Several young girls lost their virginities. Pregnant
women died with their unborn babies. Many men mourned the deaths of their
wives and many wives were turned to widows. Parents buried the corpses of
their children. Even, many children became orphans. So, Odi is not the same
again.’
‘That reminds me of a proverb that a scarred part of the body would
never be like the other unblemished parts,’ Ebiere who was sitting beside Pa
Akpodigha added and the ematers continued with their discussion.
Deliberating upon everything she just heard, Anita turned to face the
other speedboat carrying some of Filatei’s men, and ammunitions- local and
177
automatic, cutlasses, axes, spades, provisions, raw food, bottles of water, extra
batteries for phones and camera, foldable canvas tents, folded raffia mats,
tissue papers, serviettes, lamps, cooking stoves, a keg of kerosene, large kegs
of petrol. In addition, there were carpentry tools, bundles of firewood, a first
aid box, a generating set, buckets, pencils, pens, recharge cards, new sim
packs, recording equipment, Pa Akpodigha’s instruments, and many other
things.
‘After consultations, Pa Akpodigha said we might have no need to
come back to camp for a long time,’ Filatei had said that morning as Anita
watched the men gathering everything. ‘Instead of that he said, we would most
likely continue in our quest from Odi if the axis of evil is actually not around
there.’
Anita subsequently asked Filatei why Pa Akpodigha couldn't make
divinations to show them where the axis of evil and the hidden gods were. The
answer he had given her was one, over which she pondered for long… even
after they boarded the boats hours later, leaving some of the men behind, to
watch the camp and her bag containing her international passport, diary, and
return ticket.
‘If magic or spiritualism solved all human problems, we would’ve no
wars, no famine, no illnesses, in fact, no deaths. Everything would go
smoothly and man would live forever and won't know God’s importance,’
Filatei had replied.
Now, she removed her eyes from the boat and looked up to the sky.
About fifteen minutes later, the boats stopped at the banks of Odi.
Without wasting time, the fighters began wearing masks but Anita focused her
eyes on Ebiere, astonished that the young pretty woman was also concealing
her identity. That surprise intensified minutes later, when they left Pa
Akpodigha and some other men at the banks before they continued into the
sleepy village. Armed with an AK-47 was Ebiere in a T-shirt and jeans
trousers like the other men, marching along with them by Damiete’s side, like
a valiant combatant.
Already, Anita knew that the struggle of the fighters for self-
determination didn’t have to do with age, tribe, religion, occupation, and
educational status alone. Paale, Pa Akpodigha, Pastor Caleb’s son, Filatei, the
doctor, and the other men of different vocations and ethnic affiliations were a
proof of that. As she meandered with the fighters now, Anita comprehended
that their struggle was not dependent on gender as well. Ebiere.
‘Where are we going in particular?’ Damiete asked and Anita directed
her attention towards Filatei.
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Filatei hummed. ‘We shall soon know. Let’s get there first. The fact
remains that we aren’t leaving Odi empty handed.’
‘Yes o,’ the camera operator who was walking backwards shouted.
Ebiere and the other men chorused this response.
After winding through a long twisting footpath that smelt off human
urine and excreta, they finally stopped at a spot from where they could view
the quiet village. The men were discussing, coming up with ideas of where the
team would proceed. Anita stood by Ebiere, beholding the poor restorations
the villagers had done to the devastated village.
Scattered at random, all over, were shacks, some with charred boards
and sheets. Some little children were scampering for safety. The older ones
stood watching with folded arms, as if waiting to see what would happen. As
if they feared nothing. The worst has already happened, Anita thought. In a
short while, men and women began coming out to stare.
Anita became nervous, recalling that when she arrived in Oloibiri with
Filatei and the others the previous day, the villagers didn't raise an eye. She
turned to Ebiere, who was still staring into the village, with her gun in her
hand.
Finally, Ebiere turned and smiled. ‘There’s no problem. Our presence
is what is making them worried. Those children must have gone to call the
adults.’
‘I hope nothing will happen.’ Anita could feel her heartbeat increasing.
‘Nothing. I promise you. They’re just bothered because of the tragedy
that happened in the past. In Oloibiri, nobody gets disturbed by our presence
because they’re already used to it somehow.’
Anita signaled her acquiescence. She heard Filatei saying, ‘Alright,
Ebiere, Anita, it’s time to get to work.’ Instantly, Ebiere and Anita went to join
the rest.
‘So, we’ve decided that maybe we should try and locate oil wells
around this area…’ Filatei said.
Oil wells again. Anita wouldn’t be surprised if they continued visiting
oil wells until they got to the axis of evil. She began to get worried again.
Visiting oil wells, she thought, would raise suspicions. Potholes, like the old
woman had mentioned.
They were still listening to Filatei. ‘…because none of us lives in this
village, we can’t go about asking them for oil wells. What will come to their
mind readily is that we want to sabotage or steal oil.’
‘Even if we go about on our own,’ Ebiere said, ‘they’ll still have cause
to suspect us. And don’t forget all they’ve been through in the past. We’ve to
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be very careful so they wouldn’t suffer again in the hands of the government.
They’re already staring.’
Relieved, Anita nodded enthusiastically. ‘Won’t they wonder what I’m
doing with you guys?’
‘Um, that’s true,’ Filatei said. ‘Oh I wish this were my village. We
might have to lie. But the lie is what I don’t know. Going round oil wells with
you is enough to make them think you’re an oil worker, which won't be a very
good idea for them. Remember, our people want your people to leave Nigeria
alone so that we’ll extract our oil ourselves. Afterall, countries of the Western
world that have oil don’t invite foreigners to come and extract their oil for
them.’
Damiete sighed. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Or she shouldn’t go with us?’ another man asked, pointing to Anita.
‘What’s the essence of that when they’ve already seen her with us? It’ll
only convince them that we’ve skeletons in our cupboard.’ Filatei scanned
everyone’s faces as if to see their reaction to his response. When it seemed he
had sensed a glimmer of their acceptance, he shrugged and dipped his hand
into his pocket.
Anita removed her eyes from him and focused on her dusty feet, a bit
uneasy that the other men hadn't expressed their acceptance in a vivid way.
Only Ebiere had nodded. Anita was happy, however. Filatei, to her, wasn’t
trying to underrate her, didn't want to make her feel used and dumped.
The uncomfortable thought that she was displaying her uneasiness
made her decide to look up. As she did so, she turned to Ebiere who smiled.
Then, she looked round. The men’s backs were turned as they watched
around. Nobody said anything to anybody. Then, settling her eyes on Filatei,
she saw that he was studying the disc jacket, the tissue paper, and the other
piece of paper they got at the oil well the previous day.
Suddenly, he looked up and said. ‘God is good. We’ve to go to the
True Story Church.’ The other men turned and everybody focused on Filatei.
True Story Church. ‘I thought the True Story Church was an invented
idea to lead us to the music shop.’ Anita was puzzled.
‘Yes, it was invented but it’s real because it is a relic of a true story.’
Filatei stopped and watched as if trying to play on their minds.
‘How?’ Ebiere asked.
‘I didn't quickly remember that it was one of the three buildings that
survived the raid.’
‘But today is a Sunday,’ Damiete said, emphasizing on Sunday. ‘They
should be holding a service.’
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This morning, again at Elewe, Opuowei and Charly were sitting,

devouring pepper soup and beer. The previous day, they had spent hours at the
joint but didn’t get any fruitful information, even as they tried hard to overhear
discussions over the loud music. All they heard were conversations about
supplying of young girls from other towns for prostitution, sales, and purchase
of large quantities of weed and stolen properties, supply of weapons for two
militant groups and the recruitment of thugs for some criminal kingpins.
Disappointed, Opuowei informed Charly that they would return today.
‘Oga, but we won't take pepper soup and beer,’ Charly had said as they
drove away yesterday.
Subsequently, Opuowei asked him why and Charly said that eating
soup and drinking beer with the money Chief Doukpolagha had provided for
their mission didn't sound like a good idea to him, and that it made him feel
like he was cheating Chief; even when Chief wasn’t paying them extra for
their job in his house.
‘O boy, we must drink and eat there because if we don’t, then we’ve no
business there. They might find out and that means big trouble. You know,’
Opuowei had responded.
After that, they went to sleep at a hotel, deciding not to go to The
Citadel so that Chief Doukpolagha and Mama won't have the impression that
they weren't doing anything meaningful.
Today, back again, they had been trying to continue with the
unfinished business of the previous day, since they arrived an hour ago.
Today, the atmosphere was better, luckily. The music filtered noiselessly
through the speakers. The prostitutes hadn't arrived so the men who had come
for Sunday morning business had nothing to divert their conversations.
As the soldiers ate and pretended as if they were discussing about
business, Opuowei knew that very soon, the music would begin blaring and
the whole place would look like a market. For that reason, he decided to strain
his ears more, to listen in on some men who sat on the next row.
The man no wan pay, Opuowei heard the fatter of the men say. In
reaction, Opuowei tapped Charly gently, to know if Charly heard that. Charly
smiled and nodded. Opuowei responded by nodding too. He wanted to hear
more. Despite that, he knew that if he and Charly remained silent for a long
181
while, the men could reduce their voices, move away, or worse inform the
owners of Elewe of potential threats.
‘Charly, do you have credit?’ Opuowei asked in a loud voice. ‘I need
to call that woman that asked for supplies.’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Charly replied, cooperating in the phony
conversation. Really, they had nothing to supply to anybody.
Charly handed him an MTN recharge card and Opuowei began to type,
still straining his ears.
‘I don dey tell you since. If not for pity and you know other
considerations, they for kill am, at least, to teach that man a lesson. He no
stubborn like us…’ Opuowei heard the other man talking. Raising his head
briefly, Opuowei saw Charly smiling.
Opuowei guessed they had to look for a way to be close to the men
whom they had already presumed were militants. Then, he began
contemplating approaching these men to make a false deal with them to abduct
someone for him and Charly. Afterall, Elewe like many other hangouts was a
place where militants met with sponsors, godfathers, and potential customers
whom he and Charly would feign to be.
Still pretending to be loading the card occasionally saying, this card is
not loading, the network is bad, Opuowei’s phone began to ring. Police Chief.
Good. For a while, he forgot about the men on whom they were
eavesdropping. Definitely, he knew, the information he would get in the next
few minutes would be precise and more rewarding than anything he would
make from any association at Elewe.
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Anita stared at the old building of The Odi Anglican Church, which
survived the raid together with the village health centre and a branch of First
Bank, according to what Filatei said on their way to the church. Truly, she
thought, it was a True Story structure. Just like several unrepaired structures
that still had cavernous holes produced by mortar fired shells, they saw when
they were coming.
The fighters were talking quietly, now in pidgin, trying to resolve the
issue of waiting for the church service to end or just barging in straight away.
Anita wished they hadn't changed from plain English, which they were
speaking when the considerations started. She was however pleased that
finally, the issue of her identity was no more a problem. Already, everybody
had agreed on the persona she would assume. Giving the large woodland that
served as the neighbor to the church a quick glimpse, Anita focused her
attention, again, on the church.
Inside the faded building, the congregation was reading a hymn. Pass
me not oh gentle savior, hear my humble cry…
The topic of the song and the loud voice in which they sang it made
Anita wonder if there wouldn’t be a showdown between the angels of heaven
and her team which might any moment from then disrupt the assembly of
souls who came to reverence God, apparently oblivious of another gathering
with a different motive outside.
‘Anita,’ she heard Ebiere call and she turned.
Filatei narrowed his eyes, and the slant of his head suggested that he
didn't want any further debate. They’ve finally made a decision, Anita thought.
Filatei spoke, ‘We’ve no time to waste. We’re going in there. Comport
yourself in a way a person of the status you’re taking on would do. So, let’s
go.’ With that, Ebiere and some of the men, including Damiete remained
outside. Filatei, Anita, and a handful of men walked towards the church, the
camera operator leading.
As soon as the camera operator entered the church, Anita, through the
window, could see people turning their heads one after the other. When
Filatei, in front of her entered next with his M4 automatic rifle slung over his
shoulder, the congregation went into turmoil. People, young and old, began to
run out through side doors, falling over one another in the process. Anita
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looked through the window.

Outside, a fat woman bumped into a young man holding his phone. As
they both rolled over, the phone went up in the air. Pushing the woman off
him, the man bent down, picked his phone, and ran away. With her attention
back into the church now, Anita shivered as the vicar, who had earlier wanted
to start preaching toppled over a little boy, as he- the elderly man scampered
for safety.
‘This is what I expected,’ Filatei whispered. ‘The other men apart from
the cameraman will go outside to look for them and talk about you and tell
them they shouldn’t have bolted away like that. That we’re not here to make
war with them. Before those men get to allay their fears, we would have
searched everywhere.’
Anita now understood what they had been saying outside, in pidgin,
moments ago. Now, the church was empty and Filatei signaled to the other
men to go outside and accomplish their part of the plot. As soon as they left,
Filatei looked round to see if any unwanted person was watching. No one.
Then, he pulled Anita by the hand towards the altar. The man with the camera
followed behind.
‘The altar is a sacred place but I’m sorry we’ve to check there first
because it is the area of the church that has prominence,’ he said. ‘Maale
might never forgive me if she hears about this.’
I wouldn’t be surprised. Really, Anita didn't believe that any clue
would be in such a place as the altar of the church. First, it was sacred.
Second, it was conspicuous. She was however optimistic that somehow, the
decision to search the altar would yield something of assistance, even if it
wouldn’t be a clue.
They got to the pulpit.
On it was a worn out Bible. Picking it up, Filatei flipped through the
pages quickly. They saw nothing. He did this all over again. Yet, nothing.
They checked the layers of the pulpit. Nothing, but cobwebs. Filatei began to
check the corners of the altar. A disappointed Anita blurted, ‘Shit!’ She
couldn't wait for them to get out of the church, calm the nerves of the
disoriented congregation and continue in their quest. Where else could
something be hiding, she mused. Then an idea struck her.
‘Filatei, why don’t we check under the pulpit?’
‘Yes!’ Filatei exclaimed, walking over. ‘How could I’ve forgotten?’
Together, they lifted the pulpit and stared at the floor beneath it,
covered with black sand. Still nothing. As they wanted to lower it, a brown
dirty folded paper fell off from its base.
With one hand, Filatei picked this up. Standing up after lowering the
pulpit, he unfolded the paper. It was a badly drawn map. Finally, Anita felt,
they had something that would take them directly to the axis of evil. She
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beckoned to the camera operator to move nearer and focus the camera on it.
Then, she turned to smile at Filatei who was already grinning. Still in that
cheery mood, they began to hear continuous gunfire, coming from outside.
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Chapter 45
About an hour ago, having finished performing his routine protection

rituals, Miedide left the camp in high spirits, just as he remembered Pa
Akpodigha’s warnings. As he strode through the lonely soggy path now, he
meditated upon the mission, about which the godfather had called Filatei the
previous night.
Somehow, it seemed daring. Yet, he had to do it. He even knew that
the task was one the godfather could accomplish himself, with all his
connections and power. This was however impossible because of the present
situation of things, for the godfather. He just had to try to remain where he
was for some time or else the deceased and the missing might just have an
accidental rendezvous.
Sharp man, Miedide thought, at the same time feeling pride that
everyone had trusted him to do the job. Suddenly, he began to worry about
Filatei and the others as he remembered Filatei’s story about the attack at
Oloibiri, just after he- Miedide left for Atali, from Oloibiri, the previous day.
‘O boy, you just have to go to PortHarcourt. But I hope you wouldn’t
go for any other solo mission until we get what we’re looking for. Even
forever, because most likely, this is the last. You know I love your company,’
Filatei had responded when Miedide expressed his desire to go with them to
Odi that morning. With no other choice, Miedide had agreed not to postpone
the mission for which he was going now until evening, when he assumed they
must have returned from Odi.
From a distance now, he could see the okada road, through narrow
openings between ancient stubborn trees and shrubs that survived countless oil
spills, but remained useless. He had to charge his brain before exiting the
trees.
Immediately, Filatei grasped Anita by the shoulder and ducked with

her, behind the pulpit. Rapidly, he pocketed the map, and got his gun ready to
shoot. The camera operator had kept the camera on the last layer of the
platform and was taking cover behind the narrow pulpit, just like Filatei and
Anita. Without a gun, the camera operator crouched behind Anita to shield her
186
and looked left and right as the barrage went on. Anita was shaking, obviously
in great fear.
On the other hand, a confident Filatei held his gun with zeal, and
looked away from Anita and the camera operator. He began to stare at the only
person he could see, a man to his right, who was not in his team, shooting
tirelessly. He wished to shoot at the man but he thought otherwise. Later, he
told himself, suspecting that the young men of the village had mobilized, in an
attempt to defend their community. Perhaps, they speculated that Filatei’s
team was in Odi for oil or espionage.
The continuous volley of bullets increased Filatei’s desire to shoot at
the man at whom he was staring, who was now speaking on phone, having
suspended his firing. The thought that no one had fired a single shot into the
church since stopped Filatei again. Really, he didn't want anything that would
increase Anita’s terror. Still, he had to defend his comrades. I should go
outside.
‘Anita, don’t leave this place. Remain here with him. I’m coming back
for you people,’ Filatei said in a whisper and left them, crawling away, on his
belly.
Slowly, he went down the low altar and began crawling to a side door,
on his left. The shootings were even louder now. He knew at once that their
attackers were handling automatic weapons too. Shit. Power pass power, he
said quietly. He didn't wish to murder any soul, though. Even if he had to, he
felt it shouldn’t be of those who had seen hell in the past.
Close to the door now, he hoped no one would lose his or her life just
because of the battle the presence of his team had caused in the village. His
team had no other option than to come, and it had to be that day, because,
delay was dangerous. Informing the men or elders prior to their arrival was
also impossible. Their quest was one of secrecy. Moreover, Anita didn't have
much time to spend in Nigeria.
Filatei was now crawling across the door, outside. The gunshots had
subsided. He could see no one. Apparently, everybody had run to safety. He
wondered where his men were. Getting up slowly, he pointed the M4, praying
that he wouldn’t use it, praying that the calm would continue as it was. He
turned to his right and began walking. Just as he got to the curve, he heard
another gunshot and moved back.
Time passed.
He leaned forward and took a peep. Then, he began to comprehend the
true state of things. Scattered everywhere were several boughs and branches of
dried trees. Still absorbing this, the trunk of a large tree, obviously bullet
ridden began to collapse. Filatei understood. The bush by the church had been
the battleground. He smiled. Thank God, no one destroyed any house or
valuable property, if any. Even so, he wasn’t sure that there were no destroyed
187
lives.
Everywhere was silent. Filatei knew he couldn't stand there forever and
so, he began walking towards the woods, his gun ready, just in case. Close to
the woods, he heard a gunshot suddenly. The sound resonated for a while.
Then, as if it was a trance, he saw Ebiere coming out from the woods, gun in
hand, staggering, evidently worn out. Hurriedly, he ran to meet her.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked, supporting her from behind with his
arm.
Ebiere coughed. ‘They’re fine.’
Fine. Happy with this, Filatei said, ‘I’ve to go for them. This place is
dangerous. Go and wait in the church.’
‘There is no need for that,’ Ebiere responded. ‘Those boys must be the
ones that attacked you people yesterday. We’ve already sent them far off,
away.’
I should’ve known. Ebiere’s response changed Filatei’s initial opinion.
Then as if to buttress that, some of the villagers began coming out, from their
hiding places. Immediately, Filatei remembered he had promised to go back
for Anita and the camera operator.
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Chapter 46
Now, facing south of Odi as they supposed the map had directed,
Filatei, and the others sat, talking quietly as their engine boats went. Half
listening to the stories of the attack at the church, Filatei studied the map along
with Ebiere who was by his right and Anita, on his left.
As the men interrupted one another, each trying to give his own
version of the incident, Pa Akpodigha paid attention. Filatei already had his
conclusions, however. Unarguably, the other group had gotten them all
unawares. Even those who waited at the banks hadn't seen any indication of
danger. Worse, the men he had sent to calm the worries of the church
members said that the latter disbelieved the concocted story about Anita.
Filatei hissed. ‘It’s enough. Instantly, the men stopped talking. ‘What’s
important now is preventing such an occurrence from happening again. I’m
not saying you shouldn’t talk. Let’s talk about something else and watch our
fronts and backs because nobody knows what would happen next.’ The men
nodded and took positions. Pa Akpodigha bent his head. Filatei knew his uncle
was worried... troubled that the rituals and sacrifices they had made might be
losing their potency.
If that were the case, Filatei thought, they had to be tough. Definitely,
the other group would locate them, possibly the next day. Ebiere had said that
none of them died in the gunfight. The news impressed Filatei. At least, he
was tired of bloodshed. On the other hand, he knew that when a ram retreats
from a fight, it surely returns with more strength.
‘Please can you hand me the map?’ he heard Anita ask and he gave it
to her, wondering if anyone could be betraying them. He didn't want to turn it
into a public debate now. Only days ago, back at the camp, Miedide had
mentioned the possibility of someone giving them out. And Filatei had ended
the discussion almost as soon as it started.
Filatei cracked his brain now, closing his eyes. Maale. He opened his
eyes and shook his head as if fighting with his thoughts. Truly, his lifestyle
didn't please Maale or God as Maale always claimed. Even so, he knew Maale
could protect him even with her life. He dismissed the thought.
Isaac. He nodded. That was the most likely person he thought could be
doing that. Doubt followed that supposition, nevertheless. Isaac knew the
danger in betrayal. Isaac knew well that even without any physical action, the
189
forces of retribution would come to play. Filatei dismissed that thought again.
Then who could be giving the dreads man and his group information about
us?
‘What do you think this red mark means?’ Anita asked, interrupting his
thought.
Catalyst. ‘Well I think it’s the exact spot where the hidden gods lie,’
Filatei replied, bearing in mind that Anita was anxious to their uncovering the
hidden gods. For this reason, often times, her words and actions made him
forget certain worries. Even with all that, he knew he still had some fear in
exposing everything about the hidden gods. The white people could turn black
to white and white to black as they had always done. He however feared that
any moment from then, Anita might know more things about the hidden gods.
Or how would one be in search of something she knows nothing about?
Tired of all the stress, the fighting and the thought of possible
bloodshed, Filatei took a cigarette and began smoking. Across, he watched as
Pa Akpodigha dozed off and he began imagining the other things they would
discover. Already, many people, even young children, knew some of the
things that made up the hidden gods. No one, however, knew all the contents.
Till then sha, Filatei thought, not wanting to speak to anybody.
His thoughts shifted to Miedide. He wondered Miedide’s progress.
There was no way he could contact him. The godfather had told Miedide not
to go along with a phone, just in case the mission went sour. As part of the
plan, the godfather didn't want anything that would link him with Miedide… a
safety strategy.
The speedboats continued to bounce along. Far ahead, Filatei saw a
bend and he requested Anita to place the map for him to see.
‘We have to follow that bend and continue straight.’ Filatei traced the
lines on the map with his right index finger.
After a while, they could see that the water was narrow at the bend,
which was sharp. The boats began to slow down for each other. The boat in
which Filatei sat was in the lead and as it slowed, another boat suddenly
appeared blocking its way. Its passengers were men. They trained automatic
rifles, which had red fabric charms tied to the muzzles, on their surprised
targets.
Immediately, Filatei instructed the drivers of his team’s boats to halt.
Standing up, he demanded, shouting, ‘What do you want?’ His voice reechoed
in space.
A man in the boat of their attackers stood up, pointing. ‘That client,
what you discovered in Odi, and the camera.’
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Chapter 47
Opuowei placed his phone by the gear, disturbed by the call he just
received. They had to get to the point from where they would begin their
journey into the creeks. Pressing harder on the gas, he took a quick glance at
Charly. Charly was looking out, through the window. Apparently, Charly was
thinking of the dangers associated with the information the Police Chief had
given them at Elewe, about an hour ago.
Jamming on the brakes to avoid running into a small goat that was
crossing the road, Opuowei contemplated telling Charly about the latest
development he just got. Considering the fact that Charly had no concrete
thing in this mission, but only his life, at stake, Opuowei decided not to tell
him now. He would do that later. No need of adding to his psychological
trauma.
In the same vein, Opuowei was going through emotional distress as
getting Anita out alive got knottier, with every intelligence report they got. He,
however, knew better not to give up. The stakes were high. Chief
Doukpolagha had promised him money that he needed so badly. And to see to
it that the money got into his hands, they had to face the types of risks he
hadn't encountered in a long time, at this stage of their investigations.
Now was the time to move from land to water. Now was the time to
intrude the domain of militants. Now was the time to get involved in violent
gun battles with them. Now was the time to meet with people whose bodies
might bounce off bullets like when a lawn tennis ball hits against a wall. Now
was the phase to meet with people who might suddenly disappear before one’s
eyes, or else, one had highly effective charms that would avert this.
Negotiating a bend, Opuowei shook his head at the bitter truth that he
and Charly were more like tourists in the creeks when compared to the
militants. Likewise, when it came to charms, they had no iota. The only thing
they had were their bulletproof jackets, two pump action rifles and two AK-
47s, all lying in the car boot. They hadn't even planned for food or shelter. As
soldiers who had seen what a military recruit camp was like, they believed that
somehow, they would get food… from locals living on houseboats or any
Good Samaritan. They could even hunt or pluck fruits. Shelter was far
simpler. They could sleep in the boat they would hire when they got to the port
at Ewoi.
191
Pressing even harder on the gas, Opuowei wondered if their weapons

were capable to the task, if they wouldn’t lose their lives in the process, and if
he would return home someday to behold his unborn baby. Only time will tell.
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Chapter 48
Again. Anita knew she was the one the man had referred to as client.
She knew what you discovered in Odi meant the map. To her, the map was too
precious to lose. Though badly sketched, she knew it would lead them to the
axis of evil. Silently, she prayed their attackers wouldn’t get any of the three
entities they asked for. Her mind went straight to Mr. Lumantas. The camera
contained his death and burial. It even contained many more things that she
felt she couldn't recall exactly the way they had recorded them. She hissed,
thinking that sometimes it was good to anticipate the unexpected.
At the church when Filatei had come for her and the camera operator,
she had been hesitant to leave the back of the pulpit. It was only after several
minutes of persuasion from the two men that she agreed to abandon the pulpit,
which had been like a fortress for her. Calming her finally, they told her that
even if any attack would be, it wouldn’t be that day. Completely, she had
believed them. Even when Filatei had told the men to watch their fronts and
their backs minutes ago, she had thought he told them to do that because of
men of the Joint Task Force.
Realizing now that their assumption was erroneous, Anita looked
upwards at Filatei and wondered if Filatei was remembering his words of
assurance. A river flows without looking back… If they will come back, it
would be after another rise of the sun.
Filatei who was facing their assailants smiled and shook his head,
turning to look round at the faces of Ebiere and the other young men who were
now pointing their guns also. Anita followed his eyes. They all had scowls on
their faces. Like the other men, Ebiere’s face was like that of a hardened male.
Pa Akpodigha was neither frowning nor smiling. Instead, he was moving his
lips, as if he were communicating with spirits, clearly chanting some
incantations. Then, much to Anita’s surprise, the old man raised a hand, spread
out his palm, and blew a white powdery substance. Instantly, everywhere
around them became cloudy.
Suddenly, Filatei swiveled his head and faced front. ‘No!’ he
exclaimed like someone, who had been considering giving the attackers what
they wanted before, but suddenly had a change of mind. ‘Ne…’
Thunderous gunshots from the other side engulfed the last syllable of
Filatei’s proclamation of his assertion. Without any thought, Anita dodged
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behind Filatei’s buttocks. Crossing her arms, she rested them against Filatei’s
bum. Already, gunshots, whose sounds were like that of a rotating helicopter
rotor blade, were ringing out from their boats too.
Even with her eyes closed, Anita felt she could still perceive things
with her eyes. Like lightening, sparks of gunfire appeared in her sight. Like
burning plastic and acid, the smell of too many gun blasts came. As if the
smells had travelled briskly through her tracts, they settled on the ducts of her
tongue. Heat surged within her body. Her eyes began to prickle, as if rubbed
with hot chili pepper.
Every single reverberating sound Anita heard controlled the tempo of
her heartbeat. As Filatei fired, she swung back and forth in rhythm with the
movement of his bottom. Her arms were now no more resting on his butt.
Instead, her hands were clutching the strong flesh of his buttocks concealed
within his jeans. She couldn't just let go, as if, if she did, a bullet would get
into her lungs, or smash her skull open. It got to a stage that she thought her
heart would rip open her chest and fall off. She wanted to cover her ears with
both hands. Then, the phobia she just developed materialized. In response, she
held tight to the solution- Filatei’s buttocks.
As if it wouldn’t stop, the volley continued with increasing intensity.
Surprised. Anita was breathing fast. Does that mean all the shooters are still
alive? With the violent shooting, she expected some of them to have fallen
from bullets. Not men of her team or the only woman. Ebiere. Anita imagined
sounds from Ebiere’s rifle constituting to the boom all around. A woman like a
strong man.
The barrage continued. Anita began to feel her legs go limp. It seemed
blood wasn’t flowing there and that her system now lacked air. Like
electricity, pressure raced through her body. Her head ached. Her sight became
blurred. She felt hot liquid rolling down her cheek, from her prickling eyes.
Blood. The flowing substance passed over her upper lip and touched her
tongue. Very saline. Tears. The tang from the fusion of the burning acidic taste
and the tears brought nausea. Her stomach rumbled… as if her intestines were
in a tussle. The walls of her abdomen seemed to be under tension. The
accompanying pain flooded upwards, sending waves of piercing discomfort to
the nerves inside her head. For a moment, she imagined she was going mad
and wondered if she would survive the attack, but as a psycho, whom the
American Embassy would fly back to the States and drop in a psychiatric
home; while Filatei and the rest, on the other hand, would be in perfect health.
Anita began to think that she was falling into catalepsy, as her hands
grew weaker. Her hold on Filatei’s buttocks was losing strength. Nevertheless,
she wanted to hold on. She wanted to remain sheltered behind this strong
combatant, who seemed to have made a covenant with the gods of warfare,
who seemed to have his life attached to an uncommon elixir.
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In the bid to have a tighter grip, she slightly relaxed her hurting
fingers. Then, she tightened her grasp. Her fingers touched each other. She felt
the touch. But she didn't want to believe she had made a mistake. The next
moment, she was falling backwards. Apparently, she had missed Filatei’s butt.
She tried to prevent the tumble. That didn't work. In a twinkle, her heavy head
hit the floor of the boat and she fell into unconsciousness.
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Chapter 49
Darkness. Anita saw herself soaring in a state of stupor. Now, she no

longer heard gunshots, no longer saw flashes of fire. All she saw was a gloom
that got darker as she climbed higher. She could perceive nothing with her
nose. Everywhere was dead silent. Her mouth was tasteless. Fear of an
impending danger had replaced that of bullets. She couldn't speculate the
nature of the peril, though. It was somewhere between madness and that state
of nonexistence, when one becomes a roving spook.
Suddenly, she began to travel back in time, visiting the days of
childhood. Times her toys were scattered round the house in which she now
lived with Max. Wonderful moments she ran up and down the stairs,
continuously, until she wearied out. Moments her mother read stories to her,
telling her from time to time, love people of all race, colour, and creed. In a
flash, she got to the day when her mother had a miscarriage…of the baby who
would have been her younger brother.
Anita wanted to go back farther in time, to satisfy a longtime curiosity-
what she looked like immediately after conception. Suddenly, there was an
echoing sound. Before her eyes, her life fast-forwarded. She saw the day she
stood by her father’s side in the hospital telling him, Dad, I will pay up the
loan. She saw Max…the day she saw him at the café… the indifferent look on
his face day she left New York. She perceived Marquis… Max’s story of its
disappearance, the last time he called. She saw the previous night… their
intense argument. Then, that morning… the way she felt guilty on their way to
Odi. The battle at Odi… Their escape… The appearance of the speedboat with
men who demanded for the precious things and her… The beginning of the
shootings… How she lost her grip…The dark state that marked the start of her
voyage into the past.
Anita opened her eyes.
Immediately, she heard a thunderous applause. Squinting, Anita tried

to place where they were. She couldn't, however. Now, strength had returned
to her legs and she felt better, in general. Thinking that she was still on the
floor where she had fallen, she tried to stand up, but realised that she was lying
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across the legs of about six people, Filatei, Damiete and Ebiere included. Men
blocked her on every side. The camera was rolling. She could only see the sky
that she was facing. A continuous resonant sound was perceptible.
She focused on Filatei. ‘Where are we?’
Instead of giving a response to her question, Filatei clapped.
‘She’s back.’
‘Klasni.’
‘Balm!’
Every one of them began to exclaim.
She’s back. Anita contemplated that statement. She didn't understand
the others and forgot about their significance, sure that they were pidgin, Ijaw,
or Itsekiri words. She wondered if the ematers knew all she had seen. Perhaps,
Pa Akpodigha had done magic to send her to the past.
She turned to look across at Pa Akpodigha. He was striking a rod
against a gong. Puzzled, she turned back to face Filatei on whose laps her head
was resting.
Filatei pointed at his uncle. ‘He called you back. You were
unconscious…’ Unconscious. Anita wanted to affirm that she knew everything
that happened to her. ‘…or maybe in a trance, sort of,’ Filatei ended. That
sounded better in her ears. Silence came. Anita imagined how the gong
managed to call her back. Does it mean it can call back the soul of the dead?
Perhaps, that was the reason why everything began to move forward rapidly
when she wanted to see what she was like, moments after forming in her
mother’s womb.
Finally, Filatei said, ‘We’re still on the river, going with the directions
on the map. We’ve passed the bend.’
Bend. The spot from where the attackers emerged. Anita sighed. ‘So
what happened? Did they leave with the camera and the map?’
Everyone laughed.
‘Were you expecting that they would leave with our camera or map.’
Filatei chuckled. ‘They’re strong but their weights never reach. I mean they
aren’t capable.’
Everyone clapped, uttering words Anita didn't understand. When the
applause and utterances stopped, Pa Akpodigha stopped hitting the gong.
‘She don dey okay, abi?’ Filatei asked the elderly man.
‘Uhn uhn…’ Pa Akpodigha continued, speaking in vernacular and the
other passengers were giggling. It must be funny, Anita thought. She waited
patiently. She had other questions to ask.
When Pa Akpodigha finished speaking, Filatei smiled, looking down at
her. ‘All he was trying to say was that even our babies are braver than you.
That you might have to begin drinking water that we would always boil with
stone inside, to make your heart stronger.’ Anita laughed and made to stand
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up. Filatei, Ebiere and other men who had served as her mattress supported
her as she did this.
‘Slow down o. She wan stretch her body,’ Anita heard Ebiere say and
the driver reduced the speed of the boat.
On her feet now, Anita yawned and raised her arms, stretching them.
Feeling perfectly normal, her head was lighter. Good. She however wondered
if truly Pa Akpodigha’s gong had done the wonders. She hoped she would
understand that phenomenon better someday.
She settled back on her chair. The driver glanced backwards and
increased the speed of the boat, trying to meet up with the other boat in front.
Anita tapped Filatei. ‘So, what happened?’
‘We fought and fought. Like I said, they are tough but we overcame
with no scars.’
Seriously. ‘Nobody sustained injuries?’
Filatei smiled. ‘I don’t know about their team, but for ours, no one lost
a drop of blood. They got nearer to us, ordered us to get out of our boats into
the water with charms in their mouth. Two of our men were already about to
jump into the water when Pa Akpodigha intervened. Later, we chased them
away in another direction, through a strange waterway. Then, we continued
with our journey.’ He paused. Then he added, ‘Those guys must be working in
a network and I suspect that their communication is tight. I can’t now vouch
that they wouldn’t attack us again before the end of the day.’
Anita nodded. Filatei placed the map for her. He pointed. ‘See, we’re
around this area now. The problem might be when we get here.’ Filatei rested
his finger on a part of the map that had six arrows going in different directions.
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Chapter 50
Close to Ewoi now, on a road with few cars, Opuowei’s phone rang
again and he parked the vehicle this time around. He picked up the small
phone and glanced at the screen to see the name of the caller. Police Chief.
‘Hello.’
‘Walter, how’re you?’
‘Fine sir.’
‘Are you close to that place already?’
‘We’ll soon reach there.’ Opuowei turned to face Charly who was
obviously in thoughts about the details of the last call.
‘Like I said the last time, those people are armed heavily. But I don’t
want that to discourage you…’ A brief silence. ‘Maybe I should send armed
men to meet you people right away.’
Opuowei sighed. This was the second time the officer had asked if he
should send armed men that day. Opuowei, however, didn't want a situation
where everything would become a public show.
He rebuffed, ‘Don't worry sir. Thank you. I’ll keep you abreast with
any development.’
Opuowei heard a sigh, like that of a man who had given up. He smiled.
Oga, you’ve tried. It’s enough.
‘Alright. Take care,’ the officer cautioned and the call ended.
Placing his phone by the gear, Opuowei started the car and moved
away. Thinking it was better to wait for Charly to ask as Charly did after the
previous call, Opuowei was silent. Already, he guessed, Charly knew this call
was a continuation of the news the DPO had started giving them, hours ago at
Elewe. The DPO had said that Chief Tuburu had decided to do like his
fighters. That the godfather was hiding somewhere in the creeks with few of
his men, and that he was monitoring the activities of his other militant fighters
from there.
Opuowei smiled. The creeks. Everything still points to the creeks.
Right from the beginning, he had feared that they would eventually have to go
into the creeks. Now, he guessed they were running out of time and he revved
up the engine, imagining that he was gunning that of a speedboat. Then,
Charly asked,’ What did he say again?’
‘He said he could send men to us.’
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Finally, from afar, a spot- where the river broke into channels of equal
widths- became visible. The boats sped on. Anita was sure that spot was where
the arrows went in different directions. She studied the map again, tracing
each arrow’s route with a finger. The final destinations were different,
meaning that a wrong choice could bring disaster. The axis of evil couldn't be
in different places.
Then, which way do we go? The arrows were six. Yet, they had to
follow one of the routes. Anita turned to Filatei who was gazing forward,
obviously wondering, as she was.
‘Any idea, yet?
For a while, Filatei kept his head in that position and turned. ‘Not a
hint.’
Anita swung her head subsequently. Everyone was quiet. The men and
Ebiere faced different directions, watching. Anita immediately knew that the
burden was on her and Filatei to decide which way they would go. Afterall,
when it came to the question of their quest, the blade severed whatever the
duo declared. Anita began to reason.
In a short while, the boats got to the spot and stopped, floating on the
water surface. Those on guard became more at alert, as they rotated their
heads every now and then, as if someone had hinted them that that spot was
dangerous.
Filatei, now with the map, studied it, tracing with his fingers. Pa
Akpodigha was nodding continuously. Anita wished spirits would whisper the
direction they should go to the old man. However, she didn't entirely rely on
this fantasy. Filatei had already told her that magic and spiritualism couldn’t
solve all human problems.
Suddenly, Filatei looked up. ‘How many parts does the water break
into?’
Anita didn't believe Filatei was asking her that kind of question. It
seemed obvious. ‘Six, of course.’
‘It seems like we’ve more than six routes to me.’ Filatei began
counting the water channels, starting from his left. Immediately, Anita joined.
Four, five, six…seven.
Seven. Surprised, Anita collected the map from Filatei. The arrows
were six. Bringing the map closer to her eyes, she checked for the seventh.
Perhaps, faintly penciled. She didn't see a seventh arrow.
‘Let’s have a re-count,’ she blurted. They repeated the counting. The
cannels were still seven.
Elimination. It occurred to Anita that they had to do away with six of
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the routes. But which six? ‘Maybe we have to follow the seventh route.’
Filatei giggled. ‘We don’t even know the first. Where do we begin
from?’
‘The map might help.’ She began to trace the route from which they
came. From Odi… to the bend… to the spot where they were now.
Glancing at the first channel on her left, Anita looked quickly at the
last on her right. ‘Can we drive this boat back a little?’
‘Why?’
‘I want to check something from a distance.’
‘Okay.’ With that, the boat came to life. Moments later, they were
about fifty metres away from the spot.
Anita was giving the map and the landscape simultaneous looks.
Filatei was studying the view. Then, Anita realised the answer she needed.
‘See.’ She leaned towards Filatei. ‘The first arrow on the right
represents that channel.’ She pointed in the direction of the first channel, to
their right. Filatei looked up and nodded, sighing.
She continued. ‘The last arrow is this,’ pointing at the sixth arrow,
‘which is that.’ She gestured with her head to the sixth channel.
‘That last channel isn’t on this map. It is exactly one hundred and
eighty degrees from that spot where we were.’
Filatei nodded.
Now, the boats were speeding along the seventh channel. Filatei and
Anita were trying to explore the route on the map. At a point after another
sharp bend was a small red circle. After the circle was another arrow.
‘Something must be important about this spot,’ Filatei announced.
‘Yeah, I was thinking about that too. Maybe we gonna have to fight an
obstacle there before we continue.’ In her mind, Anita was praying that
wouldn’t happen. She had only said that to simulate courage.
‘Then, we’re ready. But sincerely I don’t pray for that… for your
sake.’ Filatei collected a stick of cigarette, from Ebiere who had a packet in
her pockets, and began to smoke.
My sake. Anita knew Filatei and the others did many things, avoided
many things, and got involved in many things for her interest, her
documentary. That moment, however, she had an awareness that the quest
wasn’t going on only because of her documentary. The hidden gods. My
freedom. Filatei had mentioned something about claiming the dividends of his
ancestors. She also recalled that when she asked him about the hidden gods,
he had been reluctant to speak, saying that for years the whites have used their
testimonies and disclosures against them.
Watching as the cool breeze carried away fumes from Filatei’s
cigarette, Anita began to suspect that she might have to make him trust her
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enough…so that she would satisfy her curiosities. That she would never use
anything he said against them. In any case, she didn't come to Nigeria because
of the hidden gods, but for the axis of evil.
The weather became hot. After travelling for about an hour, they got to
the sharp bend and passed it with eyes wide open. Later, they got to the red
spot. They deciphered the direction the arrow was pointing. They couldn't
continue with their boats. It was a large dense forest with huge trees.
Hiding their boats under shrubs, everybody began to walk, carrying
some of their belongings. As they went, the camera operator recorded, using
the light from the camera. In front, some of the men cut through short grasses
to make way for the team. Not to increase their burden, they had left behind, in
the boats, many things including their plates and some foodstuffs. In the
doctor’s hand was the first aid box. Some other men carried mats and other
things. Their stock of water, however, was little, having taken only few
bottles, which they expended as they walked for kilometres.
The temperature of the forest was cool. The smell of nature was
distinguishable. Birds flew everywhere, singing. Wild rabbits crossed their
paths. Occasionally, Filatei pointed to large snakes telling Anita, if we don’t
provoke them, they wouldn’t attack us. Everything Anita perceived convinced
her that the forest was in its natural state…the flora and fauna uncontaminated.
Evening arrived. Thirst came. They began to weary out. Filatei urged
the group to continue going until they reached a spot where they could set up
camp and continue the next day. Near an anthill, his phone began to ring.
Anita didn't hear most part of the conversation. From the little she heard,
however, she comprehended that the godfather wanted to know their progress.
Filatei had said, we’re fine…there’s no problem….we’re close to target. As the
call terminated, Anita wondered if Filatei had mentioned the attacks they had
been having.
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Chapter 51
Eventually, they got to a point where the forest was sparse. Hurriedly,
the men cleared a small area of land and set up tents. Everybody sat down on
mats. The men watched for any human or animal intruders. Ebiere, Pa
Akpodigha, Filatei, and Anita sat, relaxing.
Picking up the map, Filatei pointed to another black circle they were
yet to reach. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll get there, enter the axis of evil, and claim the
hidden gods.’
Ebiere sighed. ‘Yes o.’
Now, Anita couldn't resist the impulse to ask. ‘Please,’ she pleaded.
‘Can I know about the hidden gods and the dividends?’
The three people closest to her looked at one another in the face.
Ebiere and Pa Akpodigha shrugged. The camera operator came to set the
camera on the tripod, having removed his small bag from his neck. Filatei
stared at Anita for a while and said, ‘Tell me all you know about the slave
trade first.’
Alright. Anita started, making her voice resemble that of a bald lecturer
in Columbia University, when he began teaching them about slavery.
‘Aristotle called slaves human instruments, signifying their use as tools. Fifth
century Anglo-Saxons called their slaves Welshman after the people they
captured. But the word slave actually came from Slav, originating from the
time when the Germans supplied the slave markets of Europe with captured
Slavs….’
Anita continued, telling the group about how Western slavery began
about ten thousand years ago, in Mesopotamia, today’s Iraq, where a male
slave was worth an orchard of date palms. She said that then, female slaves
were mostly for sexual services, gaining freedom only when their masters
died. However, early abolitionists arose in the form of two Jewish sects, the
Essenes and the Therapeutae, who abhorred slave owning and tried buying
slaves in order to free them.
Centuries later, the first Europeans- the Portuguese- arrived on the
coast of Guinea and inaugurated the Atlantic slave trade. Antão Gonçalves, a
Portuguese explorer has the record of being the first European to buy African
slaves in the region of Guinea. Originally, the Portuguese were interested in
trading mainly for gold and spices. Therefore, they had set up colonies on the
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uninhabited islands of São Tomé.

In the 16th century, however, the Portuguese settlers found that these
volcanic islands were ideal for growing sugar, a venture that was labour
intensive. These merchants found challenges in form of the African heat, lack
of infrastructure, and hard life. They had to turn to large numbers of African
slaves to help cultivate the sugar. Consequently, Elmina Castle on the Gold
Coast, originally built by African labor for the Portuguese in 1482 to control
the gold trade, became an important depot for slaves that were to be
transported to the New World.
The first African slaves arrived in Hispaniola, in 1501. In that New
World, the Spaniards were the first Europeans to use African slaves. They had
sought auxiliaries for their conquest expeditions and laborers on islands such
as Cuba and Hispaniola, where the alarming death rate in the native population
had spurred the first royal laws protecting the native population- The Laws of
Burgos, 1512–1513. Then, the notorious Middle passage began.
Filatei sighed. Anita smiled, remembering that she had told him about
the Middle passage.
Anita continued, ‘The British were the prime slavers, bringing goods
from England to exchange for African slaves, whom they then supplied to
Spanish and Portuguese colonies in the New World. A European merchant
could obtain a healthy slave for £5.50 worth of commodities in 1690 and £14
worth in 1760. The same slave sold in Virginia, for £15 in 1690 and £45 in
1760. In large numbers, European colonists flocked to West Africa trading
liquor, tobacco, arms, and trinkets for live cargo. This triangular trade built
Britain’s fortune...’
‘I hope you know they bought our people for other things apart from
what you mentioned,’ Filatei cut in.
‘Yeah. I’m coming to that.’
Anita continued. Everybody knew the Spaniards for their continued
harsh treatment of slaves, until the ending of the trade in the 1800s.
Pope Eugene IV in his bull, Sicut Dudum of 1435 condemned the
enslavement of the black inhabitants of the Canary Islands. In 1452, however,
Pope Nicholas V issued the papal bull- Dum Diversas, granting Alfonso V of
Portugal the right to reduce any Saracens, pagans and any other unbelievers to
hereditary slavery. His Romanus Pontifex bull of 1455 reaffirmed and
extended this approval of slavery. These papal bulls came to serve as a
justification for the subsequent era of slave trade and European colonialism.
Pope Paul III in 1537 issued an additional Bull, Sublimis Deus, declaring that
no one, not even those outside the faith, should be deprived of their liberty.
Thus, the followers of the Church of England and Protestants did not use the
papal bulls as a justification for their involvements in slavery.
Increasing penetration into the Americas by the Portuguese created
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more demand for labour in Brazil, primarily for farming and mining. Sugar
was the mainstay of slavery in Brazil, Cuba, and Haiti. In Brazil, the
Portuguese resisted installing even the most basic machinery to replace human
labour. They worked their slaves to death within a span of a few years.
Consequently, numerous African slaves escaped to the Brazilian interior,
forming their own Republic of Palmares in a famous revolt, which lasted
seventy years. In 1696 when Palmares fell, all the leaders committed suicide
rather than be enslaved again.
Anita paused to catch her breath. Now, her story had distracted the
men on guard.
‘Abeg, don’t close your ears but open your eyes sha,’ Filatei implored
the men who turned away, smiling.
Anita began again. Haiti, under French dominance, was importing
40,000 slaves a year when the fuse for a spectacular revolt was lit. Toussaint
L’Ouverture took charge, forcing an abolitionist decree through the French
Assembly and became the first black man to govern a European colony.
Eventually under Napoleon’s despotic reign, one of Toussaint’s supporters
toppled Toussaint. Haiti gained freedom, though, rather than returning to
slavery.
Quickly, slave-based economies spread to the Caribbean and the
southern portion of what is today the United States, where Dutch traders
brought the first African slaves in 1619. These areas all developed an
insatiable demand for slaves. As European nations grew more powerful,
especially Portugal, Spain, France, Great Britain and the Netherlands, they
began vying for control of the African slave trade, with little effect on the
local African and Arab trading. Great Britain's existing colonies in the Lesser
Antilles and their effective naval control of the Mid Atlantic forced other
countries to abandon their enterprises due to inefficiency in cost. Approvingly,
the English crown provided a charter giving the Royal African Company
monopoly over the African slave routes until 1712.
In the late 18th century, the Atlantic slave trade peaked, when the
largest numbers of slaves were captured on raiding expeditions into the
interior of West Africa...
Filatei sighed and Anita paused.
‘That peak is where the story lies.’
Anita smiled. She continued with her story, saying how African
kingdoms against weaker African tribes and peoples typically carried out these
raiding expeditions. The mass slavers included the Oyo empire, Kong Empire,
Kingdom of Benin, Kingdom of Fouta Djallon, Kingdom of Fouta Tooro,
Kingdom of Koya, Kingdom of Khasso, Kingdom of Kaabu, Fante
Confederacy, Ashanti Confederacy, and the Kingdom of Dahomey. Europeans
rarely entered the interior of Africa, due to fear of disease and fierce African
resistance.
Seriously enjoying the trade, kings of Dahomey sold their war captives
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into transatlantic slavery, who they would otherwise have killed in a ceremony
known as The Annual Customs. Consequently, as one of West Africa's
principal slave states, Dahomey became extremely unpopular with
neighbouring peoples.
Nevertheless, the Khasso kingdoms depended heavily on the slave
trade for their economy, like the Bambara Empire to the east. The number of
slaves a family owned indicated the status of the family. That led to wars for
the sole purpose of taking more captives. This trade led the Khasso into
increasing contact with the European settlements of the West coast,
particularly the French. Benin grew increasingly rich during the 16th and 17th
centuries in the slave trade with Europe. They sold slaves captured from their
interior enemy states. The buyers carried these slaves to the Americas in
Dutch and Portuguese ships. Later on, people tagged the Bight of Benin's
shore as the Slave Coast. In 1840s, King Gezo of Dahomey outrageously
boasted:
The slave trade is the ruling principle of my people. It is the source
and the glory of their wealth ... the mother lulls the child to sleep with notes of
triumph over an enemy reduced to slavery.
Filatei hissed. ‘Such a disappointment. Other countries had names like
the Gold Coast... the present day Ghana and Ivory Coast, now Cote d’Ivoire.’
Anita shook her head. ‘Some Nigerian kings also had popular
declarations. In 1807, when the UK Parliament passed the Bill that abolished
the trading of slaves, the King of Bonny, now in Nigeria was horrified at the
conclusion of the practice and he protested:
We think this trade must go on. That is the verdict of our oracle and
the priests. They say that your country, however great, can never stop a trade
ordained by God himself.
Ebiere, who had been explaining all Anita had been saying to Pa
Akpodigha in vernacular and pidgin, clapped her hands together in surprise.
‘What was that man thinking?’ she asked, rhetorically. ‘Who told him it was a
trade ordained by God? Were those slaves not human beings like him? Were
they not his people or did they fall from the sky?’ Ebiere turned to enlighten
Pa Akpodigha.
Anita replied, ‘The slaves came from many different sources. About
half came from the societies that sold them. These might be criminals,
heretics, the mentally ill, the indebted, and any others who had fallen out of
favour with the rulers. Sufficient details of these practices before the arrival of
Europeans were unavailable, and so it is difficult to tell if the kings and
suppliers of slaves artificially increased the numbers of people considered as
undesirables to provide more slaves for export. Virtually, capital punishment
in the region disappeared since prisoners became far too valuable to dispose of
in such a way...’
Anita also said how another source of slaves, comprising about half the
total, came from military conquests of other states or tribes. That the fact that
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slave trade greatly increased violence and warfare in the region because slaves
were hot cakes had been a cause of disagreement. Endemic warfare was
common before slave hunting added an extra inducement.
For the Atlantic slave trade, captives purchased from slave dealers in
West African regions known as the Slave Coast, Gold Coast, and Côte d'Ivoire
were sold into slavery because of defeats in warfare. In the Bight of Biafra,
near modern-day Senegal and Benin, some African kings sold their captives
locally and later, internationally to European slave traders for goods such as
metal cookware, rum, livestock, and seed grain...
‘You’re now talking. They even bought people for mirrors.’ Filatei
interrupted.
Anita continued, ‘Before the voyage, the victims were held in slave
castles and deep pits where many died from multiple illnesses and
malnutrition. Conditions were even worse in the Middle passage across the
Atlantic where most of them died en route.’
‘Na wa o,’ Ebiere blurted.
‘Anita,’ Filatei said, ‘do you know that slavery in Africa was more like
an indentured servitude. Slaves were not personal properties or chattels of
other men. Even, their owners didn't enslave them for life. They got wages and
were able to accumulate wealth. Often, many bought their own freedoms and
then could achieve social promotion...’
‘Just like freedmen in ancient Rome,’ Anita added.
Filatei continued. ‘Some even rose to the status of kings like Jaja of
Opobo.’
‘Or like Sunni Ali Ber of the Songhai Empire in modern day Mali,’
Anita added again, smiling, impressed that she was speaking with great minds.
Anita continued, ‘All these while, there had been several slave
rebellions. Few had been successful but most had been calamitous. In the latter
case, the rebel slaves were whipped or executed. In Southampton, Virginia
County, a major slave revolt, led by a man named Nat Turner, started on
August 22, 1981 with the participation of Turner and five others. Turner first
killed his master and master’s family. From this point, the insurrection grew,
including about seventy slaves by the next morning, by which time the rebels
had covered about thirty-two kilometers and killed at least fifty-seven
whites...’
‘Good!’ Damiete exclaimed, interrupting.
Giving Damiete a brief look, Anita smiled and rode on. The slaves
planned to attack Jerusalem, the county seat, in order to procure arms.
Stopping at a nearby plantation to recruit more slaves, white militiamen
attacked them. Hundreds of soldiers later joined the militiamen. During that
battle, many slaves as much as a hundred were massacred, apparently in
reprisal. Until October 30, Nat Turner eluded capture. Eventually, he was
tried, convicted, and then hanged on November 11, that same year. Before
then, sixteen slaves and three free blacks had already been executed.
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Tightening his right fist, Filatei punched his left palm. ‘That means the
struggle for emancipation by black men started long ago.’
Anita nodded and scratched her nose. She went on. After some time,
there were moves for outlawing the slave trade. The nineteenth century saw
the birth of abolitionist groups in the Western world. In 1804, the Danes made
the slave trade illegal. Britain followed in 1807. The Americans followed a
year later. Anti-Slavery International was founded in 1839, a few years before
the complete abolition of the transatlantic slave trade. Slave smuggling and
slavery itself continued, however. The economic climate changed gradually.
Britain’s industries, built on the profits of plantation slavery, now sought a
labour force closer to home. Even so, the seed of racism in Europe and other
countries of the West had germinated beyond control...
As Anita said that, Filatei had an unexpected frown on his face.
‘Anything?’ Anita asked, wondering if she had said what she shouldn’t
have.
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Filatei cracked his knuckles. ‘Nothing big,’ he said. ‘I just have a

painful feeling that the slave trade caused the racial discriminations around the
world. That is still making your people come here to extract our oil even when
our lives are stagnant.’ He collected a stick of cigarette from one of the men
and began to smoke.
Anita sighed. Now, the fog seemed to evaporate. Filatei, Ebiere, and Pa
Akpodigha had expressions of bitterness on their faces, though.
Portugal. Anita thought it would be better to give her view on racism
and slavery. ‘Filatei,’ she said in a low tone. ‘Really, I think the belief that one
race is superior to the other is a false and misleading imagination of some
people.’
Filatei stared at her, intently.
She went on. ‘When the first African slaves arrived in Hispaniola, the
King of Portugal...even the Chronicler never saw these slaves as inferior. In
fact, before then, the King used to refer to his fellow African kings as my
fellow brethren...’
Anita continued, talking about how racism gained grounds with the
passage of time. Up to the time of Charles Darwin, almost everyone believed
that all humans were descendants of Adam and Eve- a view called
monogenism- that meant that all humans were literally biological brothers.
During that period, however, some individuals developed ingenious
hypotheses to justify the conclusion that Blacks were inferior, such as God
created them as a separate race. Some concluded that the ‘beasts of the earth’
discussed in Genesis was the Black race. Nevertheless, this view never held
much weight in historical Christian theology... Protestant, Catholic, or
Orthodox.
In addition, some people reinforced this claim of Blacks being inferior
with a popular story from the Holy Bible. That of Cain and Abel. According
to the sacred book, Cain, a farmer, murdered his younger brother, Abel, who
was a shepherd because God accepted Abel’s offering, but rejected Cain’s
own. Thereafter, God cursed Cain, saying: ...and now you are cursed from the
ground that has opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your
hand. When you till the soil, it shall no longer yield its full produce for you.
You will be a vagrant and a wanderer on the earth.
When Cain complained that the curse was too strong, and that anyone
who found him would kill him, God responded: On the contrary, if anyone
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kills Cain, sevenfold vengeance shall be taken on him. Then, God put a mark
on Cain so that no one who found him might kill him.
Cain's curse and mark have been interpreted in several ways.
Following the literal Biblical text, most scholars interpret the curse as Cain's
inability to cultivate crops and his necessity to lead a nomadic lifestyle. They
interpret the mark as a warning to others, but are unable to determine the form
of the mark from the Biblical text.
Historically, some Christians have interpreted the Biblical passages so
that the mark is thought to be part of the curse. In 18th century America and
Europe, it was commonly assumed that Cain's mark was black skin and that
Cain's descendants were black and still under Cain's curse. While the majority,
if not all, of Cain's descendants would have been killed in the great flood,
Latter-day Saints from the late 19th to mid 20th century believed that Cain's
bloodline was preserved on the ark through Egyptus, wife of Ham- son of
Noah. The Book of Abraham, accepted by Latter-day Saints as part of their
canon, is the source of the story of Egyptus who preserves the curse... as
pertaining to the Priesthood by surviving the flood as Ham's wife.
As if to confirm this claim, an Eastern Christian Armenian Adam book
has written in it: And the Lord was wroth with Cain. He beat Cain’s face with
hail, which blackened like coal, and thus he remained with a black face.
‘These people sha,’ Filatei blurted, shaking his head and turning to
Ebiere who shrugged.
Anita continued, sensing that the people around her were engrossed in
the story. Another racist idea common in Europe and America is that the curse
of Ham for seeing his father's nakedness was black skin. Noah cursed Canaan-
Ham’s son, saying: Cursed be Canaan, a servant of servants shall he be unto
his brethren. On the other hand, Noah blessed the brothers of Ham- Japheth
and Shem- who had covered Noah’s nakedness without seeing it.
According to a publication, because Cain's posterity gradually became
colored, Ham's children were also browner than those of Shem were. The
nobler races were always of a lighter color. They were also distinguished by a
particular mark that engendered children of the same stamp. As corruption
increased, the black mark multiplied until at last, it covered the whole body,
and people became darker and darker, contrary to what existed at the creation
of humanity.
Remembering something, Anita paused to catch her breath. Then, she
spoke, ‘The idea that black was inferior or bad is even evident in the English
lexicology. If you check your dictionary for the meanings of black or idioms
like black sheep, black book, black economy...on and on, you’ll discover that
all the interpretations have to do with undesirable things or evil.’
Filatei hissed. ‘That’s their luck. Who even knows if God is Black or
White?’ Anita and the other ematers burst into laughter.
Then, the reporter spoke about how the idea that God cursed Cain and
Canaan gave rise to many problems in the Church. The split between the
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Northern and Southern Baptist organizations arose over slavery and the
education of slaves. At the time of the split, the Southern Baptist group used
the curse of Cain as a justification for the practice. The slave trade further
emphasized the mental and psychological satisfaction of the Whites as regards
to their notional superiority. In fact, most 19th and early 20th century Southern
Baptist congregations in the southern United States preached that there were
two separate heavens- one for Blacks, and one for Whites. This doctrine was
used to support a ban on ordaining Blacks to most protestant clergies until the
1960s in both the United States and Europe.
Anita chose not to talk about how the theory of evolution emphasized
racism. Klaatsch, a prominent German evolutionist, concluded that human
races differ not only because of survival factors, but also for the reason that
they polyphyletically evolved from different primates. The Blacks came from
the gorillas, the Whites from the chimpanzees, and the Orientals from the
orangutans. For this reason, some races were said to be superior. Klaatsch
concluded that the gorilla and the Neanderthal man have a close biological
affinity to a large number of the living African blacks...
Another scientist who spent some years in Africa, Sir Francis Galton,
with whom the study of human intelligence really began, believed very
strongly that intelligence was mainly hereditary. He was also convinced there
were profound differences in mental ability between the races. He regarded
Negroes as barely human at all. The mistakes the Negroes made in their own
matters, he wrote in Hereditary Genius, were so childishly stupid and
simpleton-like as frequently made me ashamed of my own species...
Darwin, though opposed to slavery, had contempt for Blacks. In his
book, The Descent of Man, he speculated that survival of the fittest species
would eventually eliminate both the black race, which he considered inferior,
and other lower races. In addition, he concluded:
I could show that war has done and is doing much . . . for the progress
of civilization . . . The more civilized so-called Caucasian races have beaten
the Turkish hollow in the struggle for existence. Looking to the world at no
very distant date . . . an endless number of lower races will have been
eliminated by the higher civilized races throughout the world.
Furthermore, another scientist, Morton measured brainpans with BB
shots to prove that Africans and Indians had small brains, and hence, had
deficient minds and intellect.
‘So tell me,’ Filatei said now. ‘Don't we all have the same red blood?’
‘Sure!’ Anita nodded. ‘It’s just that some people, counting on certain
scientific researches, feel that they have richer blood, a view which I don’t
share...’
Anita continued with the story of the Aryan race. The Aryan race was a
concept historically influential in European culture and American culture in
the period of the late 19th century and early 20th century. It derives from the
idea that the original speakers of the Indo-European languages and their
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descendants up to the present day constitute a distinctive race or sub-race of

the larger Caucasian race. In some quarters, it is believed that the Aryan race
laid the groundwork and erected the walls of every great structure in human
culture. As for those quarters, only the shape and colour of such structures are
to be attributed to the individual characteristics of the various nations.
The idea of the Northern origins of the Aryans was particularly
influential in Germany. It was widely believed that the Vedic Aryans were
ethnically identical to the Goths, Vandals and other ancient Germanic peoples
of the Völkerwanderung.
The Sun Wheel was the symbol of the Aryan race. Arno Breker's 1939
neoclassical sculpture Die Partei (The Party) and twin symbolic Aryan statues
at the entrance to the Reich Chancellery, Partei (Party) and Wehrmacht
(Army) encapsulated National Socialist ideals of Aryanism, with Die Partei as
the physical embodiment of the spirit of the Nazi Party.
Anita paused. Then, she said. ‘I’m sure you know the Second World
War started because Hitler thought the Aryan race was the superior and had to
rule the world.’
‘I knew Hitler was somehow responsible for that war,’ Filatei
responded. ‘But I didn't know his intentions to rule the world had to do with
this Aryan thing.’ Apparently angry, Filatei’s eyes were red.
Anita thought she should say something to lift his spirits. ‘Recent
research showed that people with white skin showed much less variation and
had many more possibly harmful mutations than people with black skin. That
the Blacks are genetically superi...’
Anita’s voice trailed away as Filatei eyes bore into her, the look on his
face sarcastic. ‘What’re you trying to do?’ he asked.
Anita guessed she shouldn’t have made her last statement. ‘Nothing.’
She shrugged. ‘Personally, I believe just like Richard Leakey, the son of a
famous anthropologist that we’re all the same...’
‘Now, you’re talking.’ Filatei clapped. The others joined. Anita,
however, was thinking of the legend of the hidden gods.
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‘In the late eighteenth century when the slave trade was booming, there
was a place called the heart of the creeks,’ Filatei started, beginning to satisfy
Anita’s curiosity. ‘Here, the white men examined slaves for lice, infections,
and disabilities before transferring them to Badagry for onward shipment to
Europe, the Caribbean, and the Americas. Some who died here were
immediately buried.’ Filatei shook his head. ‘That time, the white men bought
our people for Dane guns, mirrors, salt, clothes, paper, metal scraps, and all
sorts of insignificant things.’ He paused and glanced at Pa Akpodigha. Then,
he returned his eyes to Anita. ‘But our people went with their religions,
culture…’
Filatei continued, telling Anita about how Yoruba slaves who were
Sango worshippers went to the Americas, and continued plaiting and weaving
their hairs. He even mentioned that tattoos were modernized versions of
African local incisions and that several white people and children born to
slaves, both Christians and traditional worshippers embraced this trend. Not
just that. The slaves caused more changes. The herbs they took along with
them became the foundation of several breakthroughs in modern medicine.
‘Many of the parrots sold abroad now are actually from Africa,’ Filatei
boasted.
Anita smiled. She knew she had seen some species of beautiful parrots
called African parrots. Tell me about the axis of evil and the hidden gods.
Filatei coughed. ‘The slave trade got to a point when the kings began
to raise the price of slaves, obviously tired of the little gifts the white men
gave. In reaction, the white men thought of something else they could give so
little a quantity but get so many slaves...’
Filatei sneezed and rode on. Then, the white men brought some
treasures with them from America. They however decided that they would
begin to pay with the treasures after that trip during which they brought the
treasures. Therefore, one day, something happened in the heart of the creeks.
Some of the slaves saw the white men going deep into the bush, with large
black sacks slung over their shoulders. Apparently, they didn't trust to take any
would be slave along with them. They went alone, armed with axes, shovels,
and cutlasses. They returned, but only with the tools. They never came back
with the bags.
The next time the white men returned from America, to search for their
treasures, they lost their way to the hearts of the creeks even with the map
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they had drawn. It had been a mysterious incident.

The king consulted the oracle. The reply he got from the herbalist was
that no one would ever get to the hearts of the creeks again until the earth
there changed and the blood of the slaves who had been buried there
transformed into another kind of fuel.
All hell was loose. The white men became angry. After that, they
bought some slaves but didn't pay as much as they used to pay, saying that
probably, the indigenes had stolen what they wanted to use to pay. The king
asked them what the thing was. Reluctant to say this at first, the white men
later said that they were treasures. Surprised, the king asked them if they
thought the treasures would grow on African soil.
Later, the white men returned to America and became more hostile to
the slaves there. Sometimes they gave them work to do with no food at all.
Meanwhile, men, on the orders of the king, were searching for this forest and
the treasures. Unfortunately, they never got their way to the hearts of the
creeks.
After the slave trade era, everyone forgot about the heart of the creeks
so quickly, thinking that the white men had alleged they had treasures there so
that they would pay just little to the kings in exchange for slaves.
Filatei stopped. ‘Are you enjoying the story?’
‘Sure,’ Anita replied.
Filatei started again. ‘So, when the white oil explorers who
rediscovered the axis of evil in the fifties couldn't get back even after the
oracle had been consulted, the people remembered that the heart of the creeks
was the place where the white men had buried treasures in the slave era.
People wished so badly to get there, but the herbalist said it was impossible for
them to get there. That only the noble would ever get to it, not people with
shrewd intentions. He then named the treasures the hidden gods.’
Sighing, Filatei lit a cigarette. ‘Subsequently, the chief priest told the
oil explorers to forget about the heart of the creeks and explore in other places.
Even after that, the white men did all they could to get to the place. But they
never succeeded. Then, they concentrated on exploring in other areas of the
country, exporting oil in commercial quantities. Later, the oracle spoke. That
the blood of the slaves who were buried there had finally turned to the other
kind of fuel that would fuel cars... no more human lives. The blood had turned
to oil. That someday, the Niger Deltans would take as hostages the generations
of those who shipped them to America and Europe. That black men would
someday begin to take Whites there as hostages and that the money the black
men will get would be more meaningful when compared to the mirrors, the
guns and the other little gifts that the families of the black slaves and the kings
collected in the years of the slave trade for their sale. He also said that people
would no longer call the forest the heart of the creeks but that it would bear a
new name, which is the axis of evil. Then, however, no one counted on
fulfilling the prophecy about Niger Deltans taking Whites to the axis of evil as
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hostages and making money from this. But now, the distresses of our people
are making the prophecy come to pass...’
Anita nodded. ‘Uhn.’
Filatei was still talking about how the chief priest had only one
surviving child, a daughter. That he took this woman to the axis of evil several
times. That he instructed her before he died to make sure that their people,
people with the real Niger Deltan blood got little hints about the axis of evil in
the years to come. That people who would retrieve the treasures would be
unusual people. That only the strong, the fit, and the wise would ever get to
the hidden gods. Then, the chief priest instructed her that the clues that would
lead people to the axis of evil should evolve with time and civilization...
Filatei paused as if trying to remember something. ‘Like my mother,
the woman herself had her own share of the slave trade. Her uncle was
shipped to America during the slave trade in a forceful manner because the
white men said that he looked very strong and they had heard that he killed
several wild animals in the bush. When she heard that, it pained her so much.
Her dead grandmother had given birth to just her father and her uncle. After
the herbalist’s prediction, parents passed down the story of the hidden gods to
their children and grandchildren. Only few years ago, a magician began to
help people to get to the axis of evil, but none of those people saw the hidden
gods. Even, the magician didn't know the exact spot. Two years ago, the man
died. And very recently, when people heard this old woman started giving
hints about it, she became like a goddess.’
‘Is that to say the woman is the one I read about on the net?’ Anita
asked, not wanting to make assumptions.
‘Yes.’ Filatei puffed.
‘So how do you have your own share?’
‘That’s where the dividends come in. My mother’s great-grandfather
was among the last slaves shipped to America in the nineteenth century. They
forcefully took him away when his wife was pregnant with my grandfather.
And we don’t know if he got there or if he’s among those who died in the
Middle passage.’
Anita sighed and shook her head. To her, it seemed that slavery,
racism, and the struggle for emancipation in many places around the world
had a complex connection.
The treasures. ‘Okay, can you tell me what the treasures are exactly?’
Anita asked, suspecting that Filatei didn't want to continue.
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Chapter 54
The scenery of PortHarcourt, this evening was like every other Sunday.
Exotic cars, owned by people who had previously returned from churches,
lined the sides of the roads. Miedide could hear music playing from many bars
where men and women often relaxed at weekends. The delicious smell of fish
pepper soup coming from the hangouts gave him appetite. However, he knew
that this was not the time to eat. I have to get that thing.
For more than two hours, he had been trying to locate someone.
Despite that, he hadn't seen the person’s car. When he arrived in the city, he
had called the godfather’s safe line from a payphone, later deleting the number
from the call log. The godfather had instructed him to go to a street around
Rumuomasi, assuring him that the target’s car would be there.
Getting to the junction, he didn't see the car, a red Infinity Jeep. Then,
he had called again from another payphone, tampering with the call log
likewise. The godfather told him that, perhaps the target left before Miedide
got there. Disappointed, he asked the boss what next. The reply he got was
bitter.
‘Now, I don’t know his whereabouts because at weekends, it’s difficult
for anyone to reach him. If you had come on time, we wouldn’t be having this
kind of difficulty.’
Next, Miedide suggested spending the night in a hotel in Port Harcourt.
The response he got was that time was running out on them. They had to get
what they needed, that day. They had to begin working on it that night or very
early, the next morning.
That made Miedide have no other option than to snoop round possible
places the target could be.
‘You know he loves drinking. Check bars, large restaurants, and
hotels. You might just find him there. He goes to different places. If I discover
anything, I’ll call you,’ the godfather had said, ending the call.
Now, Miedide was in front of Trendy Kitchen, a large restaurant where
the high and the mighty, men of substance and high calibre met. One by one,
he checked the cars. Benz jeep... Lamborghini...Jaguar... No Infinity Jeep. He
hissed. It was beginning to seem like the target had gotten wind of his plan. I
will not give up.
Deciding to move on to the next restaurant, Miedide turned his back
and began to walk down the road. Like a dream, he saw a red large vehicle
coming in front of him. Hope I’m not dreaming. The jeep neared him. It was a
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red Infinity Jeep.

#
Thousands of kilometres away, a television was on in a kitchen. Sitting

on a chair and smoking cigarette was Max, still trying to get over Anita’s
response about his rejection, the day before. Was she trying to taunt me? Shit.
He breathed in deeply and began to consider shocking her if she ever returned.
Earlier that morning, he had made up his mind to forget about Anita and the
house, agreeing with his thoughts that living, with a stubborn soul in a house
where one had no peace, no joy, and no rest of mind, would draw one closer to
the grave.
Now, he stood up and began pacing back and forth. Packing his things
out of the house seemed to be the best way to do that. He wouldn’t go to his
father’s house, though. Anita might easily locate him. He would run far away.
Maybe to Las Vegas. Then start a new life, have a fresh crew, get a new girl,
have a new name, a new agent, and make too much money. Cool men. He had
to celebrate that idea.
Opening the fridge, he brought out a bottle of brandy. He returned to
his chair and poured some of the liquid in a glass. Then, he began to drink.
His phone began to ring moments later. He lifted it up slowly, to check
out the caller.
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Ebiere was making a small fire. The ematers were speaking in

vernacular, laughing, every now and then. Anita turned to her side to glance at
Pa Akpodigha who was snoring, obviously tired from the long walk.
Removing her eyes from the old man, she recalled how he had helped
to satisfy her curiosity, minutes ago. Precious stones and other things the
white men refused to tell. Sneezing, Anita wondered the other things the white
men had buried in the axis of evil along with the precious stones. She even
wondered what kind of precious stones they were.
‘They said the stones would make any man who got them rich,’ Filatei
had said. ‘But they refused to tell the types of stones. How did they expect us
to have trusted them when they didn't trust us? Nobody would have bothered
to get the hidden gods if not for the mysterious incident that occurred in the
fifties with the oil explorers.’
Staring at Ebiere as Ebiere fanned the fire, Anita imagined the type of
joy she would feel when they eventually got the hidden gods. For her,
becoming rich from the treasures wasn’t a desire. All she wanted was to see
artefacts from the past, things buried by slave merchants in the eighteenth
century, at the height of the slave trade.
‘My sister,’ Ebiere called. ‘The food will soon be ready.’
Anita smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Roasted yam and groundnut oil. It was funny to imagine that they
would eat roasted yam, without drinking water. Even so, Anita was hungry.
She began to doubt if she wouldn’t join the ematers in eating the meal, from
the same bowl because before Ebiere started cooking, Ebiere had apologised
that they didn't come along with plates not to increase their load.
That evening, the local port was excessively busy. Drivers of boats
about to depart for nearby villages were haggling over fares with passengers.
Food sellers and boat mechanics were also making bargains with their
respective customers. Families who had just arrived from their native towns
and villages where they had spent the weekend were coming ashore. Mothers
were cuddling infants. Some carried theirs on their backs. Little children
stopped briefly behind their parents, who were ahead, to play with the murky
waters. Opuowei and Charly were talking as they watched the activities going
218
on.
Charly turned to face his boss. ‘Oga, what do we do now?’ he asked.
‘You know it might be difficult for us to get information from these people.
They love one another.’
‘Just wait.’ Charly nodded and turned to continue watching. Opuowei
saw sense in what Charly had said. At any rate, it was already too late to begin
their journey on the waters. Especially, when they didn't have any place in
particular that they were going. Most likely, they would come across local
pirates or militants who operated at nights.
Removing a stick from a pack of cigarettes he bought on their way,
Opuowei lit it. They still had to speak with people. They needed to know the
direction in which they would go because the river led to so many places.
They had to know who was where and when. They had to know things people
around there saw. To acquire all that information, Opuowei was sure that he
would inquire from people around.
‘Charly,’ he called and Charly faced him. ‘We’re sleeping inside this
car overnight.’
Obviously shocked, Charly raised his eyelids. ‘Sir, what did you say?’
Opuowei didn't reply. Instead, he opened the door on the driver’s side
and began to walk towards a woman who sold roasted plantain and palm wine.
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The yam was hot and Anita dropped the piece of yam she was holding.
Blowing air on the finger with her mouth, she wondered how Ebiere and the
men, who were looking round between short intervals, managed to eat the
food. Even the camera operator had joined after positioning the camera on a
tripod.
‘You guys slow down for my sister o,’ Filatei cautioned the others and
held Anita by the wrist bearing the finger that hurt her. ‘Sorry ehn. We forgot
many things. I didn't know how we also forgot to bring forks and spoons.’ He
began to blow air on the finger with force. Ebiere stood up and went to wipe
her hands and mouth with a serviette. The men continued devouring the food.
Anita felt more relief. ‘Thank you,’ she said to Filatei. Getting up, Pa
Akpodigha walked away to urinate.
Again, Filatei cautioned the men. ‘E don do now.’ Immediately, they
stood up, from the big bowl, one by one, sighing, belching uttering words and
phrases that convinced Anita they were filled up. Nonetheless, the bowl was
almost empty.
Filatei hissed. ‘If I’d known this is what would happen, I would have
told Ebiere to keep yours and serve it later.’
‘It’s okay,’ Anita said. ‘We got biscuits?’
‘I think so.’
Without wasting time, Ebiere came with a big packet of McVites
Digestive biscuit. As Anita collected it, Ebiere said, ‘This biscuit will make
you get very thirsty. I wish I could do something to help.’
‘No qualms. Thanks.’
Moments later, Anita was sitting alone, eating the biscuits. She
however preferred the taste of the pieces of yam she had ate with oil before the
hotness stopped her. In the last few days, she had eaten biscuits repeatedly and
now she was already losing interest, in the same manner her interest in Max
waned, after the day when she had met him unexpectedly in the café.
Once again, she remembered Max waving her bye, saying that he was
leaving for California in an hour’s time... her leaving home that evening,
arriving at the café ... seeing Max’s sport car which he had claimed was in a
repairer’s workshop... entering the café only to meet his absence... climbing up
the stairs, and opening the door to see Max. He wasn't alone, however.
With him were two men and a young woman. All, apparently high,
they didn't notice her presence. Then to add to Anita’s shock, she glanced at
220
the table before them. On it was a white paper spread out. On the paper was a
white powdery substance. Drugs. Not wanting to believe that Max was
sniffing drugs, she gave him a proper observance. Max’s had his nose blotched
with the white substance.
Anita didn't know when tears rolled down her eyes. Wiping her face,
she opened the door, climbed down the stairs and drove home to cry. When
Max came back, he began to tell fabricated stories...telling her that he met an
old friend of his on the flight to California that day. That made her angrier.
She didn't counter his lies, though. The respect she had for him was the only
reason she didn't.
‘Are you done?’ Anita heard Filatei ask now.
‘No. Just a little more.’
‘I was wondering why you stopped eating.’
Anita hadn't been conscious of that. ‘Oh, I was just thinking of some
stuff.’ She shrugged.
‘Okay, I’ll wait.’ Filatei brought out the map and made a dot at a point
on the paper. ‘We’re here now. I hope we would be able to make it to this
black circle tomorrow. There’s no arrow after it. That means it’s the axis of
evil.’
Surreptitiously, Miedide watched the Infinity Jeep from a bend in the

road. Since, the vehicle hadn't entered the premises of Trendy Kitchen.
Instead, it halted some distance away from the gate, with the engine still
running. Miedide guessed the occupants were having a discussion. He wished
they rounded it up in time because he had to obtain what he wanted, and get
some food to eat. His stomach was aching. The smell of the food even made it
worse. His intestines seemed to be jostling to have a taste of the food he
couldn't see.
Looking up from loosening his belt to reduce its pressure on his
abdomen, Miedide saw the doors of the jeep opening. Five people came out.
Chief Doukpolagha, a young light-skinned woman, a tall man who alighted
from the driver’s side and two men who looked like soldiers. This man too
like women, Miedide thought. To think that Chief Doukpolagha was still
cruising around with women when they had Anita in the creeks with them
made Miedide sick. He needed no one to convince him that Chief
Doukpolagha was a sex maniac.
The group entered the gate. Miedide thought now was the best time to
do what he had to do. Coming out from the corner, he began to walk towards
the direction of the vehicle. The wish that the godfather handled this himself
crossed Miedide’s mind briefly. Maybe he should have sent someone else and
not me. Miedide rubbed his palms together. He was ready to do the job, at any
rate. Afterall, in the past, he had done things that were more dangerous, like
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abducting the fugitive American at the US Embassy.

Getting to the front of the gate, he glanced inside and saw Chief
Doukpolagha, placing his hands on his waist and talking with the woman. The
driver and one of the soldiers weren’t with them, however. Miedide continued
going. He passed the jeep. The tinted glass covered the window on the driver’s
side. Shit. He walked across to the passenger side.
The window was up too. Disappointed, he hissed. The thought of
opening the vehicle crossed his mind. The next moment, his hand was on the
handle of the door. He pulled. He heard a soft click. The door was unlocked.
Adding more force, he began to open the door.
Then, he heard someone yelling, ‘Olebarawo...olebarawo. Thief,
thief!’
The shout seemed to be coming from space.
Immediately, Miedide banged the door and the warning device of the
jeep began to sound. Before he knew it, security men from inside the
compound and Chief’s two soldiers surrounded him with guns. Miedide
managed to get one of the security men injured but later they overpowered
him. Eventually, Chief Doukpolagha, the woman and the driver who was
holding the security handheld control of the vehicle came outside. Pointing the
control to the jeep, the driver pressed a button and the alarm sound stopped.
Miedide, now on his knees in handcuffs, watched as Chief dialled a
number on his phone.
‘Hello, someone just tried to rob me now. Come to Trendy Kitchen
immediately.’
Pocketing the phone, Chief moved nearer to Miedide and slapped him
hard on the face. ‘Policemen would soon come and pick you now. Then, you
would explain what you wanted from me. You will rot in cell. Fool.’
You’re the fool. Miedide bent his head and wondered what Chief
would have done if they had actually kidnapped his mother or son instead of
Anita, the innocent journalist.
After few minutes, Miedide began to hear siren, blaring from an
approaching Police van. In a flash, he remembered Pa Akpodigha’s warnings
to him, that morning.
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Chapter 57
In the other part of the globe, Max pushed a wide door open.
Unexpectedly, noise from the sounds of many people discussing hit him.
Irritated, he shut the door with a bang. Bringing out his phone from his pocket,
he dialled Anthony Morgan’s number. All he heard was a disengaging sound.
Tony. Max hissed. Three hours ago, when his phone rang, he had been
surprised to realise that the caller was Anthony Morgan, especially when just
before then, he had been considering breaking their business contract and
getting a new agent to represent him. He however picked.
‘Max,’ Tony had said, ‘we need to see.’
Max was quiet. Tony’s voice sounded urgent. Yet, Max wasn't ready to
see Tony for any business dealings. Putting an end to their agreement seemed
to be the only logical thing they could meet for now. Friends and money are
two different things.
‘Max,’ again, Tony called out. ‘Why are you quiet? I said we should
see.’
‘Okay, to put hands to paper and break our deal. When and where?’
He heard Tony giggle. ‘Crazy as always. You’re on dope?’
Max hissed. At the same time, he felt like ending the call. Obviously,
Tony didn't understand the severity of their quarrel. ‘Tony, I’m not in the
mood for a joke.’
‘Alright. But we just have to discuss together. It’s for your good, my
good. You know. I cross my heart. This is that opportunity you need...’
Max had listened as Anthony Morgan spoke on. Tony’s discussion
wasn't explicit, though.
‘We’ll speak better when we see,’ the agent had said when Max asked
for clarification. After that, Tony told him that he was going for a writing
seminar and that they should meet at the seminar venue, minutes before the
seminar ended.
Now, standing few metres away from the door, Max hoped the forum
would end soon. Left to him, he would have preferred that they met in a casual
place like a bar. He had agreed with Tony, all the same.
After more than fifteen minutes, the door opened, and people began
thronging out. One by one, Max scanned the faces of everyone who went past
him. He didn't spot Anthony Morgan. Perhaps, he’s still inside with some
aficionados.
Max looked on. Then, he thought of the likelihood of him having
223
missed Anthony in the crowd. Shit. Maybe he should ask someone.

‘Hello, ‘he called out to a brunette carrying a big leopard skin bag.
‘Hi.’ The tall girl stopped and smiled.
‘Is Tony Morgan still in?’
Seeming to think for a while, the girl moved her eyeballs in a circle.
‘Yeah, sure.’
Max felt relief. ‘Thanks.’
‘Thanks.’ She waved her hand and stood as if expecting Max to start
another discussion. Seconds later, she left, waving again.
Max smiled as he watched her cat walking away, her hips in a sway.
That new girl isn’t you. She’s somewhere in LA.
Finally, when no one came out of the hall again, Max entered and saw
Anthony Morgan at the far end of the large room, sitting at a table and talking
with two people.
‘Hey,’ he called.
‘Yeah man,’ Tony shouted. ‘I’m sure you’ve been around since. I’m
sorry.’
‘No. Just twenty minutes.’ Max shrugged and began walking towards
the group.
Nearing it, he saw that the two people Tony was discussing with were
youngsters who wore baseball caps and had studs all over their bodies.
‘Our mommas piss us off every day. Thinks my homeboy and me got
nuttin to do with our lives. Just wanna surprise them. The beef gets hotter as
we grow older...’ Max could hear the chap, wearing the blue baseball cap
ranting. Good. Hearing such things always made Max happy. It had a way of
reminding him his of rough childhood.
As soon as Max got to their table, Tony stood up and hugged him.
Disengaging from the embrace, Tony sized Max. ‘My good God. You’re so
lean. What’s happening dude?’
‘Nothing much. Life keeps rolling.’
‘Anita isn’t feeding you?’
Max forced a smile. ‘She’s off to California, on official duty.’
‘Okay.’ Tony turned to the chaps. ‘Call me tomorrow.’
The boys stood up. ‘Respect,’ they said in unison and walked away. As
the men watched them walk away, Max almost burst into laughter at their
swagger.
‘You remember those days? The way you gingered everyone’s
swagger with yours.’ Tony said.
Max turned his head and giggled. ‘Sure. Then, we thought swagger
was everything. Now, things have changed.’
‘Many more changes are coming.’ Tony said. ‘Like now, I think we’ve
to change the aura of our friendship. Friends are always friends. The recession
affected so many publishing houses.’ He shrugged. ‘We got to learn to forget
the past so that life would continue peacefully.’
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Peace. That was the greatest virtue Tony possessed that Max admired.
‘No shit. Peace,’ he said, hugging Tony, yet another time and they settled on
their chairs.
‘The gist is that a publisher confided in me that he needs a good novel
about Southern Africa,’ Tony said.
Africa. Never. Max continued listening to Tony, however.
‘...and he said he would get it published straight away. I feel you’re the
best person for the job. Just write about Zimbabwe. Mind you, your share of
the advance wouldn’t be anything lesser than eight hundred thousand dollars.’
Eight hundred. The money was tempting. ‘But I need to travel for
background research. You know I can't.’
‘Shit!’ Tony blurted. ‘For more than a year, we’ve been looking for a
lucrative opportunity and now that one is staring at you in the face, you wanna
let it pass you by. Everything in life involves risks, courage, and endurance. Is
Anita not a human like you? How do you think it’s possible for her to go to
dangerous zones? I feel...’
Anita. Max wished that Tony knew what Anita was going through in
Nigeria. In addition, he realised that he had so many things to handle. He had
to leave that house. Off to the west coast.
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Chapter 58
The ringing of Filatei’s phone woke Filatei up that morning. Sitting up,
he stretched his arms, yawned, and picked up the phone that was by his side
on the mat. He flipped it. The godfather.
‘Hello sir.’
‘How you dey? I’ve bad news. Miedide was arrested yesterday
evening...’
Tamara. Filatei stood on his feet. ‘So how far sir?’ The question had
come on impulse.
‘Well, I’ll find a way to get him out of there before...’
Surprised. Filatei interrupted. ‘Sir, are you sure that is possible?’
‘Don't worry. Money, connection, and power talk, but in different
ways. I’ll try.’
Filatei wasn't fully satisfied. Now, he could do anything for Miedide’s
release. ‘It’s a pity that now, we’re already far into the forest. If not, I would
have gone myself.’
‘Everything is okay. Trust me.’
‘Okay.’
‘Bye.’ Immediately, Filatei instructed Damiete to help him wrap weed.
He would inform Pa Akpodigha about the sad news.
As Filatei walked over to his uncle, Damiete and the other men on
guard talked quietly about Miedide’s arrest. Evidently, they had heard about it
from Filatei’s discussion with the godfather.
Walking past Ebiere, Anita, and few men who were sleeping, Filatei
finally began hearing his uncle’s snores. He tapped the old man and as he
awoke, Filatei told him what happened. Without wasting time, Pa Akpodigha
picked some of his tools, a horsetail, a big calabash, some leaves, and cowries.
‘He must have done contrary to what I told him. But calm down. I’m
coming,’ the old man pacified and walked some distance away from the
makeshift camp. Filatei walked back to meet the other men and Damiete who
was still wrapping the weed. Not long after, he began smoking thinking of
Miedide. Those sleeping began waking up one after the other.
Several minutes later, Pa Akpodigha returned, setting his instruments
on the ground. ‘My son. Be a strong man. No yawa,’ he said, patting Filatei on
the shoulder. Filatei believed this; though, he wanted to remind Pa Akpodigha
that they might never be sure.
Filatei turned and saw Anita and Ebiere, who both had gone to urinate.
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Wanting the team to have breakfast as quick as possible so that they would set
out early that day, he called out. ‘Quickly ladies.’ He knew the two women
understood. Earlier, when Ebiere awakened, he had told her about the meal
and she had acted indifferently. When it came to cooking, Anita was out. The
smoke from the fire was enough to make her cry. In Anita’s case, Filatei
expected her to continue studying the map with him.
Filatei watched as they approached. Then, suddenly, behind them, he
saw a large creature race past. ‘You see that!’
‘Wetin,’ Pa Akpodigha and the other men asked in chorus.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe na bush meat,’ Filatei responded.
‘We go follow am,’ one of the men said, much to Filatei’s disgust.
Filatei hissed. ‘Na bush meat we come kill for here abi?
All of a sudden, they began to hear loud chatter. Everybody became
quiet, to distinguish the direction from where the sound came.
‘Or are we already in the axis of evil?’ Anita, who was now sitting by
Filatei’s side, asked.
It seemed like a joke. ‘Never. Don't forget the black circle. The axis of
evil,’ Filatei replied. ‘Abeg let’s eat o.’
Nobody said anything.
Filatei had expected responses in form of utterances to his last
statement. Surprised, he asked, ‘Hope no problem?’
Ebiere replied, ‘Maybe we should wait until we see water. The food we
ate yesterday hasn’t digested well.’
‘You should have said that now... Let’s begin to pack.’
Not long after that, the team set out again, following the directions on
the map. Everyone wore masks except Anita.
Going past a bend close to their temporary camp, the camera operator
called their attention to a large creature putting something to its mouth, afar.
As they neared it, it ran away. Only after few more steps did they realise that it
had been drinking water from a flowing clean river. They began to run.
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Chapter 59
The boat driver manoeuvred the boat and the two passengers, Opuowei
and Charly sat in silence, their rifles and bulletproof jackets resting on the
floor of the boat. Opuowei recalled that a discussion he had with Charly when
they first boarded the boat didn't yield anything positive. Opuowei wondered
how they would make choices when the need arose.
Yesterday evening, the woman selling roasted plantain and palm wine
had told him that some days ago, many people at the port including her had
seen heavily armed militants passing through the place in engine boats, as if
they were protecting someone or something important. Additionally, she
informed him that the water route led to many places and that they had to be
careful while going so that they wouldn’t go in the wrong direction.
Not long after that, men of the Joint Task Force approached the
soldiers in the car, asking them for their business at the port. They identified
themselves and that settled all.
Later that night, while the duo was discussing, Chief Doukpolagha, in
the hospital, on a visit to Daniel, called in to say that someone wanted to steal
from him but that he got the person arrested. In reaction, Opuowei suggested
going over to PortHarcourt to see if the arrest of the thief would shed more
light on Anita’s kidnap. Chief and Daniel resisted however, urging him to
continue with his work. That the police was capable enough to handle the thief
who was one of these young and hungry boys that wanted to make fast cash.
Reluctantly, Opuowei had agreed and later slept off in the car, with Charly by
his side.
Now, they were approaching a point in the river. The time to make a
choice has come. Opuowei told the driver to stop when they got to the point
and the driver reduced the speed of the engine boat.
On reaching that point, Opuowei pointed to a turning to his left and
said, ‘Let’s go that way.’
The boat driver had a frown on his face. ‘Oga, that route is an old
route. Nobody pass that place.’
Opuowei and Charly turned to observe the route.
Charly turned to face the driver. ‘But is that not cigarette pack there?
It’s doesn’t even look wet.’ He pointed.
‘Definitely, some people passed there recently,’ Opuowei added,
expecting the driver to turn the boat and proceed. The driver, however, stared
at the waters and frowned, even more.
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‘Is something wrong with you?’ Opuowei asked. The driver didn't say
a thing. Charly was already pointing a pistol on the driver.
Opuowei brought out his pistol from his pocket and trained it on the
driver. ‘You’re a militant too. Am I right? If you love your life, hand me the
key to this boat before I count up to five.’
No longer thirsty now, Filatei and the other members of his group
were sitting on mats by the bank of the river to make the water settle in their
stomachs before they continued.
‘O boy, I feel good now,’ Filatei said. ‘This water is still a miracle to
me. For several years, I’ve never seen a river as clean as this in our region.’
Everyone apart from Anita nodded.
Filatei added. ‘We’ve to leave here sharply. We’re thinking of getting
to the black circle, the axis of evil today. Yet, we’re still here...’
An idea hit him. This river. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he
brought out the map, and checked if the old woman had represented the river
on it. He didn't see any representation. He realised one thing, however. The
distance of the river to their temporary camp was equivalent to the distance of
the black circle to the dot he had earlier made on the map. That realisation
undid his assumptions.
‘I think we don’t need to get to any black circle,’ Filatei declared in a
loud voice. He got everyone’s attention. ‘We’re in the black circle already but
the black circle is different from the axis of evil.’
He spent the next few minutes explaining the idea behind his
conclusion to them. Oil flowed almost everywhere in the axis of evil. Here,
clean water was flowing. He made many illustrations. Even, he reasoned and
explained that the interpretation they had earlier given to ...yet you found
water and dashed for a drink was wrong. That the woman must have guessed
that if they followed the right path, they would get to a stage when they would
become thirsty. Then, eventually discover water, just as they had done.
Even so, they realised one thing. The black circle had no arrow after it.
It seemed to be the final destination. But it couldn't be. The chances of it being
the axis of evil were slim. The big questions came. Where would they head to
from there? If they had to go by water, where would they get boats?
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Chapter 60
The cell contained a moderately wide mattress, a small television,

sitting on a stool at one corner, and a chair and table with an electric lamp for
reading. The ceiling fan whirled, giving off a faint squeak.
Lying on the bed, Miedide was waiting for the Police Constable. His
mind went to the events of the previous evening. In the Infinity, Chief and his
team had followed the Police van that brought him to the police station from
Trendy Kitchen. After a while, Chief apparently unaware that Miedide knew
about Anita’s kidnap told the Assistant Superintendent of Police that he had to
visit his son, whom some idiots, like Miedide attacked, some days before.
‘I hardly keep money in my car. Make sure you teach this thief the
lesson of his life,’ the Chief had enjoined and left the Police station with his
team.
After that, the police officers tortured him continuously raining abuses
on him.’ We know all you wanted was money. Better go and look for a job...’
When the torture was too much, Miedide told them better not to kill
him and they locked him up in an overcrowded filthy cell that brought back
sad memories of the three weeks he had spent in the Regular section of a cell
after police officers caught him with weed.
Hours later, a Constable came to pick him and transferred him into his
present cell. Inside, he met the godfather. The godfather apologised for the
torture, and insult. He also said that Miedide would have regained his freedom
that night but that it was better for Miedide to remain there until the next day
because Chief might come back to find out if he was there. And if not, it
would arouse great suspicion.
‘Even if he comes, they would lead you to where he would see you,
and he won't know you’re in this type of room. But if you’ve left before he
arrives, he would wonder how someone arrested escaped on the same day of
his arrest,’ the godfather had noted. After that, the godfather said that today, a
Police Constable would help Miedide leave the station and that someone
would be waiting to pick Miedide up immediately.
Next, the godfather had left, saying that he was on disguise and that
coming to Miedide’s cell was a great risk. That he was returning to his station.
Chief, however, didn't come again, that night. The Constable he was now
waiting for, however, came with a delicious meal of fried rice, chicken and a
pack of chilled orange juice.
230
‘Something must be hiding somewhere around,’ Filatei declared,

standing up from the mat. He gestured to the others, to get on their feet. ‘That
animal we saw is a sign from the gods.’
In response, some of the others stretched their arms. Some yawned, as
if they wanted to sleep. Others cracked their knuckles. One by one, they arose.
Ebiere rolled the mats. Some men filled empty bottles with water from the
river. Pa Akpodigha examined a machine gun he collected from the doctor.
Filatei who was already heading in a direction along with Anita, the
camera operator and another man stopped and turned back. ‘It’s time to move
round,’ he shouted to the others who were still at the bank of the river.
Hurriedly, they formed groups of threes and fours. Then, each group went in
different ways.
‘Let’s go.’ Filatei nudged the camera operator and his group began
combing the area. Filatei and the other man cleared the way as they went with
cutlasses. They inspected the branches of trees and dipped their hands at the
bases of grasses and thickets for anything that might provide help. They found
nothing, however. They walked several metres away from the bank of the
river, scrutinizing everything they came across.
Filatei heard Anita breathing loudly. ‘My sister, just a little bit.’ He put
his arm round her neck and a soft wind blew tresses of her gold hair sideways.
She smiled. ‘Thanks.’
Removing his hand, a feeling of sympathy flashed through Filatei’s
mind. Filatei wished everything would go as planned so that Anita would
return to her normal life. No doubt, she had been humble all the while... had
done several things many hostages wouldn’t do. Had behaved as if they were
all one. They continued going.
Suddenly, Anita asked. ‘People live around here?’
Filatei giggled. ‘I don’t think so. Everywhere looks deserted. But why
did you ask?’
Anita pointed to the front. ‘Is that not a plantation over there?’
Filatei gazed. Ahead, he saw tall neatly arranged plants. Doubt flooded
his mind, nevertheless. ‘I see some plants I can't be specific about... A
plantation can't exist here. No one lives around. Besides, it’s too far from other
settlements.’ They were marching faster now, in silence.
‘There’s no arrow after the black circle. Am I correct?’ Anita asked,
breaking the brief silence.
‘Absolutely.’ Filatei turned to the three people with him. ‘But is that to
say that we were wrong after all, that the black circle is not the river but that
plantation we’re heading for.’
Anita and the other ematers shrugged. Then Anita added, ‘Maybe.’
Now, very close to the neatly arranged plants, Filatei realised that the
231
plants were sugarcanes. They moved nearer. The plants occupied about a plot
of land.
‘Too small to be a plantation,’ Filatei said.
‘Yeah, but it still points to the slave trade.’
‘Chair, me I wan take some o,’ the other man with them said, an
imploring look on his face.
Hungry. Filatei knew his fellow soldier wanted to eat. On the other
hand, he knew someone must have cultivated the plants. Ematers are not
thieves. ‘Guy, no vex. We’ll soon eat. This is not our property. Let’s get to
business.’ Following that, they began examining the plants, one by one. The
stems, the bases, and the panicles.
Filatei who was ahead with the camera operator noticed a stem thicker
than usual. Curious, he put a hand round the stalk and squeezed it. Hard. He
shifted his hand up and squeezed again. Still solid. He studied the plant
carefully. It wasn't actually sugarcane, but a bamboo stem, painted in green.
He knew it couldn't have grown there.
Without hesitation, Filatei threw his cutlass on the ground and held the
stem with both hands. He began to pull. He heard a swishing sound in the bush
behind him. He didn't mind. He felt the stem coming out from the ground. All
at once, he pulled it out completely and supported himself from falling down.
The force he had been using to pull it was strong.
‘Guy,’ he called.
He heard the other man shout, ‘Chair.’
‘Come o.’
Minutes later, the four were staring at the bamboo stem that now lay on
the ground. They peered through its hollow at both ends. Dark. They decided
to split it. As Filatei’s man hit it with a cutlass, Filatei prayed the striking
wouldn’t destroy what they needed to get from inside.
Before long, chips and large chunks of the stem were scattered
everywhere. The man was still striking. The camera operator who had his rifle
and his bag hanging from his neck was recording. Filatei and Anita looked on.
Filatei continued praying. At a moment, the man struck. Filatei heard the
sound of nylon. As the man raised the cutlass to strike again, Filatei’s voice
stopped him. ‘Enough!’
Quickly, Filatei moved to the almost completely fragmented stem.
Glancing at the last spot where the cutlass had hit the stem, he dipped a hand
into the hollow at that spot.
Yes. His ears hadn't deceived him. His hands were touching nylon. He
pulled this out and raised it for the others to see. ‘The plantation has
rewarded...’
‘Gboom, gboom, gboom...’ Loud gunshots began to ring out again.
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Chapter 61
In the river around Ozobo, Opuowei was increasing the speed of the
engine boat as if he were in a hot pursuit. He had suspected, ever since the
boat driver had refused to obey them, that this route could answer several
important questions. Moreover, Opuowei guessed that that was the reason the
chap had been obstinate when he threatened him with a gun, unlike the hotel
manager.
Even after Opuowei counted up to five, the driver had remained fixed
on his seat, the key in his hand. It took force to collect the keys from him.
Later, he cursed them, jumped into the murky waters, as if he gave no damn,
and swam towards shore, which wasn't Opuowei’s plan. Opuowei had
intended to take the driver to the edge of the water, give him some more
money, and tell him that they would need his boat for some more time and that
when they were finished with it, they would return it to him.
The two soldiers could see a houseboat at a distance now. Opuowei
glanced at Charly. ‘We’ll make inquiries there.’
Charly sighed. ‘Yes sir.’ Opuowei saw Charly getting his rifle, ready,
apparently for probable confrontation. Opuowei smiled. Charly, you’ll enjoy
me. I swear. He added more speed.
When they got to the front of the houseboat, he stopped. At one side of
the moored boat was a small floating canoe, tied to it. Standing in front of the
house were a young man and a young woman who had a wrapper across her
chest. The man was smiling. The woman was frowning.
‘Good morning,’ Opuowei, whose hand was still on the steering,
greeted.
The man replied, ‘Good morning sir.’ The woman gave no response.
Opuowei didn't mind. ‘We’re soldiers on patrol and we need some
information. In recent times, have militants been bothering you?’
The woman hissed and folded her arms across her chest.
The man nodded. ‘Yes o, my brother...’ The woman tapped him on the
waist and he wriggled. He continued. ‘Yesterday, some men who I suspect are
militants rushed away with engine boats...as if something was chasing them.’
The man gestured with his hands in the direction the soldiers were heading.
Opuowei turned to glance at Charly who nodded and he returned his
focus on the man. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘No problem sir.’
The woman clapped her hands and hissed, turning to her husband ‘Na
233
wa o. Na everything you see you go talk?’

‘Oga, no vex that my wife is doing like this,’ the man apologised.
‘Don't bother.’ From the little drama, Opuowei understood the woman
was in love with militancy. Her husband seemed to be on the other side.
Husband and wife of different opinions. Kicking the boat back to life,
Opuowei sped away, turning to wave at the man who was waving, with both
hands, at them.
Few minutes later, after several turns, they began to see two
speedboats far off at the edge of the water.
Anita, laying flat on her belly, clutched the rope-wound polythene

Filatei had given her, as she listened to the gun battle. This time around, she
was alone. The camera operator had gone with Filatei and the other man in the
direction of the river where the shootings came from. Even so, the atmosphere
seemed better and safer. She was well hidden, several metres away from the
river. All along, she prayed inwardly that their assaulters don’t vanquish her
team. They mustn’t re-kidnap me.
As the shots re-echoed, she remembered what Filatei had told her
before they left her amongst the tall tough stemmed grasses.
‘Don't fall into any trance. Just imagine we’re whacking them and that
we would be back just like it happened the last time. Subdue your fear.’
Now, she attempted to do just that. But the more she tried, the more
frightening thoughts crossed her mind. Like if at the end of the battle, she
waited for Filatei and he never returned. Like their attackers hunting for her
after they might have overcome her team; and eventually capturing her.
The fearful thoughts still crossing her mind, she suddenly became
conscious of a still. That even increased her fright. Had they killed Filatei,
Ebiere, Damiete, Pa Akpodigha, and the others? Already, Filatei had told her
that the police were holding Miedide. When she asked him why, Filatei had
replied, ‘It’s for your good. Or don’t you want to leave the shores of this
country as soon as we discover the hidden gods?’ Now, she couldn't even risk
looking up, afraid that her eyes might meet the undesirable. The melancholic
feeling that everything was working against her group overwhelmed her.
She began hearing multiple footsteps. No human voice. Sweat broke
out on her forehead. Her skin itched. Her heart palpitated. Unexpectedly, she
began hearing the voices of Damiete and Filatei. ‘Motherfuckers, suka,
bullshit, blin...’
She felt relief. Her heart now pounded at a slower tempo. She still
couldn't look up, though. Her forehead hurt from the contact with the soil.
The sounds of the steps became closer.
‘Anita,’ she heard Filatei call.
She looked up. The men were sweating.
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‘Bring your hand,’ Damiete offered. ‘I’ll lift you up.’

Damiete helped her to her feet and she handed Filatei the polythene
bag, whose contents she hadn't even thought of checking out.
As they returned to the bank of the river where the others were waiting,
Damiete recounted the assault. While his group that included Pa Akpodigha
and Ebiere was searching, four speedboats approached on the river. They
weren't sure about the identity of the people. Therefore, they decided not to
shoot. As the speedboats came closer, however, they realised that two of the
speedboats were actually the boats they had hidden under shrubs the day
before.
‘You mean they stole the boats?’ Anita blurted.
‘Yes,’ Filatei replied. ‘Just like cars, they tampered with the ignitions
and joined wires to start the boats. But that fucked them up. When they wanted
to escape, they didn't have much time to begin connecting wires.’
‘So did you kill them?’
Filatei frowned. ‘No. They escaped with their boats.’
Anita smiled. ‘So now we’re mobile.’
‘Yes.’ Filatei lit a cigarette. ‘But I realised that a route connects that
red spot and this river. Our coming ashore at that red spot is significant,
though we might never understand.’
The large creature. ‘Maybe we had to disembark there so that that
animal would lead us here.’ Anita sneezed.
Damiete nodded. ‘If we had remained on that river, we would most
likely have passed this place with our boats, not knowing that we had to get
something around.’
‘That’s true,’ Filatei agreed.
Until they got to the bank of the river, Damiete and Filatei kept telling
Anita about the battle.
‘You should’ve witnessed how Pa Akpodigha and Ebiere sprayed
everywhere with their machine guns,’ Damiete said.
Anita wished she had seen that. ‘Nobody got injured?’
‘Never. Our body is secured. You know we don’t need all these
bulletproof vests. All things being equal, bullets from our guns can penetrate
anything,’ Filatei boasted. Anita sighed.
At the bank of the river, they met some men and Ebiere eating
provisions from their recovered boats. Some others were repairing the
ignitions of the boats, stuffing biscuits and raw noodles into their mouths at
the same time. Hungry, Anita, Damiete, and Filatei got some biscuits for
themselves. As he ate, Filatei untied the thick rope, wound round the
polythene bag. Inside was a paper that contained another text.
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Chapter 62
Spanners, pliers, hammers, and screwdrivers lay in the muddy soil,

now discoloured by engine oil. Frustrated, Opuowei hissed and rubbed his
hand lightly over his head. He turned to Charly. Charly had an expression of
dissatisfaction.
Minutes ago, as they approached the speedboats they had spotted, the
boats began to move. They subsequently guessed that the occupants of the
boats were making some repairs. The tools before them now only gave
confirmation to their deductions.
Opuowei didn't know exactly what to do now. When they got to that
spot, they had seen from a distance that the river went in different directions.
And they didn't know the direction in which the boats had headed. For that
reason, he had suggested that they looked around for any clue, instead of
continuing in a direction of which they wouldn’t be sure. The tools weren't
sufficient pointers, nevertheless.
‘Oga, let’s move on,’ Charly said, breaking Opuowei’s line of thought.
We might still catch up with them.’
Surprised that Charly made such an encouraging statement, Opuowei
turned to him. ‘Which way do we go?’
‘The way will show itself.’
The door opened slowly. The time has come. Miedide sat up and
adjusted his shirt. The Police Constable appeared.
‘You’re leaving now,’ the Constable said. ‘Oga has taken care of the
bail... the form and the signature.’
Miedide smiled and stood on his feet. He thought highly of the
godfather and silently prayed for him. Twice, the police had held him. The
first, they had treated him like a criminal. This time, like a prince. After that
first awful experience, however, he had promised himself never to be a guest
of the police in his life again. Despite that, the previous night as some police
officers led him into the station, he realised that careless errors could nullify a
man’s resolutions. That a man’s shortcomings could jeopardise his would be
noble feats.
Now, as Miedide neared the Constable who rested his back on the
door, the Constable said, ‘A Peugeot 406 is waiting for you outside.’
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‘Thanks.’
‘We’ll take a secret door out of here,’ the police officer added and
Miedide nodded.
With that, the Constable opened the door and led Miedide through a
dark corridor. As they went, Miedide’s mind was on the 406 car waiting
outside. The knowledge that law enforcement agents, especially the police,
used this brand of car as official cars disturbed him. Even so, he told himself
repeatedly, the godfather knows what he’s doing.
Outside alone now, Miedide saw the tinted saloon car and walked up to
it. As he got closer, he heard a click. Opening the door, he entered. The only
passenger was the driver. A familiar face. Miedide recalled that the man was
among the people whom he had seen around the godfather in the past.
‘Oga asked me to give you something,’ the man said, accelerating the
car away. But I will give you when we’re out of here.’
‘What?’
‘What you came to get initially.’ The man said, turning his head briefly
and nodding, in pride.
Really. The godfather hadn't mentioned anything about the thing again.
Miedide marvelled at what he had just heard. The godfather is a determined
man. Miedide guessed that he had sent someone else to get it. He however
wondered how that turned to be a success.
‘How did that happen?’ he asked.
‘It wasn't easy. You know, the security in Chief’s house is now tighter.
No one goes in anyhow. Even, Chief’s mother has turned herself into a
security guard, always wandering round the house. But thank God, she didn't
see or else...’ His voice trailed away.
Miedide had an idea of what the man had wanted to say. Grave
consequences might have followed if Chief’s mother had noticed any
intrusion. The old woman shouldn’t suffer for Chief.
They got to a lonely road and the driver parked the car. Then, he
brought out a phone from his pocket, a white envelope, and a nylon that
obviously had something inside.
‘Change into these clothes.’ The man handed Miedide the nylon. Next,
he gave him the phone and envelope. ‘This is phone and some money for you.
Filatei will call so that you’ll know where to meet them. For the main time,
you will stay in a hotel. It’s down the road.’
Miedide nodded. The envelope was thick. The driver was now
fumbling under his seat. Finally, he sat up and handed Miedide a brown
package. ‘This is the stuff.’
After that, he drove Miedide further down the road and dropped him
very close to the hotel.
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Chapter 63
‘This woman and her poems,’ Filatei snapped. ‘She never mentioned
precious stones. Maybe the treasures we’re fighting for don’t even have such
stones.’
Anita who had been leaning to have a look collected the paper from
him. With great concentration, she studied the text.
They gave that for their goods

Their goods gave them such foods
They stopped and plucked bananas
Collected apples from our people
Exchanging our apples for bananas
Claiming the bananas were ours
Still, their goods helped them to be free
Nevertheless, their own freedom was like a dream
Stepping out, they fought for it in numbers
From the first man to the very last
They gave that for their goods...their goods gave them such foods.
Anita sighed. Goods. Foods. She knew that everything still had to do with the
slave era. In a flash, she had an understanding. She tapped Filatei who was
discussing in vernacular with his men. ‘Sugarcanes were part of the crops
African slaves helped to produce for the white men.’
Filatei’s eyeballs enlarged. ‘That’s true.’ He glanced at the paper in
Anita’s hand. ‘So that is the food?’
‘Yeah,’ Anita replied. ‘But the only important clue we’ve seen now is
the plantation. Something still lurks around. Things the white men paid.’
Filatei nodded and looked round. Returning his eyes to Anita, he
asked, ‘Does that mean we’ve to check round again.’
Anita shrugged. ‘Inevitably.’
‘Okay,’ Filatei responded, in a voice that signalled his reluctance. ‘But
we don’t have much time. Maybe the remaining part of the text will help us to
discover what the white men gave.’
Anita felt it was a nice idea. ‘Let’s see.’ She stretched out the paper
again, for Filatei to see.
Filatei looked up from the paper. ‘What does she mean by their goods
helped them to be free...nevertheless their own freedom was like a dream?’
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Their goods helped them to be free. Staring at the sky, Anita

deliberated on that. Then, she remembered a name. Thomas Jefferson.
She turned to Filatei. ‘Between 1775 and 1783, during the American
War of independence, many African slaves aided America in winning freedom
from the British. However, they never regained their own freedoms...’
Filatei sighed and glanced at Damiete as if trying to be sure that the
latter was listening.
Anita was still explaining how thousand of slaves in the South sought
freedom by taking refuge behind British lines. Subsequently, more than ten
thousand former slaves went with the British when they evacuated Charleston
and Savannah. Some of the Blacks settled in Nova Scotia and others moved to
Sierra Leone in West Africa. Free New England Blacks served in the First
Rhode Island Company, while slaves in Maryland won their freedom by
serving in the army. In other places in the South, slaves bargained with their
owners, trading wartime loyalty for eventual liberty. Even, Virginia planters
freed almost ten thousand slaves between 1782 and 1790.
In the North, where there were relatively few slaves, the war caused an
end to the institution in Massachusetts and the enactment of gradual
emancipation laws in Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. By 1800,
every state north of Delaware had enacted similar laws and the Blacks were
taking advantage of their freedom to create their own social organisations such
as Black churches.
In the South, slavery continued. Enslaved people represented a huge
financial investment. Planters maintained that slavery was unavoidable to
ensure the supremacy of Whites and the elaborate lifestyles of the planter elite.
Most political leaders were slaveholders and they resisted the pleas of various
groups, like the Baptists, Quakers, and Methodists to move toward
emancipation. That encouraged the slaves to continue with their revolts.’
Anita paused, at the thought of what she wanted to say next. ‘One of
such political office holders was Thomas Jefferson, the first American
president inaugurated in Washington D.C. The slogan all men are created
equal is ascribed to him in the nation’s Declaration of Independence which he
wrote. The fact that he had slaves, however, put a hollow mark in the saying...’
Anita’s voice grew fainter.
She decided not to talk about a November 5, 1998 controversial
publication in a journal, which included the findings by a group of researchers
who claimed they had new genetic evidence to show that Thomas Jefferson
fathered at least one illegitimate child with one of his slaves- Sally Hemings.
Hemings became Jefferson’s slave in 1774 when she was acquired as part of
an estate which had been owned by the parents of Jefferson’s’ wife.
Coincidentally, Hemings was a half-sister of Jefferson’s wife, Martha who
died in 1782. Sally Hemings was the child of John Wayles, Martha’s father,
and Elizabeth Hemings, a slave. The child in question was Thomas Woodson.
Filatei who had been sighing all through said, ‘Not practicing what he
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was preaching.’
‘If you say so,’ Anita said. She decided to talk more about Jefferson.
‘Many other things happened. Jefferson had contradictions within his views on
slavery...’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Filatei said.
Anita continued, ‘Jefferson, for example, believed that Blacks were in
many ways inferior to Whites and he owned slaves until his death. In contrast,
he insisted that all Blacks should be freed. Once freed, however, he believed
that Blacks should be returned to Africa and elsewhere. According to him, this
was necessary because Blacks and Whites could not live peacefully together,
and because race mixing would lead to an amalgamation of Whites with
Blacks that would degrade the white race.’
‘What a character,’ Filatei muttered, placing a finger on the paper.
‘These last two lines talked about the revolts you talked about earlier...Right?’
Anita nodded and put her eyes to the text again. ‘I never studied
anything about bananas and apples. What do they mean?’
Filatei and the other men laughed. Wondering the reason for their
laughter, Anita gazed at the text. Perhaps, the answer to my question is
obvious. As she studied the text, she could still feel an oddity.
She looked up to Filatei. ‘Anything?’
‘Those bananas and apples aren't literal. Some other time, I’ll...’
Suddenly, Filatei stopped talking and put his hand in his pocket. He
glanced at the screen.
‘The godfather,’ he exclaimed and pressed a button.
‘Yes sir,’ Filatei said. Anita watched in silence as Filatei listened to the
godfather. Minutes later, the phone discussion finished and Filatei told all that
the godfather had mentioned that Miedide was now a free man. Happy, the
men began to sing songs which Anita didn't understand.
Filatei got on his feet and pointed towards the river. ‘Wetin be that?’
Anita turned to look. Some metres from them, by the wet bank of the
river, was an indistinguishable large creature...sprinting away. Filatei was
already walking towards the spot. Standing up, Anita jogged to catch up with
him.
At that spot where the animal had been before running away, they saw
its prints. Deep, the prints were five. One was in the centre. Anita couldn't
guess the animal who owned them. Filatei put a foot inside one of them. His
foot was small inside. He turned to Anita. ‘Do you know any five legged
animal?’
‘Of that size? I don’t think so.’
Filatei turned to the men who were now on guard. ‘Abeg bring shovel,’
he shouted.
Fifteen minutes later, after digging the middle print, they discovered a
large calabash, stuffed with clothes.
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Chapter 64
For minutes, Max had been staring at the plaque in his study, as if it
were a source of succor. It was well after midnight. He couldn't sleep,
however. He had many problems. The day before, his discussion with
Anthony Morgan had ended with him promising Tony that he would think
about the offer and call afterwards. Driving back home, he had weighed the
possibilities of going to Zimbabwe, his native land. He had thought of the
strangeness in a man afraid to visit his native home, when actually the visit
wasn’t supposed to be for pleasure or familiarity, but as a way of fulfilling
prerequisites that would help his career and put food on his table.
He tightened his lips now. Dewgibar. Inwardly, he read the last phrase
on one of the gifts that his grandmother had given him, weeks before her
death, days after he came out of prison.
‘Don't disappoint me, son. The penitentiary isn’t your destiny. Really, I
can't wait for you to tell your stories. Just persevere. Whenever you see these,
know that I’m with you,’ she had said as she handed him the gifts packaged, in
a beautiful yellow wrapping paper. Sadly, though, she hadn't seen his first
published work...an anthology of poems that talked about what landed him in
prison.
The story had been touching. Then, he was a member of a four-man
gang that dealt in drugs and small arms. At one time, suspecting that the other
three wanted to cheat him in a drug deal he had brokered, he had a quarrel
with them. Angry, he stormed out of the house where they all lived and
decided to roll with new boys. Unexpectedly, one day, two of his former gang
members came to attack him and one of his new friends in a hideout where
they were taking dope.
In reaction, Max and his new gang mate tried to defend themselves.
Eventually, Max’s new friend stabbed one of their attackers. The other one
fled. For that reason, Max and his new gang mate went into hiding, in Texas.
After months, they returned to New York, continuing to watch their backs,
however.
Three months after their return to New York, they encountered Max’s
former gang members at a business meeting with some local mafias. Wanting
some peace, Max and his gang mate settled with his former gang members.
All of them hugged, tendered apologies, and spoke about their hustles.
Consequently, the chap who had been lucky to escape death in the attack on
Max and his friend promised to keep everything away from the FBI. After
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that, the four began to pay one another visits, drank together, and clubbed as a
group. Nonetheless, like a bolt from the blue, the day of perfidy came.
Max’s former gang members had invited him and his friend to a bar.
Max’s friend however couldn’t make it, so Max went alone. In a state of
stupor, hours after arriving in the bar, Max was stupefied to see men of the
FBI telling him that they needed him. The two traitors pretended as if they
couldn't comprehend what was going on as men of the FBI tried to handcuff
him. Immediately, he realised that they had snitched on him. After four years
in prison, however, the dawn came.
When he returned from prison, though, he discovered the two snitches
had died from wounds sustained in a drive by shooting.
Truly, the way had shown itself to Opuowei and Charly not long after
they continued from the spot where they had seen the abandoned tools of the
militants. The light had come in form of the linings left by the speedboats of
the militants as they hurried away.
Now, as the soldiers who were wearing their bulletproof jackets went,
Opuowei suspected Charly’s growing determination might cause a blunder.
He turned to Charly. ‘Don't shoot at just any boat you see,’ he warned. ‘Wait
for my orders.’
‘Yes sir.’
Opuowei turned away from Charly and imagined a situation where
they followed wrong paths, like those left behind by boats other than those of
the militants. Despite that, he chose to swallow his feelings, not wanting to
sound pessimistic now when Charly was showing positivity.
‘Oga,’ Charly blurted. ‘I can see two boats in the distance.’
Opuowei adjusted his view. He could also see the boats. ‘But we can't
be sure they’re stationary. I’ve to increase the speed.’ He pressed harder. The
boat was now travelling at about a hundred and twenty five kilometers per
hour.
As they covered distance, Opuowei realised they were getting closer to
the boats. ‘Maybe their boats have developed fault again,’ he said.
Charly hummed. ‘It’s unlikely that the two have technical problems at
the same time.’
That sounded realistic. ‘I agree with you. So that means that they could
escape with one of the boats and abandon the faulty one like they did to their
spanners.’
‘Oga, anything can happen o.’
Now, about fifty metres away from the speedboats ahead, Opuowei
realised that one of the boats was moving slowly. At the same time, the
occupants were arming themselves, apparently getting ready for a battle.
Adjusting his bulletproof jacket, Charly held his gun, at alert. Opuowei was
242
slowing the boat already.

‘Oga,’ Charly called. ‘Is that not the guy who lied that Chief Tuburu
wasn't around the other day?’
Opuowei looked carefully. It was the short, very muscular charcoaled
skinned man. ‘You’re right.’
Opuowei could see that same muscular man point a rifle up. That
moment, Opuowei knew that the status quo had drawn the battle line. A red
one. Somehow, today he would fire a gun. He put his AK-47, slung over his
neck in position, making the muzzle face front, not interested in starting a
violent attack, yet. Still, he wished he didn't have to fight these people because
he knew that would impede his progress.
Suddenly, a gunshot roared. Instinctively, he removed his hand from
the steering and began to fire. The sounds of several guns were audible.
Charly dodged, crouching on the floor of the speedboat. Realising that Charly
wasn't shooting, Opuowei barked, ‘Won't you shoot?’ Almost immediately,
Opuowei began to hear the gunshots from the rifle of his assistant.
The militants began to move away in one boat. Opuowei followed,
driving with one hand, and shooting at the same time. Suddenly, Charly
screamed and stopped shooting. Opuowei heard the sound of Charly’s gun
hitting against the metal of the boat.
Opuowei glanced, still firing. Blood. Charly, sprawled on the floor of
the boat, had his hands on his shoulder, writhing in pain. As he turned to face
front, Opuowei felt something hard enter his apparel. It scraped against his
skin. He lost balance and fell backwards.
He didn’t hear any shooting again.
Five minutes later, Opuowei, holding his bloody arm looked up to see
Charly standing.
‘Oga, I’m leaving o. I no fit die for here.’
Impossible. ‘To where?’
Charly frowned. ‘Any where apart from here. I’m tired of everything.’
Opuowei felt he should go into persuasion. ‘Soon, we’ll get there. Are
you not a soldier?’
‘I’m one.’
‘Do you love your job?’
Charly gave a wry smile. ‘I love it but I’m already done with it.’
Shit. ‘Staff Sergeant Charly Peters,’ Opuowei shouted. ‘You’re going
nowhere without my orders...’
Opuowei was still speaking when Charly removed the bloody
bulletproof jacket and threw it on the floor. An act of unruliness.
‘I’m sorry sir,’ Charly stammered. ‘But I’ve a family at home. My
mother is still alive.’ With that, Charly jumped into the murky river. Just like
the boat driver, Opuowei thought.
Getting on his feet, Opuowei watched as Charly swam to the
riverbank. He guessed that the first place Charly would visit was the
243
houseboat they had come across when they were coming. He shook his head.
As he watched Charly swim away with fast strokes, he realised Charly still
had energy; but had chosen to leave because he didn't want to die.
Betrayal. Opuowei wondered if Charly had realised that he- Charly-
had been a strong driving force for Opuowei. Not long ago, Charly was
encouraging him. Now, he was gone. Opuowei wasn't surprised, though. He
had seen the height of betrayal several times in his life. Ruth. Ojo. Taddy.
Sitting on the driver’s seat, Opuowei realised he didn't want to die too.
My pregnant wife. Nevertheless, he remembered the money Chief
Doukpolagha had promised him. Fifteen million naira. We need that money,
he told himself. He gave the abandoned boat of the militants, floating at the
bank, a quick look. Then, he brought out a handkerchief and pressed his
wounded arm to stop the flow of blood, glad that the bullet didn't enter his
skin.
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Chapter 65
Damiete was now setting the large gourd on a mat. The camera
operator was focusing the camera on the gourd. Filatei was getting ready to
squat and examine the contents of the gourd. Afraid that a snake or scorpion
could jump out of the mass, Anita watched the gourd, standing few metres
away from the men. At alert, she was ready to run, if need be. The clothes
were of different colours. They gave off a very stale smell like that of rotten
vegetation, apparently because of moisture that must have touched them over a
long period.
Damiete returned to the other men now. Filatei removed the clothes,
one by one. Anita moved nearer. Antiquated. Her interest began to swell. It
seemed they were getting close to an important clue.
‘Could that be the price she was talking about in the text?’ she asked.
Filatei spread the piece of the cloth he was holding and raised his
upper lip. ‘It’s possible.’ He threw the piece on the mat and continued
bringing out the others. Anita moved even nearer, watching in anticipation.
Eventually, Filatei brought out a white shirt, stained with a black
substance. From the look on his face, Anita guessed he was wondering what
could have stained it. She peeped into the calabash. Inside was a black
powdery substance.
She pointed to the calabash. ‘See.’
Dropping the cloth, Filatei looked into the calabash. He bent as if to
sniff. ‘This is gunpowder,’ he said.
Anita hissed. ‘It didn't click. I should have known.’
‘It’s not important.’ Filatei waved his hand. ‘As teenagers, we used to
go hunting in small groups with local rifles when we want to eat meat. So it
shouldn’t be difficult for me to identify gunpowder.’
Anita nodded and pointed to the calabash. ‘Then, this is what we’re
searching for.’
‘Filatei smiled. ‘Yes.’ He gave the gunpowder a glance. Then, he
returned his eyes to Anita. ‘But this gunpowder can't just lead us on. Maybe
something is still yet to be discovered.’
Anita squatted. ‘You’re right.’ The temptation to examine the clothes
came over her. She thought otherwise, however. ‘Maybe you should check the
clothes again.’
With that, Filatei began examining the clothes all over again, checking
the pockets and the folds at the collars. Sweat streamed down his face and
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from time to time, he said things like, are we to get another map...in what way
will these clothes help us...everything gets more complex...
‘What in God’s sake have we not done?’ he blurted, dropping the last
piece of cloth. Standing up, he stretched his arms, yawning.
That moment, Anita sensed danger. Her freedom was certain, if and
only if they discovered the hidden gods, not only the axis of evil. Moving
nearer to the calabash, she held it at the mouth and shook it. Specks of the
gunpowder rose. To prevent these from entering her eyes, she closed her eyes.
Filatei hummed. ‘Do you think something is hiding there?’
Anita stood upright, blinking her eyes. ‘We’ve to try all avenues
possible. She might never want to give away her clues so cheaply.’ With the
back of her right hand, Anita rubbed her eyes.
‘Sorry.’ Filatei patted her on the shoulder and squatted again. Dipping
his hand into the mass of gunpowder, he moved it in irregular patterns,
searching.
Moments later, he began to smile and brought out his hand, now
soiled. Anita crouched. Between Filatei’s fingers was a coin, whose colour
Anita wasn't sure of because of the black shade it had. Without wasting time,
Filatei cleaned the coin with one of the clothes on the mat. Then, Filatei
dropped it on the mat and Anita began studying it.
The coin made of silver, portrayed a female personification of Liberty.
Engraved on it was the year, 1794. The part marked 1794 looked abraded,
however. Anita smiled at the reality that she was beholding the coin, right here
in Nigeria. Truly, the white men brought many things. She suspected that the
clue might be somewhere, within the genesis of the coin.
She turned to Filatei. ‘I saw this last in a museum in the States. This
should be one of the first dollars, issued by the federal government in
Philadelphia in 1794, following passage of the Coinage Act of 1792...’ Filatei
listened with rapt attention. Anita told him about how the act provided for two
standards of value. A silver dollar containing 371.25 grams of pure silver and
a gold dollar containing 24.75 grams of pure gold. Nevertheless, the
government minted the gold dollar, a small coin, only from 1849 to 1889.
After Anita finished talking, Filatei studied the coin, squinting. He
began to nod.
‘What?’ Anita asked.
‘This number-1794 makes sense to me,’ Filatei replied, turning the
coin to the other side. ‘That’s the only part of the coin that is scratched. The
slave trade was booming during that period.’ He paused and waved his hand.
‘The clothes are negligible. Something must remain.’ He dipped his hand into
the gunpowder again and began to search. As if someone had hinted him
before, he brought out a small piece of blackened paper. It had the words:
Go to the plantation.
246
Jeez. A part of Anita wished they wouldn’t go back. Another part

wished to go. Even so, as a whole, she knew she was getting nearer to her
freedom with every single discovery they made.
‘Let’s go,’ she blurted.
Minutes later, back amongst the sugarcanes, Anita, Filatei, Damiete,
and the camera operator moved from plant to plant. Each person put forward
his or her own theory as regards the number-1794. They checked the first,
fourth, seventh, and ninth rows and columns. They even went further into the
plantation and checked the twenty-first row. No clue seemed to exist. About to
return to the bank, Filatei sighted another area of land, about sixty metres
away. The view was similar to that of the sugarcane plantation.
Passing through thicker bushes, they made way into it. Then, they
discovered that it wasn't a farm as they had concluded initially. The things
they had been calling sugarcanes were all bamboo stems fixed into the ground.
Each stem had the number of a year, 1556, 1960, 1859, 1945, 1772... The
numbers, in red paint were irregular.
‘We need 1794,’ Filatei said to Anita. Anita smiled, preferring to keep
quiet than tell him that she already knew.
Somehow, they got to the bamboo labeled 1794 after they had walked
far into the plantation, occasionally coming across rabbits, grass cutters, and
squirrels, jumping from tree to tree. Filatei and Damiete began to dig the stem
out. At the base, they saw another gourd. A small one.
Alone. Since he started the boat, Opuowei had been wandering, unsure
of his exact destination. He however knew that he was heading for the territory
of militants. All the while, he feared that he might exhaust the fuel in the tank
of the boat. But when he remembered the fifteen million naira, he told himself,
I will walk or swim if the fuel finishes. My blood is the fuel I need.
Now, he looked at the sky. Noon was fast approaching. He wondered
how he would cope when night came. When nocturnal animals would come
out from their hiding places...when frogs would croak and birds would
squeak...when the alleged mermaids and phantoms of the river would come
out, to feel themselves as part of the world, as creatures of the Overseer of the
earth, The Supreme Being. God abeg.
Navigating to the bank of the river, he put off the engine of the boat.
He removed his bulletproof jacket, lit a cigarette, and began to smoke. He
turned to his side. On a seat was a pair of binoculars he had taken from the
abandoned boats of the militants. This is what makes them see me before I get
to them, he thought. He hissed.
Opuowei began considering going back to town to interrogate the
criminal who wanted to steal from Chief. Perhaps that might help, especially
now that it seemed he had no destination. At the same time, however, he
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remembered what Chief had told him when he suggested returning to town to
see the thief. He dismissed the thought and inhaled from the cigarette.
As he puffed out, his phone began to vibrate. Glad that someone
remembered him, he brought out the handset. Daniel. Opuowei felt guilt. He
hadn't even bothered to call Daniel since his last visit to the hospital.
He picked. ‘Hello.’
‘Walter, how far?’
‘We thank God. I’m sorry for not calling you. How’s your health
now?’
‘I feel a bit better. In fact, they discharged me conditionally this
morning and I was to go to the police station with dad to see that criminal who
believed so much in himself. But they called not long ago to inform us that he
escaped...’
‘Escaped what?’ Opuowei exclaimed. ‘That’s not an ordinary case.’
‘Yeah, I told dad. Those militants are still working against us. No one
apart from militants would attempt to steal in such a manner. So bold and
confident....’
Opuowei didn't want to show too many emotions. ‘It’s alright. Soon,
their fingers will get burnt. I’ll call later. One love.’
‘One love.’
As Opuowei pocketed his phone, he realized that things were getting
more complex. The thief, most likely, militant, had escaped and he- Opuowei-
was in the creeks, still wandering. He hissed. We wouldn’t lose on both sides.
Never.
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As they returned to the bank to meet the others, Filatei read the text
they saw on a parchment of paper inside the small gourd again.
The point of no return

Go as the river flows
When you are there
Surely, you will know
Search for a round metal
Initially, when they discovered the text, Filatei had said that it was
self-explanatory and Anita and the other two men felt so. Now, however, as he
ended the reading of the text again, Anita could feel a new meaning.
The point of no return. It seemed to Anita that the woman was trying to
tell them they had gotten to a critical stage, beyond which it was impossible
for them to stop or discontinue.
‘The point of no return has another meaning,’ Anita said, getting the
attention of the men with her. ‘I can't remember the major slaving port in
Nigeria then. I know it’s somewhere around the Bight of Benin.’
‘Oh!’ Damiete exclaimed. ‘You mean Badagry...around Lagos.’
Anita smiled. ‘Yes. In the early sixteenth century, slaves were
transported from West Africa to America through Badagry and historians
estimate that Badagry exported no fewer than five hundred and fifty thousand
African slaves to the United States during the period of the American
Independence...’
Anita also told them that from Badagry, many slaves were exported to
Europe, South America, and the Caribbean. The slaves came mainly from
West Africa and neighbouring countries, of Benin and Togo, as well as other
parts of Nigeria. The slave trade became the major source of income for the
Europeans in Badagry.
Anita’s mouth was dry. She paused and rolled her tongue over her
lower lip. ‘The point of no return used to be a spot, across the water, just to the
right of the boat that took the bound slaves to the ships heading for Europe,
America, or the Caribbean to work in plantations or mines in Peru and
Mexico.’
‘Interesting,’ Filatei said. ‘Can you give a meaning to the round
metal?’
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In his hotel room, kilometers away, Miedide’s thoughts were afar as he

sat before the television, lighting a stick of cigarette. He couldn't just wait for
Filatei to call. He couldn't wait to get out of the hotel. He couldn't wait to
return to the creeks to be with the family he knew. In the true sense, he
preferred the heat, the mosquitoes, the smell of weed, and the noise in the
camp to the cool of the air conditioner, the flowery fragrance, and the serenity
in the hotel room in which he was now. Afterall, he wasn't a product of a
society in order, but of one in chaos. His children, he knew, would not partake
of the madness.
Uncomfortable, he felt like taking claro, but he had none. He realised
that even if he had, it was unsafe to smoke weed here. Standing up, he walked
to the toilet, and eased himself. When he returned to the room, he raised the
window curtain and stared down. The street looked dull. A few pedestrians
walked by. That calmed his nerves a bit. Still, he hoped the phone would ring.
They won't catch me again, he said to himself and he smiled, remembering
what he did not long ago, at the hotel reception, when he was checking in. He
had given a fake name, just as he had done at the police station, yesterday.
He wished he could call Filatei straight away but remembered he didn't
know any of Filatei’s many numbers offhand. Bringing out the phone from his
pocket, he checked its Contacts folder. Empty. He hissed. He should have
known. The phone and sim card were new. He put the phone back in his
pocket and decided to remain, standing at the window, to watch in case of
eventualities. Just as he puffed from the cigarette again, he heard police sirens
blaring. The events of the previous evening immediately flooded his mind.
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The two speedboats roared to life and began to move westwards, in

consonance with the instruction in the text. In silence, the men performed their
duties- driving, guarding, spiritual invocations.
...When you’re there, surely you will know. Those lines played in
Filatei’s mind, continually, just as the sun scorched his skin. He wondered
how they would know when they got to their destination. He, however,
remembered the word, surely. The oil, believed to float in the axis of evil,
suddenly appeared to him as the best confirmation of their would-be arrival
there. Settled.
He turned to face Anita, who was still running her fingers through the
latest text. He remembered their last discussion before they boarded the boat.
She had politely replied that she had no idea when he had requested her to
give a meaning to the round metal. Frustrated, he had said, ‘Many round
metals exist in the world.’
Following that, however, he figured out that it was dangerous for man
to make assumptions because if things didn't go as supposed, the shock the
man would feel might knock him off balance. And such a man might never
achieve his goal. Opuowei therefore decided to wait and see how things would
turn out.
Filatei removed his eyes from Anita now and realised he had just made
another supposition. The floating oil. He dismissed that affirmation. Like he
had resolved in the case of the round metal, he would wait and see.
The boats were still going with great speed. Filatei wondered how far
they would still travel, before they got to their last stop. He hoped the distance
wouldn’t be long. For reasons that time won't pity, they had to dig up the
gods, that day.
His phone vibrated. The godfather had sent the number. At once, he
brought it out and checked the message folder. It was an MTN number. He
returned the phone to his pocket. He couldn't call Miedide now. At this
moment, he didn't know where they were. He, nevertheless, was sure that
before long, he would fathom the complexity of their route.
‘Shit!’ Anita exclaimed, jerking, almost falling on the floor of the boat.
Filatei held her. ‘What’s the problem?’
Her right hand was on her chest and she panted like one who had been
running a marathon. ‘Crocodile,’ she stuttered. With her left hand, she pointed
backwards, to the waters they had left behind. Filatei and the others burst into
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laughter.
‘It’s okay,’ Filatei said. ‘Had it been we had time, we would be
returning to get it killed now, so that Ebiere would prepare a delicious meal
with it for you.’
Anita blinked her eyes and turned to look at Ebiere. Filatei guessed
that the reporter was imagining how a young woman, who looked so innocent,
would attempt to cook such a large thick skinned carnivorous reptile, more
like a leviathan.
Filatei faced Anita and pointed at his fiancée. ‘Have you forgotten that
she can handle an automatic gun?’
Anita’s eyelids raised, the question seemed to reverse her
imaginations. ‘I remember,’ she said, her voice cracked, apparently an upshot
of the fright she just experienced.
Filatei smiled, wiping sweat from his forehead. Several times in his
life, he had seen alligators, crocodiles, and large water snakes. At one time,
when domestic animals were still aplenty, crocodiles came out from the creeks
into the neighbourhood to have their own share of fowls before Christmas
came. On some occasions, the crocodiles succeeded. On other occasions, they
landed in people’s pots as meat.
Now, suddenly, a strange dimness came. Filatei looked up. The sun
was gone. The weather became cool and the sweat on his face evaporated.
‘Chair, which kain yawa be this?’ Damiete asked.
‘Me masef, I no know,’ Filatei replied. ‘Nothing dey happen sha.’
‘Filatei,’ Anita called. ‘Could this be the axis of evil?’
When you get there, surely you will know. Filatei heard his mind’s
mouth reading those lines of the text again. The sudden gloom and cool
weren't enough evidences to make him assert that they were in the axis of evil.
More proofs had to show up. He was unsure if he was sure that they were
there. Consequently, he fought the urge to give a response, positive or
negative, to Anita’s question. Hence, he remained silent.
The boats sped on. Apparently perturbed that no one gave a reply to
her question, Anita asked again, ‘Are we not leaving the axis of evil behind
already?’
‘No one said this is the axis of evil,’ Filatei responded. ‘We need more
signs to be sure.’
Anita sighed and turned to face the course in which the boats went.
The next moment, other signs began to show up. From nowhere, a droning
sound approached the boats. Then, a gust of wind hit Filatei and the others.
The whole place smelt rotten. Suddenly, his vision became blurred. The gloom
of the false dusk even made it worse. Everything was happening in a domino.
His mouth tasted putrid. The aura of the place smacked of evil. Still, he could
hear the boats going and wondered how the drivers managed to maneuver
them.
The atmosphere began to get better.
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Filatei’s brain picked at once. They might be leaving the axis of evil
behind. ‘Stop o,’ he shouted, his targets...the drivers. ‘We’ll discharge here.’
Minutes later, as they disembarked from the boats, everyone including the
drivers narrated the moments of the terrifying chain of events. All the versions
were similar.
Disconnecting several wires in the boats so that they wouldn’t have
another case of theft, they set out. The camera operator was functioning.
Everyone apart from Anita was armed. As they stepped into the forest, Anita
requested that Filatei carry her on his back. Filatei turned to look at Ebiere.
Ebiere smiled. Lifting Anita, he backed her like a baby.
‘You’re so light,’ he commented as they continued into the bush.
Very dense, the bush was cool like the one they had passed through
after the red spot. In it also were wild creatures. A python flicked its forked
tongue in and out, obviously ambushing prey. Another was in a coil,
constricting something Filatei couldn't see. Apparently disturbed by the
presence of the group, a cobra lifted up the front part of its body and flattened
its neck to display its hood. Two green mambas, watched from a tree, with
their large eyes. A viper was attacking a rabbit.
Filatei could feel Anita’s face pressed hard to his back. She had stated
that she didn't want to see anything with her eyes. That the camera would
record everything she needed to see. And Filatei had continued assuring her
that there would be no problem.
‘Our hunters go alone into forests like this for night hunting,’ he said
now. He heard a murmur.
After walking the breadth of the forest, the team emerged into a less
dense place. At a distance was a body of water. The water, however, was black
unlike the one on which they had just travelled. Filatei gazed into the distance.
Instantly, he knew the area where they were. He had to make calls. He
brought out his phone.
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Briefly, Opuowei had gotten a pointer but now, he was lost again. The
pointer had surfaced, after the last call he received, in form of two boats he
had seen from a far distance, racing across the river, with the help of the
acquired binoculars. That wasn't the only hint. Gunshots he had heard from the
direction of the boats strengthened his suspicion that the militants he was
seeking were having an encounter with the occupants of the boats. On the
other hand, he contemplated that they were even the ones in charge of the two
boats. He knew they could have hijacked another boat. Therefore, he had tried
to reach them. Not long after, though, they vanished from his view.
Tired, now, he was going at a slow pace. He remembered the offer of
the Police Chief to send officers. For a moment, he wished he had accepted,
reasoning that in Charly’s absence, he most probably would have had men to
remain with him. Almost as that thought came to him, however, he dismissed
it.
His handset vibrated again. Holding the steering with one hand, he
used the other to bring out the phone. Chief.
‘Hello sir.’
‘Walter.’ Chief’s voice sounded troubled. ‘Any development?’
Chief shouldn’t feel defeated in all areas. ‘Yes sir,’ Opuowei lied. ‘I’m
close to them now. Tomorrow, Anita should be in The Citadel.’
‘Really!’ Chief exclaimed, his voice depicting new strength.
‘Yes sir.’ Opuowei decided to talk about the thief. ‘Daniel called and
told me that the criminal escaped from the cell.’
‘Ah!’ Chief expressed his understanding. ‘I’m surprised how that
happened. I’m beginning to think he used juju.’
‘Sir, why not press charges then?’
The line was silent for some time. ‘I don’t want anything that would
get me into the news especially when Anita is yet to be recovered.’
Anita. Opuowei asked, ‘Did those boys call again?’
‘No. They’ve not called since that first time.’
Opuowei felt a familiar fear, the type he had felt at Elewe when Chief
answered this same question. ‘No problem sir.’ Four days. Opuowei felt his
heart thump. ‘Today is the third day. They might be planning to call
tomorrow, which would no longer be necessary because I’m getting Anita
today.’
Chief giggled in a low guttural sound. ‘That’s my boy. I’ve to end the
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call now. Asuquo and me are about to take Daniel back to the hospital. It
seems his left leg has dislocated again.’
Daniel. ‘Extend my regards to him sir.’
‘Alright... and to Charly too.’ The call ended. Opuowei wished Chief
knew that Charly had turned back. At the same time, Opuowei reminded
himself that Charly had nothing at stake.
Opuowei continued in the direction he was going, his thoughts
concentrated on the tragedy ravaging Chief Doukpolagha’s family. Mama and
Daniel were the closest to Chief. They overlooked many of his shortcomings,
welcomed his foreign lovers, and contained his excesses. Opuowei, however,
didn't see why they should suffer for him. Mama, he remembered, had said
that she defecated on her pants during the shootings on the day of Anita’s
kidnap. After that, of course, she washed up. The story was different in
Daniel’s situation. Increasing his speed, now, Opuowei hoped Daniel wouldn’t
have to move about on a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
After the call to Miedide, Filatei and the others began perambulating
the whole place. All the while, they had seen nothing to prove that people had
been visiting that forest. The vegetation looked undisturbed. No biscuit
wrappers, no empty water bottles, no cigarette stubs, or packs. Consequently,
Filatei began to suspect they weren't in the axis of evil. Not that he wished to
see other humans here, though. All he had needed were indications that people
often visited there.
He set Anita on the ground now. He had to speak his mind.
‘What convinces me more that we’re on a wrong road is that there’s no
oil here,’ he said. ‘Even little children know from stories that oil floats almost
everywhere above the soil in the axis of evil.’
Pa Akpodigha nodded, turning to look at the faces of the others.
Nodding reluctantly, they lowered and raised their heads slowly. Filatei knew
they were tired. He hadn't expected that kind of response, however.
‘Wetin dey do you?’ Filatei asked, his voice high. ‘We’re all working
as a team. If we succeed, it’s for our benefit. If not, we’ll suffer the
disappointment together.’
No one spoke. Anita brought out one of the papers they discovered.
For a while, she studied this. Lifting her head, she noticed everyone’s eyes
were on her.
‘These bananas and apples,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s all we need to get
to where we’re going.’ She focused her attention on Filatei. The others did the
same and Filatei knew what they were expecting him to do. They wouldn’t
dare talk except with his consent. He closed his eyes and opened it almost
immediately. The information about the fruits, he knew, weren't very
important for the success of their quest. The woman, he thought, must have
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put that there for reasons they might never know. He however decided to
satisfy everyone.
He coughed. As he opened his mouth to speak, a loud voice stopped
him. ‘Shut up!’
Taken aback, Filatei and his team members turned. Heavily armed with
a machine gun was a short, very muscular charcoaled skinned man. Behind
him, five equally armed men followed.
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Miedide banged the door of the room, and locked the door. With long
strides, he descended the staircase. He was late, having spent several minutes
knotting the tie that had been inside the nylon that contained the clothes. The
last time he had worn one was when he had gone to a company on undercover.
Filatei will teach me how to knot a tie again, he said to himself as he got to the
landing.
Now, he entered the hotel reception, the nylon that contained the
package swinging in his hand. He walked up to the receptionist.
‘I’m leaving,’ he said.
The woman had a look of surprise on her face. ‘So soon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then, you should’ve said you wanted short rest.’
Is it your money? Unsure of how long it would take before Filatei
called, he had paid for a day, at a go, when he checked in. He pointed to the
register now. ‘Please can I sign out?’
The woman pushed the fat book to him. Opening it, he saw the false
name he had given. Diepriye Davies. He endorsed the false signature. As he
turned his back, he noticed the suspicious look on the face of the woman. Her
eyes were wide, her lips twisted. He didn’t care. The gardener did the same
thing too.
Stepping out of the reception area into the compound, he remembered
what happened when he heard police siren. Immediately, he had packed his
things, exited the room, and gone into the garden. There, he met the gardener,
a middle-aged man, who limped on one leg.
‘Anything?’ the gardener had asked him.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I just came to admire the flowers in your garden.
The gardener twisted his lips and nodded sarcastically. Afterwards, he
continued with the wetting of the flowers. Miedide understood. Apparently,
the man was wondering if a rugged looking person like Miedide could admire
flowers.
The sound of the siren began coming from the front of the hotel.
Miedide guessed the cars had parked. Subsequently, he walked the entire
perimeter of the garden, looking round for a spot in the fence he could jump
out from, if the need arose. That need never arose, however.
He heard the gardener telling somebody on phone that a big politician
who had been a guest in the hotel for weeks was leaving. In peace, Miedide
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returned to his room and ordered a drink. Not long after, the call he had been
expecting came in.
Out of the hotel gate now, that urge to smoke hemp came again. An
idea occurred to him. He walked until he got to the junction, leading to the
hotel. There, he saw an okada rider whose lips looked black from too much of
smoking. This is my man. He beckoned to the okada rider and sat down on the
seat behind the man as soon as the man parked his motorcycle.
The okada man asked, ‘Where you dey go?’
‘I wan buy blau.’
The rider laughed. ‘Nothing do you.’ During that ride, the okada man told
Miedide a lot about the hardship he was facing. Miedide felt pity and wished
he could help. He wished he could show the okada man the way of emation.
Even so, he remembered a counsel he often heard and realised that the present
situation of things might not favour that.
‘This is Energy. They sell strong claro here,’ the okada man whispered
to him, parking in front of a local hangout minutes later. Not long after, the
man was going into the hangout to get wraps of weed. Miedide had requested
for wraps because he had to smoke so that his journey wouldn’t be lonely.
That way, he knew, the chattering of spirits in his brain would make him feel
accompanied.
At the other side of Energy, a newspaper vendor was selling newspaper
to a man. Miedide whistled and the vendor looked back. He signaled he was
coming. After a while, the young vendor came and spread the front covers of
the newspaper for Miedide to see.
A headline caught Miedide’s attention.
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In fear all the while, Anita had been listening to the exchange of words
between her team members and their attackers who had beads on their necks
and red clothes tied to the mouths of their guns. One of them had a big sack
hanging from his neck. Now and then, Anita glanced at their fingers, next to
the triggers of their rifles. Inwardly, she hoped none of them would press the
levers. In the case of her teammates, however, their countenances looked
different.
None of them looked wary. None of them displayed that fear that built
up in her as the seconds passed by. None of them behaved as if he knew that
the hand of the clock might stop for him with a squeeze of the trigger of their
foes. Overall, they behaved as if the other group was weaponless. Filatei, Pa
Akpodigha, Damiete, even Ebiere lashed out at the men of the other group in
vernacular and pidgin. Across the forest, the noise of the intense argument
travelled.
The subject of the row wasn't different. The same like that of other
fights they had engaged in since the beginning of their quest. The other group
wanted her. And as always, Filatei and the others remained opposed to this.
Now, the charcoaled skinned man spoke. ‘For some days now, we’ve
been following you, one way or the other, in different units.’ He paused. ‘For
peace, give us this client and go your way,’ he barked.
Apparently from too much of shouting, Filatei coughed.
‘Ekemenhayebogha. Everyone has his or her own destiny. If you want the
hidden gods, go for them and forget about us. We aren't the only ones in
search of them,’ Filatei bellowed, his face flushed. Licking his lips, he
sneered. The others were nodding, obviously impressed by what he had said.
Anita felt a familiar sensation and removed her gaze from Filatei. She
became aware of a force dragging her back to New York, to the times when
she quarreled with Max. When he shouted at her with red eyes and locked
himself up in his study for hours, doing only what God knew.
She heard another man from the other group speaking now, ‘When a
man is greater than you, you can't do anything about that...’
‘Who’s talking about greatness in this instance?’ Filatei asked,
interrupting. ‘A man who always stays by a coconut tree to prevent others
from plucking would ultimately get killed when one of the coconut he’s
guarding falls on his head.’
‘So what has that taught us?’ the charcoaled skin man jeered.
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‘I thought you were wise,’ Filatei pointed at them. ‘It means that your
lives might end with this your hostile attitude.’
Let it end first,’ the charcoaled skin man said. ‘Before then sha, we
must leave with this woman.’
Filatei hissed. ‘What’s the meaning of all these?’ He brought out the
small red amulet he had used at Oloibiri and kissed it. ‘As a child who knows
how to wash his hands, I’ve dined with the elders. Therefore, I say to you,
begin to wrestle one another.
Their attackers laughed frenziedly. ‘Who is the sorcerer that pounded
herbs and put them in your mouth?’ the charcoaled skinned man asked.
Who else? Pa Akpodigha, of course. Anita turned to look at the old
man who now had a frown on his face.
Pa Akpodigha looked up and pointed to the sky. ‘The sun and the
moon are not enemies, yet they give way for each other.’ Lowering his head,
he faced their attackers. ‘As from this moment, your paths will no longer cross
ours.’
To Anita’s shock, their attackers laughed hysterically again, almost
falling over one another.
Close to the riverbank, Opuowei maneuvered the engine boat. Now, he

knew he was getting nearer to the territory of the militants. Everything that
lined the side of the bank was proof of that. The empty cigarette packs, the
disposable plates, spoons, straws, rizlas and spent shells from guns. The plates
reminded him that he was hungry. The snakes and squirrels he saw
occasionally reinforced that remembrance.
His phone vibrated. Chief again. He reduced the speed of the boat.
With his left hand, he brought the set out of his pocket and surprised at the
name he saw on the screen, he stared at it for a while. My Love. He wondered
why she was calling. Her expected delivery date was still months away. He
picked, but remained silent.
‘Hello,’ he heard her say, in her gentle voice.
‘Eh, my baby, is there any problem?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’m just missing you.’
Opuowei didn't know what exactly to say. ‘I’m missing you too,’ he
said. They spoke for minutes and the call terminated. Returning the phone to
his pocket, he increased the speed of the boat. A fear crept into his mind. In
the past, he had told his wife not to call him when he was away on duty, that
he would be the one to call her, when he had chance. And she had kept to the
instruction. True to his words, he always called her.
Her calling him today, however, seemed symbolic. Women often had a
foreboding of evil. He wondered if she had a premonition that something bad
was going to happen to him. During their phone discussion when she asked of
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his whereabouts, he lied that he was at Chief Doukpolagha’s office. Hitherto,

he hadn't mentioned Anita’s kidnap or his efforts in recovering Anita, to her.
If he had, he was certain that she would have gone to The Citadel to cry at
Chief’s feet, for Chief to tell him to return to town. His wife, he knew, would
prefer to see him every day, even in their modest state, than allow him risk his
life for fifteen million naira.
Now, swerving to avoid driving over a mass of water grasses, Opuowei
realised that his wife loved him; and he loved her in return.
Ruth. He hissed at the thought of his ex-girlfriend, way back in Russia.
Because Ruth had feared that he wouldn’t make in life, she had abandoned
him, convinced that his glory would never show forth. Opuowei dismissed the
thought about her, wondering why he should be thinking about her in the first
place. Long ago, he had discarded her in the rubbish dump of dirt and history.
To him, Ruth never existed.
My wife. Sighing, he focused his thoughts on the last call. He knew it
was too late to return. Even, he realised that he was endangering his life here
in the creeks, working as an overnight detective, instead of functioning as a
military man whom he was. In addition, he grasped that he was doing it for
that significant five-letter word- money, so that he would be able to take care
of his wife and the coming child. Sincerely, he knew that if his occupation as a
soldier had given him the kind of life he wanted, he wouldn’t be there
romancing with death, trying to protect the interest of one man instead of
serving the nation. Having no one to lean on makes a man appear to be a lazy
bone.
Slowing the speedboat, now, Opuowei made a turn and fired up again.
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The charcoaled skinned man was in front, with the high definition
camera. Behind was Anita. At Anita’s back were the remaining five. All along,
as the seven of them walked through the forest, the men had been asking Anita
questions that made her sure they didn't know the way to the axis of evil.
They asked her many nasty questions. How she met Filatei and his
team, how much they would pay her for her services, who was funding their
quest and many other things. She lied, however. It seemed they didn't even
know that she was a hostage.
All the while, they had been coming across snakes and her new
captors had told her not to worry, that no snake could attack them because of a
repelling force emanating from them.
Now, afraid, she trembled as she trod on the low grasses. Filatei. He
was not near to carry her on his back as he had done before. She wondered
what was happening to him and the others.
After her new captors laughed over Pa Akpodigha’s declaration, the
charcoaled skinned man said some words in the local dialect. Afterwards, he
ordered his men to tie Filatei and the others. That moment, Anita didn't
understand. It was only after the man with the big sack brought out ropes and
distributed it among his colleagues who tied Pa Akpodigha and Filatei first
that Anita knew the situation had gone out of control. Subsequently, they tied
Damiete, Ebiere and the other men. After that, they took their guns and the
camera. Then, they set out with Anita, saying that they were going with her to
the axis of evil.
Few metres away from the spot of subjugation, the charcoaled skinned
man ordered his men to dispose the seized guns, stating that it would be extra
load for them. Anita heard him mention something like our other guys are still
coming, and she had wondered what would happen when they arrived.
Suddenly, from behind now, Anita heard screaming and almost fell
down as one of the men collapsed on her. At the same time, a rifle was in
flight. She caught sight of a big black snake. Its tail was close to her leg.
Never. Regaining her balance, she rushed away, pushing the charcoaled
skinned man in the process. Outraged, he turned and aimed his gun at her. She
didn't care. It is better to die from a bullet than from snakebite. She kept on
running, praying that she wouldn’t step on another snake. Surprisingly, she
heard no gunshot. Instead, she heard the men shouting in pain.
The next moment, she stepped on something. Like a rock.
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Across the forest, Filatei was sweating. He yelled at Ebiere, ‘Your rope
isn’t very tight. Try to loosen it.’ He turned to look at his uncle. Sitting on the
ground, bound, was the elderly man who was chanting incantations. After their
assaulters left, Pa Akpodigha had said that the other group must be in
possession of a charm that counteracted the effect of his charms. Filatei
smiled. He remembered a saying Pa Akpodigha often told him, ancient
sorcerers know the snares that would catch the fledgling ones. He nodded.
Their freedom was near.
When their attackers were tying them up, the charcoaled skinned man
had said in Ijaw that if it were possible, he would have loved to kill everyone
in Filatei's group apart from Anita, whom they needed.
Now, as Filatei returned his eyes to Ebiere who was struggling to free
herself, he realised their attackers, in no way, would have been able to put
bullets into their bodies except they used their guns. Obviously, that hadn't
occurred to them. Even if it had, that didn't guarantee their deaths. More lethal,
Filatei knew everything would turn to a war of humans, ghouls, and spirits by
the time they shot at Pa Akpodigha with a gun which Pa Akpodigha himself
had consecrated.
Filatei turned to the other men now. They remained securely bound,
their faces expressing pains. Some tightened their lips. Some closed their eyes
and groaned. They all struggled to loosen their ropes. The more they did, the
more their faces expressed their hurts. Filatei shook his head. Their assailants
had tied all the men, including him firmly. Even, they had tied their legs.
Filatei’s expectations had materialized, though. As he watched the smallest of
their attackers tie Ebiere, Filatei had prayed the man wouldn’t tie her so
tightly, considering her feminine status.
Now, Filatei could see Ebiere wriggling to make the rope fall off her
arms that were behind her back. He watched with interest. He wished he could
use his teeth. This wasn't feasible, however. The ropes were very thick. She
would soon be free, he told himself. That moment, he saw her remove an arm.
Panting, Anita ran nonstop, carrying the camera and the flung gun, on
which she had stepped. Initially, she didn't want to pick the gun. But she
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remembered that the charcoaled skinned man and his cohorts were armed.
Additionally, she recalled they had disarmed Filatei and the others. For those
reasons, she decided to pick it, though having only little knowledge of its
operation. The only thing she knew was that if she pressed the trigger, there
would be continuous firing until the magazine got exhausted. It was an
automatic rifle. She had seen many of them in Afghanistan. With it in her
hands, she had begun to run again.
Few metres away from that point of revelation, she remembered the
camera and stopped. She remembered her documentary. The faces of the
malnourished children in Oloibiri. The first oil well. The Odi Anglican
Church. The camp. The black waters of the river. I can’t lose all of that, she
had said to herself. Thereafter, she returned to the spot. There, she saw the
camera, a pair of blood-smeared shoes, and a rifle. She didn't see the men.
Guessing that they must have dropped the camera as a trap, she picked it up
with a hand, and held the rifle, ready to be attacked, and shoot subsequently.
No one attacked her, however.
Now, she ran faster. Conscious of the truth that she didn't know the
direction in which she was heading, she prayed she wouldn’t run over an
anthill, trample on a viper’s head, or walk into a crocodile’s zone. As she ran,
she focused her thoughts on Filatei and Max. Two men whom she admired for
bravery.
‘Put death behind and continue your hustle. If death eventually comes,
you would remember nothing. If it doesn't, you’ll smile at last,’ Max would
say.
‘Nothing will touch you,’ Filatei always assured her.
Anita stopped to catch her breath. Her head was heavy. She wished she
could just shout Filatei’s name, so that if she heard a reply, she would run
towards the sound of his voice and untie him and the others. Afraid that the
charcoaled skin man and his men would hear, she thought otherwise.
Suddenly, she began hearing the sounds of twigs cracking. The sound
grew nearer. They are coming.
Anita stood still. She knew it was dangerous to begin to run now. If
she did, they would most probably discover her and capture her again. She
crouched. She waited. She hoped they would pass without noticing her. The
footsteps came closer. Her heart thumped faster.
‘Anita!’ she heard Filatei call her name. Her heart jumped. Without
wasting time, she stood upright. Coming towards her were her team members,
with their guns.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
Filatei waved. ‘Later, he said. ‘We’ve to move away immediately.’
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Minutes later, they were back on their boats, going in the direction in
which the river flowed. Filatei told her how they untied themselves and how
they discovered their weapons lying in the bush. Likewise, she told them about
the attack of the snake.
‘They must have provoked it,’ Filatei stated.
As they went now, in the boats, all the ematers including Filatei were
on guard. Even the camera operator held the camera with one hand, his other
hand holding his rifle that hung from his neck. He had removed his bag. All
the ematers looked right and left, front and back. Anita prayed they wouldn’t
have another attack again.
Finally, after travelling for what seemed like ages, Filatei shouted after
they went past a bend, ‘We’re there.’
Anita turned to look at him. She wondered what made him certain they
were in the axis of evil.
He looked at her. ‘It’s not a mistake. This is the axis of evil. Don't
forget the woman wrote when you’re there, surely you will know.’
Anita gazed at the river edges. A black thick substance covered the
ground there. She had expected the aura of the place to be similar to that of the
area they had initially thought was the axis of evil, before stopping off metres
away. It was far from being the same, though. The only similarity between
them was that this place also had a rotten odour. That of decaying human
corpses.
The drivers stopped the boats at the banks on Filatei’s orders and the
team began disembarking, yet again. As she set her foot on the slippery
ground, Anita suddenly had a conviction that they were in their destination.
Yawning, she found it hard to believe that she had set foot on the legendary
axis of evil. Even more, she hoped they would get the hidden gods. Getting to
the axis of evil and getting the hidden gods, she knew, were two different
issues. The latter was the key to her freedom, the key to her returning to
America with her documentary in her hands.
Leaving their things behind, they walked into the forest. Scattered
everywhere were half smoked cigarettes, stubs, and nylons. Even, they came
across decomposing lumps of human faeces. Everything there proved that they
were in the right place.
‘We’ve to search for a place to set up our camp,’ Filatei said, scanning
the area with his eyes.
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‘Do we need any camp?’ Damiete asked.

‘Sure,’ Filatei barked. ‘The day is far spent. Even if we discover the
gods, we can't return today. Besides, Miedide is on his way.’
After that, they began to walk into the bush, searching. Anita felt at
ease. The place wasn't shadowy. Her vision was clear. They came across very
few snakes. Only grass cutters and rabbits crossed their paths often. Once,
they saw a large monkey, the biggest Anita had ever seen in her life.
Around Agadama, about thirteen kilometres away, Miedide was

traversing the river, going past an intersection. As he manipulated the
speedboat he had gotten in PortHarcourt, he couldn't take his mind off the
headline he had seen on the front cover of the newspaper that was now on the
floor, under the package.
FILIPINO OIL WORKER FEARED DEAD

Militants Refuse to Call After Publication of Kidnap Story
At that moment of discovery, before the newspaper vendor, when his

eyes first rested on the headline, Miedide had felt finally, Shell was now
feeling their impact. Impact. That was Filatei’s prospect...an inevitable
prospect all true ematers shared. One, for which many would die.
Miedide smiled and the young vendor gave a knowing nod. In
response, Miedide nodded. The vendor, Miedide knew, understood his smile.
A smile that showed his flawed dentition and displayed his great elation. One
that could easily give the boy the assurance that he was an emater. Despite
that, Miedide decided not to over-flog the issue.
‘Trust no one but God,’ Filatei would say to him, repeating Maale’s
own words. Still, Miedide always had reservations about that counsel. Often
times, he thought the counsel was short of two words. In his opinion, it should
be: Trust no one but God and Filatei.
Therefore, he promptly paid for the tabloid. Seconds after the vendor
departed, the okada man came out with wraps of ganja in his hands. They
subsequently continued with their journey to a local port. Miedide didn't raise
the issue of the newspaper story throughout. Dismounting at the port, Miedide
gave the okada man ten times the money he charged, and three wraps of weed.
A teardrop away from crying, Miedide watched as the man almost licked his
feet in appreciation.
‘God bless you and your family. Your father, mother, brothers, sisters,
wife and children...’
Amen, Miedide said inwardly repetitively as he lifted the okada rider
from the wetly ground. Of course, there was no doubt in the fact that he had
lost his entire blood family. The Amen he had said was for Filatei, Ebiere,
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Maale, Paale, Pa Akpodigha, and the others. Amongst these people, he had a
father, mother, sister, brothers, and uncle. Even, he had a twin brother-Filatei.
Half an hour later, some of their men whom Filatei had called arrived
at the port with two speedboats. One for him. The other to take them back to
their base. As he drove away, they watched him go. The men, on Filatei’s
orders were to remain at the port for a while to make sure no one followed him
from there. Surprisingly, not long after he lit a stick of weed, Miedide met
inematers on the way. Men of the Joint Task Force. They had parked their
boats at a junction, in such a way that someone coming wouldn’t see them on
time. Fortunately, they didn't stop him. He waved to them, telling himself,
whenever they see me, they can't but smile.
Now, he gave the package, on the floor a glance. He knew the mental
burden their possession of it could cause. He smiled. Everything was going as
planned. Very soon, he would stop to place a call. About to make a turn now,
he looked back. In the distance, he saw a speedboat at the intersection he had
left behind.
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A boat. Opuowei turned in the direction of the boat he was seeing and
pressed harder on the accelerator. Almost as he turned, the boat disappeared,
turning left. Shit. Initially, he had wanted to go straight. The sight of that boat,
with the binoculars, however, had changed his plan. Now, the boat had
vanished. He hissed.
Again, holding the binoculars to his eyes, with one hand, Opuowei
looked into it. Nothing different. The lens gave him a view of a long stretch of
water, as it had done moments ago. He pressed harder. The dirty water
splashed over him as the boat bounced. That was negligible. His clothes were
already drenched, with the waters of the river that smelt like a dirty gutter.
After his wife’s call to him, after that suspicion that she had a
premonition that something bad was about to happen, he had forgotten about
any possible misfortune. He had decided to put his mind to Anita’s rescue.
Nothing, but that.
As he sped over the water now, he imagined the day he would arrive in
Chief Doukpolagha’s house with Anita. Certainly, Opuowei knew, Chief
would prefer to pay the money into his account. Opuowei envisaged his
reaction after the payment. Would he jump, or run or shout for joy, or drink to
nonsense?
By his calculations, he should be back in town with Anita in two days
time. That meant the payment should take place in less than a week. He
wondered how he would inform his wife that they were now millionaires after
that payment. Her reaction. Her questions... how the money came about...
Changing gears, about to reach the spot where the boat he had seen
turned, Opuowei shook his head. The answers to his wife’s likely questions
might be difficult to give. Consequently, his wife would guess that he had
done something he had never done before. Not theft. She trusted him that he
would never steal.
About to turn now, Opuowei prayed he would spot the boat after the
turn. Slowing the boat, he made the turn and held the binoculars to his eyes,
once again. No boat.
Stretch of black water.
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The team walked through the bush, with long steps. From his side,
Filatei could hear the sound of Anita’s breath. Very soon sister, he said
inwardly. In front, another man was doing the recording. The usual camera
operator had taken a break, complaining of arm and shoulder pains. Beside
Filatei, Damiete was smoking a stick of cigarette. Although he was tired, Pa
Akpodigha walked with a pace matching that of others. Ebiere had a bottle of
water to her mouth.
Anita turned to her. ‘Please can I’ve some?’ The ematress gave her the
bottle and she drank the water in swigs. Filatei smiled. Like two sisters. He
faced front and thought of their present challenge.
For some time now, they had been trying to get a good spot to set up
camp. Everywhere they saw, however, looked inappropriate. If lines of soldier
ants didn't pose a threat, flies-infested chunks of human excreta did. Those
weren't the only drawbacks, however. They came across many shallow graves
which had maggots all over them. Even, they saw dismembered bodies of
people, of nationals and foreigners.
Filatei was almost exhausted now. Ematers who visited the axis of evil
often camped there for days or weeks, depending on how long it took before
they got the ransoms for their hostages. Even after setting their captives free,
many of them remained behind in the bush, searching for the hidden gods.
Only few ematers came into the axis of evil for the sole purpose of
discovering the treasures. Filatei had heard that coming to the axis of evil
without a high value hostage would make the emation group in question, seem
like bandits to fellow emation groups they might meet there.
Where do they sleep then? Filatei asked himself. Their past visits had
left proofs behind, no doubt. Their camp, however, was now the only evidence
he wanted, so that at least himself and his teammates would settle.
Now, Filatei walked to the front of the group and stopped close to a
blood-smeared tree. He turned to face the others.
‘My dear people,’ he said and looked up to the sky. He lowered his
head. ‘We’ve not yet made our camp, and today is almost over. Let’s postpone
our search till tomorrow when we’ll be able to work with natural light. Going
about the bush with lamps can easily make people notice us.’
Apparently glad about his statement, the others nodded. Anita yawned
and nodded at the same time.
‘So, now our minds are on the camp.’ Filatei said, turned, and
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continued going. The man recording quickly ran to his front. The footsteps of
the others were audible.
Filatei remembered Miedide. He, however, decided not to call him.
The forest was too big. When they finally settled and when they finally got
their bearings, he would call. He expected Miedide to be travelling on the
river, still. Filatei had instructed Miedide to call when the latter got to the area
around Iwhrerhe. Any moment from now, his call would come in. Filatei
increased his pace. We need to settle. The package is coming.
Suddenly, in front, on the path on which they were treading, he saw a
round metal, smeared with oil.
‘Round metal!’ Filatei exclaimed and bent down.
Guessing that he was now around Iwhrerhe, Miedide looked around.

No boat was in sight. Nice one. Ever since that moment he saw the speedboat
at the intersection before he made that turn, he looked back, now and again.
After negotiating the turn, he had sped as if he was in a race for a million
dollars. Then, he turned again, and again, and again until he got here.
Now, he knew, it was time to stop. Reducing the speed of the boat, he
brought out the new phone from his pocket. Checking the call log, he called
the number Filatei had used to call him.
‘Hello Chair.’
‘How paro?’
‘Fine,’ Miedide replied. ‘I’ll soon stop...’ He described where he was.
‘Okay, you’ve to hold on there for a bit. We’re still trying to set up
camp. When we’re sure, we’ll call you.’
Miedide hoped that wouldn’t take time. ‘Chair, I trust you.’
Filatei giggled. ‘That package. How far?’
‘Nothing dey kpain.’ Miedide glanced at the floor below him. ‘I even
have a newspaper about Mr. Lumantas...’
‘Alright,’ Filatei cut in, apparently eager to do something. ‘We’ll see
then. Take care.’ The connection broke.
Miedide scanned the area for a place where he could park the boat and
wait for the call. To his left, he saw a turning that led nowhere. Like a
protuberance at the river edge. Directing the boat, he made for the turning. As
he entered, he discovered that at one side, it arched inwards. No one should
see me here. There, at the arch edge was a tree whose branches covered a
section of the water below. Straightaway, Miedide parked the boat below the
branches and remained in it. He found himself wondering when Filatei would
call and whether trouble won't meet him here.
He brought out a wrap of weed. He unrolled it. The leaves were on the
rizla. He touched them. They were very dry like those in the wrap he had
smoked on his way. Good. His fingers touched the small seeds. He decided not
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to pick them, this time around. Removing the rizla, he began to mould the
weed. As he did that, he knew that soon, he would begin to see visions. Truly,
he preferred to hallucinate and imagine many things, the good, the bad and the
ugly, rather than focus his thoughts solely on his immediate problems.
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When Filatei exclaimed and picked up the round metal he had seen,
everyone with him had thought that finally the round metal the woman talked
about had surfaced.
Standing upright with it in his hand, Filatei smiled. The next moment,
he felt he was wrong. This metal is so light. He brought out the coin from his
pocket and placed it by the side of the round metal. No semblance existed. He
hissed and remembered the woman’s text. ...God created man in
twos...everything under the sun too.
Suddenly, those lines had a new meaning to him. They were to look for
another coin.
‘This,’ raising it up, ‘can't be what we’re looking for...’ The faces of
his teammates looked sad.
He extended his right hand. The coin was on it. ‘When I hold this, I
feel like I’m holding history. I feel I’m going back to the years of the slave
trade.’
Then, he brought forward the left. ‘This is similar to what we played
with as kids.’
Everyone nodded. Anita didn't. Filatei wasn't surprised. He wished she
had seen children playing with crickets, grasshoppers, sticks of wood and
broomsticks, in place of Barbie dolls. As Filatei watched Anita from the
corners of his eyes, he knew she was wondering how the kids would derive
satisfaction from such a piece of metal. What he heard next however made
him think over his assumptions, a second time.
‘She said a round metal and not a coin,’ Anita said. ‘This is a round
metal. Therefore, we should consider it. Maybe it would lead us somewhere.’
Surprised, Filatei looked away from her. He hadn't expected that she
would attach any importance to the metal. He managed to look at her face,
wondering if she realised she was still a hostage. ‘This is just plain metal. It
has nothing to give, no information, no picture, nothing at all.’
Anita removed her eyes and stared at her feet, now stained with oil,
and dirt. Obviously, she was nervous. Only she had shown interest in the
metal. Only she hadn't nodded when Filatei made the remark about the metal
resembling their toys as children.
Afterwards, everyone in turns examined the coin and the metal. No one
seemed to agree that it held any significance.
Subsequently, Filatei said that they should continue with the search for
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the spot to set up their camp. ‘Afterall, we’ve postponed the search for the
round metal,’ he said, as if strengthening his stance.
Now, they were near a tree, not far from where they saw the metal.
Filatei observed its surrounding. The ground beneath it was clear. Few grasses
grew there irregularly. Filatei looked up. Between the branches were several
bird nests.
‘Now, I understand why the ground doesn’t have much grass,’ he said,
turning to his teammates. ‘The birds eat up everything. But this wouldn’t be a
good spot to set up the camp. We might not be able to hear one another by the
time those birds begin gossiping.’
His teammates laughed.
Desperate to find a place, Filatei looked ahead again. About fifty
metres from where they were standing, he spotted something like wood.
He pointed. The others turned. ‘What could that be?’ he asked.
Damiete walked forward a bit, stopped, and stared for a while. ‘It looks
like a camp,’ he announced.
Immediately, they started towards it. Suddenly, a large black monkey
came out from the bush ahead of them and stopped. Everyone stood still.
Filatei watched as the monkey sat on the ground, staring at them as if it had
been expecting them.
‘This is the same monkey we saw the other time,’ Anita said.
‘Most likely.’ Filatei turned to her. ‘But I don’t understand what it
means.’
Anita blinked her eyes, as if trying to have a recollection. ‘Around the
black spot, we saw an animal but we didn't know it. Its footprints helped us to
discover the gunpowder and the coin.’ She paused. Filatei thought he had an
idea of what she wanted to say. ‘My mind tells me it’s this monkey,’ she
finally said.
Filatei laughed sarcastically. ‘Assuming it was it, do you mean it
followed us from there? Don't forget that until we got to this forest, we never
came across any monkey.’
‘Remember Miedide said he saw a monkey in the woman’s place,’
Anita pressed further.
A monkey can't be so intelligent. Filatei waved his hand.
Anita shrugged, a look of exhaustion on her face. ‘Anything you say.
Filatei felt guilt. ‘Let’s move on,’ he said. As they began to move
again, the monkey leapt away.
When they got to the spot on which it had been sitting, they saw
another round metal there.
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Filatei picked up the coin. It looked exactly like the one they had seen
at the black spot. He smiled. Placing the coin on his palm, he spread out his
hand and extended it for the others to see. They were nodding, sighing,
smiling. Now, Filatei felt he had been wrong. The monkey unarguably had
dropped the coin he was holding.
Withdrawing his hand, Filatei tapped Anita. ‘You were right after all.
She shrugged. He could see that she was trying to force a smile. The reason
for that wasn't vague. Only moments ago, he had been disputing the
significance of the monkey. The next moment, the monkey had presented a
solution to the enigma they had settled to resolve the next day. Life.
Now, Ebiere and the men were talking in murmurs. Filatei knew their
conversations were about what next. Anita brought her hand forward,
obviously wanting to examine the coin. He gave it to her, thinking of what
they would do with it.
1794. Filatei considered this. The magical year. Turning, he looked
round. No plantation in sight. He remembered when they saw the first coin,
their confusion about what to do with it, until they saw the paper that had on
it: Go to the plantation. An insight came. Something must be here to tell us
where to visit, he thought.
He looked down, at the spot where the monkey had been. On the
greasy ground was the mark left by its loins. Something must be below the
outline.
With a foot, Filatei stepped on several spots around the outline. He felt
nothing. ‘We need shovels and axes abeg,’ he said, looking at the faces of the
men. Immediately, some of the men hurried away to the parked boats. The
others continued to the place where Damiete had said looked like a camp. It
remained only Filatei, the doctor, and Anita.
‘This is another pothole,’ Anita blurted. ‘I can't just figure anything
out.’ She handed Filatei the coin.
The coin in his hand, Filatei smiled. ‘After we dig, we’ll become sure
if this is really another pothole.’ He lowered his head to look at the ground that
now had his footprints. It occurred to him that they were at their final bus stop.
‘The hidden gods must be lying underneath this place,’ he said, in a tone of
confidence.
Anita shrugged, saying ‘Likely.’ She faced the direction of the group
now going to the supposed camp.
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Filatei brought out his phone to look at the time. It was a quarter to six.
Darkness is near. The thought upset him. It has to be today.
‘We might have to use lamps,’ he declared.
The doctor, on guard faced him. ‘Chair, that’s what we’ve been trying
to avoid here.’
Filatei didn't talk. He had realised that if he decided that they should
wait until the next day before they began digging, anxiety would take over him
throughout the night. Finally, he spoke. ‘Don't worry. God dey.’
Next, he dialed a number on his phone. The person on the other line
picked.
‘Come along with lamps,’ he instructed and faced the direction of
Anita’s gaze. One of the men, ahead, turned back and waved, jumping. Ebiere
and the others with the man joined.
Anita turned to face Filatei.
‘I’m sure they just found a camp,’ he said. Filatei could see them
bending as if going into a low structure now. He smiled. He couldn't wait for
the tools to arrive.
In that retreat, Miedide had just finished smoking the third wrap of
weed. His head was weighty. His eyes closed, he could feel the pulsation of
his veins...the way they expanded and contracted with fast tempos. The vision
before him was of an emater emeritus, who had left behind legacies to guide
the coming ones, in case the things they hope for don’t come. Hot, it seemed
his body was on fire. In that isolated world of his, the babbles of spirits
dominated his hearing. He could smell his blood. That, however, was trifling.
The blood had over pumped to his nose, as it happened many times. All along
in his phantasm, he had told himself, this is what I wanted.
Suddenly, he began to drift away from that remote realm. Then, he
came to his senses. The package. He opened his eyes and bent to look at the
floor below him. Still there, was the package. He sighed and remembered he
was waiting for Filatei’s call. He looked up to the sky. For that day, the
firmaments were saying bye. I’ll call.
After hanging up, minutes later, he rubbed his face with a palm. Filatei
had given him instructions. He, however, hoped he wouldn’t miss his
direction and kicked the boat to life. As he maneuvered away, he caught sight
of a large creature jumping down from the tree under which he had been
dreaming. Almost as soon as it jumped down, it vanished. Miedide could
swear that it was Brainy, the strange monkey of the old woman.
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I’ll continue tomorrow, Opuowei told himself, as he looked left and

right for a place to sleep. Already, he was tired, hungry, and exhausted. He
gave his wounded arm a glance. The gore on it made him feel bad. Bad that he
had come that far, with nothing substantial. At every turn, he had lost. At
every juncture, ill luck appeared. At every important moment, hope vanished
the minute it arrived.
He moaned, realising that if his life had gone the way he planned, he
wouldn’t be here seeking out a hostage. A white one. He recalled the genesis
of his incubus. The military hadn't interested him as a young boy. The arts had
been his primary love.
Ruth...the root of my problems. Now, Opuowei could feel tears almost
coming out of his eyes. Before he met Ruth, his life had been in perfect order.
The disorder started one cold winter evening, a day before his birthday
anniversary in Russia. Then, he hadn't realised. He had dropped by in a hostel
to see two new Nigerian girls who were more like younger sisters to him.
There, in their room, he had met a new face, their new roommate. Ruth. That
day, everyone had fun. He cracked jokes and the girls talked about their lives
in the new country. The next day, his birthday, he was with Ruth again.
One thing led to another, subsequently. Ruth became his girl. They
went on dates. Together, they celebrated annual observations. Christmas, New
Year, Valentine, Women’s day, Ruth’s birthday. Through that misleading
period, Opuowei thought he had found for himself a wife, not knowing that it
was a lie. That one day, she would betray him. Like Taddy did.
The nightmare started at the beginning of the first summer Ruth saw in
Russia. She said she was going to Nigeria to spend the holidays. Knowing that
he would be lonely, Opuowei tried to persuade her to wait and travel home the
next summer. She, however, insisted on going and she went.
The next three months were like hell. His gloomy nights became
longer...his bright days, shorter. Every day, he called. Ruth hardly returned his
calls. When he showed his displeasure at this, Ruth complained that she had
no money. As a considerate young lover, he swallowed his anger, and kept
calling day after day. Summer nights were cold. Those nights, they would talk
for hours until his phone credit got exhausted and he would go out to recharge
his phone. Walking on the streets, filled with drunkards and crack fiends, he
would tell himself, I’m doing all for love.
Two months after Ruth left for Nigeria, when many foreign students
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began to return for the new session, a discussion that invalidated Opuowei’s
expectations took place. Ruth informed him that her family wanted her to
travel to America to study Nursing and after that, Medicine. Bitter, Opuowei
reminded her of the first few weeks of their relationship...when she knelt down
on her knees, cried, and begged him to remain in Russia with her. The
response Ruth gave was disheartening.
‘I’ve no choice,’ she had said. ‘My family decides for me.’
After that call, Opuowei’s life changed. School resumed. He paid his
fees. He couldn't attend classes, however. The mental distress was too much
for him to bear. Every day, he thought he would find himself in the world of
the dead. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't think. Day after day,
he prayed Ruth would come back. He drank uncountable bottles of beer. He
took vodka and stout. His life continued like that for a while. Then, barely a
week after school resumption, two people decided to exploit him, for not
coming to class for just a week.
Ojo and Mister Oleg. Partners in crime.
Oleg was the head of International Students’ Department in his school.
Ojo was the President of the Nigeria Students Association of which Opuowei
was also an executive. Intimate, Opuowei and Ojo often took decisions about
the association together. For that reason, Opuowei hadn't imagined that his
fellow brother would sell him out, so cheap, to a foreigner, in a land rife with
hate, fight, and inequities they had set up the Rapid Response Squad to bring
under control. Ojo and Oleg had gone into a pact, nevertheless.
The duo set Opuowei up. The school was to expel him. For that not to
happen, Opuowei had to part with one thousand, five hundred dollars. A sum
that Oleg and Ojo would have happily shared. Another choice was for
Opuowei to return to Nigeria.
In response, Opuowei weighed the options. Oleg had told him that if
he would return to Nigeria, he would get a refund of his school fees which he
had already paid. Returning to Nigeria, Opuowei knew was pure babbling. If
he wanted, he could easily secure a transfer to another school in the same city.
In addition, he could pay the bribe, if he so desired. Even, he could make
higher authorities aware of the bribe because no one raised a brow when Ojo
and many other students didn’t come to school for months.
Even so, Opuowei considered other things. That moment, he had no
important reason to remain in Russia. The reason for which he had remained
there was now vanished, making his life seem empty. Therefore, he had
decided to come back home. When he informed Ruth about this, she had
happily shouted, ‘Finally, we’ll be together.’
Everyone around Opuowei thought he was making a foolish and rash
decision. Only Olya understood, even though he had offended her.
His mental distress had caused that. Days before he left for Nigeria, in
great misery, he had taken a walk with Archibald- his dog. However, he never
returned home with it. Near a bus stand that evening, he gave it away to an old
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woman for reasons he would never understand. It was when he returned home
he realised his mistake. Beginning of madness, he had thought. The next day
when Olya discovered this, Olya cried.
Olya had grown to love Archibald and Opuowei had promised to give
it to her before his departure. Bitter with what he had done, Opuowei tried to
make up for his blunder. He wanted to buy Olya another dog, anyone, she
wanted. Olya, however, refused.
‘Drugaya sabaka ne budit Archibald. Sichas on ce babushka katore
skora budit omer,’ she had cried.
‘Another dog won't be Archibald. Now, he’s with a grandma that
would soon die.’
That went.
On the day Opuowei was leaving for Nigeria, Olya almost wept blood
as they arranged his things in the boot of the taxi that took him from his flat to
Moscow International Airport.
In Nigeria, Opuowei saw Ruth once, the last time he ever saw her. She
lived in Benin, hours away from his city. Gradually, their relationship
degenerated. Months later, Ruth travelled to the States. She forgot about him
entirely, and that ended their relationship that spawned more than a year of
sweet and sour. Opuowei hadn't been surprised, though. Throughout the flight
to Nigeria, he had continuously heard a silent voice: Ruth might eventually
ruin you.
Taddy too. Now, as Opuowei engaged gears, he remembered the weeks
after Taddy left for Nigeria. He never heard from Taddy. Watching the
television the day after Taddy left, he had seen a report about a plane crash in
Nigeria. In spite of that, he was sure his friend wasn't on that flight because it
was a domestic one. What’s more, it happened at a time when the plane Taddy
boarded would still be airborne, in the space between Europe and Africa. To
be very sure, Opuowei had contacted the airline, whose plane crashed. At first,
they shocked him when they said they saw a name that sounded like Taddy’s
own among the victims of the crash. Eventually, however, he became calm
when they said it wasn't Taddy’s.
Next, Opuowei made contacts with the airline Taddy boarded to
Nigeria and he got reliable information that there was no mishap. Taddy
landed in Nigeria safely.
Subsequently, for weeks, Opuowei waited. Taddy never called as he
promised. At that time, a telephone line in Nigeria was a luxury, so Opuowei
had no number on which to call Taddy. Taddy also never replied his mails.
Opuowei had no one through whom he could reach his dear friend. Upon his
arrival in the country, Opuowei did all he could to locate Taddy. But all his
efforts proved abortive. Thereafter, he concluded that his friend had left for the
States and forgotten about him.
Opuowei continued with life in Nigeria. As a drop out, no one was
willing to give him a job. Life was hard. He began to go insane. He heard
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unreal voices, spoke to himself often, and was always surprised to see himself
alive, every morning. Pain became his closest companion, one that he couldn't
chase away easily. He began to think, wrongly, that all women were evil.
Later, as if by Divine intervention, he resolved to live on. He called his friend
who had earlier helped him secure admission and scholarship in a school in
the States. The result of the call was depressing. The opportunity had gone.
Still, Opuowei desired foreign education. He tried to be strong.
After several wasted years, he joined the army based on the
suggestions of an older friend. Years later, he began working for Chief
Doukpolagha. Then, he met his wife...
The reminiscences made Opuowei’s head ache now. He could feel the
nostalgia. Darkness had arrived. Wiping tears from his cheeks with a hand, he
switched on the boat headlights. The light wasn't very bright. God help me. I
need to sleep.
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Chapter 79
Five kilometres away, Damiete and another man were hitting hard on
the ground, with axes. The doctor was using a spade. With a shovel, one other
man was moving and lifting loose earth. Another scooped oil with a bucket
attached to a rope. Someone else was pulling out the bucket and walking some
distance away from those watching to empty its contents. Now, that all the
ematers had removed their masks, sweat trickled down the faces and chests of
the excavators. Their torsos were bare, having removed their shirts that oil had
smeared.
With the help of the lamps that illuminated the whole place, Filatei
stood, watching, praying they wouldn’t meet disappointment under the earth
and oil. Pa Akpodigha, also watching, sat quietly on one of the chairs the men
had discovered in the camp. The new camera operator was doing his job.
Ebiere and two other men held the lamps. A few were on guard. In the camp,
some others were placing their things.
Filatei turned to Anita who was on a chair by his side. Obviously
apprehensive, the journalist was shaking.
‘Sister,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘I see your fear. Nothing bad will
happen.’
White, Anita’s face reflected the light from the lamps. ‘I believe you,’
she responded in a low voice.
Filatei looked down at the wide hollow that had now formed from the
violent striking of the ground. He watched as oil came out. He began to
consider stopping the men from digging. We aren’t here to extract oil.
Ever since they began the excavation, oil had flowed out continuously.
The deeper they went, the more the oil flowed. Filatei had feared all along that
they might be wasting their efforts.
Now, he called, ‘Uncle.’
‘Yes,’ Pa Akpodigha replied.
Filatei stretched his muscular arms and arched his back. ‘I don tire o.
Make we go sleep.’
Pa Akpodigha laughed. ‘Filatei,’ he said. ‘You dey surprise me. No be
women dey stand for here so?’
Filatei knew what Pa Akpodigha was trying to say. ‘Uncle, everyone is
tired. Just that nobody wants to talk.’
His uncle nodded. He wiped his face with a wrinkled hand. ‘Collect an
axe and dig small.’
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Why now? Filatei hadn't anticipated Pa Akpodigha’s order. His uncle

seldom gave him orders. He couldn't even remember the last time that
happened. Reluctantly, Filatei removed his rifle that was hanging from his
neck and handed it to Anita, absentminded. It was only when he neared the
men digging that he realised his gun was with Anita.
Collecting the axe of the other man digging alongside Damiete, Filatei
instructed, ‘Collect that instrument from her.’ The man gave a nod. Then,
Filatei climbed inside the cavity and began digging along with Damiete and
the others. With all of the strength remaining in him, he dug and dug. He felt
his axe strike something. But he thought it was only an imagination. Again, he
struck at that point. He felt that same force.
‘I can feel something,’ he blurted and looked up.
Everyone now watched attentively. The man with the bucket scooped
out the oil at that spot and the one above pulled it out. They repeated this
process one more time. Filatei began to see pieces of Dane guns and metals
and he put these into the bucket for lifting.
‘Check those things well,’ he said, looking up to the others. He saw
Anita and the man whose axe he had collected stooping over the discoveries.
Somebody was handing them bottles of water. Filatei faced Damiete. Damiete
was now hitting the ground, sweat coming out of the bulging muscles of his
biceps and triceps. Filatei continued digging.
...God created man in twos, everything under the sun too. Filatei felt
they had to discover something they had seen earlier. Like a gourd. Now, he
was optimistic and felt gratified that Pa Akpodigha had encouraged him.
Though, then he had felt displeasure. The gods must have spoken to him,
Filatei thought.
Now, Filatei felt his axe hit something again.
‘Stop!’ he cried out suddenly. Damiete stopped the hitting. Filatei
dipped his hand into the viscous liquid. His hands touched something. Solid.
Clasping his hand around the thing, he lifted it.
It was the strongest bone in the human body.
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Chapter 80
Zimbabwe, I’ll soon be on my way. Putting off the engine of his car,
Max alighted. He knew that very soon he would be in Las Vegas. There, he
would prepare for his trip to Zimbabwe. Quickly, he locked the car and
hurried to the gateway, glad that he had finally agreed with Anthony Morgan
to travel to Zimbabwe for preliminary research for his novel.
In Tony’s office, just hours ago, they had been discussing about the
trip. Tony had asked a question that made Max make the decision he had
found daunting initially.
‘You’re full of talent,’ Tony had said, looking at Max in the face.
‘Would you rather prefer to get frustrated and return to the streets again?’
Immediately, Max conjured up images of the past. His life on the
streets. The way his gang sat on pavements and smoked hemp for the better
part of the day. How they got several threats they were warned never to tell.
The countless arrivals of the angels of death. The critical moments he evaded
death, lying flat on his face, trying to avoid the shame of becoming a waste.
How before his eyes, his comrades passed away in pains, even when they
weren't strangers in any way to the game. Occasions the brutal killers had
actually come for him, and fled convinced that he no longer lived. How death
had taken several souls that he may live, not even considering the weight of all
his sins.
He even recalled the way the police locked him up day after day. The
years he was on probation. The tragic scenes of corpses, of people who died
from gang violence, drive by shootings and bad blood from gambling. That
uneasy feeling that made looking over his shoulders become an addiction.
Even, he evoked memories of prison...of men singing, rapping,
drawing, and writing. Doing everything they could do to prove that they had a
place in the world. Before he got to prison, Max knew that the grave was a
dwelling to the greatest talents...some who ceased to exist at birth immediately
after they took their first breath of life...others who bade the world farewell at
their prime. In prison, however, Max met talented souls and realised that the
penitentiary was a home to the greatest living talents.
Not wanting to experience the street life again out of frustration, he
had accepted Tony’s offer and left promising to call Tony later.
Now, at the gate about to insert the key, Max caught a glimpse of the
mailbox. Let me gather my last mails, if any. Walking to the box, he unlocked
it. He dipped his hand inside and brought out some enveloped letters. One
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after the other, he went through the addresses. Many of them were
unimportant to him. Then, he saw the address of the mortgage bank. His heart
pounded. The next moment, he was telling himself, I don’t give a damn. I’ll
soon be out.
Inside the kitchen now, Max contemplated tearing the envelope and
reading the mail. He knew it would be about the impending foreclosure and
thought that the burden was for Anita to bear. I’ve nothing to lose. Nothing at
all. He lit a cigarette and tore the mail open. The news was that the foreclosure
would occur in three months time. Good for her. Folding the letter, he
returned it into the envelope and placed it on the table. Then, he walked out of
the kitchen. He had to begin packing his things.
My muse. Suddenly, Max stopped, just outside the door of the kitchen,
remembering that Marquis had stolen his figurine. For some time now, he
hadn't even thought of the cat. To him, Marquis was a pest that had gotten rid
of itself.
Max reentered the kitchen and sat on the chair. I’ve to leave with my
figurine. The thought that Anita’s feline husband stole one of his inspirational
wives annoyed him. Shit. It must be hiding somewhere. He began to think of
how he would lure the cat out.
Moments later, he was dipping his hand into a half-filled pack of
Whiskers and scattering the dry pellets of the cat food all around the house.
The bone Filatei had discovered had caused euphoria. Everyone had
formed a circle round the large bone now. Having resumed guarding, most of
the ematers were not facing the new discovery, but had their backs turned. The
usual camera operator who had resumed duty was holding the camera very
close to it, his small bag hanging from his neck. Ebiere also, was holding the
lamp, nearby. Still on his chair, Pa Akpodigha was smiling, moving his lips, as
if chanting.
A femur. Anita stared at the rounded ends of the bone, blocked with
oil. She couldn’t imagine what the bone symbolized. At the start of the
digging, she hadn’t expected that they would unearth pieces of Dane guns and
metals, not to talk of a human bone. She had visualized images of the hidden
gods- precious stones and other things. After she and the emater dipped the
pieces in clean water and inspected them thereafter, they saw nothing
important. The sticky oil on them didn’t even help.
Filatei and Damiete were emptying bottles of water inside a big bucket
now. It seemed to Anita that Filatei had so much hope in the femur. She had
suggested that they continued digging just in case other things remained below
the bone.
‘Sister, it isn’t so easy. Or would you dig?’ Filatei had responded,
looking up to her and smiling. He and the other diggers came out afterwards.
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Now, Filatei lifted the bone and dipped it inside the water. The water
became grimy as the oil dissolved into it, slowly.
‘But did they buy slaves with bones too?’ one of the men asked,
turning to Anita.
Whose bones would they’ve traded with? Surprised, Anita faced the
man and shook her head slowly. ‘No.’
‘Ah, okay ooo,’ the man said, shrugging. He faced his front.
The emater’s response convinced Anita that he found it hard to believe
her answer. It seemed, to her, that ematers believed the white men could do
just anything to achieve their goals. I’m not surprised.
Smiling at that, Anita turned to look at Filatei who was now rubbing
the oil off with a hand, gently, saying, ‘I hope I won’t wash away any hint.’
‘I hope so too,’ Anita said and continued watching, as Filatei rinsed the
bone.
Oil and water don’t mix. Anita sighed. Filatei was finding it hard to
remove the oil. The bone still had oil on it. Water trickled down, over the oil
layer. Anita peeped into the bucket. The water looked like a mixture of baby
oil and water.
‘Or we scrub it out with a sponge or something else?’ Anita asked.
Filatei glanced in her direction. His eyes back on the bone, he said, ‘I’d
rather use a cloth to wipe it.’
Not long after, the bone was lying on the piece of cloth Filatei had
used to wipe it. They began to study it.
After a while, Filatei sighed. ‘I can’t see anything on this bone o.’ He
picked it up.
Within. ‘Filatei,’ Anita called. ‘Let’s check the cavity of the bone.’
‘Um!’ Setting one end of the bone on the ground, Filatei closed an eye
and bent down to peer through the rounded end of the bone. Anita moved
nearer.
After several seconds, Filatei raised his head and faced Anita. ‘I saw
something I can’t be specific about.’ He pointed at the bone. ‘Give it a try.’
Crouching, Anita held the bone. It was slippery. She examined the
opening. The oil blocking the opening formerly had now washed away.
Narrowing her eyes, she bent and looked closely through the bone.
Another blockage. She could see something else, just before the
midpoint of the bone. Still peering, she lifted the bone and held it horizontally
like a trumpet. She turned until she was facing the lamp in Ebiere’s hand. She
couldn’t see through the bone. Her assumptions were right. She however
wanted to become very sure.
Rotating the bone, she peered through the other end. An obstruction
was still visible before the midpoint too. The obstruction is what we need.
Anita glanced at Pa Akpodigha. He was still moving his lips. She set
the bone on the ground. ‘The only thing we can do is to break this open,’ she
said, raising her shoulders briefly.
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‘I’ve been thinking of that.’ Filatei tapped one of the men, by his side.
‘Get me an axe.’
Now, the axe in his hand, Filatei made the bone lie on a large stone
another man had brought. Raising the axe up, he hit hard on the round end of
the bone. Anita watched as the axe bounced off the bone. The bone tumbled
down the stone and landed on the ground.
Filatei hissed. Picking up the bone, he placed it on the stone again.
Then, he hit hard. Anita heard a crack. Filatei struck again. Fragments of the
bone scattered in the air. With repeated strikes, Filatei shattered the other end
of the bone. Dropping his axe, he lifted up the now shortened bone. Anita
moved closer to him.
Together, they examined the both ends.
‘What is this thing sef?’ Filatei asked, touching the blockages. ‘It’s
hard.’
Anita touched them too. Filatei was right. ‘It feels like stone,’ she said.
Filatei nodded. ‘I need a knife or anything sharp.’
One of the men produced a knife from his pocket. Filatei made one of
the ends of the bone face him. He began to thrust the thin knife into the
virtually none existing space between the hard obstruction and the internal
wall of the bone. After some thrusts, he had success. The knife found a place
inside. He began to push up the blockage. Slowly, it came out.
After doing that for some minutes, the blockage rolled out and landed
on the ground. Bending, Anita picked it and dipped it into the bucket of water.
It was a stone. How can this help us, she asked herself, turning the stone over.
‘God is good!’ Filatei blurted.
Anita didn’t know when the stone dropped from her hand. She turned
to Filatei who was peering into the bone. Now, the eyes of the others were on
him.
‘What’s that?’ Anita asked, moving close to Filatei.
‘Bring the light close,’ Filatei said to Ebiere and the young woman
moved nearer with the light, pointing the light into the bone.
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Chapter 81
Looking into the bone, Anita saw something, small.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.
Filatei giggled. ‘Let’s turn it over. I hope that won’t have an adverse
effect on it.’ He spread out his right hand, and with his left hand, he turned the
bone. The thing fell on his spread palms.
Filatei examined it. ‘Ah ah’ he exclaimed. ‘This is a Robb bottle.’
Rob. As in steal. ‘What does that mean?’ Anita heard short laughter
from the ematers.
‘It‘s a common ointment for cold and catarrh,’ Filatei replied.
Immediately, Filatei began to screw out the lid of the small bottle.
With the look on Filatei’s face, Anita knew the lid was tight. Filatei, luckily,
screwed it out successfully. Anita peeped.
Inside the bottle was a cowrie.
...bones full of aches and pains. Anita recalled the penciled text.
Suddenly, the significance of that line seemed to dawn on her.
She tapped Filatei. ‘Do you remember that text in pencil that talked
about bones full of aches?’
Filatei tightened his lips and looked left and right with his eyes. Anita
smiled at his gesture as he tried to remember. ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘I should
have that tissue in one of my pockets but we’ll check that later.’ Filatei threw
the lid and the bone on the floor. ‘No need to remove the other stone,’ he said
and turned the bottle. The cowrie fell on his palm.
Moments later, they were staring at another text, which had been inside
the cowrie. After reading the lines of the short text, Anita knew that her
reasoning had been somehow right.
Now, the men were gathering their tools, about to leave that place.
‘How do we know that spot?’ Filatei asked in a loud voice.
The high def camera. ‘The camera can show us that,’ Anita replied.
‘That’s clever,’ Filatei responded.
The camera operator moved nearer and lowered the camera from his
shoulders. He tapped on some controls on the side screen of the camera a few
times. The recording began to rewind. When they saw the small bottle...where
Filatei climbed out with the bone...when they began digging.
Suddenly, the screen turned blank.
Jeez. Anita wondered what would happen next. Then, she saw the
camera operator dipping his hand into the small bag that often hung from his
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neck. He brought out an extra battery. Glad, Anita sighed.

After exchanging batteries, the rewinding started again and they saw
where they were looking for. Next, they began to walk there with hurried
steps. They arrived at their destination minutes later. There, at that spot, they
saw an outline similar to the one they had seen where they discovered the
second coin.
‘If only we had been interested enough, we would’ve seen this
outline,’ Filatei said.
Little things really count. Immediately she finished reading the last
text, Anita had realised their initial disregard of the spot where they were
could have cost them a lot. That had even thought her a lesson. She glanced at
the soft paper containing the text now. Slowly, she read the text again.
Little things count

Return to the spot of the round metal
Then dig with all your might
That moment, she heard the first strike of the axe on the ground. Just
like what they experienced before, oil flowed out continuously as they dug
deeper and deeper into the ground.
After a while of digging, Anita heard Filatei shouting, ‘The gods have
appeared.’
Now, in the axis of evil unknown to him, Opuowei parked the boat
under a tree, very close to the bank. I’ll sleep here. Before getting here, he had
heard the faint sound of an engine boat. Unsure of where the sound came
from, however, he decided not to become worried.
Standing up from the driver’s seat now, he walked to the long
passenger seat and laid on it. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, waiting for sleep
to come. Suddenly, he heard the sound of something rushing away. With a
jolt, he opened his eyes and turned. He didn’t see anything. Bringing out his
phone from his pocket, he put on the small white light. Jumping from tree to
tree was a monkey.
Abizianka. He smiled remembering his days in Russia when whites
called Africans Chornaya abizianka, meaning black monkeys. That offensive
term wasn’t as painful as what Africans labeled them in return. Africans
would say, Belaya isviniya, which meant white pigs. Often the Russians got
angry. The reason for that wasn’t farfetched. Monkeys were more intelligent
and cleaner than pigs that keep bathing in dirty pools.
Opuowei put off the light. Closing his eyes again, he listened to the
running of water, croaking of frogs, and chirps of crickets. He imagined the
tree, under which he was, being the meeting point of the spirits of the water.
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God, I put my life in your hands.

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Chapter 82
One by one, Filatei, Damiete, and some other men lifted the chests out
of the excavation. The others who had gone to drop their things in the camp
had joined now. Everybody there was shouting, rejoicing over the discovery.
The journey has ended, Filatei thought as he climbed out of the large hole.
Now, on the ground by Ebiere and Pa Akpodigha who were talking,
Filatei bent and touched one of the chests. He examined it. Secured with olden
days padlock like the remaining seven, it felt strong in his hands. He couldn’t
even begin to imagine what would be inside. Of course, he knew about the
precious stones, he wondered what the other things would be.
Standing upright, he imagined that they had made history...unearthing
the hidden gods that many had lost their lives to get.
‘Sister,’ Filatei called to Anita. ‘I told you. We just had to put our
best.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘Now, everything has turned out good.’
Anita was smiling, her attention focused on the camera. Filatei guessed
she was fantasizing about her freedom and the disc copies of all they had been
recording. It isn’t over yet.
Filatei heard the sound of hitting now. He turned and saw some of the
men trying to force the chests open.
‘Be careful,’ he cautioned. ‘We still have time to do that in the camp.
In fact, let’s discharge.’
As if in a procession, they were returning to their camps, minutes later.
Most of the men had their upper bodies bare because of sweating. In front,
three men, including the cameraman who had stopped recording, were holding
the lamps. Some other men were carrying the chests on their heads, their guns
hanging from their neck. Others like Filatei, Ebiere, Damiete, Pa Akpodigha,
and Anita had nothing on their heads. The ematers were chatting, talking
about the controversy their discovery would cause by the time the news got
out that some ematers had finally discovered the hidden gods. In front of
Filatei was Anita. The journalist was talking with Damiete who was in front of
her. Behind Filatei was Ebiere whom he held by the hand. Unable to contain
his joy, Filatei squeezed Ebiere’s hand from time to time and she squeezed his,
in return.
‘How would Maale feel when she hears about this?’ Ebiere asked,
whispering into Filatei’s ears.
Filatei giggled. ‘Maale,’ he uttered. ‘She has no choice than to be
happy. All her life, she has always prayed for me to achieve my dreams and
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I’ve just achieved one of them.’

Ebiere tapped him on the head. ‘Crazy boy,’ she jested. ‘You know
this isn’t the kind of dream Maale was referring to.’
Filatei laughed, almost slipping on the ground. ‘Whichever way, I
know her prayers also helped.’
Ebiere squeezed his hand again. He felt her gun as it made contact with
his arm. That touch made him proud of her. A woman, strong like a man. His
stomach rumbled.
‘I’m hungry,’ he said.
‘I’ll pre...’
Ebiere was still talking when they began hearing deafening sounds of
guns. At the same time, they saw the orange sparks of gunfire. Immediately,
the procession dispersed, like a basket of tomatoes rolled over.
Gboom, gboom, gboom... Gunshots reverberated in Opuowei’s ears.

The booming sounds were coming from his left and he knew the guns firing
were no common guns. Sitting up, he lifted one of the rifles on the floor of the
boat and wondered if he was up to the task. Now, he was certain he was in the
zone of the militants. If he would defeat them on their own soil, he had to be
daring, cautious, and dogged. That, he would fulfill. Fifteen million naira.
He looked round for flashes of gunfire. A cool breeze hit his face.
Everywhere was dark. Nothing was moving. The barrage however continued.
He concluded that the scene of the gunfight was far from where he was. I’ll
go. He put on the light of his phone. Lifting a foot, he stepped out of the boat.
As his all condition boot made contact with the ground below, he
slipped. The seam at his crotch ripped apart, giving a sound like that of a silent
fart. Fuck. The next moment, his pouch hit hard on the metal rim of the boat.
An excruciating pain went through his body. With a thunderous clatter, his
rifle fell on the floor of the boat. He turned. Stationary, the AK47 was in the
position it had been before he picked it up. That seemed symbolic. Is this to
mean I shouldn’t go? The pain he was feeling eliminated that question. He
faced front again.
The gunshots were still ringing out. Opuowei wanted to stand up.
However, he could feel that splitting discomfort in his factory- his scrotum.
Therefore, he decided to remain like that for some time...one foot inside the
boat, the other outstretched on the slippery ground, and his crotch remaining
on the rim of the boat. After a while, he felt the pain begin to disappear into
vacuum.
Relieved, he stood upright. Then, he lifted his other foot out of the
boat. He glanced at the crashed rifle and remembered the question he had
asked himself. It was a coincidence, he said inwardly. Leaning to pick up his
bulletproof jacket, he wore it. After that, he picked the rifle and began to walk
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in the direction through which the deafening sounds travelled in space. He

kept walking, bumping into tangled growth of small trees and bushes. His
boot, however, served as a cushion for his feet.
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Chapter 83
When they began hearing the gunshots, Ebiere had cried out, ‘Filatei
take Anita.’ And Filatei had done that, knowing well that Ebiere would be
safe. At least, she was a seasoned fighter.
Filatei, now crouched behind a thicket, was firing. Behind him, Anita
was also hunkering, an idea he hadn’t bought at first. With her nails, she held
his back tightly. Before then, so that her fears would not increase, he had told
her to hide in a nearby bush saying that their attackers would most likely shoot
at any direction from where they see light emissions of gunfire. Anita however
had opposed this.
‘Wherever you go, I go,’ she had insisted and the whole time he fired,
he assured her ...no bullet would touch you... it’s just impossible... To think
that Anita felt so safe with him, believing that once she was with him, her
fears were subdued, Filatei felt proud.
He could feel her nails digging harder into the muscles of his bare
back, now. He wondered how many inches far they had gone and wished he
had worn a shirt. But how was he to know that they would meet these agents
of disruption. He dismissed that from his mind and kept firing, the butt of his
rifle touching Anita occasionally. You’re perfectly safe.
As he fired, he listened to the sounds of the guns of his other
teammates. If it had to do with number, Filatei knew, they most probably
outnumbered their assailants. He however couldn’t wait for the whole war to
be over, for their attackers to run away. That is the essence of our shooting.
The moments of incessant shooting passed.
Spent, Filatei began to suspect that the unrelenting attackers had very
potent charms. Before now, he never disputed the fact that the attackers had
powerful spirits with which they operated. Thrice in the past, he had seen
testimonies of that. The first time was during the attack on the river when they
ordered him and the others to jump into the river. The second was at the attack
in the black spot, when they ran away unscathed. The third, when they
kidnapped Anita, even after Pa Akpodigha’s charm failed. Their tenacity and
their refusal to flee, was now the immediate and disturbing evidence.
The jaz. Filatei recalled the small red amulet in his pocket. As he held
the trigger of his gun down, he thought of the consequences the usage of the
amulet would cause. Really, he wasn’t hoping to kill anyone. No real emater
hoped to kill a fellow emater. But would we shoot at ourselves forever? he
asked inwardly. He was sure now that no bullet would get into anyone or else
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he did what he was contemplating doing. These people want to cause a great
disaster this time around, he thought. He began to fear that any moment from
now, their attackers could do something to gain the upper hand. With a hand,
he touched his pocket. He felt the small amulet. Good. He continued shooting.
Suddenly, he saw the light from the gunfire of their attackers getting
closer. They’re moving nearer. He didn’t know when he thrust his hand into
his pocket and brought out the amulet.
‘Anita,’ he called.
He heard her say yes in a muffled tone. Apparently, she didn’t know
their attackers were nearing them gradually.
‘Don’t let what would happen scare you...’ His voice was breaking as
he fired his gun. ‘...the last time you saw it was in our camp at the death of Mr.
Lumantas... I had no choice then. Now, also, I’ve no choice. I won’t risk not
doing this because we don’t want to lose you.’ Anita was mute.
The approaching sparks were about twenty metres away now.
Filatei heard the frenzied outbursts of his men and Ebiere. None of us
must die. He stopped shooting. In a flash, he tapped the muzzle of his gun
barrel three times with the amulet. He stood upright. Anita remained crouched.
He began to fire shouting: We’ve been patient enough. One by one, their
attackers fell, piercing screams coming out from their mouths.
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Chapter 84
Filatei observed the camp. Not very large. Just in front of it was a
fireplace. A large pot sat on the stones. Close by, another pot lay on the
ground. Like most emater camps, scattered about were white plastic chairs.
Empty bottles of gin, stubs of cigarettes, and remains of smoked hemp littered
the ground. At one corner were two long benches. Hanging from nails were
stained sleeveless shirts and towels. Below these were plastic and metal
buckets, inside which mosquitoes buzzed. Beside the buckets were dirty plates
and spoons. Folded raffia mats lay against the iron sheets that served as the
wall. At another corner were the belongings of Filatei’s team.
Filatei turned now and watched as the men carrying the chests set them
on the ground. With the light from the lamp, he saw the way sweat trickled
down their faces and bulgy muscles profusely. My beloved brothers. He
smiled. Sitting on a chair, he brought out a stick of cigarette and began
smoking. Anita, Ebiere, Pa Akpodigha and the other men including Damiete
arrived next.
In some minutes, the whole place was in a burst of activities. Ebiere
was getting the fire ready. Pa Akpodigha was chanting. Discussing, Damiete
and the other men were washing dirt off the chests. Filatei and Anita were
waiting for the washing to be over. The other ematers sat in strategic places,
watching for any intruder.
‘How do you feel?’ Filatei asked, facing Anita.
She shook her head and sighed. ‘I feel like I just came out from a lion’s
den.’
Filatei wasn’t surprised with her response. He felt Anita was now
beginning to see him as a cold murderer. ‘What do you think about everything
that happened?’
She blinked her eyes, licking her lips. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
Filatei gave a demanding look. ‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’ She focused on the men washing the chests.
Apparently, the killings disturbed Anita. Filatei felt he had to explain
some things to her. ‘Anita,’ he called.
Turning her head slowly, she faced him, her blue eyeballs glossy.
‘There is a saying that evil enters the ground the day a man sees it.’ He
paused, expecting some reaction from Anita. He didn’t see any, however.
‘Have you ever heard that before?’
Anita shook her head. ‘No.’
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Okay. ‘See, those guys attacked us the first time in Oloibiri, my

hometown. I was patient enough to drive them away because I felt we were all
brothers involved in the same struggle. After that, they attacked many more
times...’ Anita was nodding. From the way she nodded, Filatei had a feeling
she was inwardly saying, and so what. ‘This last attack could well have
claimed our lives. And I had to prevent that because I love everyone including
you. Maybe by now, those men would be opening these,’ pointing to the
chests, ‘that we suffered to get. Now, imagine our corpses lying in the bush.’
Filatei turned to see the men wiping water off the chests with clothes.
‘I never prayed for such shit,’ Anita said. ‘Really, I don’t like deaths.
I’ve seen so many deaths in my life.’
Filatei guessed she didn’t comprehend what he was trying to say.
‘Okay, imagine that amongst us, you’re the only one that died. Do you think
we would be happy to tell the godfather about that? Or do you think he would
be happy about your death?’ Anita just focused her eyes on him. Her lips
didn’t move. Filatei added, ‘We’re all humans and no matter how much life
has hardened us, we’ve human feelings.’
‘Chair,’ Filatei heard Damiete call. He turned and saw the men
squeezing the clothes they had been using for the wiping.
‘Are you done?’ he asked.
‘Yes sir.’ With that, Filatei stood up. Anita also stood up and the both
of them walked to the chests.
Large, the eight chests were all of the same size. With a clenched fist,
Filatei rapped on their sides, one after the other. All he heard was a dull thud.
‘Empty barrels make the loudest noise,’ he said, facing Anita and the
men. They giggled. Turning, his eyes rested on the padlock securing one of the
chests.
‘Bring hammers, anything we can use to jack these padlocks.’ He
turned to the men.
Not long after, they began hitting, each box having a man. The camera
operator resumed work.
The sound of metals made Opuowei glad. Increasing his pace, he

walked in the direction from where the sound came. Before the sounds started
coming, he was already feeling discouraged because the gunshots had stopped
and he didn’t know the direction in which he would head.
He could see light in a distance now. Putting off his phone light, he
walked faster. Finally, he began to see the figure of someone bending over
what seemed like a fireplace. Fanning the fire, he thought. He stopped. He
heard a rustle. Rabbits that won’t sleep. Behind the figure ahead, he could see
people with the help of bright lamps surrounding them. They were huddling
around something. He couldn’t see their faces.
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He wondered what to do. The people he was seeing were many...more

than ten. If he started war with them, singlehandedly, he doubted if he would
survive it. Discretion is the better part of valor. He remembered the gun battle
he had heard. It occurred to him that the militants he was staring at now had
been involved. They must be the conquerors. He sighed and began to
contemplate.
Charly. No. instead, he would call the other soldiers for backup. By
tomorrow morning, they should arrive. Then, they would make arrests. If need
be, the following day, the forest would host another fight.
Ready to return to the boat, Opuowei turned his back. As he turned, he
saw the outline of something move fast in the air. Before he could comprehend
what it was, something hard landed on his forehead. He collapsed.
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Chapter 85
In the camp, the sounds of thumping were deafening. Striking the

padlocks with hammers, stones, and mallets frantically, sweat poured down
the bodies of the men, making their bodies glisten as if rubbed with groundnut
oil. A smell, similar to the one perceivable from the hitting of two stones
together, hung in the air. Even, the air was warm.
With his two hands clutching a large mallet, Filatei was hitting with
all the strength in him. It seemed the lock wouldn’t break open. He stopped the
hitting and held the mallet with his right hand. For a moment, he gave the lock
a quick look. He wondered why it was so difficult to get it open. Is it because
of its contents? He sighed. His head was aching. Other things even bothered
him. But good things never come easy, he thought.
The moment he saw the corroding padlocks at the scene where they
discovered the chests, he had concluded that only a few strikes would get them
open. Now, however, the reverse was the case. Too bad. He looked at Damiete
and smiled at the way Damiete was hitting the padlock of the box before him
as if his life depended on that...as if, if he didn’t, he would cease to exist.
Filatei glanced through the other men hitting. He could see their zeal, the way
they struck the locks with stones and hammers, causing sparks and sounds that
continued echoing. Those sounds were the problem.
All along as he struck, he had feared that the noise might attract
people...adversaries. He had even prayed against another confrontation. He
however didn’t want to wait until the next morning to get the chests opened
and so with all his strength he had struck and struck.
He glanced at Anita now. She was watching with keen eyes. He looked
behind him. Pa Akpodigha was chanting, at the same time watching. Filatei
returned his eyes to the padlock. He had to continue trying. Again, he clutched
the mallet with both hands and hit with force. Fiery particles came off. Pain
went through the muscles of his wrists. The lock didn’t succumb. Shit. Angry,
he threw the mallet on the ground. It landed with a dull thud. There must be an
easier way to open this box. He began to ponder.
Saw. Filatei nodded. Usually, they used saws to cut wood and other
materials they used for constructing structures and making repairs in their
camp.
‘Damiete,’ Filatei called, facing Damiete’s direction.
‘Yes sir.’ With the back of his hand, Damiete wiped sweat from his
face.
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‘We suppose get saw. Or we didn’t bring?’

Damiete turned to the other men who had now stopped hitting.
‘Yes now!’ one of them cried out and dashed for the corner where their
things laid. He returned moments later with the saw, handing it to Filatei.
Filatei held the long saw to a lamp. It gleamed in the light. Wanting to
know how sharp it was, he touched the jagged blade with a finger. His finger
prickled. Correct. He glanced at the others who were now watching with
bottles of water in their hands. He nodded. ‘E sharp well well.’
Now, he shifted his eyes from one chest to another. Which one should
I open first? His eyes settled on the box he had been trying to open and he
decided to start with that.
The next moment, Filatei was holding the lower part of the padlock
with his left hand. The blade of the saw was on the semicircular bar of the
lock. With slow movements of his arm back and forth, he began sawing. After
seconds, he increased the speed.
Rasping sounds came. They seemed to be coming from Filatei’s head.
He told himself, I’ll open only this one and take a break. He continued,
pressing the blade harder on the bar, waiting for the semicircular to come
apart. That didn’t happen, however. He stopped.
‘Guys,’ he called. ‘Maybe you should open the others first. This one,’
pointing to the box in front of him, ‘is proving stubborn.’
With that, Damiete collected the saw and began cutting. Sitting on a
chair and sipping from a bottle of water, Filatei watched, hoping that the
padlock Damiete was sawing wouldn’t give problems as well. Still in that
thoughtful state, the smell of simmering stew hit Filatei’s nose. He turned to
look at Ebiere.
‘Well done,’ he called in a raised voice and faced front. As he faced
front, he heard a clanking sound. Clapping came from the others. Curious,
Filatei stood up and moved nearer to Damiete. On the ground, by the chest
was a damaged semicircular bar.
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Chapter 86
A powerful hand was holding one of Opuowei’s legs, dragging him

slowly, along the bush. The loud footsteps of his captor were audible. Already,
he wasn’t sure if the booming sound of the hitting still existed. Crickets were
chirping in his ears. The smells of fresh blood, petroleum, elephant grasses,
and other grasses he couldn’t make out filled his nose. Those smells had now
made his tongue begin to taste as if he had a sore tongue from eating raw
spinach laced with petrol.
Closed, his eyes hurt. Insects had made way into them and he had
unsuccessfully tried removing them all the while he was dragged through the
bush on his back. Consequently, he had decided to shut them, deciding to
ignore the tiny stars, above, which had been his focus. His buttocks and waist
gave stinging sensations. Bruised, his elbows peppered him. He scratched his
itching body with his hands. His forehead where the hard object had landed
was hurting, throbbing.
His captor stopped walking now. The man still held his leg, though.
Opuowei saw him bend down to pick something. My bulletproof jacket. The
man had collected his phone and jacket after throwing away his rifle into the
bush. Opuowei heard him give a deep sigh now. He knew the man was tired.
Are you as tired as I am? Opuowei could feel his forehead pound with more
force. He placed a hand on it. He felt the bloody swelling there. It hurt. He
removed his hand. He could feel his strength begin to vanish. His joints
became weak. His eyelids were closing despite the fact that he wanted to keep
them open, to see what this captor wanted to do. That moment, something
touched one of his ears briefly. On impulse, he brought his hand to the ear. He
felt a frog jumping away. God.
The next thing, he began to feel that dragging force again, this time
around, with more intensity. After his captor took a few steps, Opuowei felt
his hand make contact with an entity, a bulky one. He twisted his head to look
back. When he realised it was a human corpse, he shuddered.
The moments of intense sawing passed.

Only one chest, the one Filatei had found hard to open, remained
locked now. After the first padlock Damiete sawed through, they had
successfully cut six other padlocks without stress. Inside all of the seven
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opened chests, they had discovered hard transparent stones.

Diamonds.
Now, Ebiere, Anita, Pa Akpodigha, and the other men were admiring
the diamonds, each person having a blue gemstone in his or her hand.
Filatei who had just finished smoking weed stared at the last chest. He
wondered what could be inside. It must hold something more important, he
thought. His heart beat fast. He could hear a quiet voice: Open that box.
That’s the key to your freedom.
Without contemplation, he picked the saw from the ground and began
sawing again, burning the energy the hemp had given him. He glanced briefly
at Anita whose face was full of smiles. When her eyes caught his, Filatei also
smiled, remembering what the godfather had said when he informed the
godfather about Anita’s freedom in relation to the discovery of the hidden
gods. He sighed. He knew Anita would be surprised when she realizes.
Knowing that she helped them a lot, he couldn’t wait for her to regain her
freedom, though. Miedide. He wet his lips with his tongue, remembering
Miedide. Miedide should be near with the stuff.
He was still sawing when he began hearing the few men who remained
outside on guard shouting Miedide’s name. He must have passed the route I
told him, Filatei thought. That moment, Filatei became more convinced that
the legend that the axis of evil lies somewhere between Bayelsa and Delta was
true.
The men were still hailing Miedide. Quickly, Filatei dropped the saw
and rushed out. Outside, he saw Miedide approaching, dragging someone
along with one hand. In his other hand, a polythene bag dangled. The stuff.
Filatei felt his muscles relax. The package Miedide had gone to get concerned
Filatei most now. The person on the ground was most likely someone he had
been expecting but that he never thought would eventually arrive. Brave man.
We need our masks.
‘Hold on,’ he shouted to Miedide.
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Chapter 87
On the ground, his back to a pillar of wood, Opuowei had his legs and
arms tied with thick ropes. The ropes seemed to stop the flow of blood in his
veins. Nevertheless, he was glad that the itching had reduced even as his head
continued to ache. Heat coming from the fireplace behind him made his body
warm and the muted discussions he was hearing made him wonder what
would happen next. No one had asked him any questions, so far.
The faces talking before him were all in masks, apart from the person
who had made him come this deep into the creeks. Anita Campbell. Now, he
could see her face better, a close resemblance to the face he had seen standing
near Chief Doukpolagha in a picture the Chief had shown him on the day of
her kidnap. The only difference was that, now, her hair was unkempt and her
face was bare of makeup.
With a newspaper open on her laps, she was talking, smiling with
another person, who had hair like a woman. They were speaking in a quiet
tone. What does a militant have to do with a cultured journalist? Opuowei
couldn’t understand. The women burst into laughter. That bothered Opuowei.
Anita was behaving as if she were a part of the militants...as if they had an
association no one could break. Opuowei doubted if she knew that he had
risked coming all the way there to get her. Perhaps, they had told her he was
an enemy. Life could be wicked, he thought and removed his attention from
them.
From his side, two equally masked men entered. One of them with
bulging muscles on his arm held folded fabric, whose colour Opuowei
couldn’t discern. Opuowei watched as they walked. They stopped behind the
people sitting before him. The man with the bulging muscles walked away
from the other man, and stood some metres away from him. Turning, he
spread out the fabric. Opuowei could see that the fabric was wide. The other
man held the other edge of the fabric and they bent as if covering something.
What could that be? Opuowei began contemplating. Could it be Ghana must
go bags of money, or corpses?
The next moment, the men began to approach. Opuowei was still
contemplating, looking at them as they came. Then, he formed a mental
image. He jolted at a perception. It can’t be, he said inwardly and faced front,
wondering if he could make out the man who had taken him captive in the
bush. The masks however made all the militants look identical. He dismissed
the thought about his captor and became interested in a discussion that had
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started, since, just in front of him.

The militant who looked like the lord of the camp had been speaking
and was still speaking to someone on phone, incoherently, pausing, faltering,
and dragging his words.
Talking with the Police Chief. Opuowei laughed inwardly. He
remembered a call that convinced him that the Police Chief wasn’t whom he
claimed to be. After the Police Chief called Opuowei at Elewe, he and Charly
had decided to go to the creeks. Then, an anonymous caller who claimed to be
a Police Inspector called. The Inspector informed Opuowei that the Police
Chief had an axe to grind with Chief Tuburu and that that was the reason why
he wanted Opuowei to pin the Chief wrongfully for the abduction of Anita.
The Inspector, however, didn’t say the exact cause of the grievance.
The Inspector even went as far as telling Opuowei that a coincidence
that favoured the Police Chief had occurred. One of Chief Tuburu’s militant
groups had made use of the Land Cruiser in which the actual militants who
kidnapped Anita rode. In addition, he told Opuowei that the Police Chief had
an insider amongst Chief Tuburu’s men and Opuowei had realised that the
person must be the tall skinny man who had allowed them to enter, saying that
the Chief was around, the day they went to his house. The next thing the
Inspector said had given Opuowei hope, however. It had convinced Opuowei
that he would get the fifteen million naira that he now knew was a fantasy.
The Inspector had said that someone just called their police station
from Odi, complaining that some militants who arrived with a white woman,
who was supposedly working for a Non Governmental Organisation, disrupted
a church service. That not long after their arrival, some other militants came,
and a gunfight began. Furthermore, the Inspector told Opuowei that the caller
said that the militants who disrupted the service escaped in speedboats to the
south of Odi.
Consequently, Opuowei had thought that Anita wasn’t working for any
NGO. He knew that militants could be very smart, though. Therefore, he had
decided that he and Charly should continue to the port at Ewoi, since they
could start their journey from there. Moreover, the rivers were well connected.
In his mind, because of the info, he had made conclusions that the Police Chief
was a criminal.
He had realised that no other relationship, apart from one militant in
nature could be between Chief Tuburu and the officer and that had made him
confirm what Charly said about the character of the Police Chief being
questionable...a realization that made him rebuff the several offers the Police
Chief made to send officers to them.
Now, as he stared at the militant still speaking on phone, Opuowei
heard things like...Don’t worry... We won’t touch him... He’s alone.
The words of the officer the first day he and Charly went to the station
played in his mind now. Better don’t waste your time, no need to cry over spilt
milk... If Chief wants that white woman out alive, I mean with all parts of her
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body in place, he might have to start preparing money for the ransom even if
they haven’t called him.
Opuowei closed his eyes briefly. The militant godfather. Angry, he
shifted on the ground. He tried to think backwards. The Police Chief had
deceived him. Even when he had tried to do away with the officer, he still
found himself falling victim of the officer’s militants.
The militant who looked like the lord of the camp hung up now.
‘Mr. Walter, I welcome you to our camp,’ he said.
Walter. Opuowei recalled the police Chief called him that. He didn’t
respond however.
‘Did you hear me?’ The man gestured.
‘Yes,’ Opuowei managed to reply.
The man laughed. ‘See, my godfather just spoke to me now. I want
you to know that we wouldn’t harm or kill you...but on one condition. You’ve
to cooperate with us.’ The man stopped as if waiting for Opuowei to nod.
Cooperate. How? Opuowei was silent.
‘This is fi-la-tei, a time for us to eat, a time for us to take up the throne,
but not a time to die.’
Opuowei almost laughed out as the man interpreted fi-la-tei in English.
Now, the man turned back and Opuowei heard the sound of polythene
nylon. Turning with a polythene bag in his hand, the man dipped his hand into
the bag.
But you’ve said you won’t hurt me. Opuowei wondered what he
wanted to bring out.
When the man brought out his hand, Opuowei saw things like printed
pictures between his fingers. Pictures. He hoped it wasn’t what he was
thinking.
The man turned in Anita’s direction and briefly shook his head,
tightening his lips. Then, he faced Opuowei. ‘These are the pictures of Anita
with Chief Doukpolagha and Chief’s mother.’
The pictures. Opuowei now understood. Anita’s camera must be what
the brave thief wanted to steal from Chief’s car.
Opuowei could see Anita covering her face with her hands. She is
troubled, he guessed.
The militant handed the pictures to a tall man sitting behind him. ‘Go
and show him, he said, gesturing to Opuowei.
The man brought the pictures and held them before Opuowei. Opuowei
looked at them. Chief. Mama. Anita. The tall man went away with them and
handed them back to the lord.
Then, the militant lord spoke, ‘These pictures might get to the Press
tomorrow evening.’ He paused and looked at Anita.
‘But why?’ Anita asked, tears already streaming down her blushed
face.
‘My sister, you can’t understand now.’
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Your sister. Opuowei didn’t see the correlation. You won’t have held
her hostage if she were your sister, he wanted to say.
The man dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out his phone.
He dialled a number. After sometime, he began speaking.
‘Hello sir,’ the militant said.
The man remained silent for a while .Opuowei suspected he had called
Chief Doukpolagha.
The militant talked again, ‘We’ve the soldier you sent to come and get
Anita Campbell. If you cooperate, everything would be fine. All you’ve to do
is pay the ten million dollars. Tomorrow is the last day. If you don’t pay, by
noon, we’ll eliminate both the woman and your soldier...’
The man’s voice trailed away. Opuowei guessed that Chief had
interrupted. Perhaps to beg him not to kill Anita and him.
The militant spoke again, ‘If you love your life and that of your mother
and son, better pay the money. If you don’t,’ now his voice was loud, ‘we’ll
send all the pictures you and your mother snapped with Anita at the airport to
all the newspaper houses in this country. Then we’ll kidnap your son, your
mother, and those you love. Am I clear?’ He stamped a foot on the ground.
The militant listened again for a while, staring at the ground.
...and those you love. Opuowei considered that phrase. Is that to mean
Chief doesn’t love Anita?, he asked inwardly. He felt the militants were now
trying to make a point that Chief Doukpolagha didn’t pay the ransom because
he didn’t love Anita. Opuowei couldn’t imagine the men kidnapping Mama or
Daniel, his dear friend. God forbid bad thing.
Now, the militant said, ‘I’ll call in the morning.’ He pressed a button
on the phone, put it in his pocket, and lit a cigarette.
Opuowei turned to look at Anita who was still crying. He began to
suspect they had tricked her. Not long ago, she was smiling and laughing.
Now, she was in tears. What deal did they strike with her?
‘It’s late already,’ the lord announced. ‘Abeg make we chop o. We’ll
open that thing after eating or tomorrow. I don tire.’ The other woman got on
her feet. Everyone apart from the lord stood up one after the other.
Which thing? Opuowei wondered what the man meant. Then, he
remembered that the men had been covering something. He cleared the
thought from his mind. Next, he thought of the conversation the man just had
with Chief Doukpolagha and doubted if Chief would be able to pay ten million
dollars cash, the next day. God, I no wan die o, he prayed inwardly. The sweet
smell of stew and dried fish wafted into his nose.
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It was morning. The weather was chill. From his small new tent,
Opuowei could see the rising of the sun and marvelled at the long stretch of
the dense forest before him. Early that morning, the militants had set up a
foldable tent for him, and now, two of them sat outside the tent, watching over
him. His mouth tasted dry and sour. I have to wash it. I have to drink water.
He turned to the bottle of water, standing on the ground by his side. For
minutes, he stared at it, memories of the day the unknown enemy poisoned him
in Saint Petersburg flooding his mind. He shook his head. No. I won’t go
through that again.
As if trying to make him change his mind, he heard the words of the
militant lord the previous night. ...we wouldn’t harm or kill you...but on one
condition... you’ve to cooperate with us. Opuowei opened his eyes and looked
straight. Once beaten, twice shy, he told himself and decided not to touch the
water, not even to rinse his mouth. It was not that he disbelieved what the
militant lord had promised him or that he was sure that the water in the bottle
had poison. But it was the memories of the early hours of that spring day,
several years ago, that prompted him to take that stance.
That day, he had thought he would die. Around five that morning, he
woke up with a squeezing pain in the left side of his abdomen. Luckily, Ruth
was in his flat with him. Wearing their cloths hurriedly, they had made it to
the street where he called an ambulance that arrived late. The next three weeks
he spent in the hospital had been like the doorway of hell. On his sickbed, he
had realised that death was the easiest gift of life. And since then, he had learnt
to be careful.
Now, the cool breeze seemed to give his hurting forehead and his
hands and legs that remained tight some comfort, as the hurt he felt in those
places diminished with the continuous feel of the gentle wind.
Suddenly, from the narrow space that served as the door, he began to
see some large birds, with dark feathers and broad wings, soaring in the air.
Vultures. Yesterday. The corpse. Opuowei jolted at the thought of the
dead body his hand touched, as his captor dragged him on the ground, the
previous night. The idea that vultures had now come to devour the fresh
corpses of the fallen militants appalled him and made him feel pity. The poor
militants. Carrions, newborns of animals and wounded living animals never
satisfied African vultures. As if to enrich their diets, African vultures often
searched for human corpses, which were rarer than their usual diet, and when
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they found corpses, they ate the bodies to nothing.

The possible aftermath of the visit of the vultures crossed Opuowei’s
mind subsequently. He breathed fast. In most African cultures, vultures were
bad omens. Their presence could be a sign of a catastrophic incident, yet to
happen. Besides, it had been a long time since he saw any. Closing his eyes,
he bent his head, lost in thoughts. What would happen today if Chief doesn’t
pay? He was still deep in thoughts when another round of hitting began again
that morning. Oh! The thing.
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Repeatedly, Filatei hit hard with all of his strength. As it happened the
previous day, sparks of fire appeared from the friction between the mallet and
the semicircular bar of the padlock. Filatei had decided not to use the saw
because it had grown blunt and the lock seemed not to submit to the blades of
the saw. As he hit, his eyes caught sight of the hovering vultures from time to
time.
Tired now, he stopped and turned to look at the faces of the men
behind him.
‘Chair make I help,’ the doctor offered.
‘Thanks.’ All through the night, Filatei had been unable to sleep.
Continuously, he had heard ...open that box with your hands. It’s the key to
your freedom. Those thought provoking words had almost forced him to get
up from the mat and begin striking the lock again. He however controlled
himself, not wanting to invite any other intruder. The soldier is enough, he had
cautioned himself.
Now, he looked at Anita who just dropped an empty mug, from which
she had been sipping hot coffee. Although her face was still red, she looked
happier. Perhaps because of this. Anita, he knew, loved discoveries, loved to
learn new things, and loved teaching others.
‘How’re you doing?’ he asked.
Anita who was now watching the large birds soaring shrugged. ‘Just
fine.’ There was something about the tone in which she said that, as if she was
trying to be euphemistical.
Removing his eyes, Filatei glanced at a renovated bathroom and the
new tents the men had set up that morning and felt a pride, that he and his men
eventually found their way to the axis of evil, even sleeping there and setting
up their own structures. Already, Damiete, Miedide and some of the men had
gone into the bush to hunt for meat that Ebiere who was cooking now would
prepare, later in the day. Almost everyone had expressed desire for fresh meat,
to replace dried fish.
We’ve to do everything doable before we take our leave.
As Filatei looked round the surrounding thick forest now, he
understood that they had fought, set up camp, cooked, slept, bathed, and even
emptied their bowels in the forests of the axis of evil. He wondered the other
things that would happen there. Burials. As at that time, they had buried no
one. Because of fatigue, they had decided to leave the bodies of their
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assailants lying on the surface of the ground and Filatei now guessed that that
was the reason the vultures were in the air.
Mental images of the likely scenes that would come about if Chief
didn’t pay, if they had to carry out their threat formed in his mind
Vultures perching on the bodies of Anita and the captured soldier if we
are too tired to bury them. He sighed. Even if they would have to kidnap a
relative of Chief Doukpolagha, Opuowei knew it would be unsafe to set Anita
or the soldier free. Virtually, Anita was no threat. The soldier was the most
disturbing. He would certainly return to fight us. Filatei feared they might
have to eliminate them both. He felt some guilt at that interpretation.
Feeling some strength now, Filatei focused on the padlock, clutching
the mallet with both hands. With a quick motion, he lifted his hands and
swung wildly at the padlock. The harsh metallic noise of metals irritated his
ears. The mallet had fallen.
He looked at the box. Hanging loosely at the socket was the
semicircular bar. He looked down. On the ground below was the dented hasp.
The men were clapping. Filatei turned. Anita was smiling, staring at him.
Removing his eyes, he moved nearer to the chest and removed the
semicircular bar. Anita and the men gathered close.
With a hand at each side, Filatei held the strong lid of the chest and
began to lift. As it happened with the other chests they opened the night of the
previous day, the lid Filatei was lifting seemed welded to the large container
below it. Rusting or what? Bending, Filatei picked up the mallet and lightly
tapped round the edge where the lid met the container.
Throwing the mallet on the ground, he held the sides of the lid and
lifted. Immediately, the lid lifted, swinging on grating hinges. Filatei pushed it
up and it pivoted backwards in fast motion. A smell like that of a tiny
room...which no one had opened for centuries, became perceivable.
Filatei stared inside. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing.
With the back of his hand, he rubbed his face, trying to tell himself he was in
the land of dreams.
He looked again.
Books. Arranged on one another were fat black bounded books. Filatei
remembered the words of the night. Key to my freedom. He hadn’t imagined
that that key could come in the form of books. Talking about education, he was
all right. He hissed and wondered how many books he would read in this
world. Is it not the books we read...and we’re still fighting for freedom?
Filatei turned to his men. They looked bewildered as they scanned one
another’s face. Then, he turned to Anita, expecting some explanation for the
books.
Staring at the stack, the journalist was silent.
Filatei was boiling within. He looked at the stack again. White men
could be unpredictable.
‘Anita,’ he called. ‘Are these documents, holding important secrets?
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Did they come to hide them here?’ His voice was forceful.
‘I don’t know,’ Anita replied in a low tone, shaking her head slowly.
Filatei’s eyes were still on the chest. The sight of the books even made
him angrier. Ordinary books. ‘Thank God the other boxes contained
diamonds,’ he muttered. ‘These books can’t fetch any money.’
He heard his men who had been discussing in low tones about the
books saying, yes o... abi now...of course...
‘Only God knows what was in their minds when they decided to begin
buying our people with books.’ Filatei turned to Anita. ‘We know they bought
slaves with ordinary paper. Were they thinking books would buy more
slaves?’
Anita shrugged. Apparently, she was exhausted.
Deciding to see for himself, Filatei moved nearer and picked one of the
books. Warm. That ancient smell hit his nose with more force, making him
feel he was in an abandoned house.
He put a finger between the compressed pages of the book. Then, he
opened. What his eyes rested on surprised him.
Matthew 6:33.
But seeketh ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all
other things shall be added unto ye.
The English sounded archaic. For a moment, Filatei thought he was
seeing visions. I didn’t weed this morning, he argued in his mind. The verse of
the Bible he just read was one Maale often quoted when he talked about
challenges of life.
‘Chair wetin?’ Filatei heard the doctor ask.
‘O boy,’ Filatei said in a loud voice, turning to the man. ‘Na Bible.’
The doctor shook his head. ‘I no believe.’
Moments later, Anita and the men all had Bibles in their hands,
wondering.
‘Did they want to buy us with the word of God?’ Filatei asked, tapping
Anita’s shoulder.
‘Often, in those days, foreign missionaries came to Africa,’ Anita
replied.
Filatei thought of the advent of Christianity in Nigeria. Townsend.
Crowther. He found his mind going back to the Christian Religion Knowledge
lessons in his primary school days. Maybe he should narrate part of the story.
‘In Nigeria’s history of Christianity, there was a Yoruba missionary
called Samuel Ajayi Crowther,’ Filatei began. ‘When he was about twelve, he
was captured and sold to Portuguese slave traders. An English ship hunting for
illegal slave traders however captured the ship that was carrying Ajayi
Crowther and took him to Sierra Leone...to a refuge for slaves. Crowther
schooled there and trained as a carpenter...’
Filatei continued, talking about how few years later, Crowther was
baptized, taking the name of Samuel Crowther, an evangelical vicar. The
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following year, a missionary couple took Crowther to England, to study in a

parochial school. Later, he made his way to Sierra Leone where he taught until
he was made the Principal of Fourah Bay College. In 1841, Crowther returned
to Nigeria on an expedition to explore the Niger River with the objective of
establishing factories and controlling the local slave trade. In 1842, after
Crowther and Henry Townsend, a white man, were consecrated as Reverends
in England, the duo returned to Abeokuta and established some missions,
bringing Anglicanism to Nigeria, proper, and that led to the celebration of the
first Christmas in Nigeria in Abeokuta on December 25, 1842...
Filatei paused, coughing.
‘Careful,’ Anita cautioned.
‘Bless you,’ the men chorused.
‘Emiyenkah,’ Filatei appreciated. ‘After that, Crowther was
recommended for ordination as a clergyman and he went to study in England
and was ordained by the Bishop of London in 1843. Subsequently, he returned
to Sierra Leone where he began teaching and preaching...’ Filatei’s voice
faltered.
He sighed and spoke, ‘This is where I’m going. In 1846, Crowther
returned and established a mission in the Yoruba town of Abeokuta, and there,
he found his mother whom he hadn’t seen in twenty-five years among the
refugees.’ Filatei paused briefly, watching as the men were shaking their
heads, the look on their faces a proof that they comprehended what he just
said. ‘Such a pitiful situation.’
Anita and the men nodded.
‘Before that time, in the fifteenth century, some monks from Portugal
had given us the first taste of Christianity,’ Filatei said again. ‘That means
those slave traders that brought these,’ pointing to the chest, ‘came before
Crowther and Townsend. From the stories we heard, the traders came around
the end of the eighteenth century.’
Anita was nodding.
‘I think that isn’t really fair...’ Filatei raised his voice. ‘We had our
religion before they came. If they wanted to buy our people as slaves, they
shouldn’t have used Bibles as the price they would pay.’
The men were nodding. One was saying, na waya for this people o.
Filatei smiled at the thought of Maale, knowing that his mother
would be most pleased at the discovery of the Bibles.
‘Guys,’ he said. ‘Carry this inside.’ He pointed to the chest. The men
carried the chest and left with it.
The ransom. Now, they knew the full contents of the hidden gods. The
ransom that would make Anita Campbell become a free woman was the
important thing remaining. Early that morning, he had called Chief
Doukpolagha as promised and the man had sounded somewhat stubborn.
Filatei sighed now, fearing that what he didn’t hope for would happen.
His phone began to ring.
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Bringing it out from his pocket, he looked at the screen.

Undercover.
As he picked it, placing it to his ear, he looked at the vultures perching,
knowing that this call would determine if Chief Doukpolagha wouldn’t have
cause to mourn that day.
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Time passed quickly.

Evening had arrived now. The two men guarding Opuowei sat outside,
discussing in low voices. Still on the ground of his tent, Opuowei wondered
what was happening in Chief Doukpolagha’s life.
I’ve failed. His heart was pounding. He wished the militants would
allow him speak to Chief for two reasons. First, he would admit his failure.
Second and most importantly, he would advise Chief to pay the ransom. Not
only because he wanted to protect his life or that of Anita alone, but because
of poor Daniel and Mama and Chief’s numerous investments.
If things went as he was thinking, Opuowei guessed he might lose his
job as a soldier. Someone might just tell somebody something and that person
might as well tell another the same thing...on and on. And the next thing
might be a fire. It had happened to people in the past, several times. Opuowei
hissed. Even, I’m already tired of it. Once he was out of this forest, he would
gather the few things he owned, and leave with his closet relative, his wife, to
any nearby African country. Then, he would see what he could make do with
his life.
Opuowei began hearing men shouting suddenly. Almost immediately,
the men watching over him rushed away. Curious to know what was
happening, he tried to shift on the ground.
Going towards a cluster of tents were six people. Armed to the teeth,
five were wearing masks. Opuowei couldn’t see the face of the other person
who was in the middle well. His heart was vibrating. He hoped it wasn’t
Mama or Daniel.
‘Shit!’ he blurted, remembering the threat of the militant lord the
previous day. Stubbornness will kill Chief. At the same time, Opuowei realised
that he had encouraged Chief by promising to recover Anita.
In guilt, Opuowei watched as the militants led the person into the tent.
What will happen to Anita and me? Opuowei suddenly hoped that when the
militants were bringing this new hostage into the camp, they had made
mistakes. Perhaps, men of the Joint Task Force had followed them covertly.
He bent his head praying that help should come, not knowing that it
was near and would soon turn up.
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The odour of weed filled the air. Apparently drunk and high on weed,
the militants were shouting, talking nonsense. A music player was blaring.
Opuowei had heard the sound of someone putting a generator on several
minutes ago. Celebration for the new hostage, he thought.
Opuowei feared now that the militants might want to set up camp here
for a short while, at least until they got ransom for their new hostage. He knew
that if the hostage were to be Chief Doukpolagha’s mother or son, definitely,
Chief would have no choice than to pay the ransom on time.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, approaching.
He looked out from the narrow space. He could see someone’s eye, as
if the person were peeping into the tent, from the side of the entrance.
It was Anita.
‘Walter,’ she called in a soft tone.
Opuowei didn’t understand what was happening. Since morning, Anita
hadn’t even neared his tent and he hadn’t seen her walking past.
She bent and entered the tent now, a knife in her hand. A sweet
fragrance from her filled the air of the enclosed space.
‘They’ve kidnapped Chief’s son,’ Anita said. ‘We’ve to save him.’
Daniel. Opuowei breath faster.
‘I’ll cut the rope.’ Anita bent and began to cut the ropes that bound
Opuowei’s hands and legs.
‘Is your passport with you?’ Opuowei asked, trying to plan ahead.
‘No,’ Anita replied. ‘It’s with them. Getting the three of us out of here
is the most important challenge now. The Embassy can help with my
passport.’
As she cut the ropes, Opuowei thought of how the three of them-
himself, Anita and Daniel would be able to escape.
Violence. He had to fight as if his life depended on it. To hell with
charms.
In less than three minutes, Anita was done with the cutting and they
both stepped out of the tent. Outside the tent, Anita handed Opuowei the knife.
Collecting it, he began walking towards the cluster of tents where the militants
were as Anita returned to her tent.
Behind one of the tents now, Opuowei could hear the gibberish talks of
the men. God catch you today. Holding the knife, he walked towards the
entrance of the tent. He couldn’t just wait to get to Daniel.
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At the entrance, he saw one of the militants who had a half-burnt wrap
of weed in his mouth. The militant was closing his eyes, apparently stupefied.
Without hesitation, Opuowei stabbed him on the shoulder. A strident cry
followed as the militant slid, falling backwards. Just as the militant’s rifle fell,
Opuowei picked it.
That shrill cry made other intoxicated masked men begin coming out
from the tents. Opuowei didn’t know where the strength and confidence came
from. One after the other, he hit them down with the butt of the gun. Their
guns rolled on the ground as they lost balance on the slippery ground.
Opuowei heard a feminine scream as he hit someone down.
Miedide had been hearing shouts as he stooped in the bush, defecating.

Now, he was running watching as the soldier engaged in physical battle,
taking down members of his ematic family. Shit. He had no gun. He ran faster.
As he ran, he saw Filatei seizing and throwing away the rifle the soldier had
been holding. Good. The next moment, the soldier picked up one of the
handguns of the wounded men and pointed it at Filatei.
Damiete pointed a gun at the soldier.
‘I’ll shoot you if you shoot that gun,’ Damiete threatened. The soldier,
obviously stunned by that warning looked away from Filatei and pointed the
gun at Damiete. In a flash, Filatei bent and picked a small gun close to his feet.
Then, he dashed for Anita’s tent. That moment, Miedide recalled that Anita
was bathing when he left for the bush and realised that for some time, they had
left her unattended.
Stopping in front of a tent, Miedide picked a pistol he identified as that
of the doctor who was now holding his arm, writhing in pains on the ground.
None of us must die. With hurried steps, he rushed to the tent where Chief’s
son was lying on the floor...in fear.
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Now, outside with Chief’s son, Miedide trained a pistol on the

trembling young man. The other men and Ebiere were on the floor in pains.
The power generator was still droning. The music had stopped.
Filatei was aiming at Anita, who had gone red in the face. ‘I’ll shoot
her,’ Filatei barked.
As if on impulse, the soldier whirled and pointed his gun at Filatei.
Damiete still had his gun on the soldier.
‘Drop your gun.’ The soldier’s voice was menacing.
Filatei smirked. ‘Like I said yesterday, this is fi-la-tei, a time to eat and
a time for us to take up the throne.’ He paused and wrinkled his brow. ‘If you
want it to be a time to die. So be it,’ he shouted. Closing his eyes briefly, he
scowled and opened them again.
The soldier raised his upper lip, in hostility. ‘Then we die together.’ He
stressed on together, loudly, looking at Chief Doukpolagha’s son briefly.
How many of us? Miedide smiled. The soldier’s threat amused him.
Suddenly, Miedide glanced at the gun the soldier was holding. His heart
thumped. In succession, he looked quickly at the guns Filatei and Damiete
were holding. Then, he looked at the gun in his own hand.
All the guns are for us. His pulse raced. The implications of that could
be disastrous. For seven nights, Pa Akpodigha eyes were wide open, while
consecrating their weapons. Bullets from the guns would enter anyone who
had no powerful protective charms.
As Miedide stared at Chief’s son now, he realised that the gun in the
soldier’s hand wasn’t the real cause for concern. What troubled Miedide most
was graver. The bullets from their guns could nullify the defensive charms Pa
Akpodigha had made for each of them. Just the way the weed he smoked
before setting out for PortHarcourt to get Anita’s camera and the pictures
nullified the effects of his invincibility charms. Egbesu, help. Miedide turned.
The insides of Filatei’s eyes had now turned very red, like Anita’s blue
eyes had become. ‘You’ve nothing to lose in this matter. Only Chief
Doukpolagha has everything to lose,’ Filatei’s voice had an undertone of
appeal, as his eyes remained fixed on the soldier.
The soldier grimaced. He glanced at Chief’s son who was still quaking
in apprehension. ‘I’ve everything to lose.’
Filatei laughed. ‘I don’t want you to die for the sins of a man who bit
the fingers that fed him, who forgot things so quickly.’
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The soldier narrowed his eyes, appearing to reflect. Then, he widened

them again. ‘Was it your fingers he bit?’
Filatei shot Anita a quick look, looked at Miedide and returned his
eyes to the soldier. ‘Why can’t you just cooperate with us?’
‘In what way should I cooperate with you?’ the soldier asked, lowering
his voice, as if truly, he would concur when Filatei gave the answer to his
question.
Filatei pursed his lips, squinting. Then, he licked his upper lip. ‘Just
drop your gun and let’s talk about things that would make our lives better.’ He
paused, apparently waiting for the soldier’s reaction. The soldier was just
gazing. Filatei spoke again. ‘Let’s talk about how to make the world a better
place for all.’
‘You mean by involving in militancy...by carrying guns and destroying
lives and valuables?’ the soldier scorned.
‘Are you mad?’ Filatei stretched his raised hand further. ‘I know
you’re a Niger Deltan from your accent. So who told you we’re militants?’
‘What’re you then?’ the ostensibly poised soldier asked, peeking at
Damiete.
‘We’re ematers.’ Filatei nodded his head. ‘Fighting for everyone,
trying to pay for injustices.’
‘Ema-what?’ The soldier hissed and scowled. ‘I don’t have time. It is
better you drop your guns and let us go.’
Filatei hooted. ‘You can’t wait to die. Okay. If I don’t drop my gun,
what would happen?’ Filatei’s face had now turned redder.
‘I’ll shoot you...’
‘And you think I won’t shoot Anita,’ Filatei interrupted. ‘Or you think
you and Chief Doukpolagha’s son would live after that.’ Filatei glanced at
Miedide, then Damiete, and pouted, returning his eyes to the soldier.
Worried, Miedide sighed deeply. He glanced at Damiete whose gun
remained aimed at the soldier.
‘What’re you waiting for?’ Filatei asked, his eyes seeming to bore into
the soldier. ‘Shoot now.’
In reaction, the soldier extended the hand holding the gun.
‘If you shoot that gun, you’re shooting at your firstborn at home,’
Filatei cautioned.
The soldier giggled, the sound of his light laugh sardonic. He hissed.
Egbesu. Miedide could see the soldier’s index finger about to pull the
trigger.
Like a bolt from the blue, two gunshots boomed.
With a yell, Anita fell, rolling on the grimy ground...blood on her top.
She became still.
Filatei twirled. The next instant, he dropped.
Apparently stunned, the soldier was still on his feet staring at Anita, a
sad look on his face.
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Miedide, shocked that Damiete didn’t shoot, spun his hand rapidly to
the direction of the soldier, screaming, Damiete. With a fearful expression, the
soldier glanced at Damiete, and raised his hand, obviously to shoot at Miedide.
With a forceful pull of the trigger, Miedide fired at the soldier.
The soldier fell.
For a while, everything remained like that.
The hands of time continued in their unstoppable motion.
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The sun had disappeared.

The wounded ematers were getting on their feet now, one after the
other. Sitting on the ground, Ebiere’s hands were on her head. One of the men
was helping those still in pains, on the ground, to their feet. Holding his gong
and a small rod, Pa Akpodigha was wobbling, close to Filatei. An unmasked
Damiete was bending over the soldier. Walking towards Anita, Miedide
carried a first aid box. The doctor who was now on his feet, looking relieved
collected the box from Miedide. His arms by his side, Chief’s son stood, still
in trembles.
Pa Akpodigha stooped over Filatei now and began chanting
incantations, striking the gong in his hand with the rod.
Miedide watched as the doctor began removing the bullet lodged inside
Anita’s shoulder. Anita was making little movements.
‘She fainted. Thank God the bullet is the local type,’ the doctor said,
turning to Miedide. ‘The one that entered Chair is not a joke.’
Miedide sighed. ‘Nothing dey happen.’ He trusted Pa Akpodigha to get
Filatei relief.
Damiete was still bending over the soldier with an expression of
discomfort on his face. Miedide heard him saying, vsio budit normalna and
knew at once that Damiete was speaking Russian as he did occasionally.
Wondering the reason for that, Miedide turned and saw Filatei shaking,
thrashing his feet in the air. Pa Akpodigha, you too much, Miedide said
inwardly. Still, he prayed the situation would get better.
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Eventually, the situation allayed. Now, everyone was together, under

the shed Filatei’s team met in the forest. The scene was moving. No one wore
a mask. Ebiere and several men had bandages on their heads and arms. Her
shoulder also bandaged, Anita was sitting next to Daniel who had just finished
introducing the ematers to Opuowei. Miedide stood behind Filatei. Pa
Akpodigha was near Filatei. By Anita was Damiete.
With a bandage covering the right side of his chest, Opuowei was
pondering over the things he had just heard from Daniel. Daniel knew these
people. It was like magic. The greatest surprise Opuowei had, however, was
that Taddy...his friend whom he thought had forgotten him...was now the one
standing by his side. There is still plenty time for us to talk, Opuowei said
inwardly, as he fought a desire.
‘As I said before,’ Daniel began speaking again, facing Opuowei. ‘I
had reasons for everything.’ He paused and sighed. ‘It was my wish for you to
know about this and... we were just discussing on the best way to reveal all to
you before you struck.’ Daniel turned to Filatei who nodded. ‘My late mother
helped Chief build his empire. She did everything possible to make him rich.’
He shrugged. ‘But Chief was very promiscuous and that was a source of worry
for my mum who died from hypertension because of anxiety and depression.
Even, Chief didn’t care so much about me...the only child of my mother, as he
did for his children from other women...’
Opuowei was listening. The rumours he had heard about Chief in the
past rushed to his mind. Your Oga’s wife made him. Those speculations now
seemed to be true.
Daniel, now facing Anita, was talking. ‘...Chief wanted to marry you
because he wanted to secure an American citizenship, knowing that it would
enhance his status. Also, he wanted to fulfil his odd desire to have children of
all nations.’
Obviously surprised, Anita stared at Daniel.
‘He had thought he would impregnate you before your return to the
States.’
Placing a hand on her injured shoulder, Anita glanced at Opuowei and
returned her eyes to Daniel. Her eyelids were flickering.
Daniel continued, ‘He had planned to drug you in case you wouldn’t
agree to his demands for sex.’ Daniel nodded. ‘As he always does, he planned
to offer you millions of dollars to keep the child that might result.’
319
‘Shit,’ Anita blurted.

Turning to Opuowei, Daniel pointed with a finger. ‘You’re my friend
and you always told me you never loved the kind of life my father was living.’
Opuowei didn’t know when he nodded in the affirmative. Daniel
hadn’t lied, after all.
‘Even Asuquo never loved it and he helped a lot...’
Daniel continued, saying how Asuquo was the only close person to the
family who knew about the whole plot. Months ago, Asuquo met Damiete in a
hangout and subsequently fixed a meeting where he introduced the ematers to
Daniel. At that meeting, Filatei agreed to help Daniel make Chief cough out
plenty of money.
Asuquo is the consigliere, Opuowei thought.
‘When Filatei told me about Anita, her helpful efforts, in relation to the
axis of evil, I wanted to change my mind at first, so that we wouldn’t collect
the ransom,’ Daniel said now, closing his eyes briefly. ‘But at the same time, I
wanted Chief to learn a bitter lesson. I knew he had the money...’
Daniel revealed more things, saying that the attack on him on the day
of the kidnap was a planned trick. He also said he was the one who secured
Miedide’s freedom from the police cell. That because he wanted to get the
camera, he had gone home on the pretence that he was feeling better, the day
before. Then getting the camera, he handed it to Asuquo who went to print the
pictures and subsequently took the printed pictures and camera to Miedide in
the police station. And after that, he feigned to be in pains again so that he
would be out of The Citadel to monitor the activities of Filatei and the others,
securely.
Now, Daniel said, ‘Chief paid the ten million dollars this morning
through secure channels.’
‘Are you serious?’ Anita asked, looking astounded.
‘Yes,’ Daniel replied. ‘The pictures we used to threaten him caused
that.’ He looked at Opuowei. ‘So you see that he had the money all the while.’
My fifteen million naira. Opuowei’s mind was on the money Chief
promised him. He knew now that he would never get it. Across, Anita began
to cry. Ebiere stood up and walked over to the journalist. Holding her by the
shoulders, Ebiere told her not to weep. Then, Ebiere gestured to some of the
men and left the sitting with them.
‘Walter,’ Filatei called. ‘I know definitely Nigeria will be great soon.
All our efforts were to make sure that we and our people don’t die before that
period of bliss arrives.’
Opuowei nodded. Every man is trying to protect his head.
Looking briefly at his bandaged arm, Filatei shouted, ‘Long live the
Niger Delta, Long live Nigeria,’ and his men chorused this.
Filatei signalled to one of the men who subsequently stood up and
began making connections. Minutes later, the music was blaring. Ebiere and
the men who had left with her brought rice with stew and large chunks of
320
grass cutter meat. They also brought cups and bottles of wine. Then, eating
began.
Opuowei, with a plate of food in his hand now, stared at it.
‘Kushai. Eat,’ Damiete said.
Opuowei laughed, knowing that his friend had remembered the
incident that almost claimed his life, in Russia. Straight away, he lifted rice
and put it in his mouth. The muscles of his mouth and the ducts of his tongue
reacted to this. In the walls of his mouth, he could feel a straining sensation.
He knew the reason for that. He hadn’t eaten for long, even though the
ematers gave him food the previous night.
‘What?’ Damiete asked.
‘Nothing.’ Opuowei lifted another spoon into his mouth. This time, the
sensation had begun to diminish.
321
Chapter 95
Night was falling. Ambling now through the thickets of the forest,
Damiete and Opuowei were talking.
‘What were they calling you?’ Opuowei asked, stopping and turning to
his friend. He felt a slight pain in his legs.
Damiete smiled. ‘Have you forgotten so quickly? Damiete.’
Damiete. Opuowei pondered. Then he remembered that Taddy had
actually been a nickname formed from a name he couldn’t remember. All he
remembered now was Eteli, his friend’s surname.
‘I forgot your real first name,’ Opuowei said.
Damiete smiled. ‘But I didn’t forget yours.’ His voice was accusing.
‘Walter. Badex.’
Opuowei smiled. Taddy had given him that alias. Still, he couldn’t
recall.
‘Tell me now,’ he pleaded.
Damiete giggled. ‘Tamuno-Damiete Eteli.’
Tamuno. That registered. Several years ago, when Damiete arrived in
Moscow, people shortened his name and called him Tamuno. Damiete,
however, didn’t like that.
‘How would I bear the same name with God,’ he would ask in a joking
tone and so Taddy became a shortened and modified form of Tamuno.
Opuowei sighed now. ‘Damiete I thought you were in the States. I
thought you had forgotten me.’
After that statement, Damiete began his story.
His uncle who had invited him home had died in a plane crash, while
travelling from Portharcourt to Lagos, on the day he was coming to pick him-
Damiete, at the Murtala Mohammed international Airport. To worsen
Damiete’s plight, hoodlums robbed him while stranded at the airport. In that
robbery attack, he lost almost all his life documents. The thieves had made
away with his boxes.
Afterwards, he discovered his uncle’s death and life became like a
nightmare because his dead uncle had been his sponsor. There was no way he
could contact Opuowei. Until his yahoo mail account was deactivated, he had
no money to browse.
‘I was thinking the other way,’ Opuowei said.
Damiete shrugged. ‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘In fact, when I saw you
yesterday, I almost went mad but I couldn’t share my dilemma with anyone. I
322
was just waiting for the wind to clear.’

Opuowei turned to his friend, his eyes settling on the bulging muscles.
Tough as always. ‘Were you among the men who covered those stuffs
yesterday?’
‘Yeah,’ Damiete replied. ‘Why?’
‘I guessed it was you but I thought that idea was an effect of my
mental strain.’
Damiete giggled. ‘All that while, I was peeking at you, but I didn’t
know what to do...’ He paused and asked, ‘What of Ruth?’
‘That one,’ Opuowei said loudly. ‘She went to yankee and forgot me.’
Damiete pointed to him. ‘Remember I told you at the start that girls
who look innocent could be devilish.’
‘That one is story sha. Let’s forget about it. Thank God, I’m happily
married and my wife is pregnant.’
‘Yes o,’ Damiete shouted. ‘Me I’m still searching. More money has
come now.’
The money. Opuowei remembered the money he would have gotten if
he had successfully gotten Anita to Chief. Looking at Damiete, he promised
himself, I’ll never think of that money again. It’s gone.
‘Walter, don’t worry,’ Damiete said suddenly, as if reading Opuowei’s
thoughts. ‘You’ll get more than the fifteen million naira Chief promised you.’
‘How?’ Opuowei asked on impulse.
‘I’ll share my part of the money with you.’ Damiete paused. ‘Equally,’
he added.
Out of joy, Opuowei jumped on him, giving him a deep embrace. After
the embrace, they began walking again, in a slow and relaxed way, telling
each other about how their lives went since their separation.
Eventually, they got to an area where they saw the corpses of the men
Filatei’s team had fought the previous night.
In disbelief, Opuowei stared at the corpse of the short, very muscular
charcoaled skinned young man he had seen at Chief Tuburu’s house and on
the river. Beside the corpse was another man whose dreadlocks had blood all
over. Scattered around were other corpses. Opuowei understood the dead men
had also been involved in the quest for the hidden gods.
‘I dey feel bad,’ Opuowei said. ‘You know I don’t love when people
die.’
Damiete pointed to the dreadlocks man. ‘This stubborn man has been
on our trail since. One of our men who went to that old woman’s house said he
saw him there.’ Sighing, Damiete shrugged, ‘But there’s nothing we can do
about that. Ige also died.’
Ige. Once again, Opuowei recalled Ige’s death on the day they tried to
escape from the skinheads who kidnapped them in Russia.
‘May his soul rest in peace,’ he prayed and Damiete said Amen.
Suddenly, Opuowei remembered Charly and Chief Doukpolagha. He
323
suddenly felt guilt. ‘Damiete, ‘he called. ‘Believe me I wish I met you in
another circumstance. Not here. Now, it seems I’m a part of this all.’
Damiete twisted his lips in a pitiful manner. ‘I thought we’ve talked
about this. We’re leaving the country together.’ He paused. ‘Or is there
anything you can’t do for me?’
‘Nothing.’ Opuowei even felt more guilt because of Damiete’s
question. Within him, he knew it was Damiete and not Daniel who placated
him. Everything had changed right from the time he opened his eyes to see
Damiete staring at him, worriedly, muttering, vsio budit normalna.
In thoughts about the events of the last few days now, Opuowei looked
up to the gloom of the sky. Doukpolagha. He did a mental interpretation.
Beyond discovery. A reality dawned. Daniel Doukpolagha had almost been
beyond discovery, true to his name. Tightening his lips, Opuowei shook his
head. Everything had been a battle between a son and a father. A son who had
successfully avenged the inequities of the father. Opuowei sighed, his
wounded chest hurting. Truly, the masquerade who dances first becomes an
eventual spectator.
324
EPILOGUE
Months passed.
In New York, at an award occasion now, the compere was speaking,
‘Here comes the footages of the documentary, the hidden gods,’ he shouted,
dragging the hidden gods.
The spectators applauded.
Anita turned and smiled at Max, who was sitting next to her. Beaming
in return, he grasped her wrist. As he held her, Anita felt her Valentine
wristwatch press harder to her skin.
She returned her eyes to the large screen.
Her name appeared. Anita smiled at the name, an upshot of an event
that took place few weeks after she returned from Nigeria. On the day of her
arrival, she had seen pellets of Whiskers littering the floor of the whole house.
As she was about asking Max what was wrong, an emaciated Marquis
surfaced with Max’s metal figurine. A lone man who had a wrapper on,
standing and paddling a canoe. Similar to one that she saw in the house of
Filatei’s parents; except that, that one was wooden.
A week after, some professional editing was done on the documentary
which the ematers had given her in form of compact discs. Even so, most of
the scenes were included. Filatei had requested that he wanted the world to see
almost everything, that maybe people would understand the Niger Deltan
plight better that way.
The documentary wasn’t all she came back with, though. Filatei had
also given her a diamond stone and one of the Bibles they discovered in the
axis of evil as souvenirs. And two days after Daniel arrived in the camp,
Damiete and some other men escorted her to the airport in Lagos, to catch her
flight.
Now, on the screen, Anita could see shots. Images of Mr. Lumantas
and the English woman...The children with ringworms on their heads,
stooping on the waste dump, defecating in Oloibiri...Oil Well One...the ruins
of Odi... Odi Anglican church...the black waters of the river...life with the
ematers...the man who plunged into the river, out of fear, on the day of her
abduction.
...He’ll survive. Anita didn’t know where Miedide’s palliative words
on that day came from now. Still staring at the images on the screen, she
realised she had survived the experience in the Niger Delta and that already,
325
survival for her and Max wasn’t a challenge.

Anthony Morgan had secured a book deal for Max, with the publishing
company paying a two million dollar advance. With part of the money, they
paid up the house mortgage. The book: The Hidden Gods, which Max was
rounding up already, had to do with all she went through during her stay in
Nigeria. More rewarding, Tony promised to get a movie deal for it.
The compere was speaking again now. ‘It’s my pleasure to call on
stage, Anita Foster.’
Everyone clapped.
As Anita stood up, she felt heavy. Walking to the stage, she collected
the large gleaming plaque from the presenter.
‘I dedicate this award to all the ematers, the freedom fighters of the
Niger Delta of Nigeria,’ she said to the microphone.
Camera lights were flashing simultaneously.
Anita was still talking, ‘..., and to all peoples around the world
involved in the struggle for emancipation.’
Another round of applause followed and Anita began walking back to
her seat, smiling, with the plaque in her hands.
Walking elegantly, she felt joy that she had been held hostage in the
Niger Delta. However, she felt more joyous that she was now married to Max.
The Ijaw man, she thought.
The day after Daniel showed up in the camp, while some of Filatei’s
men were bringing Anita’s belongings along, Filatei had revealed some things
about the bananas and apples.
In the slave trade era, a ship coming from Badagry, destined for
America stopped along an African coast to pick up other African slaves from
the area that is the modern day Southern Africa.
Because of the large population of slaves on board, many errors
occurred. The merchants labelled some Western African slaves as Southern
Africans and vice versa. Subsequently, in America the Western slaves with
their new identities worked in the same plantations with the real Southern
Africans. They learnt Shona, Ndebele and other languages of the Southern
Africans. Even, they intermarried with them. Over the years, many of the
children born didn’t bother to ask about their roots.
Anita had been surprised saying that she didn’t learn that in school.
Filatei had replied, ‘They won’t teach you all truths in school because
if they do, the younger generation of people with mixed races might be upset
and react violently. Some might lose their lives in the process and others might
end up behind bars. Therefore, they won’t be able to grow and so, it is better
they don’t teach that in school.’
Anita became sure of Filatei’s story when Filatei called Max’s phone,
days after her arrival in the States, to find out how her wounded shoulder was
faring. That day, Anita asked him some puzzling questions about the texts on
Max’s plaque. The answers he gave had settled it all.
326
The phrases Ose Keni, Ekemenhayebogha, Embalii, and Dugba, which

Max often read as Dewgibar, meant We’re all one, Everybody has his or her
own destiny, Persevere, Tell stories.
Now, as Anita settled on her seat, she smiled at the thought that her in-
laws had held her hostage and that she was married to an emater. Max is truly
a fighter.
She felt the weight in her.
The ultrasound scan she had recently crossed her mind. A boy was
coming. Slipping her hand into Max’s, Anita giggled at the perception that she
had a Niger Deltan by roots as a husband and would soon have one for a son.
THE END

Held in The Creeks

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Held in The Creeks

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Akinbiyi Marvelous Akinrodoye Commercial-Thriller

P.O. Box 30168 120,000 words

HELD IN THE CREEKS

The Land Cruiser tore through the streets of Rumuomasi. With a

river, as the driver veered towards him, trying to avoid a pothole.

In another part of town, Second Lieutenant Walter Opuowei was

On the contrary, the girl whom Opuowei chose to remain with, in

again. ‘Not everyone smokes.’

or trousers, so far it had mammary glands. White, Black, Chinese, Hispanics.

Finally, he caught up and they continued quietly.

Opuowei and Charly sauntered through the grounds of the Central

syndrome was evident in situations when junior soldiers saluted female

convince him to promise the soldiers money, to lift their spirits.

he was trying to warn them of an impending danger.

In another part of the world, Maxwell Foster stood up from his

happening? I thought you people have soft tongues.’

people take hostages to while waiting for ransoms.’

I think of the days I was deserted

I had no right to my home

Anita stared at Filatei, anticipating what he would say next. She

‘Few years ago,’ Filatei began speaking again, ‘a Lebanese was

know about Chief, okay?’

Opuowei could see an expression of sympathy on Daniel’s face. Like

Opuowei drove into the premises of the Central Police Station on

As Miedide carried a bucket of water Pa Akpodigha had just

Miedide realised he was getting late now. He heard the sound of

Filatei Perembowei watched as Anita Campbell frowned, obviously

we’ve their number,’ Filatei said, typing on his phone.

Opuowei and Charly sat, talking in muffled voices. A large plasma

actually brought us here. Worse, we might end up vomiting blood.’

Miedide walked slowly and looked round, trying to be sure he hadn't

there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Chief Tuburu stared as if in confusion, as if he never knew what the

must be wondering what is going on inside, he thought.

As Opuowei stared at the large house now, he concluded the soldiers

that of a creek flowing to connect a river.

slogan: The Struggle is Stubborn.

The old woman’s response jarred Miedide’s nerves. A liar. That

‘No ma.’ The tie Miedide wore appeared to be suffocating him. He

the Sergeant, rhetorically.

Miedide was still wondering the significance of the coconuts when

searching some of the other rooms.

Light, the coconut felt like feathers in Miedide’s hand, as he stood

Looking fixedly at the stockpile of ammunitions on the floor, Opuowei

in Chief Tuburu’s house when they were to be guarding Chief Doukpolagha.

sending water splashing again. Hissing as if regretting that, he uttered, ‘Sorry!’

The eight dogs were of different breeds. Rottweiler, German Shepherd,

interrupted Opuowei’s thought.

handed over to the man.

After what seemed like ages to Opuowei in a world where he

Miedide na you be dem mama soldier o

Moments later, Filatei, Anita, and Miedide were sitting on chairs

‘Seriously, I think more than two people is a crowd already. So, I

didn’t want anyone to put blame on him. He lived his life on

‘If I may ask, what’s on the paper, a drawing, or something?’

As the first wife

‘And is that all?’

The music blared continuously and Walter Opuowei was in a high