Okija Trip: The Land Where Dead Bones Rise
“RUN!!!”
And like ants scampering from the intrusiveness of a flashlight, we ran in different directions like our lives depended on it. And all things considered, it actually did.
By this time, dusk was beginning to set in slowly and it became hard for me to see ahead. This made the sweat that was already trickling down my back thicken. Is this how I’m going to die? I kept thinking about all the things I wouldn’t get to do if I was killed that night. No Silicon Valley, no love, no marriage, no kids, no Google, no internships in America, no…nothing. I pumped the air into my legs and I ran faster than I ever thought I could. I was getting short of breath and decided to stop to catch my breath. I looked behind me to see if any of the other students were behind me, or whoever was after us. I saw no one. Just a forest of big tall trees that looked like giant monsters with claws trying to harvest my heart. Looking back was a really bad idea because now, I could feel the fear almost choke me. I started running again and this time, I resolved to keep going until I got to the main road.
“Dave!”
Who was that? The voice was shrill and unfamiliar. I tried to make out the voice and match it to the twenty-nine other voices on the trip, but I had no match.
“Dave!”
An age-old Nigerian superstition posits that you must never answer a call without knowing the caller, else you might just be answering the call of an enemy or a demon. And answering such a call meant death or bad luck at least. I refused to answer the call of the strange person, even when it called out four more times. How can it be so loud, though? The voice sounded like it was coming from above, way higher than the trees. It didn’t help that with each call, I could hear the wind howling and the leaves rustling.
“Dave!”
I pumped whatever energy I had left into my legs and moved faster. With every thump on the ground, I felt like I was going backward, and not forward. What is happening?! What felt like hours passed by before I sighted the streetlights coming from the main road from a far distance. I was already feeling so tired but seeing that added fuel to my already ebbing fire. I moved faster, and I have never been so happy to see a streetlight in my entire life. I was almost there when I felt an invisible force pull me down. I didn’t even wait to understand what just happened and I tried to get back up. Again, I got pulled down with the same rush of intensity as the first time.
“What is happening?!” I screamed to the cold, tense air. “What do you want from me?!”
I waited, thinking something would happen. I had already given my life back to Christ five times in the space of one minute, and I really did feel I was ready for anything. I tried to stand up again and I was successful this time. I started running again, with my heart literally in my throat. As I got closer, I started hearing voices. Hushed, fearful voices.
“Who’s there? Is anybody there? It’s Dave! Please, answer me!” I screamed in frustration. Silence. I couldn’t even hear the voices anymore.
“Guys, it’s really me, Dave! Please, I’m really scared. Talk to me!”
My plea still met with silence, and so I kept running. There. Finally, the streetlights. I could almost touch it this time.
“Help! Help! Who is there? Please help me!” I kept screaming at the top of my voice. If I had tried to be louder, I felt I would cause irreparable damage to my throat. Still, there was silence. Nobody was answering me and I heard no other voices. Where is everyone? When we all ran in different directions, I was certain that someone, at least one person, would have gotten to the main road where we parked our school bus. Even I had taken what could be considered as the longer route. So, why can’t I hear any voices? Why is this forest so eerily quiet?
I kept running. I didn’t have the luxury of stopping to contemplate what must have gone wrong with the others. All I could think about at that moment was putting my hands on the concrete slab of the road that will take me back home.`
“Arghhhhhhhhh…” Something had tripped me, and now I’m face-down in a pile of muddy mess. I would soon find out that that was the least of my problems. I felt hot liquid move from my forehead to my jaw. It was now creeping into my shirt lazily. I used my finger to touch it and I felt a gooey mess. Blood. I was bleeding. I tried to stand up but I couldn’t. I was not laying in quicksand, but still, the mud felt so sticky and thick like glue. It was bad enough that none of my supposed friends are coming to help, now, I have to be stuck in a pile of muddy mess. Literally.
“Help! Somebody, help me!” I cried out in fear.
“Dave.” That voice again, but this time, it was so close.
“Dave.” It called out again behind me and I screamed.
***
Like everything that happens in my life, nobody asked for my consent on this trip. I know it is a school trip, but still, I feel I should still have a say in it. Regardless of the fact that the outcome of the field trip determines 50% of my Basic Science grade.
A lot of people might call me a bookie, but I’m far from that. I’m just the kind of guy who likes to get his work done. I hate to lag. My mother claims that as a child, I asked for chores even when my age mates were watching cartoons. I asked to help her in the kitchen and in her other duties in the house. I asked my father for tasks I didn’t have any business doing, and I promised to accomplish them. That’s the kind of guy I am. I’m a doer.
Argh. You probably do not need this information but I’m trying to make you understand that my parents did not have any business forcing me to go on a field trip I don’t want to be on. They know the kind of person I am, so they should understand that my refusal was totally out of character.
Who takes children on a field trip to one of the scariest forests in the whole of Nigeria for science? What kind of plants does Mr. Joshua think we would find in the forest that we will never find anywhere else? Personally, I think he’s just trying to get our parents to pay thousands of naira for a field trip, so he can get a generous cut. He always had a weird glint in his eye when he talked about money.
My father thought traveling to a forest in the southern part of Nigeria will open my eyes to see the ‘real world’ and also look good on my CV. My mother thinks it would be a great way to get me to stop talking to my laptop for a while and instead, communicate with normal kids my age.
My refusal is not without good reason. I have heard tales of the Okija forest. Prior to my research, I was very excited about the trip. But after I did my research, I decided not to go. But unfortunately, an email had already been sent to all our parents informing them of the ill-fated trip. According to my research, the Okija forest is an evil forest. There were many accounts of ghost sightings in the forest. Locals around that area claimed that finding open coffins in the forest was as normal as finding trees. There are also fetish shrines littered around the forest. Only very powerful people could enter the forest and come out alive and for some crazy reason, my wangly Basic Science teacher thought he could lead twenty-nine children into the forest for a field trip!
Personally, I thought he wanted to offer us up as ritual sacrifices. Probably make it look like an accident. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Maybe he didn’t do his research and he just picked the deadliest forest in Nigeria by sheer misfortune. Or maybe he actually carried out his research but he remained unfazed by the accounts of human skulls and decomposing bodies littering the forest. Or maybe he didn’t believe the stories of people, both foreigners, and locals, that entered into the forest and never came out. Or maybe…
“Dave! Your school bus is outside oh!” My mum shouted to me the unfortunate morning of our departure.
“Mummy, I said I don’t want to go,” I whined.
“Eh, you should have said so before your father paid so much money for the trip. You must go oh.”
“But…”
“Shut up and answer those people waiting for you outside the gate. Don’t be stupid!”
Sealing my fate, I went in to carry the bag she had already packed for me. I came out and looked at her, really looked at her. Then, I did something I had not done since I was seven. I gave her a peck.
“I love you, mum. Please kiss dad and my sister for me.”
She looked puzzled but she shook it off and waved at me.
“Byeeee. Go well oh.”
On the bus, I found a seat with Maxwell, the only guy I have any kind of relationship with, in school.
“Aren’t you excited?” He asked with a huge smile on his face that begged me not to disappoint him. But I just had to.
“No. I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“Because we are all going to die,” I said, with painful resignation.
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