Return To Ages

“Ameh, Ameh! You better wake up or you’ll be late for school again!” Mr Ikeh Ogbole yelled at his sixteen-year-old son. He glared at the boy who was struggling to yank himself free from the sweet grip of sleep. “Oh,” Ameh moaned inwardly, “why hasn’t father left for work?” Finally, he stretched lazily between the tangled sheets and let out a big yawn. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep. He turned his back to his father, as if he was fighting in a futile manner to return to dreamland. Moments ago, he had been watching the movie, Things Fall Apart. But now the reality of dawn confronted him like the rays of the morning sun, streamed through the windows to reveal the beauty of nature that accompanied sunrise.  “Papa, it is not yet time for school and I am not feeling too well,” Ameh protested in a voice as enchanted by sleep as his eyelids. Ikeh did not allow him to complete his utterance before unleashing his bare palm on his son’s buttock. Ameh jumped to his feet, the cobwebs of sleep instantly vanished. Ikeh’s booming voice accompanied this as he scolded Ameh. “I’ve always advised you to go to bed early but your mother believes you are old enough to go to bed whenever you felt like. Can you now see how lazy you’re becoming?”  Ameh hated being referred to as ‘lazy.’ At sixteen, he was a student of Government Day Secondary School, Makurdi. He looked much older because of his rapid growth. He was five-and-a-half foot tall, with a brownish complexion and a nose like his mother, Anneh. Lines of moustache were starting to appear beneath his cute, straight nose. His voice was deep and rich – a striking quality he got from his father. Whenever he smiled, lovely dimples appeared on his robust cheeks. These, and his afro-styled hair, gave him the physical features of a healthy, handsome young man.  “Didn’t you hear me?” His father shouted again. “I asked you to stand up and prepare for school or you’ll be late.” Ameh would have protested further if it was his mother troubling him. But he knew it was in his interest to comply without further arguments. “Papa,” he grumbled some inaudible words before concluding, “I’m not feeling too well.” Releasing more giant yawns, Ameh rose to his feet with much reluctance and staggered towards the bathroom. “Must I go to school every day?” He muttered. “Are there no children on the streets?” His father heard him. “Ameh, what did you just say? Come back here!” But Ameh knew better than to do as told at that moment. He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door.  “Don't you worry, young man,” his father snorted with anger, “a child who asks God for rashes will surely end up having boils all over his body.” Ikeh stormed the kitchen where his wife was pretending to be busy. Anneh couldn't help but laugh when her husband entered. She heard him hiss. “Can you see the type of child you are raising?” He was blaming her for Ameh's actions, but she seemed prepared for him. “I beg you in the name of Jehovah,” she countered, “it’s too early for you to start your wahala.” Ikeh grunted in disgust. He stared long and hard at his wife before shaking his head, as if to warn her of some ominous consequence. Then he hissed again, turned, and walked out of the kitchen. “My wahala, abi? Keep encouraging him,” was his sarcastic response.  ***  It was 9:45 a.m. when Ameh arrived at school. He gazed at the tropical skies as if asking for forgiveness. His class teacher, Miss Omojo Ache, was coming out of the classroom when she sighted him walking towards the building, like the weights of the world were strapped to his legs. She stopped, positioned herself by the door, and waited for him. Miss Omojo stared at Ameh as he came closer. Ameh felt uneasy. He glanced at his wristwatch pretending not to have noticed her. He was about to walk past her when her firm voice brought him to an abrupt halt.  “Stop right there, Ameh.” Her eyes were reprimanding. ‘‘What is it by your time?” Ameh stood before her, speechless.  “You are late again,” she said flatly, expecting him to come up with an excuse for his lateness. Ameh scratched his head and stammered, “Good morning, ma. I'm very sorry...” He muttered. “Sorry about what?” She interrupted with a curious smile, “What made you come late this time, oga?”  Ameh coughed out loud. “Em… Ma, em...” He stuttered and let out a fake cough. His hand went over his head again, scratching, searching for an appropriate response. Miss Omojo’s scrutinizing eyes missed nothing. She raised both hands heavenward.  “Enough of that drama young man, I know you too well.” Ameh tried to avoid her stare. ‘‘I’m sorry…” “Now, don't you dare sorry me, Ameh!” She snapped. “I hope you haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you were late?”   “I am very sorry. The truth is… I woke up later than usual.” Ameh knelt before her in an attempt to win her sympathy. “I promise that if you pardon me today, by the grace of Almighty God, it won't repeat itself. I swear.” Miss Omojo brought her hands to her waist. She was speechless. “Listen, boy, don't you dare try to put me on Heaven's blacklist. I didn't ask you to swear, did I?” Her tongue lashed him. She shook her head in utter disbelief. “Only a spoilt child wakes up late on school days.” Ameh opened his mouth to say something when her next words struck him right in the face. “I’m sure you hardly help your mother at home.” “I swear, I run errands for my parents.” The words were out before he could clamp his mouth over them. Miss Omojo knew he wasn’t telling the truth. She had much disbelief in students who swore to affirm a statement. “The last time you were late, you told the same story, Ameh.” Omojo stared long and hard at him. What is this boy turning into? She thought. Ameh shook his head. “I am sorry. It’s the devil’s handwork. He made me wake up late again.” “What devil?” Omojo snapped. “Young man, you should be ashamed of yourself!” They gazed at each other for a while, before she added, “I’m certain you didn’t go to bed early, last night.” Ameh recalled why he woke up late. He had been watching the Nigerian movie, Things Fall Apart, but he dared not tell that to Miss Omojo. He couldn’t help blaming himself at the moment; he was responsible for his predicament. If only he had listened to his father’s words of wisdom, he wouldn’t have been here at the mercy of his teacher’s interrogations.  Miss Omojo was not done with him yet. “Ameh, you better give me a good answer or you'll face the disciplinary master.” Ameh’s sad countenance could have gotten through Miss Omojo, only if she had not known him better. Ameh exhaled before unleashing a barrel of lies. “I was mopping my mother's room. My younger brother left the tap in her bathroom running and her room got flooded.”  His teacher stared at him for a long time before she reached down and pulled his ear. He let out a painful whimper, biting his lower lip. “You are never short of excuses, are you?” She queried, pulling harder. She knew he was dishonest, but she had other important issues to attend to than waste her time with him. “Please, it hurts. Ha, I have only spoken the truth.” Ameh cried out. Miss Omojo relaxed her fingers, away from his ear. “Thank your stars I’m in a good mood this morning, else you would be where other latecomers were. Now get into your class!” She ordered.  Ameh bent a knee, as a sign of appreciation. “Thank you, ma.” Miss Omojo hissed as she marched towards the staff room. Ameh hurried into the classroom.  How smart! He thought to himself as he revelled in his ability to come up with all the excuses he had given his teacher. The last time he came late, he stood and stared like a dummy – which earned him a severe punishment. The humiliation of washing the male toilets was something that would entangle his memory for a long time. As he walked towards his desk, lost in thought, he collided with a girl's desk. Her books were scattered across the floor.  "Ameh Ikeh! Are you blind?" She queried. Ameh ignored her at first while he positioned his chair properly by his desk. “Dooshima, if I were, we wouldn’t be in the same class,” Ameh teased and quickly added with a broad smile, ‘anyway, I am very, very, very sorry.” “Be sorry for yourself.” She yelled. “Just watch where you’re going next time,” she fumed, as she bent to pack her books.  Ameh eyed her for a moment, contemplating on lashing her with his tongue. Then he remembered his encounter with Miss Omojo and kept his mouth shut. Besides, he wanted a trouble-free session. “Good morning, my fellow students!” He shouted eager to announce his arrival as if it had been long-awaited. “The first child of Ikeh is in the class!” Dropping his bag unceremoniously into his locker, he sat back in his chair and set out to sing his version of the national anthem. ‘‘Arise O compashion…” “How dare you – shut up!” A voice boomed from behind. Ameh clamped his hands over his mouth. He felt he had just landed in big trouble because the voice had sounded like the principal. His heart began to beat fast. Just then, his close friends, Iverem and Onuh, tiptoed up to him from behind. One of them covered Ameh's eyes with his palms while the other tickled his ribs. Realizing the trick played on him, Ameh playfully fought back amidst roars of laughter. “Yam-heads!” Ameh jokingly shot at them. “You boys gave me a terrible fright. I thought it was the principal.” Iverem pointed at him, “You came late again. It appears you haven’t learned any lesson.”  Ameh grinned. “My guy, I overslept!” “The disciplinary master would love to hear that.” Iverem hissed at him. “Anyway, that is your problem I am sure the school authority is aware that our toilets still need to be sanitized by latecomers.” Ameh hissed back and roughly pushed Iverem away from him. But Iverem teased on. “We have more dirty toilets in the school that needs cleaning.” It was a free lesson period, so Ameh and his two friends whiled away the time. For half an hour, they made a jest of other students and gossiped about their teachers before Iverem changed the subject.  “Ameh, we have some very important information to share with you,” he whispered into Ameh's left ear. Ameh became curious. He turned his attention to Iverem and replied, “What information?” Iverem lowered his voice in an exaggerated whisper. “I swear, the secret we’re about to tell you can turn you into a legend.” Excited, Ameh hurriedly reposed himself on his seat to lean even closer to his friends. But that wasn’t close enough; he moved from his chair and sat on his desk while Onuh took over the vacated seat. Ameh looked from Iverem to Onuh.  “So tell me, what is it all about?” Ameh observed the muscles at the corners of Onuh’s lips twitch, as the latter opened his mouth to speak. But Iverem quickly cut him short, “here comes Miss Omojo, she mustn't meet us together.” Ameh moaned and rolled his eyes. “Alright, go back to your desks. I don't want more of her trouble.”   “When do we meet to talk?” Ameh’s curiosity drove him to ask. “You sound very impatient.” Iverem joked.  “Do I?” Ameh retorted, albeit jokingly. Facing Onuh, he said, “Why don't we meet after we close from school today?”   *** After school hours, Ameh waited by the school gates for his friends. He watched as other students walked out of the school premises and avoided their stares. Ameh had dozens of issues to worry about, among which was how he would defend himself before his father over his poor academic performance in the mathematics test. He had scored only twenty marks. He knew that his old excuses of ‘we weren't taught that’ or ‘I was not in school when that lesson was taught’ wouldn't be accepted by his father. He was still buried in the thoughts of his academic woes when he heard the voices of Iverem and Onuh shouting his name. He ignored them. Ameh felt offended that they had made him wait longer than necessary. Iverem and Onuh soon arrived at the school gates to meet a hostile Ameh.    “I have been waiting for you guys for nearly an hour,” he said through gritted teeth. “An hour?” Onuh and Iverem queried, exchanging knowing looks. “That's not true!” Iverem disagreed. ‘‘The school timekeeper rang the closing bell about fifteen or twenty minutes ago.” “Fifteen or twenty what?” “Ameh, it’s not even up to twenty minutes.” “It's over an hour!” Ameh said, pointing at his wristwatch. “My friend, you need to change that old wristwatch.” “Whatever.” Ameh shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't in the mood to prolong the argument with Iverem.  “Anyway, why did you keep the first son of Ikeh waiting?” He pointed a finger at their faces. “We were sweeping our classroom,” Onuh answered. Ameh was not just angry with his friends because they had made him wait that long, he was also hungry. He sucked his lips. “Please educate me, exactly how long does it take to sweep our classroom?” He asked. Onuh wrapped his right arm around Ameh’s shoulder. “My guy, calm down, it wasn't intentional.” Ameh slowly removed Onuh’s arm from his shoulder and then pocketed his hands in his trousers. “What is this information which you kept me waiting for about?” Onuh suggested that they moved towards the cool shades of a tree. Ameh objected. “What is wrong with where we’re standing?” “It is sunny.” “I didn't complain about the sun.” “Why are you being so difficult?” Iverem asked. ‘‘Must you use that tone?’’ “This is the way I talk!” Ameh snapped. “Ameh, we are your classmates, so don’t speak to us as if we are your juniors.” “I will talk to anyone in any manner I want,” Ameh responded stubbornly. “My guy calm down. Get a grip on yourself. Remember, we’re not age-mates here.” Iverem said pointedly. Ameh seemed to have lost his temper. His voice rose as he spoke.  “Who is talking about age now?” “Ameh what is the matter with you?” Onuh tried to douse the tension. “This shouldn’t bring any quarrel amongst us.” Although he was the youngest of the three, Ameh enjoyed bossing his friends around. But boys being who they are, the tension soon eased off. Onuh looked at him and smiled. He returned his arm to Ameh’s shoulder and gently pulled him down the end of the road. They sat under a tree and listened for a while as the tree danced to the rhythm of the afternoon breeze. “I’m listening…?” Ameh prodded his finger against Onuh’s shoulder.  Onuh winked at Iverem.  “It’s about hidden gems...” Iverem began. He paused to glance furtively about him. Satisfied that no one else seemed within earshot, he went on. “We broke into a briefcase, inside our principal's office this morning…” Ameh opened his mouth in shock. “How on earth did you gain access into his office and opened his briefcase?” “That’s also part of our story. Now, if you stop interrupting, we’ll get to it shortly.” Iverem snapped. Ameh snarled at his friend. “I only asked a question, yam-head.” And as if to drive home his words, he wrote with his finger on the sands before him. Iverem’s gaze followed his hand, watching as his friend wrote the words ‘yam head’ on the ground. Iverem’s countenance burned with indignation as he beat his chest. “You call me yam-head?” Ameh laughed aloud. Iverem turned to Onuh in fury, “I can't tolerate any more of Ameh's attitude,” he bellowed and sprang to his feet. “Who does he think he is, anyway?” He started to walk away. “I'm going home, Onuh. If you still want to involve Ameh just count me out.” Onuh turned and stared briefly at Ameh then he also rose to leave. “We made a mistake coming to you in the first place, Ameh.” At first, Ameh sat in silence and watched his friends as they walked away. Then he folded his arms in a noncommittal manner and began to whistle a song with no tune, even though he yearned to hear the latter part of the story. What had Iverem and Onuh found out? He thought. His curiosity soon got the better of him. He rose to his feet and ran after his friends. “Hey, wait!” He called breathlessly after them, as he finally caught up with them. “I didn't mean to annoy you.” His friends turned and waited. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Onuh asked with biting sarcasm. Ameh shrugged. If he hadn't been hinted about the briefcase he wouldn’t have cared one bit, even if they decided not to speak with him again. But they had succeeded in rousing his curiosity, and he wouldn’t rest until he heard the entire story. He threw his hands up in mock surrender.  “Ok, you guys win – I am sorry,” he apologized. His friends were just too willing to have him back. “Apology accepted but you better watch that tongue of yours.” Iverem warned. Onuh inwardly praised himself that his bluff had worked. He knew Ameh’s weakness for unfinished stories. They returned to the tree shades where Iverem began the story.  “On our way to school, this morning, Onuh and I ran into the school principal. He had four black briefcases with him. It was evident he needed assistance with the briefcases, so he called on Onuh, two other students who walked by at that moment and I. He handed each of us a briefcase and asked us to carry them to his office. “While in his office, he dismissed the other two boys and asked Onuh and I to wait for him, as he attended to an official matter. At first, we were nervous but since to the best of our knowledge we had committed no offence, we stayed calm.” Iverem paused to study Ameh’s face. Ameh nodded at him. Satisfied that he had Ameh’s full attention, he continued.  “We waited for twenty minutes, and another twenty minutes, but he didn't return. We grew bored and that was when Onuh came up with an idea.” Iverem’s voice grew with excitement. “He suggested that we looked into one of the briefcases.  Making up our minds took quite a long time because we were scared of the consequences, if we were caught in the act. We threw caution to the wind and opened a briefcase.’’ “What did you find?” Ameh interrupted.  Iverem ignored him and continued.  “Inside the briefcase, we found a strange, black book. We flipped through its pages. On a page, we found a map that had an arrow marked towards a place called, Cave of Ages. We tore off the page.” Iverem reached for his pocket and brought out a piece of paper with neat creases. He held it out to Ameh who unfolded it and read: To Her majesty: The Queen of England. THE HIDDEN TREASURES It has been ten days since the giant of Africa – Nigeria gained her independence. As I write this report, I am bedridden and alone inside my hut.  Three days ago, thirty of my men took ill mysteriously and died one after the other. I am convinced that we could trace our predicaments to the selfish actions we took against the will of the black people. In 1950, while working in the village of Aiona as the Military Head of the Solid Minerals Excavation Project, I, together with my men, further impoverished the people when we cunningly diverted their wealth. We stole their natural resources and buried them in five different locations. One location, under my command, which my memory still recalls was code-named: ‘Cave of Ages’. This dark cave is situated beneath Echo Rock somewhere in the village of Eha-Otukpa. Please pardon me for breaching your trust, Your Majesty. For it is with regret that I announce to you the long claws of death is slowly ripping me to pieces. By the time this letter gets to you, I must have been gone to the great beyond. Should Your Majesty be interested in finding the hidden wealth of these people, read the following instructions carefully: First, to locate Eha-Otukpa, you must send emissaries to return to its neighbouring village, which is approximately a three-hour journey by foot from thereYou’ll find on the map of Nigeria which I have drawn that Aiona village is in Ogbadibo Council, of the Benue-Plateau region. From there your emissaries shall embark on another three days journey through the forest of ‘Alagirani’ from Eha-Otukpa. Note that the forest is the only entry route that leads to the foot of Echo Rock. On the north-eastern part of Echo Rock is a large boulder with a stone beside it and beneath the stone lies the entrance to the Cave of Ages. Perhaps I should also bring to your notice that some of our men who attempted to steal the treasures suffered the wrath of the gods of the land. Please be warned, the stone can only be moved by three persons who must be natives of the Benue-Niger confluence; one from each of the three major tribes of the north-central region of Nigeria. How I got to know this latter part is another story. Your Majesty, I advise that your emissaries adhere strictly to the content of this letter to gain access. Signed, Captain D. K. Clay, October 11, 1960.   Ameh opened his mouth in disbelief, stunned by the letter. He watched as Iverem folded the paper and returned it to his pocket. Sighing, Iverem asked, “What do you think?” His gaze was on Ameh. “Do you have the heart of a lion to find this buried wealth?” Ameh was jolted back to the present by Iverem’s question. ‘‘This is crazy and scary.” He intoned. For a while, Ameh’s face was creased with fright. The story was as frightening as it was absurd. And to think his friends believed it was appalling. Such stories only existed in movies and fairy-tales, not in real life. Ameh shivered at the thought of them wandering through some dark forest haunting for buried treasures in an ancient cave, all because of the content of a page torn from an old, black book. Ameh shook his head. He couldn’t imagine himself spending three days and three cold nights in some faraway forest. Onuh gave Ameh a nudge, “are you interested?”   “Interested in what?” “The buried treasures of course. Let’s team up and find it.” Ameh stared at his friends in bewilderment. “How can you both tell if the information is genuine?” Iverem and Onuh exchanged glances.  “Honestly, we don’t know yet, Ameh,” Iverem admitted. “But we believe it might be true.” Ameh scratched his head, lost in thought. “The whole thing just doesn’t sound real to me. What if there are no treasures to be found?” “We hope to find some.” Onuh was optimistic. “Besides, it’s worth trying, anyway.” Ameh still looked unconvinced. He just wasn’t comfortable with the idea of embarking on this sort of adventure. Onuh put his hand around Ameh’s shoulder. “Agreed, it sounds weird, but I can bet my blood that the information is true.” Ameh shook his head vehemently. “What if what we have on our hands is just some ghost story – the work of a fiction writer who merely penned his imagination?” “I don’t think so,” Iverem objected. “Why are you guys so bent on finding the buried treasures, anyway? Have you asked yourselves how the book found its way into the principal’s briefcase?” Ameh stood and paced around, kicking at the empty air. He felt that believing the story would be to believe a lie. Onuh was growing restless. “Look, stop being chicken-hearted. Are you interested in finding the buried treasures with us or not?” Ameh shook his head, and without mincing words, replied, “If this scary tale is what you call adventure then count me out because I am not convinced.” Onuh swallowed the saliva in his throat and tried to control his anger. “I’m sorry if I have disappointed you,” Ameh said to his friends, turning to leave.  “I should get going now.” Onuh puffed out his cheeks while Iverem remained calm. “Please do let me know when you have something better to talk about,” Ameh said over his shoulders, as he walked away. His friends watched him leave. “Didn't I warn you to leave Ameh out of this?” Iverem queried. Onuh pouted at first and later replied, “did I know that he would be this difficult?” They had a little argument before parting ways in anger.