Chapter 1: The Voyage Begins

On December 28, 2010, the big squid fishing ship Okirika Star 2682, from Palm Grove Estate in Rivers State, set sail from the port, heading for the eastern waters of the South Atlantic—over 10,000 kilometres away.

As the vessel moved slowly away from the jetty, the sun hung low and orange, its light painting the wide river with streaks of fire. Old men at the docks spat kola nut, whispering prayers for safe journey under their breath. The air thick with diesel and the sharp cry of seagulls. In the background, local boys waved their wrappers, shouting, "Safe trip, make una bring fish come!" Women selling boli and roasted fish paused, watching the ship vanish toward open sea, hearts full of hope and silent worry. Some women tied red scarves, a sign of danger, while others sprinkled salt on the ground for protection.

But half a year later, on June 18, 2011, all contact with the vessel just cut off suddenly.

In Port Harcourt, the news ran through the fishing community like bushfire in harmattan. Palm Grove Estate women gathered at Aunty Bridget’s shed, counting days and fingering their prayer beads, while men hung at local bars, muttering, "Wetin fit happen for sea wey radio just die like that?" The air carried a weight of anxiety, as if the Atlantic itself was holding its breath. 'Wetin dey happen for Atlantic? Okirika Star don lost o!' blared from a battered transistor in Mama Titi’s canteen.

Two months after that, on August 12, the vessel was finally found and dragged back to port by a Nigerian fisheries administration ship.

When the Okirika Star 2682 reappeared, battered and dull, folks gathered at the waterside before dawn, some barefoot, others in house wrappers, waiting in near silence. The brass band that would usually welcome a returning ship stayed quiet; only the sound of seagulls and distant generator hum filled the air.

But out of the original 33 crew members, only 11 remained; the other 22 had disappeared without trace.

People gasped, some women fell to their knees, wailing and beating their chests. The surviving crew staggered down, their faces like people who had seen the end of the world. Some women tied red scarves, a sign of danger, while others sprinkled salt on the ground for protection. The elders exchanged glances, shaking heads, already suspecting that the Atlantic’s spirits had claimed their due, or that something darker lay beneath the surface. People say, "Ah! Na ogbanje waka for that ship."