Chapter 1: Sack Letter, Shadows, and Gold

Na so I waka under hot December sun, sack letter for hand, sweat dey drip for my back—yet na my chest dey burn pass. Just before Christmas, wahala burst at our construction site—the project stop like film trick, and dem lay me off join.

As I dey trek home that first day, the sun no get mercy, e just dey roast my neck. But the real heat dey my chest—my heart dey pound anyhow. Suddenly, e be like breeze just shift, air come heavy, like say something dey pin me from back. I dey look over shoulder every few steps, dey tell myself say na stress, but e no dey gree.

From that day, e be like shadow dey follow me—no matter how I waka, I feel eye dey pin me from corner. Dem say when your spirit dey restless like this, maybe person don call your name for night. I try shake am off, but my body no fit calm. Sometimes, I go pause TV for house, listen, but everywhere just still. Chills go run my skin, even for hot afternoon.

As days dey pass, my mind begin suspect say the company no just run out of money—maybe dem jam wetin dem no suppose touch. The whole sharp shutdown, the way people hush, and the settlement—omo, e get as e be. For Naija, company no dey close without drama, except say dem dig forbidden ground or find wahala wey elders no go like.

Our real estate company small, just twelve of us like family. For lunch, we dey gist, share bread and groundnut, even if you no too send person. Whether you like am or not, na one table everybody dey chop.

We dey do tourism project for remote area, as if oga dey run from city wahala. Sometimes I reason maybe oga dey hide—big man with one leg inside bush, another for city.

I dey always wonder who go buy those houses sef, but dem say oga get long money, and for here, nobody dey ask oga question. I fit dey office dey count ceiling, salary go still drop. Na so Naija be—if your oga strong, you dey alright.

With how market don spoil these two years, I just dey manage. Everybody dey shout recession, but nobody wan resign—even the NYSC babe wey just start don dey complain.

This year, all of us gather for one vacation villa project inside mountain valley for small Benue town. The place fine—red earth, thick bush, monkeys dey cross road anyhow. Early morning, harmattan go blow, your breath go show. Sometimes, local hunters go bring bushmeat greet us for site.

Company dey relaxed, so if oga no dey, I dey sneak go fish with Musa from engineering. Benue river get fish, no need fancy pole—stick and thread dey work. Musa na my padi—sabi gist, sabi catch, get sense.

That day, we just set fishing line finish when Musa phone ring—dem tell am make he rush come site.

I still remember how e freeze look phone, whisper, “Dem say make I come now-now. Something don shelle.”

I press am, but Musa mouth tight. E just shake head, “Make we dey go. E fit be serious.”

For site, anything fit happen. We pack things, rush back.

Even as we dey waka, my heart dey beat. I dey hope say nobody wound, but sudden call like that—wahala fit dey.

I follow Musa enter keke napep, and before we park, we see crowd gather for one big pit. Sun dey climb, shadow full the pit, people dey stretch neck—like market crowd wan see miracle.

To be honest, e shame me, but na that day be my first time for site, even after long project. I dey reason—how I go dey work for company, never waka site? Musa laugh me, say na only Abuja boys dey fear sand.

But no be totally my fault—our company dey slack for everything except safety. Any small thing, whistle go blow, “No helmet, no entry!” Even engineer dey fear safety officer pass rain.

Dem build proper security fence—like say dem dey protect treasure. Local children dey always peep fence, dey wonder wetin dey inside.

Anybody wey no be engineer must fill wahala form before dem allow enter. Name, mother’s name, next of kin—like national exam. Some people dey tire, just give up.

I tell myself, abeg, leave stress for people wey get time. My own na office work, collect salary jeje.

But when I see the site, e shock me. I just stand, mouth open—deep pit, soil pile high like small hill, dust choke everywhere. Sun dey shine, but for inside pit, na darkness. Smell of diesel and fried akara from roadside sellers dey mix for air. Workers dey shout in Tiv and Idoma, voices scatter like evening market noise.

This project suppose be mountain villa. Normally, no need basement—just build on ground, save money and time. But this pit deep, like well wey fit swallow two trailers. Workers dey cross plank—fear catch me.

If you use normal floor height check am, even villa roof no go show. I dey reason—if rain fall, wahala go. Who wan live underground for Benue? Na bunker dem dey build? Or dem dey hide something? Na only big men sabi this coded level.

Suddenly, e make sense—no wonder rich people dey rush buy for bush. One senator buy two units—now I see reason. No be ordinary project, na special assignment.

But the way people dey jolly—e no look like accident. Everybody dey snap picture, dey shout “See am!” I hold one guy, finally hear gist: dem dig gold comot.

My ear stand. Gold? Real gold? I ask again—no be play? Guy nod, say as dem break one hard rock, yellow stone just shine. One old hunter just shout, “Na so dem talk for our grandfather time—treasure dey this land!”

I begin reason—old chief burial ground? Colonial mine? Benue old, secrets full ground. I rush join crowd, wan see am.

I squeeze, push, brush sand—Naija spirit dey my body. As I catch small shine for ground, person push me comot. I nearly fall—na strong hand grab my shirt. I turn—na Musa. E face just lose colour, like person wey see masquerade for afternoon. Sweat dey his forehead.

Musa rush enter before, but e face dey shake. I try smile, but e eyes dey sharp. “Guy, wetin you dey find here? Abeg, commot! Security dey come, project manager dey come, even oga dey rush.”

If dem catch us, our matter go reach village. Nobody go defend us if query start. I quick gree. No time for talk. We waka back as if nothing happen. My chest dey beat like talking drum.

Two of us sneak go fish before, now we enter site direct. If HR hear, dem fit sack us—Naija no dey joke with wahala tag.

If security see us, wahala go dey. I just give Musa thumbs up, branch office, act like I no near site. I wipe sweat, try relax for chair, dey play game for phone. If dem ask, na ad work I dey do.

That day, company turn upside down. Phones dey ring, oga enter office with two police officers, people dey move up and down. E be like small party, but tension dey everywhere. Car after car arrive, office full of people wey I never see. Some dey wear suit, others dey shine shoe—Lagos HQ people. All serious, no smile. Check badge—all company people.

I ask secretary, she say, “Na all our regional oga—something big dey happen.” Next thing, dem tell us to stop work sharp-sharp and go house. No warning, no long talk. Even Musa pack bag, dey look me side eye. Most people no even sabi wetin dey happen—everybody just happy inside.

People dey snap selfie, dey laugh—“This one pass Xmas bonus!” I reason say e get to do with site, but as everywhere tense, I zip mouth. For Naija, if you too talk, na you go first chop blame.

That night, I call Musa many times—no pick. I even text—no reply. Mind begin jump, but I tell myself say e dey with family. I check online—no news of archaeological find. Maybe company cover am. Dem sabi people for government—just one call, story go vanish. Na only inside gist you go hear.

Early morning, I reach office, HR call me enter meeting room. My heart cut. I dey reason—wetin I do? Inside, familiar faces—engineers, admin, cleaner. Air con cold die. HR dey look us like she wan catch thief.

HR give us form—write wetin you do yesterday, time, who dey with you. Dem serious die. Some people dey shake, others dey wipe sweat. This one pass audit. I sharp realize—dem dey check who go site. For Naija HR, you fit write wetin go hang you if you no careful.

Luckily, na only me dey marketing. Project never start to sell, na only me for department. I just dey thank God say I no follow sales waka—na only me dey on my own. I write say I go town check ad placement, come back office. Add say I buy snack for junction—make e look normal. As long as Musa no talk, nobody go know say I near site.

I trust Musa—him mouth dey strong. For our side, loyalty na big thing. True true, after forms, HR no talk to me again. She just waka pass desk—e shock me, but I gree say e better.

But na then she drop bomb. She talk say small engineering accident happen for site, project suspend, and because company money no fit recover, company dey dissolve now now.

Everybody look each other—mouth open. You dey wait make she laugh, but e serious die. Dem give everybody N+5 severance (legal minimum plus five months’ salary—serious money), but we must sign say we no go leak anything about project, if not, we go pay back three times the money. Lawyer stand for corner, dey read clause. If you ask, e just point page. For Naija, NDA na just big grammar—unless dem add money join. I swear, money move people mouth—some even dey happy. Dem even buy ticket for everybody go hometown, pack load, dem go drive us go motor park that afternoon.

Some people dey complain, but who go reject five months’ extra salary for Naija? People dey snap cheque, dey call mama for phone. The money sweet, but the way dem fire us just shock everybody. Tension dey face, but nobody wan talk. Na so Naija be—if e sweet, you swallow wahala.

Me, I confuse pass all. My head scatter—this kain sharp shutdown no be ordinary. E be like dem dey hide something. Musa still never reach me, and site clear say na gold dem dig, no be accident. I dey reason—na only me dey think like this? Abi company wan chop everything alone? Na normal for Naija, but this one choke. E clear say person dey pull string from above.

As I dey reason am, I sneak go my lodge. I waka quiet, make nobody see me. My heart still dey do gbim-gbim. I bring out hand from pocket, open palm. I look the small piece—e heavy, rough, but the shine no be ordinary. My mind dey shake.

Inside, one heavy gold chunk dey, wey I grab during the wahala yesterday. Na risk I take, but as everybody dey grab, I just use leg cover small piece, carry am sharp. For this Naija, if you no sharp, person go pass you. Since company sef dey do like thief, I go keep am as souvenir. Even if na only this gold I get, at least I no go end up like leaf for Harmattan breeze—light, forgotten. I no know say this small gold go drag wahala come my door, or that my own padi fit disappear because of am.