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Excitement sent me to the shower on the 26th of October, 2019 as early as 5am. I was eager to see new places and have new stories for my baby sister. I slipped on my jean trouser and polo as fast as one about to miss his flight and sat on the gatekeeper’s bench outside the gate. Oga Audu the gatekeeper who always had no choice but listen as I ramble on about my adventures, saw me and smiled knowingly, while I bowed to greet him as was the tradition of his people. The sound of a fairly used motorcycle heralded the presence of my quiet acquaintance Hassan by 7.37am. His Bajaj Boxer Motorcycle sparkled from extreme care, Hassan adored it. We exchanged pleasantries as I climbed behind him with my leather jacketed files and the journey began. A huge heavy duty vehicle sped past us and the breeze nearly sent us into the bush, our only saving grace was Hassan’s riding expertise. Along Jebba road, Hassan turned the bike into a track road with bumps and long wet grasses. Few minutes later, he stopped in front of a house constructed with cement and mud with aluminium zinc. I climbed down as he gently packed his motorcycle. We removed our foot wears and bowed as we entered the house of the village elder. The elder told us we would meet a man in the interior part of the village, who would lead us to our location. I was super excited but asked gently if the distant was close by and Hassan nodded with his alluring smile. We appreciated the elder and left on foot. A man on a worn out singlet and a wrapper on his waist met us, and volunteered to walk with us. It had rained the previous day, he said and that explained the wet grasses and slippery soil. We trekked along a bushy path as the man told us funny tales about the village in their dialect, amazingly, his body language spoke more than his words, I also had Hassan, a native interpret whenever I felt lost. I noticed we’ve trekked for more than one hour when the man pointed us in a direction and took the opposite one which led to his farm. We walked in silence just recalling the jokes the man had shared with us. An hour later, we were still walking and my stomach wouldn’t keep quiet. I longed for Hassan’s motorcycle, while I made plans in my head to make him know I was tired without sounding weak. Looking up, I stopped in my track and Hassan looked back sharply thinking something was wrong, but he was wrong. I had only seen this in the movies, the palm trees, the small river that had no depth but was clean, blue sky, gentle breeze that passed through my hair like it did in the Indian movies I loved. I just stood and soaked it all in, then I took pictures and we moved on. Next, we got lost in the bush! Somehow we found ourselves walking in marshlands. Creepy insects and crawlies everywhere. I regretted not wearing my boots but a sandal which was now soaked with dirt, damaged forever. Hassan was already walking barefooted. My emotions took a sudden change from what it was few minutes ago, I felt like throwing up, disgusted and dizzy all at once. Hassan just kept smiling all through. We followed that same path and saw a huge river before us. A fisherman redirected us to a little boy of 8 and he canoed us across the river. That was my first time in a canoe, but I jumped in it simply grateful to be out of the marsh soil. After another hour of canoeing under the blazing sun, we saw the village I was sent to aid. The setting was so rural, they walked on barefoot, a huge stench of abandoned fish farm stung my nostrils, mud houses with raffia roofing was all I could see as far as my eyes could go. But I noticed just one different thing, everyone here smiled, a full blown on grin. My heart was stolen right there.