Farin Ruwa Falls & The Shrine of Mbing

“Farin Ruwa Falls is a waterfall found in the central region of Nigeria. It is among the highest waterfalls in Nigeria. It is significant among Africa’s falls when the total height covered by the waterfall is considered.

The source of Farin Ruwa falls is found on the Nasarawa State, from whence it gushes down over the edge of the Nasarawa. During its descent from the Jos Plateau, the water drops a total height of about 150 metres (492 ft).[1]This drop is higher compared to the more popular Victoria Falls, which drops a height of around 108 metres (354 ft) during its descent.[2

Farin Ruwa falls is found in the Farin Ruwa Development Area, under Wamba Local Government Area of Nasarawa State. The falls is found along the boundary of Plateau State and Nasarawa State, under the Bokkosand Wamba Local Government Areas of the two states. The falls has its source on the Jos plateau, in the Bokkos Local Government Area of Plateau State.

The falls was discovered by the then Britishcolonial rulers of Nigeria in the 1950s. A catering Rest House was established in Gur Hill at Marhai village close to the falls in order to exploit it commercially. To protect its rich heritage, the colonial administration gazetted it and named it Marhai Forest Reserve. However, despite this early development, Farin Ruwa was consigned to the background until the creation of Nasarawa State in 1996.[3] The waterfall is about 120 kilometres from Lafia, the Nasarawa state capital, and 30 kilometres from Wamba town.

Farin Ruwa is a Hausa language word meaning ‘white water’. Farin Ruwa is a description of the nature of the falls by the local inhabitants of the Farin Ruwa area.[4]The height covered during the descent of the falls is very great, so that the descending water crashes during its way down the Jos plateau escarpment. The falls gradually turns white in colour as a result of the height covered by the falls during its descent.

The falls, as a result of its white colour, appears in the distance to the inhabitants of the Farin Ruwa area like white smoke on the mountains. This white nature of the falls earned it the name Farin Ruwa from the inhabitants.

Wikipedia.

“She is so blissfully naive!” I remember thinking as I spoke to Cherie.

Cherie was also an astounding romantic. She was a nice person.

In a few hours from when I first spoke to her, I would confirm that she too possessed the ‘X-Factor‘… One of us rare individuals who have the mystic cross(es) etched in their palms naturally.

Cherie has absolutely nothing to do with the story I am about to tell. I want her though. I want a new protégé. I need a muse esoteric.

The distance from the village closest to the Farin Ruwa Falls is about five kilometers from the falls. In the event that you overzealously decide to measure the distance, and my estimate falls short… Fuck you very much. Hehehehehe…

About a kilometer from the falls, you meet the two gentlemen who function as officials. They give you the normal talk and then lead you through an undulating depreciated man-made pathway through a corridor of trees so sparsely spaced it looks slightly unnatural.

But it is all beautiful.

The waterfall is nice…

Water is cool…

Blah… Blah… Blah…

I was being a gentleman and carrying Cherie’s backpack. At some point, she told me that I was a nice man. I remember replying that, “I am not a nice person; but I can be nice.”

Cherie has absolutely nothing to do with the story I am telling. I want her though. I want a new protégé. I need a muse esoteric.

Later that evening, after we had all returned to our Wamba campsite, we started to barbecue turkey, goat and fish.

I made sure to be positioned just by the shadows. I made sure that I was well noticed for about three hours. And then at a moment most auspicious, I faded off into the night.

I hiked back to the waterfalls. I covered the distance in about ninety minutes.

I gingerly approached the edge of the pathway where the officials would always start their talk, just before the first few cement steps bordered on one side by a very shaky metal hand rail.

Opposite that stretch of steps was a dilapidated hut. Earlier that day, the waterfall official had confirmed my suspicion that the place was a shrine. Long before white missionaries affected their traditions, chief priests would hike up to this point and consult the gods on issues ranging from permission to go to war and which crops would prosper during the farming season ahead.

I understood that there was usually one chief priest. The priest’s tenure was usually by spiritual appointment. The custom was dead though. Overrun by civilization and Christianity.

But earlier, my nostrils had caught a whiff of a distinct sweat type. Don’t bother asking me how, only my nose truly knows. I have learned to trust my instincts. In my line of work, instincts are paramount.

It was a waning full moon and so visibility was above average for that time of the night. The air had a zephyr that came and went every forty seconds or so.

I sat in the darkness on the forest floor Dandasana style and slowly dropped my heart beat and pulses to a significantly slower speed.

I am not sure how long it took me to ‘confirm’ (hear/feel minute movement and then perceive a scent/smell), but it typically takes a little over ten minutes.

I remained statue still and patiently waited.

From within the ruins of the dilapidated hut, a figure gingerly extracted itself from a hole in the ground. It glanced around furtively and cautiously stepped out of the ruins into the open.

This was who I was here for. ‘My client’ was quite specific. They just forgot to mention that it was a woman. Not that it would have mattered anyway.

Her bromhidrosis was quite bad. In the open, that body odor was really strong. She was wearing a simple dress that was so old it had become threadbare. She should not have bothered with the dress, there was little left to the imagination. Even under moonlight.

She barely had the time to react before I was upon her. I am a freakishly strong person, but she had strength like I had never seen in a woman. She trashed, bucked and writhed about like a catfish in a barrel evading capture. I had her wrists and ankles tied up firmly within a minute nonetheless. A few seconds to gag her too.

I activated my transmitter after deciding that a flare would be too overt. From that second, I had seven minutes to get to the muster point half a kilometer NW.

I picked her up in a fireman’s carry and began a slow run. She was not heavy and I had adrenaline in full circulation. I made it to the spot under five minutes. I therefore had about ninety seconds to understand who I was kidnapping.

I found my kit and secured the perimeter. I quickly donned night vision goggles, Honey Badger low visibility carbine, complete with a suppressor went under my left armpit, two stun grenades went into each pocket of my combat pants. I set off four smoke screens in a distinct pattern… I now had about sixty seconds to evacuation.

She was an albino. Her eyes had cataracts so bad I was sure she was blind. Her breasts were quite large and had almost no droop… She was not older than twenty two. She was whimpering and shivering uncontrollably.

I heard the sound of the apache and saw them toss out more smokescreen. I confirmed perimeter security via ‘comms’ and retreated for the pick up.

She was extracted in thirty two seconds.

I was jogging back to the campsite in Wamba by the thirty fifth second.

I got back without incident and showered briskly. It was about three am. I requested for an Uber online.

The cab arrived as requested by 7:30 am. I left the Wamba campsite citing ‘family emergencies’.

I do not know what ‘my client’ wants with an albino chief priestess from Wamba. Or how they knew that she existed in the first place. I try not to get involved. I am a professional.

Advertisements

The Auditor 

Felix realized too late that he had made a mistake. 

Chibuzor was too much of an ass to be this nice. Plus, the shady character Chibuzor had arrived with did not help curb his feeling of foreboding. 

As they both leaned over his shoulder, their fetid halitoses reeked of cannabis. That fact did little to ease his growing sense of unease. 

They had both failed his subtle tests of focus and concentration, they were clearly too high to vet or verify his accounting. So, they were in his hotel room for something else. 

 “Does the printer have paper at all?” He casually asked glancing toward his right hand side. 

Predictably, Chibuzor went towards the contraption, Felix rose swiftly but the other character was faster. Felix felt the sharp prick in his buttocks through his pajama bottoms. He immediately delivered a mule kick backwards. The grunt and satisfying squelch of the characters’ testicles was all the proof he needed as assurance of success. 

He swung his laptop viciously into the head of Chibuzor in one fluid motion. Chibuzor crumbled noiselessly. 

He felt the debilitating pain seconds later. He collapsed gently. From the floor he groped for his infinix hot note 2 on the table and feverishly punched in his password. He opened the application be was looking for and hit ‘OK’. With rapidly blurring vision he inputed his secret password and pressed ‘OK’ again. 

He managed to lock his screen just as the most intense flash of pain shot from his heart to his brain…and then everything went black… 


Monica sat forward, I had her attention. Her identical twin Monique favored me with intense scrutiny. 

They were usually very attractive sisters. Exaggerated vital statistics on women that were not tall… A very pleasant sight to behold, very easy on the eyes and soul. Please take it from me. 
I have been Felix’s account officer for over a year now. 
He was transferred into town to be with his wife Monica. They had been married for a little under two years. 

Felix came into town with his social guns blazing. He was a HASHER® through and through. A MANTREKKER® also… He was a very active participant in both hiking associations. He naturally (as an accountant and a Certified Financial Analyst) handled the post of treasurer in both groups. All payments for hikes and tours were made to and through his accounts. He was impeccable with money. The HASH® was almost three hundred members strong. MANTREKKERS® about a hundred and fifty members. The sheer volume of bookkeeping he had to handle was bewildering. Yet his finances were always conducted and balanced impeccably. 

I watched as tears coursed down her face as I handed over Felix’s statement of account and the contents of his safety deposit box. 

Ordinarily, your husband owning a home in a decent part of town should be good news. But this was a unique situation. 

Ordinarily, your husband transferring a hundred million in cash to your company account should be good news. But this was a very unique situation. 

Ordinarily, your husband making you his next of kin to his estate which included accounts totaling hundreds of millions should be good news. But this was one hell of a unique situation. 

The commotion outside was becoming calamitous. I rose and held out my hand to her, weeping she took my hand and rose. I led her outside… I made sure I had my arm around Monique’s waist, I had long range plans for her. She hadn’t gotten that memo yet. 

We were greeted by  a cacophony of cheers, screams, catcalls and a rousing ovation. 

“God bless you madam!”

“Oga Felix dey for heaven!”

“We are solidly behind you!”

“Aunty, nothing do you!”

I watched Monica’s face as it froze in a curious mask of sorrow, surprise, shock and happiness. Over three hundred people were gathered within the grounds and outside the gates. Powerbikes could be heard lustily roaring nearby. 

Felix was a ‘biker’ too. 

Monica glanced at me in dire need of some explanation. I drew her voluptuous twin tighter to me as I elucidated. 

To say Felix committed suicide was as ridiculous and as improbable as a child meeting a suicidal tiger for a Chicken Caesar salad in a restaurant in Abu Dhabi. 

To say that Felix embezzled close to a billion naira was as ridiculous and as improbable as a child having sex with an unimpaired giraffe in the middle of Trafalgar square. 

Yet, the official cause of death reported was suicide.

Yet, Felix’s office had attempted to freeze his accounts through various antigraft agencies and via multiple court injunctions, citing fraud. 

He had been in touch with me the entire time he was auditing the company headquarters in Lagos.

Felix was my friend, we go way back. He was a hothead. A speed freak. A gym rat. And a very good and honest Christian. His word was his bond. He had integrity. 

He was the natural choice to head the audit of the curiously defunct head office. Within days he had evidence on the scope and magnitude of a number of large-scale fraud.

And he would not play ‘ball’. 

One of the drawbacks of wire transfers… About a billion Naira was wired into his account overnight and the perpetrators sought to blackmail him. Either way, he was screwed he told me. These people were old aristocracy, had old ties in government and with access to old enchantments. 

One of the drawbacks of Internet money transfers (and an account officer that is your friend and high up the management ladder); at some point before he died, Felix transferred millions of Naira from the cash intended for his blackmail into the accounts of every HASHER®, MANTREKKER®, CHOIR MEMBER, BIKER AND FRIEND. It would seem that every account detail he ever handled, he inexplicably stored. It seemed that Felix transferred at least a million Naira to every account he could remember just before he died. 

The crowd here comprised of gratefully ecstatic Hashers®, Mantrekkers® et al, gathered to offer thanks (and swear allegiance and protection) to his widow, Monica.