Chapter 7: Landfall—Welcome to Ice and Fire

Xuelong 2 dey cut water, dey go Antarctica with full speed.

Ship dey vibrate small small, like the way Keke napep dey rattle for pothole. Cold dey enter my bone, I dey wrap myself like akara.

As we dey go more south, the cold just dey increase.

No be small matter—your nose go freeze if you no quick cover am. Even the oyinbo people dey shiver; na only some Ijaw man for Bayelsa dey act like say e no dey feel anything.

Three days later, we enter Antarctic Circle.

The icebreaker dey crush thick ice for front, the noise dey make my teeth wan fall.

That kind sound, if person no get strong mind, e fit think say e dey inside spiritual warfare.

Fourth morning, noise wake me from sleep.

As I rub my eyes, look outside the porthole, na white land everywhere:

Wilkes Land, Antarctica. We dey about land.

I see seal wey look like dey pray for sun, penguin dey waka waka. I dey thank God say I dey see am with my eye.

Captain voice come for loudspeaker: Everybody, wear cold-weather clothes, goggles, sun mask, line up, prepare to take small boat reach land.

Antarctica get warm and cold season; November na warm season, coast temperature na zero degree. Even inside, coldest place na minus 35—na like winter for Jos.

Jos cold dey bite, but this one pass am. I dey wonder if I go still dey see my nose after.

As I ready, I join Nigerian expert team, come down.

We dey form small circle, dey yarn pidgin, dey take small selfie. Somebody shout, "No fall for snow o! E no be our own!"

After days for sea, to step for Antarctic snow na big relief—ground dey under my leg. The cold dey enter my bone.

I nearly kneel thank God say my leg still dey, even if cold dey bite reach my marrow.

Security teams from every country dey offload equipment, everybody dey group as dem plan, begin survey work.

Na so dem dey share instrument like gala for Lagos traffic; every country dey hustle for their own.

Dem pair me with one young expert from Osun, Akinwale—im name long, so I just dey call am Wale.

Wale dey arrange snowmobile wey dem just bring down, then whistle for me:

"Old Ife, make we dey go!"

Na so I adjust my boot, squeeze small smile—Wale own ginger too much, I like am.