Chapter 2 – The Invitation
The news of Chuka's discovery spread like wildfire across academic circles and media platforms alike. What began as a modest dig in the red-soiled outskirts of Jos had become a sensation that transcended borders. Photos of his unearthed relics — ancient terracotta figures with hauntingly expressive faces — filled magazines, journals, and screens worldwide. For the first time in his career, Chuka felt seen. The once-overlooked archaeologist from a quiet Nigerian town was now the center of conversations in universities from London to Los Angeles.
Among those captivated by his work was Chief Roman — a wealthy Nigerian-American businessman with vast interests in oil, technology, and cultural ventures. His company, Roman Global Industries, reached out with an enticing proposal: full sponsorship of Chuka's ongoing research, complete with a scholarship to an elite American university. They offered advanced equipment, access to private archives, and opportunities that could elevate Chuka's work to global prominence. For a man who had struggled to fund even basic excavation tools, the offer felt like a miracle.
Chuka remembered holding the letter in trembling hands, the seal of the company glinting under the soft glow of his kerosene lamp. The air in his small office was thick with dust and disbelief. Outside, the wind whispered through the tall elephant grass, carrying the distant hum of the Jos plateau. It was a quiet night, yet everything inside him pulsed with noise — excitement, fear, and something he couldn't name.
His mentor, Professor Danladi, was less enthusiastic. When Chuka brought him the news the next morning, the old man leaned back in his creaky chair, studying the young archaeologist through narrowed eyes. "Roman Global," he muttered, almost to himself. "They never invest without purpose." His tone was heavy with meaning, the kind that made Chuka uneasy. "Not all patronage is pure, my boy. Remember that."
But how could Chuka turn down such an opportunity? The American university in question was one he had only read about in journals, a place where discoveries shaped the way the world saw history. For years, he had dreamt of studying there, of working with the same minds whose papers he had cited with reverence. Now that dream was within reach — and it had arrived on official letterhead.
Still, a shadow lingered behind his excitement. Professor Danladi's words echoed in his mind, mingling with the rhythmic drumming of the evening rain against his roof. He told himself it was just the professor's caution — the paranoia of a man who had seen too much of the world's politics and greed. Yet, somewhere deep down, Chuka knew there was truth in those words.
The following week, Chuka packed his belongings with trembling hands and a restless heart. The air in Jos was dry, and the wind carried the scent of dust and promise. He took one last walk through the excavation site — the cradle of his discovery — tracing his fingers along the ancient clay fragments that had rewritten his destiny. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the hills in orange and gold, and for a fleeting moment, he felt both triumphant and haunted.
He whispered a silent promise to the earth beneath his feet: that he would return, that he would uncover the full story buried beneath its surface. But as the last rays of light faded and the call of a distant nightbird echoed through the valley, he could not shake the feeling that his journey — though glorious — was walking hand in hand with something far darker than he understood.