An Ijaw man carefully rows his dug-out canoe near the creek edge as the heavy waves rumble against his thrust.
The creeks form a labyrinth of straight-cut and meandering waterways. The waters burn with glistening bars of solar fire. Luxuriant high mangroves are lit up in kaleidoscopes of verdant shades marked by raffia palms, dates, wooded trees and shrubs of varying types.
It is low tide, and in most places the mangroves are stripped nude below their belts. Their arched roots stand precariously above the waters like the limbs of a giant spider.
A fisherman sits in a dug out canoe, battling with his nets. A man gently rows his canoe with his wife at one end and three festive children at the centre. A village of three shanties reposes in the shadows of a small forest opening. It is one of the numerous fishing camps dotting the Niger Delta.
Bags of bee hives cling to naked tree trunks. Pelicans fly overhead, scouting for their evening food. A Mona monkey struggles to keep his hold on a feeble tree branch. The forest thickets chorus an enchanting song from a distance.
The sun will soon start going to her place of rest, and it will not forget to sign the guestbook of the Niger Delta creeks.
A village of three shanties reposes in the shadows of a small forest opening.
“How many fishes do we need for dinner tonight?”
An awe-inspiring sunset is how the sun signs the guestbook of the Niger Delta creeks everyday.Tweet