The clock strikes 1:32 pm as the Abuja-branded taxi pulls into the makeshift garage a few yards from the 9th Mile Junction along the Nsukka-Enugu Expressway. But before our driver kills the ignition, a drama ensues as drivers of commuter buses and cabs simultaneously rush to the doors and boot of our Peugeot car hustling for business.
Some claim to know our destination even before we mention it, others woo us with cheap fare, while a few abuse those whom they think will be favoured in the fierce competition.
In all, the noise and showmanship by the drivers do not allow us respond to the Nnoo! Nnoo! (warm greetings) of two elderly women hawking ‘Okpa’, a local snack, at the garage.
“How much is your fare to Awhum Falls”? I ask.
“Oga, he doesn’t know the place. I will take all of you even to the caves for N3,000,” interjects an athletic-looking young man.
“That is too much. He is a thief,” echo many of the drivers. Having been warned earlier on safety, we are very observant and alert.
I pretend to buy Okpa and ask one of the elderly women how best to get to waterfalls. In a moment she calls three Okada riders (commercial motorcyclists) who agree on a to-and-fro deal for N800 each.
The journey on the bikes is not easy. It is tortuous and long because of the bumpy and hilly topography of the Udi-Ezeagu landscape that provided both protection and shield for the earliest settlers.
As the bike rider engages his gears to surmount and snake through a stretch of picturesque hills and across streams, some village children keep cheering our convoy. It is intriguing, though.
After some 65 minutes forth and back tossing on the bike, the Okada rider turns off the engine and beckons for his fee. It is until I give him half of the money that he points to the dusty footpath.
“That is the way to the falls and caves. That signpost says Okada should not go beyond this point,” he says.
I pay him and have a closer look on the signpost. There is no inscription on it that indicated prohibition of Okada. It rather reads: ‘No Cameras allowed’. It bears the monastery’s signature.
“Monastery?” I ask rhetorically. The motorcyclist is already gone to come back in one hour. But an elderly man replies: “Yes, it is the Catholic monastery that maintains the falls and caves.”
The man’s answer arouses curiosity and sets me on an adventure. The further we move, the narrower the paths get, and the more rugged the staircases. But the melodious renditions by rare birds and sounds of refreshing water in a distance keep us going.
I am charmed on sighting the two breathtaking falls that lures one to pull off his clothes for a marvellous shower. The towering limestone walls engulf the footpath and narrow into different parts of the cave. The statue of Virgin Mary standing on a platform above the path and beneath the caves raises no eyebrow until some devotees pay obeisance to the status on their way out. While my curiosity bites, my mind keeps urging me to just observe.
I truly observe and eventually discover the people there all came looking for solutions to their problems. Some kneel opposite sculpted figures as they offer words of prayer. At least they all have holy water in the plastic cans to take home. But some leisure-minded tourists who cannot resist the charm of the falls dive for fun. The swimming erupts bubbles of water vapour as well.
You keep seeing shades of rainbow as sunlight sneaks through the tropical vegetation and disappears on getting to the flooded narrow crevice. The crevice continues with a stretch of 300m cave where the twin cascades of Awhum Waterfalls rest. As the small waterfall reaches the cave at about 100m from the entrance, the big cascade intimidates visitors’ sight standing gigantically at the far end of the cave, while the flowing stream along the cave floors enthralls.
Moments later a group of people dressed in pilgrimage attire engage the whole beings at the site with their glorious choruses. But I steal the opportunity to take some snapshots made possible without flash.
Then I go closer, touch, taste and discover the coolness of the water. Of course, the freshness renews one after exploring the dim caves.
It is until we leave the cave that a fellow adventurer asks: “How did you do snap those pictures? I hope nobody saw you.”
While you may not be as lucky as I am in taking pictures, ask for authorisation to do so.
OBINNA EMELIKE
