Temi first saw the ocean when she was six. Her father lifted her onto his shoulders at a Lagos beach. The waves rushed and roared, pulling back like they wanted to take the world with them. She was scared.
Her father smiled. “Don’t fear it, my girl,” he said. “The sea is a promise. One day, it will carry you farther than you can imagine.”
Years passed. That day became a distant memory. Now Temi was twenty-four, working as an intern at a busy advertising agency. Lagos felt loud and crowded. Life felt small. At night, when the city grew quiet, she still remembered the sound of the waves.
One evening, on her way home in a crowded bus, she heard a radio announcement. It spoke of the Distant Shore Initiative, a project studying abandoned coastal villages. They wanted volunteers.
Temi's heart skipped. She was penniless for trips. Long journeys were not her thing. Yet she was unable to put it out of her mind. Her computer at home, she looked up the information.
Doing the application was a breeze. They only needed folks ready to learn and put in the work. Handwriting it, she told the sea story of the first time she had seen it. Shortly she giggled at herself for aiming so high.
Weeks later, an email arrived:
“Dear Temi,
You have been selected for the Distant Shore Initiative. Departure in three weeks.”
She looked at the screen with disbelief. The whole thing seemed not doable at all. She phoned to be sure it really was there. When she informed her mom, the latter scowled. "Temi, the sea is dangerous. People disappear in it." "I'm not going to catch fish, Mama," Temi replied. "I only want to explore the world." Her mom exhaled but still assisted her in getting ready.
On a bright sunny morning, Temi hopped on a boat with a small crew. They were led by a scientist Dr. Kareem, a nice person. Nia, an upbeat photographer, had on colorful scarves that waved in the breeze. Jonah, a silent sailor, managed the ropes very well. When the city disappeared, the smell of the sea was in the air and Temi felt liberated like he hadn't for years.
The city was no longer visible to them. The scent of salt was strong in the air. Seagulls were flying around above. Temi had gone to the railing and felt that she was freer than ever for a long time. The place they were going to was Ori Shore, a community once full of people and the sound of their voices. The flood had covered the area, so the inhabitants had evacuated.
The moment Temi arrived at the island, she was met with a quietude. The ruins of the uninhabited homes were visibly affected by the gale. Where the streets used to be, the coconut palms had made their appearance. A derelict house had a small wooden toy boat that was faded and torn. She removed the sand with her hand and carried it with care.
That night when the sun was dying down and spreading its orange and yellow hues, Temi sat next to Nia on the beach.”It’s really lovely,” Nia said, as she aimed her camera.”It seems like the end of the world,” Temi murmured.”Edges are where stories begin,” Nia answered.
During the night the storm came. The boat was swaying. The wind howled and the waves broke on the beach. Temi was awake and had to go out. She went out into the rain. Jonah was there looking at the dark sea. "You are not supposed to be here," he said. "You as well," replied she. Suddenly lightning lit the sky. For a moment Temi wondered if the lights that appeared on the water were really small candles floating towards the island.
Jonah watched too. “The locals say the ancestors walk the waves on nights like this,” he murmured.
Temi thought of her father. Maybe he was out there, walking the waves.
By morning, the storm was gone. The sea was calm and shining. The team worked, collecting samples and notes. But Temi kept glancing at the horizon.
Before leaving Ori Shore, she placed the toy boat back near the tide. “Carry their stories,” she whispered.
Despite all that, life in Lagos was as usual. Traffic jams, noise, and long working days were still the norm. On the other hand, Temi had changed. She used to go to the beach on Saturdays and Sundays with her camera to capture the sky and the sea. She got herself involved in a group that was involved in cleaning the beaches.
She was at the beach in Lagos where she had played as a child one night. Children ran past her, smiling and yelling with excitement. The sea was still and the wind was strong.
She thought of Ori Shore, of the storm and the lantern lights. The distant shore was no longer just a dream. It was a reminder of the wide world waiting beyond her small life.
She sent Nia a message:
“Thinking of Ori Shore tonight. Let’s plan another trip.”
The sun sank low, painting the horizon orange. The waves whispered against the sand, carrying memories and promises. Temi smiled. The sea was no longer just water it was a doorway. A distant shore. A promise kept.