This world is wonderful. Humans never seize to amaze me. Someone would run into luck and completely feel that luck does not expire. Well, everything has a life span including luck and secrets. Next time someone tells you to keep a secret, ask for how long. I knew what I had in my possession and to think that this luck came without life span is to fall below the moribund.

First thing I did was to buy a shovel. All through the time I had my bag, I have kept my promise; I acted normal, did not veer from a meeting I was attending that rainy Sunday afternoon, went back home through same station and train route and returned home early enough. If there was anything different on that day, it was not the news that USA has permanently suspended Bin Laden from our earth; it was that a black, Tea Party favorite, Herman Cain has joined the 2012 Presidential race under the wings of Republican Party. I read his line that Obama's $787 billion stimulus program "didn't stimulate diddly." I compartmentalized the informationÔÇŽpromising to look Herman up later. What was unusual but not remarkable was that I could not cook a meal or eat. However, I opened a bottle of London Dry Gin {Beefeater brand}, poured, dropped a piece of ice block, carpeted with lime juice, and tilted a bit for good result.

I sat down to sip. As I built up the tempo, I placed an idiom in my sound system and immediately, Ochi Shiho's sonorous voice came off the jukebox. It was her "Tamashi Revolution," a song she did with her band, "Superfly," for Japan official track during South Africa World Soccer fiesta, 2010. As Ochi Shiho rented the air, I quenched all the lights in my apartment and closed my eyes. Intermittently, I'd open them to put my hand properly over my glass of Gin.

I was ready to go to work. There was no time to spare. I parted my curtain and looked out in the sky. My gaze traced what appeared like a mushroom, enveloping each other, overlapping and traveling on a fast lane. It was as if the cloud was on a competitive race with every ridge adopting the speed of a bullet. Few stars I could see quickly fell off, swallowed by that speeding anime occupying the outer space. I mused over what love and understanding existed between these heavenly cobwebs, probably better than Dante's love for Beatrice. As I changed into a tracksuit, I thought that spring has blessed this day. Before I left to the back of my house, I unzipped the brownish colored moccasin bag and looked at the contents for a second time. I saw clearly that the money remains 10,000 Yen bills rapped with bank tally, virgin, untouched, unexplored. I did not count. I felt that it will be jaw breaking to count. My decision to bury the money came quickly; to take such bulk to a bank would attract security; to pay in through ATM would be like early morning prayer calls made by mosque Imams.

I stepped outside and started digging. The ground gave in both in flesh, pounds and moulds having been peppered by continuous rainfall for six days. I slapped in my shovel under the cover of darkness and dug slowly, one at a time, bit by bit. I lifted the soil, threw by the side and returned the implement to the earth. I had marked the position clearly, square-like. I dug on, my flesh sprouting teardrops from head to my underpants, knee and legs. I increased pace and dug faster. Teardrops of sweat assumed river-like status, running profusely, wetting my hair. I did not notice how pitch dark everywhere was until I stopped and examined the sky again. I observed that even ÔÇśada onwa,' had gone,ÔÇŽthat constant Northern Star Caesar prided himself of in Julius Caesar's William Shakespeare and Zik employed when he stated, "As Caesar was as constant as the Northern Star, I am as steady as The Rock of Gibraltar." I pulled off my shirt; my body sweat sparkled under incandescent lamp replacing the stars which I now miss.

I dug on and as expected, thunder occupied above, sending its hunger for leadership to earth. Lightning followed thunder, threatening as if addressing humans to submit to its whims and will. Heavens broke and rain poured in torrents. I put back my track top and dug faster. I had to be fast to avoid rain filling the hole even before I had the chance to finish. I changed position to the right and dug. Soon, I moved to the left flank, backing the road by my house and then I shifted, avoiding slamming the shovel on my left foot for only a greedy fly go down the grave with a corpse. Just when I wanted to return to my original position, thunder came threatening alarmingly as if it had planned to execute me. I rushed inside my house, placed the bag inside doubled plastic bag, ran outside and threw it inside that hole.

Quickly, I started covering with the pounds I had excavated. I backed dug space and filled in with soil travelling between my spread legs. I was faster than I had dug up. Thunder mixed with lightning and my ear shattered with deafening noise. At a point, I saw the lightning zigzagging towards me. I let the shovel slip off my hold, raised my left hand to high heavens, spreading all fingers, my eyeballs bulgingly open, I threatened back with a large breath, "A PRINCE CAN NEVER BE TRAPPED BY HIS Host"ÔÇŽmy spread hands directed the thunder and lightning to find favor somewhere else and they obeyed.

Now, I have filled back the soil but I was not done yet. I matched the surface, stepping with all my strength, dancing on it like the Cherokees of the South. When my strength expired, I picked up the shovel, raised it up and brought it down, slapping the earth, the soil with its back. The shovel fell repeatedly in thud renditions, clapping the soil. As I did repeatedly, I felt satisfied with my creation, my dug hole, and all the security measures I had taken. Because of the rain, I was no longer sweating like Nigeria Christmas goat. Smiles came to my face and I started singing. It was an immigrant's song. Those who came before me knew this song. Men and women yet to arrive shall know it.

Even before I arrived, they gave me conditions

Because this space is theirs'

I do not belong

But did I ever listen?

Where I find myself I must grow

Exactly why I plant now what I haveÔÇŽ.

While I sang, I hit the soil with end of shovel back. I felt like a raging bull, my strength renewed. It was as if I have not started, as if something was leftÔÇŽyet, I had finished my task. I looked around to see what was left and noticed a flicker of light. It must be a torch light. No, it was not a torch light; my neighbor had parted his curtain, looking at me from a window paneÔÇŽfor how long, I could not tell. I pretended not to have seen her, picked up my shovel and staggered inside.

Patrick Nwadike wrote in from Tokyo.