Here is a schematic of the structure:
Okeke Solar Power Tower by Tunde Oni, 14, of Akika Village
The tower was made of industrial-grade steel that I found at the military junkyard two kilometers from Akika Village. Most of the metal had been sitting out in the hot sun for decades, but it was still strong.
It still dey kampke.
While the Okeke Solar Power Tower was not the most sophisticated heliostat power plant ever constructed, it did provide my village, Akika Village, with enough power to allow for several large lights at night and a generator to pump water. The lights were for protection against leopards and hyenas. Many times the hyenas are more dangerous than the leopards.
I am not telling you all this because I am a braggart. I do not want the village elders to pin a medal to my chest. The machines that I built were for the good of my family and my people. I am telling you this because word of my work got out.
People said, “There is a boy in Akika who can create machines. Any machine you need he can make. Go and see him. Go and ask him.”
And they did. Many people came to ask for my assistance.
People do share and I am not against this. I am proud.
So I was not surprised when a caravan of vehicles headed into Akika Village. What did surprise me, however, was that these vehicles were military and the men standing in the back of the jeeps were armed with machine guns and wore very serious faces.
Surely, it meant trouble had come to my home.
2.1
Years ago, we had a neighboring village called Tanko.
I could see it with a spotting scope from the ficus tree behind my hut, and I used to enjoy watching the ostrich farmers moving their flocks (these are called prides) about the dusty fields.
The patterns of movement associated with farmed Struthio camelus (common ostrich)
However, one morning I climbed up to my spot among the broad leaves to see with great fear that Tanko was gone. It had been erased; not a single building stood. Militants from the north had stolen in during the night and reduced the place to blackened earth. All the inhabitants were scattered to the winds. The aggressors did not even spare the ostriches, and we found burned feathers for weeks afterward.
Thoughts of Tanko raced through my mind as I scrambled down from the Okeke Solar Power Tower and ran as fast as I could to the center of my village, where the caravan of military vehicles had come to a halt.
At the heart of the military caravan was a limousine.
Out of this slick, black vehicle, stepped a large man in a dark suit that was heavy with medals and ribbons. Despite it being night, he wore aviator sunglasses. The dozen soldiers that emerged from their jeeps and stood around him in a protective circle carried submachine guns.
This man was General David Iyabo.
I am not ashamed to tell you that he scared me.
The general wiped a few particles of dust from his suit and straightened his sunglasses before he walked up to Muhammadu Diya, the mayor of Akika Village, and shook his hand very vigorously.
“Welcome to Akika Village, General,” Muhammadu said.
General Iyabo did not respond, but looked around our beautiful village and scoffed. It is true that my family and my neighbors live in mud and thatch huts. Only the wealthiest in our village live in concrete and tin dwellings. We are farmers, hunters, and shepherds. Outside of what I can build, we have no refrigerators, no televisions, and no telephones. We sleep on rattan mats handmade by Muktar, our finest village craftsman. (Despite what you might imagine, the mats are incredibly comfortable.) After taking the whole of the village in, General Iyabo pointed at the Okeke Solar Power Tower.
“Who built this?”
I raised my hand and stepped forward. “I built it.”
General Iyabo laughed, and his men all laughed with him.
“And what is your name?”
“Tunde Oni.”
“You are Tunde?” General Iyabo scanned the faces of the villagers. He saw that I was not lying.
General Iyabo said, “So, the rumors are true, you are a child engineer. You are very well known outside of this flyspeck village. You should move your operations nearer to the city. This place is much too small for your mind. This place … it is headed backward, not forward.”
Even though my village is a journey of several days by foot from the big city of Lagos, it might as well be on the other side of the moon.
I na serious village person oh!
Though Akika Village is in the “middle of nowhere,” it is very much somewhere to me. Here, I have my close family: my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and my grandparents. I have also my larger family: my people. Needless to say, the assessment by the general of Akika Village left a very poor taste in my mouth. But I did not react. General Iyabo was not a man you traded words with. He was a man who took great pleasure in organizing his verbal battles.
General Iyabo was, in fact, a decorated military man with the ability and cunning to think several moves ahead of his opponents. Who claimed numerous victories against rebel factions, insurgent forces, and cross-border terrorists. His long-standing battle against the “running dogs” of the militant Niger Delta Armed Front was something of legend across the country. But there was another side to this man as well. What the press never covered and what most citizens did not know was that this man was also one of the most successful thieves the world has ever seen. Me I no dey braga.
He was the most dangerous man in the country when he wanted to be.
“And how you dey, Tunde?” General Iyabo asked me.
“Man body dey inside cloth.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Though I have never been here, I control this place. You understand?”
“Yes.”
General Iyabo then pointed to the Okeke Solar Power Tower. “You must be very proud. Tell me, have you ever heard the story of the fighting roosters?”
I told him I had not.
“It is an old tale and very simple. There were once two roosters fighting in the yard of a farmer. After a long battle, the loser fled behind the barn to hide in shame. The winner, very proud of himself, flew to the top of the barn and crowed at the top of his lungs. His display attracted the attention of an eagle that happened to be flying overhead. The eagle swooped down and carried the champion away to certain death.” General Iyabo fell silent and let this story sink in before he asked, “Do you know why I have told you this?”
I shook my head.
He pointed again at the Okeke Solar Power Tower. “You should be very careful about your displays of mastery, Tunde. You could attract an eagle.”
As I shivered at his words, General Iyabo reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a small envelope, already opened, and handed it to me. I glanced back at my parents. They were as confused and as worried as I was but motioned for me to go ahead and look inside the envelope.
It contained an invitation to the Game.
“Do you know what this is?” the general asked.
“Yes,” I responded. But still I felt as though I might be dreaming. “I had been told that the invitations would be going out tomorrow. This is very unexpected.”
“You say that like you are disappointed, Tunde.”
“N-n-no,” I stammered. “Certainly not. I am very excited.”
“You have a deep regard for Kiran Biswas?”
“He is a virtuoso.”
“Like you, Tunde.”
“No. No.” I blushed. “He is much better than me.”
General Iyabo placed a hand upon my shoulder. He wore many heavy golden rings. “I was the one who sent you the e-mail. You need to know that even here in the middle of Naija, I have influence greater than the president’s. It is I who will allow you to fly to the United States and attend this competition in my name. You will make all Naija proud. You will show the world that I am a man of culture and that I want what is best for
the people that I serve.”
Much applause and cheers followed this statement.
My neighbors were overjoyed and started dancing. But I glanced back at my parents and I was very anxious. I could see the worry on their faces. I had never been beyond the neighboring villages. This journey would surely be the biggest of my life.
General Iyabo put an arm around my shoulder.
It felt as though a lion had his mouth around my neck.
“Come,” he said. “Show me what you have devised here.”
2.2
I led him to the Okeke Solar Power Tower and told him how it operated and how it was built.
“And this was constructed from junk?” he asked.
“It was built with repurposed materials,” I replied.
I do not like the term junk. It implies inherent uselessness and I have come to find that nothing is inherently useless. It is only a matter of finding the time, functionality, and place of the object.
To me, all objects are waiting to transform into something different.
“Do you love your land, Tunde?” General Iyabo asked. “Your village? Family?”
“Very much,” I replied.
“That is a good thing. I am here to help you and your village. You probably did not realize it when you woke up this morning but your life has changed. I am here to protect you and your people.”
“Protect us from what?”
“The big bad world.”
General Iyabo removed his sunglasses and stared into me with his dark, bright eyes. “I only request a small favor in return. I have a project I would like you to consider. Highest-level military classification. I have been trusted with power because I keep our land safe. I keep your people safe.”
This all sounded quite ominous and his point was very clear. He was not giving me a choice but giving me a command. And this command came with a threat.
I wanted to tell him: Guy piante from here! Leave!
But that would have surely ended badly.
So instead I nodded and said, “I will do what you need.”
General Iyabo smiled. It was the smile of a man who has never heard the word no.
He led me back to his car and opened the trunk. Inside was a briefcase with a combination lock. I looked away as he entered the combination and then opened the briefcase. Inside was a small black box that resembled a radio with a stubby antenna. General Iyabo handed it to me and I looked it over.
A typical GPS jammer
“It is a GPS jammer. Do you know of these?”
I did. A GPS jammer is a machine that blocks GPS signals. People use them all the time. Usually crooked people.
Looking down at my feet, I said, “They do sell these in stores and online.”
The general grew furious. “Do you consider me an idiot?”
“Of course not.”
The general composed himself. “I have never seen the type of GPS jammer that I want. It needs to be handheld, but much, much more powerful.”
“How much more?”
“Use your imagination,” General Iyabo said.
Anything that relies on GPS will run quite poorly, if at all, when a jammer is nearby. The types of small powered jammers you find online can throw off cell phone navigation software, confuse police car systems, wreck delivery trucks, and even scramble the sensitive equipment at airport control towers.
Imagine now, the effect of the jammer the general was insisting that I build. It would have the potential to shut down the GPS for an entire city.
If not a state or a country.
“And what will it be jamming?”
“This is not your concern,” he said. “I will be back here when you return from the competition. You will have it ready at that time.”
There was a lump in my throat the size of a tigernut.
The general wanted me to build him a weapon.
3. CAI
06 DAYS, 05 HOURS, 35 MINUTES UNTIL ZERO HOUR
Beijing’s largest rainstorm in decades brought the city to a complete standstill.
Of course, that wasn’t my problem at the moment since I was crouched in a ventilation shaft in an itchy wig and oversized overalls texting with a blogger called Rodger Dodger.
* * *
RoDo: house looks good. Lot of cops on the street tonight. Water’s nuts.
* * *
* * *
Painted Wolf: thanks, rog. How long it take you?
* * *
* * *
RoDo: thirty minutes easy. Nightmare out here.
* * *
* * *
Painted Wolf: just think: five inches of rain, the height of one glass of water, and the whole city’s kaput.
* * *
* * *
RoDo: that’s like us, right? Imagine if we could post five videos, five messages, and upend the city.
* * *
* * *
Painted Wolf: dangerous talk, rog. Thanks again for doing me that favor. Really appreciate it. I’ll see you on the other side. Stay safe.
* * *
* * *
RoDo: you, too, Wolf. By the way, where are you?
* * *
* * *
Painted Wolf: Pudong. In a ventilation shaft.
* * *
* * *
RoDo: Ha ha, you’re so crazy.
* * *
He wasn’t too far from the truth. I was crazy. Crazy devoted.
I was sixteen years old, a senior in high school (with occasional night classes at university), and one of Shanghai’s most infamous bloggers.
Under the name Painted Wolf, I’d been exposing corruption for the past fifteen months. I made surreptitious videos of public officials taking bribes or holding clandestine meetings with mob figures. I sent my videos to anonymous sources and they posted them online under my byline.
The key was getting my videos through China’s Great Firewall, an Internet security system so tight and well monitored that if I’d posted my videos inside China, they’d have been pulled within seconds. So I had to get them out to the wider Web and that meant having friends.
I discovered Tunde first, about a year ago.
I was looking for schematics on an old security system and stumbled across an engineering forum where “Naija Boi” was answering questions about wiring three-way switches. He was funny and incredibly smart. Tunde helped me figure out how to build a motion-activated spy camera and recommended someone he knew in the States who could program it. That was Rex. We bonded over our shared passion for freeing information and spreading the digital wealth and our shared distrust of hackers like Terminal. It didn’t take long before we started calling ourselves the LODGE (Rex came up with it, Tunde and I think it’s a bit goofy) and setting up a site to distribute material we liked and material we created.
Within a few months, our Internet presence went from completely unknown to legitimately respected. We had a home page where I posted my video and audio recordings, Tunde uploaded schematics and talked shop, and Rex did Q & As for frustrated coders. We also ran a few forums, doled out technical help, posted articles, and provided a place for other prodigies to hang out.
Because of the LODGE, I was able to get my videos out to a much wider audience, and that’s why the night of the big storm I was secretly filming a meeting between two corrupt businessmen on the seventy-second floor of an office building.
One of the men, a Mr. Shou Shifu, was an industrialist with a thin mustache and alligator-skin boots. A character. The other, Mr. Wang Lu, was a crooked diplomat who’d been in and out of trouble for years. Yet somehow, he was still around, lining his pockets and making a mess of everything.
Having them in the same room wasn’t as important as what I was hoping they’d do: Mr. Shifu was going to give Mr. Lu a briefcase full of cash to dismiss charges on a bribery case he’d been implicated in in Gambia. Mr. Shifu’s company was behind a disastrous offshore oil project that went south and left an ugly environmental mess.
>
I wanted footage.
“You understand,” Mr. Lu said, “I will need to be very cautious.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Shifu.
“It may appear, at first, as though the charges will be dismissed. In fact, they will speed up. But this is only to give the illusion that new information has come forward. I give you my word that the case will be dismissed within a month.”
Mr. Shifu smiled, reached for the briefcase. This was my moment.
I leaned in to focus and held my breath.
Mr. Shifu put the briefcase on the table, pushed it toward Mr. Lu.
Mr. Lu grasped the handle of the briefcase and then stood.
“Excellent doing business with you, Mr. Lu.”
Mr. Shifu stood and they shook hands.
I had it.
Screen grab from Painted Wolf’s hidden-camera video
At that second, I felt a zing, like a tickle, run up the back of my neck and over my scalp. It’s a feeling I get when I know I’ve stumbled onto something big. A wash of electric energy, like diving into a pool of soda.
Judging by the tingles, this was going to be huge.
The two men left the room, flicking off the lights, and I finally let out my breath. Thank God my parents had forced me to take swimming lessons as a child. I scanned through a few new e-mails while I waited for the right time to make my escape, and then opened the vent and climbed down out of the shaft. The gymnastics lessons were helpful, too.
Genius Page 3