As the harmattan haze settles over the Niger Delta, a thin veil of frost clings to the mangrove roots. A faint, icy whisper drifts through the air, joined by a softer murmur that feels like a distant lullaby. The lead whisper (Whisper 1‑a) rises clear, while a second breath (Whisper 2‑b) weaves beneath, and a low paternal voice (Dad Voice‑a) rumbles like an elder’s story. Gentle waves lap against the shore (waves‑lapping‑on‑rocks), binding the whispers into a single, meditative hush perfect for