'The Camp Experience' As Told by Seun A.

So my sister had just concluded NYSC and I wanted to know for myself what it was all about and to know just how accurate some of her ridiculous camp stories were. I was quick to realize she’d nailed it. Right from the gate of the orientation camp, the soldiers were eager to make our experience one we’ll never forget. Not in a hurry, I went with my suitcase and some provisions and on getting there, we were made to carry our luggage on our heads, and judging by the appearance of mine, it would seem that I’d packed for a family of 5. It was intense. I still had a carton of CapriSonne and bottled water that my friend and I thought wise at the time to bring along. Needless to say, we didn’t go back for it.

There were different things that stood out that I can’t forget about camp: There’s the mattresses, some of which could easily be mistaken as blankets at first glance; sharing a room with 37 other corpers with an old ceiling fan that really didn’t do us much good; the fire drill, which we had by like 2 AM (Come on! We could have at least woken up to something more of an emergency than a tame camp fire!); also Commander Captain Ijapa!!! (I could do a whole page on that guy).

The daily routine basically started off with the soldiers' whistles. God knows I could still hear that destabilising sound for about a month after leaving the Orientation Camp. It constantly reminded us to get up and go to bed every day. We’d wake up as early as 4AM (or earlier) to go get water to bathe and were chased out of the hostel by 5AM for morning devotion at the Parade Ground with those same evil whistles. There were also boring lectures in the morning and the hall could barely contain half of us. Later on, Skills Acquisition was also introduced, which was a plus. In the evenings, we had parades where we’d basically just practice how to march for our final day in camp.

Camp wasn’t all bad though. I did meet some cool people along the way and the Man ‘O War drill was fun and challenging, even though I had to take my Khaki trousers for ‘amendments’ more than once. Mammy Market was also one of the good things about Camp. It was always a busy and packed place (until the whistles were blown, that is) whether for eating, dancing, or just for having a good time, you know, hanging with friends or the guy/babe you’re ‘tracking’.

Camp usually lasts for three weeks. During the first week, there was a welcome party. That’s where I suddenly had a paradigm shift. The concept of youths being chased to a party tends to bring about that. We were also assigned to platoons and had duty rosters. I got Platoon 3. The second week was basically just long, then in the final week, most of the fun happened; from drama and dance competitions, to running track, football and volleyball. Then there were also the award shows for Miss Bold and Beautiful, Mr. Macho and Miss NYSC, and to wrap it all up, the Bonfire Night.  All great stuff! I can’t forget to mention the Talent Hunt Show. I was a proud contestant, attempting to serenade the crowd with my rendition of Wande Coal’s ‘Ololufe’. I did alright. I know this because although I didn’t make it to the semis, there were no chants of ‘Away! Away!!’ during my performance, which is more than I can say for most of the other contestants. Cruel World.

                   

Camp was a really new experience, one I’m grateful for. I think it made me tougher. But if I had to do it all over again, that would be as cruel as it gets. On getting out of camp, the real service started. I was posted to AUMTCO, an urban transport company for my PPA and assigned to the Legal Aid CDS, where I work for N10,000 a month, which is below minimum wage. But it comes to N29,800 a month  (NYSC allowee included). Some aren’t paid at their PPAs so I’m grateful. Corper credit alerts have become music to my ears, might I add.

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Seun Alabi is a Mechanical Engineering graduate of Covenant University. He enjoys singing and writing, especially songwriting. He lives in Port-Harcourt, Rivers State but is currently serving in FCT, Abuja.

My NYSC Progress Report - Osaretin A.

I stare in disbelief and despair at the indecipherable display on the screen of my Kindle e-reader. Apparently, I have somehow managed to put undue pressure on the screen during one of the many occasions I have shuffled it between my PPA, St. Patrick’s College, Asaba, and my aunt’s house, which I will call home for the rest of the service year. And just like that, one of my few safety nets, an incredibly eclectic library of over 900 books which would have helped significantly to protect my sanity in this droll, depressing Sodom of a city, has been lost. Yet another thing goes wrong for me here.

Things have been fairly hellish in this place for the past 4 or so months. Almost literally hellish actually, considering the quite frankly farcical levels of heat we see in this place. The sun has an ax to grind with everyone.  From the moment you step outside of the shade, it’s baring its teeth at you, and it feels like the sun is trying too hard to convince you it’s hot.

I had high hopes for Asaba. It’s the capital of an oil rich state. You’d have to assume it’d be buzzing with activity, a place where the big industry men and “oil rigs chicks” would come to play over the weekends after spending the week hustling for the money in Warri and Sapele. And on first sight, I was almost suckered in. 

The major roads are all pretty good, with streetlights that actually work. Beautiful houses lining side streets and supermarkets at just about every other building. My PPA was just handed back to the Catholic Church after being in control of the government for years, and so it has a beautiful new building and very few students. And I thought I’d hit something close to a jackpot. Besides the time I thought I could attempt to cook stew without burning the pot, I highly doubt I’ve ever been so wrong about anything in my life.

There is never light. I don’t mean that in a whiny way, like I don’t get enough light to be able to play games or watch TV as much as I want. I mean there’s never light. If we did not have a generator, every single thing in the freezer would spoil. If the gods have elected to smile upon you that day, you might get 3-4 hours of light, spread out in random one hour periods throughout the day. Probably when you’re not home. If the gods have decided to smile AND pat you on the back, two of those hours would be between midnight and 2am, so you get to sleep off with AC. However, the gods here frown a lot. So we’re usually sleeping without light. Dealing with heat and mosquitoes.

I think the mosquitoes deserve their own paragraph. Much like Disney and their endless parade of child stars, the mosquitoes here seem to have been manufactured in some factory by some shady evil corporation, just so you can buy the insecticide they sell. I swear they are resistant to Baygon, probably bathe in the stuff. And they’re big fat mosquitoes. The kinds of mosquitoes that would require two seats if they ever sat on a plane. I’ve had few more terrifying moments in my life than looking at my laptop screen while watching a movie in the dark, just to see the silhouettes of three mosquitoes the size of dragons flying towards me in battle formation. Next time I spray this house, I’m using holy water and a sword.

There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do. Your social options are limited to drinking somewhere, eating fast food, or watching soccer at a viewing center, one of which I know uses one of those really big billboard sized screens used for advertisements to broadcast most EPL matches. Which I guess is kinda cool. But with me being a teetotal, and Man Utd turning all my soccer experiences this season into heartbreak, I can’t even find solace in those. This would be tolerable if there was at least light so you could stay home and watch stuff and play games and sleep in a cool room. That’s far too much to ask though. 

Things are too expensive here. Everything seems to have been hiked up by about 30-50 Naira from the prices I’m used to, on small day to day goods anyway. Housing is crazy expensive too. My friend’s house, which I swear to you is smaller in its entirety than my bedroom in my aunt’s house, costs her 150k a year. Which is a discount because the owner saw she was a corper and had pity on her.

I could go on, but I elect to stop here. I’m stuck in a town where the sleeping hours have become the most dreaded part of the day. How bad is your life when sleep, which should be sweet relief, is now something you fear? I’ve woken up in the middle of countless nights, sweating and slapping at myself, tears hanging on the corners of my eyes, praying the sun is ready to rise, teeth bared, and scorch us again. At least the sun doesn’t buzz annoyingly in your ears. Instead of the government to try to fix the light problem, they’re spending copious amounts of money to build an utterly needless overhead bridge over a roundabout that barely even has any traffic. 

NYSC has not been the most pleasant of experiences so far. There’s 5 months or so left. I sincerely hope something changes in that time. Until then, I’ll probably head back to the Sizzler’s fast food place where I saw many girls going all dressed up like they were going clubbing; jeggings, short tight dresses and skirts, heels. (How sad is it that a fast food joint is what counts as an outing). Maybe it’s for the best if I meet them there sha. Meatpie is cheaper than Hennessy. 

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Osaretin Akenzua is Mechanical Engineering graduate of the University of Maryland, U.S.A., but has always had a passion for writing. He lives in Benin, Edo State but is currently serving in Asaba, Delta State.


#UnderTheSunOrInTheRain.