Camp | Zikoko!

Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

5:30AM

Look, I am never believing any soldier again. In the heat of yesterday’s competition when the MC (a fellow corps member) saw that we were going to take long, he begged that we be allowed to sleep a bit longer. It’s a fair arrangement: the next day is Saturday, and in all fairness, we were finished with the NYSC timetable. We need rest too.

Now imagine my shock when the bugle sounded at 4AM this morning, and my anger when a solider poked my leg with a stick to wake me up.

I get up, dress in anger and a feeling of betrayal. Soldiers are not to be trusted. Not now, not ever.

6:00AM

Funny thing: coming to the parade ground was a waste. I missed morning meditation, and by the time I arrived at the ground, there’s nothing left. I am not marching, I am not doing anything, in other words, I have wasted valuable time coming here.

Today is the carnival. All platoons will dress in jeans and a white round neck shirts bearing designs unique to their own platoons. I came prepared, I brought jeans. When you come to camp too, come along with jeans. If you intend to participate in Miss NYSC, you can also come with your own dress, and a traditional attire. Young men hoping to be Mr. Machos should also come with corporate outfits, and maybe three litres of vegetable oil.

10:03 AM

Lmao. This carnival is trash. Other carnivals in other states dress in traditional attires, fancy costumes, and they move about, happy and colourful. But here in Katsina, our carnival is like an awareness walk. Awareness walk is even better. We simply gather under the pavilion, and the MC calls us out to dance according to platoon. It’s a travesty of a carnival. Even street carnivals will see our carnival and laugh.

Because, what’s the point of a carnival like that in the afternoon? What’s the point of buying face masks if you will do nothing but sit under a pavilion and listen to Naira Marley on repeat?

2:15 PM

I forgot to tell you. Today is the cooking competition, and all platoons are saddled with the responsibility of cooking dinner by ourselves and for ourselves. There will be judges who will taste our food and award us marks.

They give us pepper, salt, maggi, vegetable oil, tomato paste, detergent (to wash pot, not to cook abeg), quarter bag of rice, raw meat, firewood, Onga, and all other things they deem enough to cook food.

But then the problem is that these things are not enough. And this is where people begin to do oversabi.

You know those people in university and secondary school, those ITK classmates who when asked to define Osmosis, say, “According to Albert Einstein 1945, page 201, column 11, line 43, Osmosis is sfhdlahd.” Shebi you know them na? Them full this camp.

Ordinary cooking competition that they gave us rice and pepper for, some people started to prepare salad, banga soup and starch, fried rice. I think some people even prepared amala and ewedu. One platoon went to buy crates of soft drinks. Another platoon went to rent aprons, table cloths, decoration fabric. Tiri gbosa for una. See my platoon people, we gathered and told ourselves we are not participating. Competition that they will not judge us fairly for anyway. Why kill ourselves?

7:40 PM

Food is not yet ready. We are supposed to be done by 8PM and take it to the parade ground for tasting, but since we are not done, will the judges please eat firewood and salt? The Camp Director came and said, “Let me tell you, if that food is not ready by 8PM, know that you are going to taste it and judge yourselves by yourselves.”

Why sir, that’s so kind of you. How did you know we have the same thing in mind?

8:23PM

Food is ready. Hot party jollof rice with fried and stewed beef. We bought extra pepper, vegetable oil, butter, and seasoning cubes. Our money will enter our mouth.

We carried it to the parade ground, but we went to the far back, not to the front. We stood there with our table and just chilled.

It was in this this chilling mode that we heard that our platoon came in 8th. On top food wey them no taste? Food wey we no even carry go there? Indeed, God is a miracle working God. We kuku burst into song: He’s a miracle working God. He’s the Alpha and Omega, He’s a miracle working God!

See clapping, see dancing. Even other platoons were forced to look at us and wonder about our excitement. But we didn’t even care. We simply set up table and started to serve our platoon people with one sachet of water.

The food of rebellion is sweet, I tell you. Those of us that cooked got extra meat, and later when we cleared up, I still ate extra. I must have eaten up to seven pieces of meat. Yep, seven.

Later, we heard that the eight position was for kitchen duty and that Platoon 4, the same platoon that cooked heaven and earth came last in kitchen duty.

Lmao. Is life not a pot of burnt beans?

Kunle Ologunro

November 24, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Camp, NYSC, NYSC DIARY
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

7:15 AM

Today is my last Friday in this camp. Waking up, it is no different from the other Fridays I have spent here. But it feels different, and when the soldiers come banging at the door, my friend F. says that very soon, all this gra-gra will end. I can’t wait for it to be over. I really can’t. At this point, the soldiers do the most. Being forced to come and parade in the evening, forced to social nights, forced out of the rooms. This morning, they have added a new strategy to chasing us out: they pour water in the room. Sometimes I think that this camp feels like prison with a tiny slice of liberty. Each time I think thoughts like this, I understand the importance of freedom, of owning your time and doing with it whatever you want, the importance of dressing up in what you like, eating what you desire, going where you desire.

NYSC camp is the place where you learn to value your freedom.

10:15 AM

Because it is the last Friday, we close the SAED skill acquisition program and do an exhibition of the things we have made in our various classes. The people at plumbing exhibit a shower with running water; those at makeup do a live face beat of a model; event planning/management exhibit a couple’s spot in wedding; agro-allied, a hen and some eggs in a crate. Those in tailoring exhibit a long gown, short gown, a kimono, and a dashiki. In leather works, they exhibit bags and slippers that I consider beautiful. My SAED class, Food Processing, exhibits cookies, cakes, salad cream, punctured and non-punctured doughnuts, glazed doughnuts, cup cakes. We also exhibit some tools of the trade: cookie cutters, measuring spoons, etc. I assist in decorating the cup cakes, putting sprinklers atop them, and fetching water to clean the utensils. After the exhibition, I leave for the OBS studio, exhausted.
2:30PM

Lunch is rice and beans. It is delicious, I must admit, but the fish is small and it is fried so deep it has become tasteless. I am about to finish the meal when I hear that they have started paying allowee. That excitement!

I finish up, clean my plate, keep it and dash to the Accounts Section. A crowd is there already: Nigerians, we too like money! The allawee is N19,800, forget that talk of it being increased to N31,800. To get it, you need to present your NYSC ID card. It is unlike the transport allowance of N1,800 which you need to present your meal ticket for. The Bicycle Allowance is N1,400. In total, you get N23,000 in cash from NYSC at the end of your 3 weeks in camp. I have collected my transport allowance. And it’s not even enough for transport anyway. I spent nothing less than N10,000 from Lagos to Katsina, so N1,800 is like a drop out of an ocean. I am yet to get my N1,400. Each time I go, I am told a new story—”Come back, come back, you keep coming at the wrong time.”

As soon as I get my allawee, I pocket it and find my way out of there. It’s just like someone said, “Some people go leave this camp with three allawee, you go see.”

E no go be my own allawee, biko.

4:27PM

The cycle continues: we are forced to the parade ground where we sit on the floor while the soldiers ferrett out those who are hiding from parade and marching. When they are done with their witch hunt, they let us go, but even then we don’t have freedom. We head to the football field or perch by the roadside or sit under the pavilion. We cannot go back to the hostel, we cannot go to Mammy Market, not even to get water.

I am tempted to complain, but then I remember that there was one time I prayed to God to help me go to NYSC, help me wear the white white and the khaki. Now that this prayer has been answered, why complain over what I specifically requested for?

1:20 AM

Yes o, 1:20 AM in the midnight. This is the time I head back to the hostel to sleep. We just finished with the Miss Camp/NYSC and Mr. Macho competition where my platoon came third for Miss NYSC. Look, I am not siding my platoon or anything now, but the judging was not fair. Not fair at all. Anyway, God in heaven sees us, and I know that we will be vindicated, because I know that you don’t believe me.

But see ehn, guys do the most. To be fine boy no be by chest alone o. You must get something for upstairs.

After all the groundnut oil that the Mr. Macho contestants rubbed on their body, to answer questions became a war. One guy was asked to name the president of the United States and mans couldn’t. Another was asked to sing the NYSC anthem, and he took it from 0 to 1,000 in a second. But the one wey pain me pass na this guy. He was asked to list two countries bordering Borno state. Guess what he said?

China, South Africa.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was how everything burst.
Kunle Ologunro

November 23, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Allawee, Borno, Camp, NYSC
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:00 AM

NYSC camp ends in 5 days.

Today is the inter-platoon drills competition. I wake up feeling a little excited. Days and days of marching, and finally we get to showcase what we have learned. All the right wheel, left wheel, slow march, breaking into quick march. I can’t wait.

But first, I have to go to the parade ground for morning drills and meditation. The competition is by 3pm and so I have to get breakfast, go to the OBS to cast my own segment of the program, and attend SAED lectures and practicals. There’s a whole lot before the competition. But I am not afraid. I know my platoon will win.

8:15 AM

Breakfast is yam and stew. It’s a huge disc, but also so soft. I devour it while preparing what to say on air. The program goes in pidgin, and me and my co-host have so much fun on air that I never want to stop speaking pidgin.

I’m still confident about the march past. Very confident. Platoon 2 will win.

12:00PM

In SAED class, we learn about U-Report. I don’t know if you know them, but long before NYSC camp, I used to receive texts from a number, texts referring to me as U-Reporter and asking me to reply so-so to so-so questions. Me I always ignore them sha, because this is Nigeria, Nigeria where all telecommunication companies are thieves by night and network operators by day. You can go and reply a text message now and next thing you know, all your present recharge and subsequent recharges will suffer a deduction. Me I don’t play rough play, abeg.

In this place, I learn about them afresh. I learn that it is a social SMS platform created by the federal government and the UN to address social issues relating to education, health, social amenities, child abuse and the likes. According to the man, you have opportunity to send issues because the system operates based on SMS sent to your phone every week. The SMS is based on questions about health, education, domestic violence, rape, etc. They could send you a text asking if people from your community go for antenatal.

Basically, it is a way to facilitate change and a way to hear the concerns of the grassroots. And then again, it is free. At the end of the lecture, they ask us to text a particular code to join, but me I don’t. I am still paranoid. Tables can turn any time and my poor airtime will suffer for it. I can’t risk that.

1:15 PM

In the catering class which is actually called (Food Processing), we sweeten our yoghurt, and then proceed to make spring rolls.

Midway into the class, we all want to leave because parade will soon commence and we are all antsy. We need to get lunch. We need to get our khakis from the dry cleaners. We need to lay edges and slay. Stew must be poured on the parade ground. Pepper must be poured into people’s eyes. And we don’t want to be in any SAED class. Set us free, this woman. Set us free and let us go and march!

3:00PM

And march we do. When we appear on the parade ground, platoon by platoon, we are snatched. Bright coloured sashes on our shoulders to identify the right marker, parade commandant, left marker. It’s hot, but people are wearing make-up, not bothering that it will soon melt like ice cream. Edges have been laid, hair styled and shaped. Even our sub-guard commandant has shaved. Them must to take. We put on gloves. We arrange our white handkerchiefs which will make an appearance when we are leaving the field. I said it, no time to play. We came here to step on throats.

No jewelry, no waist pouch, no wristwatch or anything. Just us in our khakis. The first and second position gets a gold cup, the last gets a long wooden spoon which is a thing of shame.

Shame will not be our portion in Jesus name. We say our prayers. We line up. And then, we move. Platoon 2 for the victory, y’all.

7:00PM

We came in 8th.

If I hear you laugh or anything, I will find you and kill you. And I mean it.

We didn’t come first or second or third, we came in eighth.

Those judges don’t know what is good for them. They don’t, because how could they pass us by?

In our own defence, we were the first to march, and this meant that we were in full view of everyone. So when our platoon member fainted while we were waiting for inspection, everyone saw it. We were not the only one to have a member faint while waiting, though. It’s almost like an inter-platoon competition of fainting. We’d been kept in the sun for too long and so it was inevitable. But we had reserves step in. It all makes sense to keep reserves now.

I know our legs did not align during the left wheel and slow march. But that was all about it. Asides that, I don’t know what else happened. Even our commander (Oga Soldier) said that we did very well. Even beyond his own expectations.

But we came in 8th. Anyway, sha we did not carry last. At least that one is there.

And is it our fault that the judges have bad taste?

Me I will not tell you which platoon came first. If you want to find out, come down to Katsina state and don’t vex me.

9:00PM

There are no social activities tonight. The competition finished late, and so the Camp PRO considered us. E better o, because it’s not me and them that will come and be shaking bumbum after carrying 8th position. Which useless bumbum? Nobody should vex me abeg. Camp is kuku ending.

Kunle Ologunro

November 21, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Camp, competition, Interplatoon, katsina, NYSC, Parade
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:30AM

The countdown begins; NYSC camp will soon become a thing of the past. But before this happens, the soldiers are bent on showing us who is superior. It’s another day, another round of drills and marching and wondering what exactly all this will amount to. I go through the activities of bathing, brushing, and dressing up a little confused about what I am doing. Let’s be honest, do we understand what we as doing in this Nigeria?

8:30 AM

I am on air again. I host the current affairs and today in history segment. Today, I bring a twist to the show — interesting facts about the human body. Did you know, for example, that when you kiss someone you pass on 278 bacteria to them? Relax, you Farm Equipment. 95% of these bacterias are harmless. You’re probably thinking, “Only 5% are harmful, no wahala,” but think of mouth odour. What if it is caused by the remaining 5%? You better stop kissing entirely. Something that is not even sweet.

Breakfast is pap and beans, as per recycle of meals. I add milo and peak milk to the pap, and mehn, issa cruise.

1:15PM

Chopist class. And I am here to enjoy it to the fullest. ENJOYMENT GALORE. We are learning how to make doughnuts. The instructor tells us about the punctured doughnuts, the non-puncture(d) ones (that is, doughnut wey no get hole for centre), jam doughnuts, glazed doughnuts, etc. Then we set about mixing our dough and leaving it to rise, kneading it, rolling it and then cutting it into pretty circles of dough. We place them on a tray and set it out in the sun so it can rise again.

In the meantime, we learn how to make a pancake and I am given a bit of it to taste, but someone smacks it out of my hand to the floor after I take one bite. Shebi you see that bad belle full everywhere.

Anyway, we fry the doughnuts and they come out brown and fluffy, with some of them having a slight crisp that makes it even more enjoyable. And it’s hot too. Imagine this kind of delicacy going with a bottle of cold Fanta.

I swear, after this SAED training, na to go open shop remain. We’re going to do gizdodo tomorrow. I don’t know what that is, but I’m guessing a combination of gizzard and dodo.

3:10PM

This is the moment when I discover Teni’s Billionaire. I love it! Especially the thing that sounds like “Crip!” which was mentioned at the beginning. It’s a wonder of a song, and the music video has a story that I really love. So far in this year, Tiwa Savage’s 49-99 and Billionaire are the two music videos I have found love in. Yes. There are other music videos, but I hardly know them because I no dey watch TV. Where I wan get see am? Thank God for YouTube and the gift of brand new music videos.

7:00PM

Dinner is rice and a river of stew. A small meat too. I head to Mammy Market to get something to snack on, but it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for you to find proper snacks at that market.

K. joins me at Mammy Market to rent dresses for the lady who is representing our platoon for the Miss Camp/Miss NYSC competition. The dresses look like Mary Amaka gowns, some that look like costume for church drama, some look like maternity gowns, some look like the costume for someone playing angel in a Christmas carol. And there’s that tacky red and black dress with false diamonds and whorls of sliver and black gathers. It looks like something a masquerade should parade in. Who on earth designs these things?

In the end, we shortlist three dresses: one complicated looking but actually simple dress with a train. It has leaves printed on it, and it makes me think of coffee, but it is beautiful. The second dress is a tornado of gold fabric. It looks like the adult version of those ready-made gowns they buy for girls at Christmas. All that remains is a hat with rubber band to hold it under the chin, plastic sunglasses, and white socks trimmed with organza, and a baby girl is a born.

The third dress doesn’t even size our prospective queen. It has been slimfitted to death and even though it looks like it has prospects, we do not get to see it. The woman says not to worry, that we can loosen it out.

After this shopping, we head to another stall to price glitter for our Mr. Macho. I hear that we will rub groundnut oil on his abs and smear him with glitter so that when he flexes his chest and stands before the whole camp in his underwear, ladies can fall in love. American Wonder part three and four. Orisirisi.

8:45 PM

Another OBS meeting. It means no social night, but OBS meetings are long so I don’t even know what to feel. But I do something new. As soon as the Camp PRO finishes addressing us and an OBS exco comes up to start part two of the meeting, I promptly fall asleep. No be me una go kill, abeg.

Kunle Ologunro

November 19, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Camp, Doughnuts, NYSC, Obs
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:50 AM

It is only in NYSC camp that Sunday is truly a day of rest. And I mean it o. It is the only day when you get to do nothing until 4 PM when it is time for evening parade.

It’s such a relief. I take my time doing everything, including waking up. The first day that I don’t have soldiers waking you up with that annoying bugle and I won’t sleep well? God forbid o. God forbid.

I do my laundry, get bath water and rearrange my clothes. I want to go to church; I didn’t go last week and this week I must go, God punish devil.

9:43 AM

Heading to church now. I have sufficiently missed breakfast, so I stop at the staff canteen to get bread and fried eggs. It ends up being a small punishment because I don’t find water to drink. Someone gives me a sip of tea but that even adds to the wahala. Devil is this your plan? Is this how you want to come? Hahaha, my God has shamed you o.

The woman at the canteen tells me not to joke with church. She tells me that corps members die every year, and that some people get go camp and forget God. In a way, she makes me miss my mother. That’s the kind of thing Mama Kunle would say. I nod, and I head out as soon as I down what remains of my bread and fried egg.

12:30PM

EVERYTHING THEY SAY IN THIS CAMP IS AIMED AT GETTING US TO STAY BACK IN BORNO.

Seriously. Camp lectures, SAED, and even sermon. The sermon was okay, yeah, but then the pastor veered in the Stay-In-Borno direction, I didn’t even know what to do with myself again. It’s all cloaked in spirituality, of course. Like, discover the will of God for your life. What if God has programmed you to stay in Borno state? Remember Jonah? He redeployed to a state out of God’s will for him and look at what happened. I know a lady who earns 600k per month working with NGOs. I work directly with commissioners. I am from Benin, I have not even met my state commissioner. But look at. See, follow the will of God. There is direct connection to God in the North.

You people should stop. If I will go to Borno, I will go. Leave me to decide, don’t push any agenda into my decision process. Leave me while I think, abeg.

12:50 PM

I stop to see the Camp Director so I can ask him what my chances are if I decide to stay back in Borno. He says I have a good chance: get posted to the capital, receive state allowance, if I want, I can stay in the NCCF lodge and if I don’t, I can stay somewhere else.

Have I submitted my application for redeployment? Yes.

Well, I can change it if I want. I just have to write a letter of cancellation and submit it to the people at ICT. If I don’t want to write a letter, I can decide not to go to wherever I decide to relocate to after I have been posted. Just write a letter of cancellation and that’s it.

It looks (and sounds) more complicated than I am making it seem. And in a way, I am a bit divided. Don’t ask me why. Even me I don’t know.

2:49PM

Lunch is Jollof rice and chicken. I got a chicken drumstick but this one doesn’t look like a drumstick. More like a broomstick. The Jollof rice is concoction, abeg. But e sweet sha. But let’s be honest sef, wetin no dey sweet for hungry man mouth?

7:00PM

The rest of the day spirals into a quick end. Evening parade is a drag and only God understands where all our energy has gone. Dinner is yam pottage and fried fish. You people will not believe what happened to me o. I begged them for tail of fish, but when I was served the fish, I was now regretting that I begged for it. The thing looks like it has gonorrhoea. I left that place shedding tears internally.

11:00PM

Shebi you know that my hostel people do the most in yarning okoto meow gist? Well, this night is no different. They begin with the talk of “Can you sleep with your best friend’s babe?”

Answers:

A: No na, that doesn’t make sense.

B: That’s rubbish.

C: What’s there? I can do it na.

And then:

A: It means you can kill your guy na.

B: But what if they do it for you? Like say, make your guy dey gbensh your babe?

C: Wetin dey there. So far as I no know about am.

Me: Jesus Christ the son of God, look at the people you died for. Just look at.

Kunle Ologunro

November 18, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, katsina, NYSC, Sunday
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:30 AM

Today is the day that my luck will shine, but I don’t know it yet. I go through the daily rituals (wahala, actually) of waking up in NYSC camp and head to the parade ground and after everything ends. Shebi you know that we do morning and evening parade? Well, this morning is when we will test what we have learnt. This means that all platoons will march like we are doing the march past on Wednesday, which is the day of the parade proper.

We get in line. Everyone is tense, because the camp commandant is present and every platoon wants to outshine themselves. Me I am just worried about doing the right thing.

Anyway, we march. Round and round the parade ground until our jungle boots are coated in dust and we look like something from the Dust Age (is there something like Dust Age sef?) My legs and yansh hurt, all that clenching of butt to stand at attention and locking your knees so your legs can swing as stiff as a log of wood.

Breakfast is pap and akara, and I am halfway into it before I realise that they’re repeating food in this camp. I don’t blame them, because to be fair, how many kinds of food do we have in this part of the country? How many, eh?

11:08 AM

Shebi you know I said that luck shined on me? Now is the time. On Thursday, the day that SAED people did Digital Skill Acquisition and I got a knapsack, they gave a topic and said that there will be a debate. The topic is The Role of National Youth Policy in the Development of a Nation. Maybe not in that exact order sha, but that’s the general idea. So they said that all platoons will debate on it and winners will be selected. My platoon people nominated me for the debate, but I just didn’t put it in mind. Actually, none of us did. Too much camp stress and you expect us to have debate in mind? Make debate dey debate himself, abeg.

But these people came today again, and fiam, they said “Oya o, debate people come out, it is time.”

For a minute, I was this confused crab from Sponge Bob, because where will I start from?

I Googled stuff, did what I could, and then went up to talk rubbish, very sure that I was even blowing grammar bombs. So imagine my surprise when my platoon was announced as the third position. Like!

Funny enough, we tied with Platoon 10 which my friend F. represented. Na so we dey o, two friends, bunk mates and former course mates winning in Katsina. Cash prize for third position was N2,000. Me I did good boy and went to hand it over to platoon leader. In the end, it came back to me, but not until I did Father Christmas of 50% (do the maths) for platoon people.

Here’s a picture of the envelope, so it won’t look like I didn’t give you something.

1:15 PM

I have a rant. Why is it that when they have an emergency, people will tell you to “quickly” borrow them cash, and when it is time to return it, they give you audio money?

Let me tell you about G., for example. I was doing my own waka jeje in Mammy Market when G. stopped me to ask if I had N50. One spirit was saying I should just tell him sorry and waka pass o, but as per good Samaritan, I searched my waist pouch, told him I had N20. He said he was about buying water and the N50 tore, so he needed N50 or more. Did I have N100 or something? I said yes, as per Our Lord of Tender Mercies that I am. He took the money, and when I asked if it was dash or borrow (so I can know whether to look away or await earnestly), he said, “Anytime you need it, just let me know.”

My had-I-known face

Only for me to ask him during evening parade and he said, “Abeg, abeg.” I wasn’t even asking for the whole cash o. I just wanted N50 back so I could also pay the debt I am owing K. I swear that thing pained me. And it’s not the cash or something, but the fact that I asked him if it was dash or borrow. I wanted to rant like that “Angry Woman” in the “Angry Woman and the Cat” thread. But I just cooled myself. Na me fuck up na, abi no be me?

4:23 PM

Only God knows what they put in the egusi and eba that they served for lunch today. I ate it and I became weak o. I slept, woke up and then slept again. It felt as if I had lost momentary use of my senses. I was just looking like somebody that they jazzed. I had to buy bread and egg to eat so I could regain myself. Yes, I eat to come alive. Judge me all you want.

10:50 PM

Come and hear o, you people. I saw somebody smoking today in the hostel! Our true colours don dey come out o. That was how the guys in my hostel said that the girls are feeling the lack of sexual gbas gbos more than the guys. Another person now added that shebi they are already touching themselves, that they are already becoming lez. Me I just sat down like a mop, absorbing all this messy gist they are spewing.

The social night was boring, as usual. I’m sorry o, but me I am just like that. Other people find it interesting, I know, but each time I have to dress up for that children’s birthday party they call a social night, my vibe don already die. I just go there to fulfill an obligation.

It is on my return from the social night that I saw this guy, right by the toilet side. I smelled weed when I passed, but O. said it was cigarette.

The Camp director said this morning that, “As the Camp is winding down, people will begin to steal/show their true colours,” and now it is starting to make sense.

I just have one question: does this mean that before we leave, they will catch people doing intimate gbas gbos?

Ah, drama and I’m ready for it.

Kunle Ologunro

November 17, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, NYSC
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:00 AM

The longer I spend here, the more I want to go back home. So far, it is fun mixed with hard work set to make us better citizens. But to be honest, is this training having any effect on people yet? Take Bros for instance. You know he was meant to he decamped yesterday? Well, I heard he was pardoned and told to write an undertaking. I don’t know what is in that undertaking, but I am sure that it must be something on being properly behaved till camp ends.

Now you can imagine my wonder during morning mediation when I see Bros in all his peerless generosity dispensing abortion tips to the ladies. Like, from where to where, Bros? You no suppose dey mellow? But Bros is in his element, talking about how hot peppers can help a pregnancy disappear.

Today’s morning mediation is commitment. Perhaps it is safe to say that Bros is only being committed to his ways.

8:14 AM

Off air. I have just read the news, and if I’m to describe how I feel, I would say I feel a mix of elation and disappointment. Here’s why: I was slated to read the news in pidgin and I had been excited about this. Only to hear that morning news cannot be in pidgin but in English, and that pidgin might be considered later, but English is paramount. So even though I am excited to finally read the news and not just do a newspaper review, I am still a bit flattened about this refusal to allow me speak pidgin.

Breakfast is bread, tea and boiled egg. I relax at the OBS studio. Soon, the bugle sounds. It is time for SAED.

12:03 PM

Here’s one thing you should know about Fridays in NYSC camp: if you’re a Christian or a Muslim who for some reason best known to you decides not go to Jumat or a traditionalist, Friday is one of the days where you get almost four hours of idle time. Once SAED practicals end by 12PM, you’ll be let off. Muslims prepare for Jumat around this time and don’t return until lunch which is by 2PM. 2PM is about ths time we have lunch, and on their return, lunch is probably being served or about to be. You take lunch, siesta, and when it is almost 4PM, the bugle is blown for evening parade which will most likely begin by 4PM. So, free time!!

At SAED practicals, we learn how to make fruit salad and vegetable salad. Thanks to the sudden twist of the universe, I become the trainer’s unofficial PA and amplifier who echoes whatever she says to the class. What this means is that I get to stand beside her, help throw things away, take pictures with her phone. You know, those kinds of thing that make people call you a teacher’s pikin. Me, I kuku want to eat extra salad because I did not pay for practicals. I left class earlier yesterday and I didn’t know that they contributed for today’s practicals.

In the end, I ate extra salad as I planned. My labour did not go in vain.

8:30 PM

You already know where I am, don’t you? And if you don’t, it’s the social night. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll miss the military regime that is this camp when I leave. You know, having someone force you to do something that will turn out well for you. I don’t know yet if I’ll miss it. What is known is that this camp is ending, and that when I get home, I’ll spend days in my bed, eating hot things day and night to banish the cold from my body.

This camp don show me pepper.

Kunle Ologunro

November 16, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, Friday, NYSC life
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

6:30 AM

Technically, we are now edging towards the second half of NYSC camp. Today is the 10th day, and in 11 days, I will be back home. The routine is pretty much the same: early rising hours, soldiers banging at doors, the bugle blowing like an annoying thing that it is, morning meditation, parade, etc.

Something new happens this morning during meditation: four people are called out, and the camp director announces that the police will help them pack their bags to the gate.

Ghen ghen. Do you remember Bros? The one who caused trouble in the kitchen on the day our platoon had kitchen duties? He is one of those called out, and this is when everything goes skrrr. We are told to continue with our activities, but who can do that? We listen for our numbers on the roll call, but all the while, our eyes and ears are trained to the place where the people to be sent out of camp are being interrogated. Eventually, I learn that Bros fought with a camp official and when he was told to keep shut, he kept at it, asking, “Do you know who I am?!”

For minutes, we keep up our banner of pity and make excuses for Bros: Yes, he is lousy, but can they please be merciful? They should pardon them na, as per first time. In a way, I think that this is the reason why Nigeria is slow in attaining change. We hate an attitude, and when such an attitude receives its due, we make excuses for it.

All of us in this country should please pick one struggle, abeg.

7:50 AM

I am on air today again, and it is fun, as always. I join U. in presenting the Current Affairs and Today in History segment. At the end, K. and I get the tag which declares us OBS members. This is the tag that grants us access to get out of parade and other duties, except duties coordinated by devils in guise of soldiers. OBS does not mean you’re not going to do other things, we have been told. But then one can be disobedient once in a while, yeah?

When I get the tag, I tell K., “Let’s go and paint the town red.”

Breakfast is pap and beans, and like the first time, I achieve an orgasm as soon as I taste my beans. It might not be your taste, but one man’s vegetable salad is considered goat food by another man.

9:50

SAED lectures again. We learn about digital marketing, which I find very interesting. Interesting enough that I do not sleep a wink, and I attempt to answer a question on browsers and search engines. At the end, I am given a knapsack which is something I have always wanted since.

10:01 AM

We begin our work of baking. Today, we’ll ice it. The instructor dishes out the procedures which I won’t share with you, because if you want to know, you sef come to NYSC, Borno camp. Yep, I went there.

Note this: anytime it comes to free food, people lose consciousness of their humanity. You should have seen some of these fine girls and boys shouting because of a slice of cake. Hard guy, hard guy but ordinary cake and home training goes on flight mode. Tueh.

2:00 PM

Lunch is tuwo and okro soup. For me, it’s a 5/10 sha; I would like a bigger meat, please.

We return to the parade ground to fill out a form called certificate form. More like sign it, actually. A passport at hand, and a scan of our details to see if they are entered correctly. Mine are.

6:00 PM

Parade is winding up at this time. It is a mess, but also interesting. At the end of each day, it feels like my arms are about to be torn off from my shoulders, all that marching and swinging of hands.

An interesting thing has also happened: the camp commandant said our level of indiscipline is appalling, and he too, is up to the task. In his words, “If you say you are a cultist, me too I am a night crawler.”

Me I was just surprised sha. Like, people actually have the time to do cult inside all this stress? Them no dey tire? Nawa o.

Anyway, it means even more strictness: no black tights for ladies, no below the knee shorts, no three quarters, now we have to leave early for parade, get up earlier from bed or risk being told to do frog jump.

9:15 PM

I’m at the compulsory social night. Me I don’t know when party became by force to attend o. But sha, I am having fun. If not because of the interesting-ness of the drama and dance, but because of the obvious discrepancies in their play. Because how can you have a Yoruba king who has an Edo queen, both of whom have an Igbo son? How do you explain that?

God safe us.

Kunle Ologunro

November 15, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, Cult, katsina, NYSC Camp, NYSC DIARY
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

5:27 AM

Back to being a regular platoon person. Back to going to the parade ground which, to be honest, I am now starting to enjoy. I am supposed to be at OBS by 4 AM for broadcast, but a local man cannot can. I wake up by 4:19 AM and I realise that with this OBS thing, some battles have to be left for the Lord to fight, so I return to my bed until people begin to move about, waking me from my sleep.

Today’s meditation is handled by Platoon three. They speak on loyalty. Nigeria wakes up. Our platoon leader takes roll call. As soon as he calls my name, I sneak out of the parade ground.

It’s my 9th day on this camp. It is the first time I will be on air as a newscaster.

7:50 AM

News casting goes well. I was slated for headline review. K. and I reviewed headlines from Punch, The Guardian, The Sun, The Nation. When it’s over, the head of the news department hugs us. She is excited. I go on to grab breakfast.

Breakfast is yam and stew. The yam is like a pestle, something you can hurl at someone if you intend to kill them with one blow. Just throw it and boom, they’re dead and gone. Mine is soft, sha. But K.’s is hard, and even though we fry eggs to go along with it, she ends up throwing hers in the bin, half eaten.

9:03AM

SAED lectures begin, my sleeping pill that never fails. But this lecture is interesting, and it is because we talk about money. Corps members’ allowance, incentives, etc. Now this is an interesting thing that people posted to Borno state should note:

There is the option for automatic redeployment when you are posted to Borno state. But if you choose not to redeploy, you get N10,000 as state allowance; you get posted to the capital, Maiduguri; and you get free accommodation. There’s more, I heard, but it looks like they are unveiling it slowly. Me, I think it’s a ploy to get us to stay back. The incentives are attractive, but I am thinking of the distance, the fact that I’ll probably see my family just once throughout the service year. And maybe all the opportunities I’ll be missing?

Anyway, there is the opportunity of thinking things through. And if I don’t like/want where I relocate to, all I have to do is not make any move within 21 days, and I’ll be relocated to Borno state. There’s still so much I need to learn about this, and I am certainly waiting. Who knows if I will meet the love of my life in Maiduguri, Borno? Who knows?

12:00 PM

We are deep into our SAED skill. I belong to food processing (catering, abeg leave big grammar and packaging) and we are learning how to bake cupcakes. And they’re a beauty, aren’t they? Love of my life, if you’re reading this, look at the skill I’m adding to my husband material CV.

1:12PM

An emergency bugle takes us out of our hostels. We are peeved, to say the least, because this bell is not for lunch, and didn’t they tell us that our practicals end by 2 PM? We leave for the pavilion anyway, and find out that a new guest has just arrived and wants to have a word with us.

I am too tired, and half her words fly over my head. I know she is advising us, telling us to believe we can do it, to remember that nowhere in Nigeria is safe, anyway. I realise that it is a ploy to keep us in Borno. It might not be, but right now, everything about Borno seems to me like a narrative to keep us from leaving, and this is what makes everything suspicious.

I mean, I would like to stay if I want to, but choking me with the “positive images” and and other reasons why I should stay looks like there’s something you’re trying to hide. You don’t see Lagos Camp telling corpers why they should stay in Lagos. Yes, I know, Lagos isn’t portrayed the same way Borno is, whenever it comes to security. I doze off, and when they say lunch is ready, I run to queue for the rice and stew.

9:15 PM

Every other thing is the same: siesta which makes me a little disoriented when I wake up; the bugle blowing for the parade at four; the parade, at first stressful and then enjoyable; Nigeria going to bed by 6PM; dinner of egusi and eba; OBS meeting.

In between this, I attend fellowship where they play a video of Borno state and let us that Borno is a lovely place to serve. The video is too video-y: people in a mall, playing ludo in a room, eating from a large pot and looking happy, the governor giving out money. I have questions: What about those who don’t want to live in family house? Certainly, they won’t serve in a church for a whole year; where they get posted to as their primary place of assignments, how much do they earn?

The social night is fun, until Platoon three presents a dance that is so confusing, so mismatched, so prolonged and annoying that people stand up and leave while they are still on stage. Guess what? They keep dancing! The light is switched off, but they keep dancing. As per show must go on, but this show already ended before it even started.

Tonight, Platoon 3 will be roasted for dinner. And I’m here for it.

Kunle Ologunro

November 14, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, katsina, love, NYSC DIARY, relationships
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

5:03 AM

It’s Sunday. The first Sunday on camp, and as soon as I wake up, I know that I’m going to drown myself in a river of sleep. Activities such as morning parade, devotion and meditation, are not going to take place today. I cannot be more glad. We are free to dress as we like until 12 when we are to return to our whites

Fellowship hour is 7:30 till about 11 am. I spend those hours doing laundry, cleaning my side of the bunk and rearranging my things. I do not go for breakfast.

1:01 PM

I visit the staff canteen for breakfast which has of course become lunch. I settle for bread, fried eggs and tea. Lunch comes not long after; Jollof (concotion, really) and chicken, can you believe it? I’m partly full when it arrives, so I eat only half of it before I get tired. I spend the hour arguing about what university is the best while telling myself I should get up and do something better with my life.

3:45 PM

We are back on the parade ground. This begins my show of shame. We are asked to march, but I keep messing up the commands, keep forgetting how to halt. I swear, it’s the chicken they gave me. I know that I am not entirely useless. I know it deep down within me. So you can imagine my deep hurt when the soldier drags me out and casts me on the rubbish heap with the rejects who cannot march. Later, he says we should go to the field and clap for the footballers. Just imagine.

My God will judge you, Mr. Soldier. MY GOD WILL JUDGE YOU.

6:10 PM

The bugle has just been blown; Nigeria has been laid to rest, no pun intended. I am supposed to join the other rejects in their clapping and cheering duties, but God forbid. A whole me, clapping and prancing like something inside hot oil? Again, God forbid. I spend the rest of my time filling in my redeployment/relocation form.

A brief information about the relocation form: it is the form that facilitates your relocation to another state. The form was given to us and is to be submitted today, with a handwritten letter requesting relocation to xxx state on security grounds. In the form, you fill in your name, course of study, call up number, state code, reason for relocation, and the state you’re relocating to. I’m relocating to Canada, just in case you want to know.

7:03 PM

Did I tell you I signed up for OBS and got in? If I didn’t, then I did. And tonight is our first meeting. I am assigned to the programs department, for current affairs. We are drilled: be punctual, think of how to generate income, drive people’s attention, make them listen to you. We are reminded that we have only two weeks to shake things up, and we better make the most of it. By the time we are done, dinner is over. It’s yam pottage and fried fish. I like pottage, but sadly, I missed it. I end up scooping powder milk into my mouth for dinner. Didn’t they say eat dinner like a beggar?

10:15

There is another social night again. And like you must have guessed, it is another show of shame. It’s like a children’s birthday party, a primary school’s end of the year party, only with people twerking and bored people loitering around and trying to make connections. Sunday has been a slow day anyway, why not have the party? But rather than speed up things, it only drags the day even further. Drags it terribly. It’s a shame that we are forced to attend it.

In all honesty, this NYSC is starting to tire me. I hope my time at OBS will bring fun. I really do.

Kunle Ologunro

November 11, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, katsina, NYSC
Everyday by 12pm for the next 21 days, I’ll be telling you what life is like at NYSC Camp. I was posted to Borno State, but the camp holds in Katsina state due to Boko Haram insurgency in Borno. You can read all the stories in the series here.

2:41 AM

Strange things are happening, good things are happening.

A flurry of movement wakes me. Today is the swearing in. I tap O., but he does not stir. I go alone to fetch my bath water. When I return, I go to bed again, but it’s hard to sleep. I drift in and out until I finally stand up some minutes before 5 am.

And then it begins.

A voice in the room says he has something to tell us. He says we should hear him out. Everyone is busy with preparation, but ears are cocked. And the voice gives his message: we should pray. Muslims in the room should please not take offence.

He is from NCCF, he says, and I think, “Wait, are NCCF people now in our room?”

NCCF is Nigerian Christian Corpers Fellow by the way.

He begins with a song of worship. We sing, cold mouths opening up heavily, slowly. He persists. Tells us to shout Halleluyah. Prayer is important, do we know? Giving thanks to God. We have not had any case of theft, shouldn’t we give thanks?

In the middle of this, I head to the bathroom so I can get a spot before it becomes crowded. I am wrong. In the end, I take my bath in a doorless bathroom, so much for keeping myself.

7:57 AM

Parade begins about this time. This is after morning devotion where brethren from fellowship bodies remind us of our duties to God, after the morning mediation titled Obedience. Parade today is a little humorous, never mind that today is the swearing in, that monumental event that will transition us from prospective corps members to bonafide corps members. Humorous, in that the new intakes keep messing up the commands, being unused to the actions accompanying them.

“Stand attention!” and some people still have their hands by their sides rather than the back.

We are warned: this event will have dignitaries in attendance, we better not misbehave. Our conduct will determine the overall tone of the camp experience, either good or bad.

We are told how to dress: in our khakis, jungle boots, crested vest, everything, sans the jacket. No water bottles, no sunglasses, no waist pouches. Come the way you are.

We go over the commands again, march of the flag parade, signing of the oath form, salute of the officials.

Hours later, we are dismissed for breakfast, and told to go prepare ahead for the swearing in.

10:55 AM

We are back on the parade ground for the official swearing in. We are all clad in khakis. My khaki smells like engine oil, but I am afraid to speak out. Finally I do, and B. confirms it. It’s the printing ink.

Let’s be honest, some people deserve tiri gbosas. The sun is hot enough, but some ladies are in full make-up and faux eyelashes. I’m pretty sure that by the end of the parade, such an affair will end in tears. All that makeup, all that sun. One thing must give way for another.

The parade is as you might expect: hot sun cooking us all, dignitaries ably represented by someone else. But there is more: people are fainting. It is expected, but it quickly goes beyond the expected and soon, Red Cross officials begin to dart across the camp to pick up people. It is a believable fainting, yet also so highly staged. At least that one I am sure of. A guy in the queue next to mine is tapping his knee and laughing, laughing, laughing. Two minutes later, Bros is on the ground yelling muscle pull.
One of the members of the flag party faints on her way to sign the oath form with the Chief Judge. Entertainment is suspended because of the extreme weather. We become rowdy, mimic the Chief Judge’s pronunciations as we recite the oath after him. We are carefree, and there is hardly anything the soldiers can do to us but look on in horror.

11:46 AM

I return to bed to get some sleep. I am extremely exhausted. Since I got here, I sometimes catch my dozing on the parade grond. I fall into bed with relief and it welcomes me home.

2:50 PM

I slowly return to my default settings after sleep loosens me up. For a few minutes, I stare at people like I’m not sure what I am doing amongst these people. F. keeps asking if I’m alright.

Lunch is Jollof rice and boiled beef. The Jollof tastes like premature Jollof: concoction. And I think it still needs a tiny pinch of salt, but it tastes nice. And I devour it with gratitude.

4:15 PM

This may or may not be the beginning of good things, but I don’t know it yet.

We return to the parade ground where we are told that we are to abide strictly to the rules, now that we are bonafide corps members. The camp commandant addresses us. “A lady was caught wearing bum shorts to Mammy Market yesterday night, where do you think you are?! If we get hold of you, you will be dealt with severely. Discipline is needed!”

In other words, we must always be dressed in whites. Rubber slippers will be confiscated. Phones must be silenced or switched off on the parade ground or it will be seized and returned when the camp ends. Do not smoke elsewhere but the smoking corner at Mammy market. Ladies, do not carry hairstyles that will be too much for you to handle. Do not wear shades unless they are recommended, and you must provide a paper to this end.

Me attempting not to zone out:

B. is a fellow platoon member, but so far, we have a connection. I know what you are thinking, but I have not found love yet. B. has a positive energy, one I really like. Since we line up according to platoons, I often find myself before or behind her. And we often talk about random things. But this evening, we roll different. I tell her about the

“Is Ashimolowo a bad bitch?”tweet I found once on Twitter, and that provokes a bout of laughter. Soon, everyone is a bad bitch. The soldier with his new fancy hat. Me when I decide to talk in defiance of orders. A fellow corps member in sunshades. Bad bitches everywhere.

https://twitter.com/Unkle_K/status/774256517793153024?s=09

But the most interesting part comes when a fellow platoon member is being bullied and called Bob (meaning Bobrisky) in a condescending manner. I know how this feels, and this manner of toxicity irks us to no end. We decide to fight for him/talk to him at the end of everything.

His name is G., and contrary to what we think, he is actually tough and able to defend himself. From him, I learn (again) that not obviously reacting to whatever people do to you will show them that you’re not bothered. It is different from taking offence which will show them that they are definitely hitting home with you.

And believe me, G. is full of life, full of light. He is the life of the party. And I like this kind of energy instantly. The field empties and we’re all still talking, happy, getting to know eachother. B, the girl I may or may not have a crush on wants me to meet her friend O. who is also my friend and bunk person. O. introduces us to R., and we introduce him to G. The atmosphere is full of all round love and we’re all kumbaya-ing when I realise that someone, we’re all connected and NYSC is the thing that brings that connection to life.

I remember that B. finished from Babcock. G., from Kwara State University. Me, from University of Ilorin. And I realise how true it is that NYSC is a place to meet different people from different schools and different worlds.
Kunle Ologunro

November 8, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, Camp, katsina, NYSC
Daniel Orubo

February 11, 2016

Oldies

Camp, NYSC, NYSC Camp

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