katsina | 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.

6:10 AM

Now, my watch has finally ended. Or maybe it has just begun, because I still have 10 months to go. But I have just read somewhere that it is nice to focus on the now, to dedicate my energies to doing the things that seem short term, and so I can say I am happy, truly happy, but also a little bit sad.

Regardless of your experience in camp, the last day is usually the one where all the emotions hit, especially when you consider the truth that you will never be together in one place again. Many people are relocating, and people are bringing reports of the new states they have been posted to: Akwa Ibom, Anambra, Enugu, Oyo, Ogun, Lagos, Ekiti, and all other states. Many more are flung to places in Maiduguri. We won’t ever be whole again, you know. We can only meet in twos, in threes, and these meetings are sometimes a thing of luck.

7:28 AM

I go to get my khaki ironed and when I return, I sit on my bed and watch everyone pack. There’s that guy who once angled his butt to demonstrate a sexual position. There’s that other guy who said he could sleep with his friend’s wife. The guy we all refer to as Landlord, he’s over there. A guy we refer to as HIV passes a paper around for us to drop our WhatsApp numbers so we can create a group chat. We laugh. We joke. A guy pushes his waist pouch to his chest area, covers it clothes and calls it breasts. We strip the bunks of mattresses and return them. The metal framework glares back at us, bony and bare.

8:31 AM

I dress up, but this time, there is no force. We have all the time in the world. We also have no time. There is the parade, the final parade. Before that is breakfast. After these two things are done, we have to make the trip back to our various destinations and people who are staying back in Maiduguri will get their posting letters.

I wear slippers and a shirt over my khaki and created vest. I turn my cap backwards, something I have been dying to do for days but am unable to, because it would attract punishment from soldiers who refer to that act as “Dragging Nigeria backwards.”

9:00 PM

I spend time with my friends from OBS. We spent only two weeks and some days together, but suddenly it feels as though I have spent four years with them. F. who came second in the Mr. Macho contest takes bad pictures of me. I take bad pictures of him too, and some really good ones. We laugh. E. sets the self timer and we spend time jumping and making poses. I head to the kitchen to get what will be my last breakfast in camp. They serve bread and tea, and the man in charge takes my card from me, tells me to detach my passport.

It all comes down to this.

9:56 AM

I head to the parade ground with A. He studied pharmacy, and will be staying back in Borno. People in medicine/medical professions are hot cake. In my next life, maybe I will study medicine. Dr. Kunle will be such a nice name.

“Hurry up, make una dey go. Leave us na,” a soldier tells us as we walk to the parade ground. They too cannot wait to be rid of us. They have families to get back to. Camp for the incoming batch resumes on Thursday, I hear. A little family bonding before that time is necessary.

“We don fall in love with you,” I say. “We no wan go again. We love you.”

“No don’t love us. Dey go house. We sef, we wan go do Christmas.”

Hard man, hard man, but love shed abroad during Christmas melts us all. I laugh as I move on.

10:30AM

This is the first time we are on the parade ground and I am not bothered. In all honesty sef, we are not on the parade ground. We take seats in the bush, in houses far from the field. Another world entirely while those marching are doing their thing. Our minds are no longer here.

When the parade is over, we burst out like school children released from a boring class. Those heading to Borno state go to receive their posting letters. People are posted to universities, polytechnics, colleges of education, ministry of health, and other places that are enviable. Someone I know gets posted to NAFDAC.

But it’s all fine and good, you know. It’s all fine and good. We all will find our places in life. Everyone should bloom where they are planted.

11:02AM

K. is heading to Lagos. I should too, but I have unfinished business at the bank, and I cannot leave it and dash to Lagos

Outside the gate, there are many motorcycles and tricycles and corps members waiting to leave Katsina, eager to leave this place. Was it not just three weeks ago that I received my posting letter and dashed from Ilorin to Lagos to Katsina just to be here? Three weeks gone by, just like that?

And I realise that it is not the time that matters or the number of days. It is what you make of it. I realise that it is just like life, living. One day you’re young, the next you’re old, dead and people are gathered, talking about the life you lived. Your years won’t matter then, I think. If you’re a hundred and there’s nothing to show for it, then it’s like dying at birth. But even if you’re thirty and you’ve done great things, touched plenty lives, then it’s almost like you’ve spent an eternity living.

I’m sorry if I am sounding too philosophical or whatever. Goodbyes often have me like this. I guess what I am trying to say is that the next way is forward. I don’t know what will happen there, but I’ll see.

Kunle Ologunro

November 26, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, katsina, Leaving camp
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.

6:50 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

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

I leave for the parade ground without taking a shower. When I woke up a few minutes earlier, I felt tired. Really tired. I lay in bed and ignore everyone trying or not trying to wake me. It will be a good day, I thought. Just me, sleeping myself away. But then the soldiers barged in and my dreams were shattered. There was no time to take a shower. I simply brushed my teeth, washed my face and dashed out.

Current state of the hostel.

On the OBS (Orientation Broadcasting Service) group chat, there is a message asking us to be at the studio by 6:00 am. A delight, because it means I am exempted from parade. At the introductory session, the Camp PRO told us that if we join OBS in order to escape parade, we are wrong. But look at me now. I skip to the studio, happy that I will be skipping parade after all, Camp PRO’s words or not.

The studio is empty; I am the only one present and soon, the head of OBS, a fellow corps member comes in to tell me that it is a must I attend morning parade and that I can come back after it is over. “Oh really?” I say. I look happy on the inside as I go to the parade ground, but deep down inside me, I’m die.

Platoon 1 is in charge of Morning Meditation, but because they failed to submit their write up to the Camp PRO for edits, their presentation is dead on arrival. Tomorrow it will my Platoon’s turn, and suddenly everyone is turning, asking how far with it, and are we good to go?

7:27 AM

I’m at the OBS studio, being generally useless but still looking useful, since everything to be done has been taken over by these ladies who, apparently, are either true OAPs or studied Mass Communication. There is an argument about phonetising which basically is a warning to presenters not to use fake accents. Opinions fly about, but me I am hungry. When the bugle sounds for breakfast, I make my way there immediately.

OBS meeting

Breakfast is pap and beans. It’s been 756,289 days since I ate beans, and tasting one spoon of it feels the way I imagine an orgasm must feel.

10:15 AM

Lmao beans and pap as breakfast is a scam. I WANT TO SLEEP! I wonder if there’s a sleeping medicine in the food, but I doubt it. Someone says that pap induces sleep, and there’s nothing to worry about. There are plenty WebMDs on this camp, sha.

Today begins our SAED meetings. SAED (Skill Acquisition and Entrepreneurship Development). This is one thing I dread, because every time ex corps members talk about it, they tell stories of how boring it is. I don’t know why they pronounce it as Saheed.

10:45 AM

The lecture is as predicted: boring, the crowd, rowdy. We are given a booklet on entrepreneurship, another booklet on accounts. A man referred to as the accountant tells us the importance of having your bank account before leaving the camp so your allowance can be sent into it. In between this lecture, I drift from sleep to wakefulness. My mind fills up with unnecessary trivia—will I ever find the love of my life? Two plus two will give you four, so in two, three years, some of these people will be married. how do people find love in camp sef?

Booklet from SAED or is it SAHEED?

I joke with the people seated next to me to keep awake. I pay no attention to the lecture, even though bits and pieces of it keep floating into my head: “We teach people craft. What business idea do you have? We can provide loans for you. Who is an entrepreneur here? is your business registered with an association?”

We sing the NYSC anthem so much I feel like the anthem itself must be weeping from overuse. Finally, amid many protests, we are dismissed.

You should have seen me running to my hostel.

You see these people? I bet they’re just as elated as I was to leave Saheed.
2:00 PM

Lunch is tuwo and okro soup and a bit of boiled beef. I devour it. I probably won’t get another chance to eat it again, so.

A girl accosts me at the staff canteen where I am eating my lunch. She finished from my school too, and my friend F. is bent on playing matchmaker because he says she is spiritual and so we are a match. His definition of spiritual is that she wears no make-up or jewelry and always attends fellowship. He says a lot of nonsense, that boy. And to be frank, why do Nigerians see you as spiritual just because you’re wearing no make-up or jewelry?

Anyway, she wants to know where I am relocating to. She feels she wants to stay in Borno, but she feels God has been telling her to not be tempted by the money. I tell her my own truth: “I honestly don’t know what to do or how to do it. But my prayer is that God leads me right. Even if it looks like I’m making my own decisions on my own, let it be God leading me. Let it be Him.”

After lunch, I return to the hostel and fall into a deep sleep. My bed, forever loving, forever caring, welcomes me.

4:50PM

The rest of the day spirals away quickly. Again, I am rejected from the parade, and I am pained, but isn’t it time to confront the truth that I am quite useless to their mission? I visit the platoon commandant, I pen tomorrow’s morning meditation which I will be taking, I visit Mammy Market to charge my phone, I watch volleyball, I joke around with O. and B. When it is time for social night, I hide in the OBS studio thinking that they will of course be doing nonsense as always. But it turns out that the party was good. Rather than have girls twerk or whatever, they present drama and dance. The one time I decide to stay back and they do something meaningful. Nawa o.
Kunle Ologunro

November 12, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

katsina, NYSC, SAED
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.

5:20 AM

The sound of people wake me: “Dry clean your clothes, dry clean your clothes.” When I sit up to look, I see that they are men and young boys carrying white plastic bags filled with clothes to be dry cleaned. I fall back into bed and close my eyes. I am tired. I do not want to go to parade. I do not want to do anything. I simply want to leave this place. It will be a hectic day, I can sense it.

Last night, A. told me to help him get a bag of water. When I returned with the water, he had gone to the clinic for his night shift. A guy came to me for water, but I told him it wasn’t mine, so I couldn’t give him. He left. I also wanted some water, but I couldn’t take A’s water, it wouldn’t be right, since he had not seen it, so I left the water untouched and went out to beg for water elsewhere. Now imagine my anger when I wake up to find out that someone has torn open the bag of water and taken out of it. I rage, but F. tells me to calm myself; not everyone will be like me. I leave for parade still pissed.

Yesterday, Platoon 1 was in charge of everything: sanitation, kitchen duties, security, etc. At the parade ground, they are told that they performed badly. Today it is Platoon 2’s turn. I am in Platoon 2, and I know that this kind of thing na work.

7:45 AM

Work begins. I am assigned as the sanitation head, and told that everyone will be involved in the sanitation. The Platoon Leader deploys some people for security shifts. His assistant does the same for people who will be in the kitchen. Trouble is brewing. While we are taking the roll call, a lady asks me who made you secretary? Did they choose you in public or in secret?

“Sweet baby Jesus, fight this battle,” I think to myself.

9:16 AM

It takes working closely with people to discover their true characters. And in the few moments I have spent with the people in sanitation, I am starting to discover that many people are sweet and dedicated while some people, good as they may seem, are quite deficient in that moral nutrient called respect or courtesy.

10:03 AM

Breakfast is pap and akara. Honest to God, it is a great meal. I didn’t have dinner last night, so it’s a welcome relief. I mix in milo and some powdered peak milk. It feels like heaven.

Yesterday, I signed up to join the OBS. But while other camps just absolve interested members, audition them or something, our own OBS here is something else. We are asked to design a program, submit it on or before 10:00 AM, and then the man in charge will decide if we made it in or not. I submit my own assignment, help the assistant platoon leader to submit hers too. We wait to see of we’ll make it.

OBS is the Orientations Broadcasting Service, the body that handles media in NYSC camp.

2:00PM

Lunch is eba and egusi soup. I am in the kitchen, assisting in its preparation. I help to cut the pepper, wash the meat. I attempt to blow dirt out of the egusi.

While at this duty, I realise again that decorum is a costly thing when it comes to some people. Take this Bros for instance. He is loud and rude and every adjective for people who think they can talk, must be leader of the group they belong to, cannot listen to anyone’s opinion, cannot have anybody rule over them, and always objectify women. Picture such a kind of person. Add that he likes to talk sex and other lewd things in public.

He spearheads the conversation about ejaculation and kayan mata and girls he’s had sex with and will have sex with and so on. He sings Saheed Osupa (which I like, to be honest, because my Dad played his songs a lot while I was a child). He picks a fight with the assistant platoon head. He talks about her in third person: “Some people always think that…” You know, that kind of thing. We manage to curtail that nastiness. But little do we know that it will soon end in tears.

8:13 PM

This is dinner. Rice, stew and fried fish. People come out, get their food. Soon, food finishes. And here’s where the wahala begins, because NCCF people are only just leaving fellowship and coming for food.

Now begins the talk: You Platoon 2 people are just worst.

Didn’t you cook enough food?

How many people did you estimate?

What is the meaning of all this rubbish?

Platoon 1 was bad, but this one? Very very very very bad.

In this hot spate of public outrage, a guy throws away his food because he is not given a fish tail.

Wahala. The Kitchen Supervisor takes a picture. Tells us that definite actions will be taken regarding such terrible behaviour.

He also warns us: NYSC is a regimented camp. If you are in church at the time you should be getting dinner, then you should not expect that the rules will be changed for you. We will cook more stew, but this is the last time.

Remember Bros? Our loud, uncouth Bros? Well, when we took the leftovers back in, Bros picked up a fight with Assistant Platoon Leader, and there goes all our points for team loyalty. It is loud and nasty. He talks, Assistant Platoon Leader fires back. Platoon Leader who is usually calm steps in fires even more. Kitchen Supervisor steps in. Talks to Bros. Bros leaves in anger.

10:59 PM

We leave for the welcome party. Apparently, it is by force. Soldiers bar people from going into their hostels, chase people away from places where they loiter. We get go the welcome party and it is just like a children’s birthday party. When it finally ends like the show of shame that it is, I am the first to leave for my hostel.

Kunle Ologunro

November 10, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

Borno, katsina, NYSC Camp, Platoon, Team spirit
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.

5:40 AM

It is Friday, and now, all our activities have started to become routine. Wake up, make a dash to the tap for water, go to the bathroom, dress up, head to the parade ground for devotion and morning drills.But now there is more, and it’s because we have been sworn in.

Now, Nigeria has her own sleeping and waking hours, our dear country whose citizens work tirelessly. We are told that every day, whenever the bugle goes off at 6:00am, we are to stand still. When the same repeats itself at 6:00pm, we are to stop and stand still. I want to ask, “But what if I’m in the middle of dying?”(I will not die in Jesus name *eyeroll*) Orisirisi has started to happen in camp, but I don’t even know it yet.

8:00 AM

One of the orisirisi that is happening is the fact that we have now been left to ourselves. Not in a completely independent way though, we have soldiers who act as our platoon leaders. I am in Platoon two, and you won’t believe all the drama my eyes have seen.

But wait first, let me tell you about one orisirisi: lectures. Yes, being bonafide members means that we will be “killed”with lectures. The first one is something on security and protection of lives and property, how to safeguard yourself from attack, how to help corps members develop adequate sense of security. It is an interesting lecture, if I will be honest, but I really just want to sleep.

We head to the parade ground for the drills. Now that we do things according to platoons, it is a little more informal, not the kuku kill me drills that will have you questioning if you’re receiving punishments for sins your ancestors committed.

Being left alone means that everything is now a competition. Everything. And every eye is on the lookout for the platoon that will emerge as the best. You know Nigerians na, everyone is now attempting to outdo themselves.

A brief gist about my own platoon: a guy was voted in as the head. A lady wanted it first; she is the one who has been in charge of everything platoon related including creating a WhatsApp group, handing out kits to people, etc. Long and short of it, a lot of us already saw her as platoon head.

Only for soldier to say that we’d have to select/vote in our leader. When lady came out, soldier said no, that a lady cannot be the head. Because why? Because she is a lady, and ladies are the ones who faint the most since they cannot handle the pressure and heat of the sun.

My people, na so kasala burst o.

Okay, maybe not exactly sha, but we dragged it for long. Asked soldier if there was a rule stating that a lady cannot be head and must be assistant alone. Soldier said no. Then why can’t we vote her in? No cogent reason. When it was time to vote, our lady had four votes. The guy had over twenty five.

Only ladies faint, only ladies faint, but today during evening drill, about five guys fainted. A number of these guys faked it, but doesn’t that tell you something?

Breakfast was bread and tea (as usual) and a boiled egg. I keep my egg for lunch, and pay N50 to have an egg fried. I add Milo and Peak powder milk to my tea, and each time I sip it, I remember that it is only one life I have and that I must chop it properly. Na Borno dem post me to, no be kill I kill person.

12:45 PM

Another lecture. This is how we don enter am. We gather at the parade ground, under the pavilion. It is hot, cramped. This lecture is one we are delighted to hear. It is about how to redeploy. Just imagine the joy that erupted from us when the man began to speak. In a way, I feel for those officials. I imagine them thinking, “Look at these ingrates. We feed you, accommodate you, and this is how you repay us? Corpses are scum!” But duh. It will take only God to keep some people from not relocating out of this place.

He informs us that being posted to a state is called DEPLOYMENT, and changing that state to another is REDEOLOYMENT. There are two major reasons for re-deployment: Health and Marriage. For health reasons, he mentions that some ailments are manageable, meaning that you’ll probably not get redeployed based on those ailments: headache (and let’s be honest sef, who’d claim headache as a reason for redeployment? Is that headache a Chinese one?); asthma (can’t remember if he mentions this as manageable, sha). The ailments they consider are those in the category of HIV/AIDS (he says and I quote, “Some of you have HIV, but you don’t know it yet.”), Tuberculosis, etc etc. And don’t think about faking it, because their own doctors will test you too.

For marriage, you need to provide a marriage certificate, newspaper publication declaring change of name, handwritten statement (I think), and a photocopy of your husband’s driver’s license or the biodata page of his international passport. Also, he says that men do not get to redeploy on basis of marriage (Eskiss me sah, but what if I am a househusband married to a sugar mummy?)

And then, to the part we have been waiting for the most: redeployment on basis of insecurity. At this, we hoot again, we ungrateful humans. He warns us though: we should not think of working the posting to Lagos or Abuja, because the people at these places say that they already have enough. Even Port Harcourt. We should not think of paying anybody, because we will be redeployed by a person from Abuja who does not know us at all. And we should not think that we can redeploy to our state of origin or the state we schooled in. No way. Also, redeployment means that we automatically get disqualified from carrying out a personal project for whatever state we are redeployed to.

Sad, but then do a lot of people care about anything else except leaving this camp?

Other lectures come in: about the culture of the Borno people, things like marriage, etc. But I zone out some minutes after the speaker says that some people will find love in NYSC camp, that some people will fall in love with officials (which I took to mean soldiers).

1:43 PM

I head back to the hostel. Muslims are preparing for Jumat which means extra sleep hours for me. In my hostel, the boys are in a heated discussion: Tacha was an Instagram olosho before Big Brother Naija. Look at the stretch marks on her body. The fact that she, an “Instagram olosho”made it to Big Brother Naija is why many ladies are also olosho today.

Jesus be the shield, abeg. Be the fence, be the covering and the umbrella. Me I cannot handle this type of thing. E big pass me.

Kunle Ologunro

November 9, 2019

Inside Life, NYSC Diary

bbnaija, Borno, 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
Apparently, some people living in 2016, find it hard to understand that a 14-year-old person is still a child and isn’t capable of making certain life decisions.
According to reports, a 14-year-old girl, Habiba Isa, who was abducted by a certain Jamilu Lawal sometime in August 2016, converted to Islam and was then forcefully married to the Emir of Katsina, Alhaji Abdulmumin Usman.

Habiba’s concerned parents, in the search for justice, contacted members of the Katsina State chapter of the Christian Association of Nigeria, who also took this case up.

However, the Katsina Emirate Council stated the marriage between the 14 year-old and the 65-year-old Emir was irreversible as there was no “evidence” that Habiba was forced to act against her wish.

It is still shocking how people in power continue to take advantage of young girls, while hiding behind culture and misrepresentation of religion.

For the olodo people with blocked ears at the back, a 14-year-old who cannot even vote, is not capable of making life-changing decisions such as marriage!

It’s a shame that certain Nigerians are still justifying and making excuses for predatory pedophiles, while young girls in other countries are being allowed to enjoy their childhood.

Nigerians collectively have to build a country where young girls and women can aspire to greatness and not live in fear of forced marriages and abduction.

Maryam

October 14, 2016

Gist

child bride, child marriage, emir, katsina

6:10 AM

7:28 AM

8:31 AM

9:00 PM

9:56 AM

10:30AM

11:02AM

6:00 AM

8:15 AM

12:00PM

1:15 PM

3:00PM

7:00PM

9:00PM

6:50 AM

9:43 AM

12:30PM

12:50 PM

2:49PM

7:00PM

11:00PM

6:30 AM

7:50 AM

9:50

10:01 AM

2:00 PM

6:00 PM

9:15 PM

5:27 AM

7:50 AM

9:03AM

12:00 PM

1:12PM

9:15 PM

5:03 AM

7:27 AM

10:15 AM

10:45 AM

2:00 PM

4:50PM

5:03 AM

1:01 PM

3:45 PM

6:10 PM

7:03 PM

10:15

5:20 AM

7:45 AM

9:16 AM

10:03 AM

2:00PM

8:13 PM

10:59 PM

5:40 AM

8:00 AM

12:45 PM

1:43 PM

2:41 AM

7:57 AM

10:55 AM

11:46 AM

2:50 PM

4:15 PM

According to reports, a 14-year-old girl, Habiba Isa, who was abducted by a certain Jamilu Lawal sometime in August 2016, converted to Islam and was then forcefully married to the Emir of Katsina, Alhaji Abdulmumin Usman.

Habiba’s concerned parents, in the search for justice, contacted members of the Katsina State chapter of the Christian Association of Nigeria, who also took this case up.

However, the Katsina Emirate Council stated the marriage between the 14 year-old and the 65-year-old Emir was irreversible as there was no “evidence” that Habiba was forced to act against her wish.

It is still shocking how people in power continue to take advantage of young girls, while hiding behind culture and misrepresentation of religion.

For the olodo people with blocked ears at the back, a 14-year-old who cannot even vote, is not capable of making life-changing decisions such as marriage!

It’s a shame that certain Nigerians are still justifying and making excuses for predatory pedophiles, while young girls in other countries are being allowed to enjoy their childhood.

Nigerians collectively have to build a country where young girls and women can aspire to greatness and not live in fear of forced marriages and abduction.