Obeying the clarion call: My NYSC experience
Preamble
In the federal republic of Nigeria, youths who have successfully completed a degree from a higher institution are expected to serve their country for one year. This scheme is known as the NYSC (National Youth Service Corps). It was founded in 1973 to foster national unity and patriotism among citizens. During their service year, graduates are called corps members or corpers. However, during the first three weeks in camps, soldiers will refer to you as white fowl or otondo.
The NYSC scheme has had a tremendous impact on the lives of many corps members; some have discovered their purpose, received grants, loans, awards, and scholarships through this scheme, and some have even found life partners and have not left the communities in which they were posted to this day.
However, there have been tragic reports of corps members being kidnapped or murdered during their service year. Stories like this scared me, so I was excited and terrified to begin my service year. The time for my otondo initiation was here, but I was not looking forward to it. There was even a time when I hoped someone would cancel it entirely. But that was never the case, the scheme has been around for a long time, and there was no way to avoid it; my mother and many other family members before me had completed their service years, and mine would not be different.
Call up letter
I wasn’t sure how far away I’d be posted or how rural or urban the location would be. For some reason, prospective corps members (PCMs) are not told the state they will report until two days before the time. When I saw my call-up letter, I was in a tailor’s shop with my mom. The letter informed me that I had been called up for National service and that I had two days to report to the NYSC permanent orientation camp in Sagamu, Ogun State. I stared at it for a long time before informing my mother, who was tenser than I was.
One of my mom’s concerns was that I would be posted to a distant state with insecurity issues. So when I told her I was going to Ogun, she was thrilled. I lived in Lagos, which is close to Ogun; my mom even stopped at a restaurant on our way home to celebrate. Although I was glad I wasn’t going very far, I was still worried about camp. I knew I should be thankful because I was close to home. I had friends stationed in the far north, in Jigawa and Kano. But I was still very skeptical.
Arriving in camp
My dad made arrangements for someone to drop me off at camp in Ogun state, so I didn’t have to worry about getting there. I’m not sure if it was because of the anxiety, but I couldn’t eat anything without my stomach hurting. I had asked about the camp in Ogun and had only heard positive things about it. It was said to be Nigeria’s best camp and a five-star camp.
One of my coursemates, Dami, was the first person I saw when I arrived at camp. I was happy to see her. We hugged and dragged our luggage through. Some officials requested documents such as our call-up letter, COVID-19 testing slip, green card, etc. We submitted them and made our way to the Covid testing center. This was yet another source of concern for me. I’d never done a covid test before, and it looked painful, but it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I soon realized that I was worrying for nothing.
After the test, I went into camp and saw a line of girls whose bags were being checked; As I was going to join them, some officials told me to stop moving. I was blocked because I nearly stepped on a sectioned part of the floor painted in the Nigerian flag’s colors, and stepping on it was comparable to stepping on and killing Nigeria. I apologized for my error and continued on my way, realizing that I was in an unusual place.
While waiting to be searched, I noticed a difference in luggage size between male and female PCMs. We spent three weeks at camp, but the boys all had tiny bags, whereas the females all had large travel bags. Their line moved quickly, but ours moved slowly. Each bag was thoroughly checked before you could enter.
I had crammed everything into my bag to make it fit, but after being searched, I had to go through squeezing it back in, and as I did so, my bag’s zip popped. The distance between the point I was searched, and the female hostel felt endless. I tried to lift my second bag, and the handle broke; I had only gotten halfway through and couldn’t wheel it any longer; I had to carry it with sweat pouring down my face, and I knew I would pass out eventually.
Someone noticed how I was struggling and offered to assist me in carrying one bag to the hostel. God bless him wherever he is. I walked from the hostel to the hall for registration, which took hours standing in a queue. I was placed in platoon three and given my camp kit, which comprised my khaki jacket and pants, NYSC crested vest, a belt, jungle boots, a face cap, two white shorts, two white T-shirts, and one white tennis shoe.
When I got to the hostel, I discovered that my tennis shoe and khaki pants were too small. I was given size 4 shoes for my size 7 feet. I was not the only one with this issue. Some people’s khakis were too big or too small for them, so you either had to exchange with others or take them to the tailors in the Mami market to fix them.
Before coming to camp, we had given NYSC our sizes, but they still gave us whatever they wished. I had my first meal around 7 pm on the first day, and the lights were out by 10 pm. For some reason, lights out also meant turning off the fans, and the heat was unbearable.
The next day
Saturday was the next day at camp. The only acceptable outfit in the NYSC camp is a white t-shirt, white shorts, white socks, and white tennis shoes. This was why we were referred to as white fowls. You are only permitted to wear something else for a few hours on Friday and Sunday for those going to the mosque and church, respectively, or during certain events, which will be communicated in advance.
On Saturday, I woke up as early as 1:30 a.m. There were about forty people in my room. I struggled to sleep longer because the room was hot, stuffy, and unfamiliar. Everyone in the room was awake by 2 a.m., and by 3:30 a.m., we had all bathed and dressed in our white-white outfits. It surprised me to see showers in the bathrooms, and the Ogun state camp was clean and well-kept. My nerves calmed down a little. I’m not sure why everyone woke up so early; perhaps we were excited. But when it was 4:30, and we realized nothing was happening, most of us went back to sleep.
Our much-needed sleep was abruptly interrupted at 5 a.m., when female soldiers stormed into our rooms, blasting whistles in our faces and repeatedly yelling outside. We made our way out to the parade ground in a hurry, and on the way, male soldiers were yelling double, double, telling us to move faster. The parade ground’s activities took place between 5 and 7:30 a.m. The activities usually include the morning devotion, the three anthems (national, NYSC, and state), a meditation piece read by the platoon on duty, lectures, and finally, the morning exercise and drills by the Man o’ War.
On that Saturday, they introduced us to the soldiers in charge of our platoons, who would teach us how to march in a parade. This lasted from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. I didn’t want to upset any soldiers, so I focused on the parade. There is always a corper with no sense of direction that turns left when everyone turns right. I didn’t want to be that corper.
When the soldier called me out to command the parade, I projected my voice to be loud and commanding. The soldier was impressed because he separated two other people and me to command the parade. My voice can be loud when I want it to be, but it is not consistent because I lose it quickly, so I knew being parade commander was bad for my platoon. Besides, I didn’t want to be a part of the parade; I’d known that I would join the Red Cross or the band since my undergraduate days.
Swearing-in ceremony.
The ceremony took place about five days after we arrived at camp, and by that time, I had made good friends with two of my roommates and some of my platoon members. We were fully kitted for the swearing-in ceremony, so we wore everything except our khaki jackets. The NYSC band from the 2021 set arrived on that day, and they were fantastic. This only reinforced my desire to join the band. We waited in the sun for some time for the ceremony to begin.
However, the person who was supposed to read the oath arrived late, so we had to stand outside in the sun; some corps members fainted and had to be carried away. One aspect of the oath that stood out to me was the part about making the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of the nation. I’m not sure I said that part because I have not reached that level of patriotism yet.
Joining the band
Joining the band was one of the best decisions I made during camp. I met many talented people who have been playing musical instruments for years. I played the saxophone, but not very well. I only played on three keys, and I’m only comfortable on key D. I was hesitant to join because I knew I couldn’t easily switch keys or play random songs by ear. Still, I improved a lot in the few days I was there. Luckily, they played most of the songs on key D.
There were many advantages to my joining the band. First, it provided me with an excuse to avoid activities I did not wish to participate in. It also made me somewhat famous because we were only three girls playing horns. One was a trumpeter, and the other was a saxophonist. Since the other girl didn’t bring her sax, I was the one who had to play most of the time.
I went to the kitchen to get my breakfast one time, and the person serving me gave me extra food saying I needed the energy. Also, When I was sick in camp and went to the clinic, the doctors referred to me as the “sax princess,” which made me laugh.
The part I didn’t like about the band was that I didn’t see many people from my platoon anymore, and it was just as stressful, if not more so, than the parade. We had to rehearse twice a day, and if you were late for rehearsal, you had to jog multiple times with your instrument, and we performed at random times.
We had to perform as the supporters’ club at the final football competition; we played to welcome different visitors and rehearsed every evening with the parade standing under the sun. People kept approaching us to play for their friends’ birthdays for free. They honestly used us in the camp, but we had a good time and got quite close because it was music. We started calling ourselves platoon band. It was difficult for you to be a band member and be active in your platoon.
Apart from my sax playing skills, My Pidgin English also improved drastically in camp. I spent some time with people from PH and Warri, and most times, we conversed in pidgin. Our actual lingua franca in Nigeria should be pidgin and not English.
The bugle
The bugle, which served as an official alarm clock, hunted every corps member in camp. It was blown at 4 a.m. every day to wake us up and at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. to indicate that Nigeria had awoken or slept. Every activity began with the blowing of the bugle.
Sometimes, I would want to take my bath or buy food in the Mami market when the bugle blew. This happened to me far too often: I’d finish band rehearsals late and be about to eat breakfast when the bugle blew, and I would have to leave my food. I am sure one or two corps members thought about stealing it — the bugle heist. I later realized the bugle was just a warning, and the whistles that followed were the ones to take more seriously. Check out these two skits about the bugle linked to this article; they will give you an idea of how it sounds and feels.
Water and Camp Activities
The camp was a lot of fun, and there was something for everyone. The only activity I did not look forward to was the lectures. They were too long, 9 am to 2 pm almost every day. I was always fighting sleep each time. I couldn’t listen to the lectures even the times I wanted to. Sometimes I would stand up in SAEED classes so I wouldn’t sleep because I wanted to listen, but it was still a struggle. I was waking up as early as 3 am, especially on the days I forgot to fetch water.
At some point, water was like gold, liquid gold in camp. Sometimes, I would queue for a long time, and the water would finish before my turn. Whenever that happened, I would remember my bathroom at home that was for me alone in despair. The worst time was when I had diarrhea, and there was no water for me to use; it was not a great experience. The best solution was always to fetch water the night before so that you could use it in the morning.
Apart from the lectures, there were restaurants, bars, gaming centers, and football viewing areas that could be found in Mami Market. Volleyball, football, and relay races were scheduled for sports. My platoon won the volleyball competition; I am very proud of them.
Around 8 a.m., there were also social events planned for our enjoyment. Some include the welcome party, Miss Big Bold and Beautiful, Miss NYSC and Mr. Macho, variety night, and carnival. If you are religious, as I am, the church is always available for fellowship. They may sometimes request a writer, comedian, event planner, plumber, videographer, photographer, etc. It was a fantastic opportunity for many people to showcase their skills.
Some of the social activities were required, and I didn’t mind going to them, but I didn’t like not being able to return to the hostel when I wanted to. I wanted to watch the Miss NYSC competition because the lady representing my platoon was a friend, but that day I became ill, and I had to hide under the bed because I didn’t want to go. My friend won the competition, and I was happy for her, but the show didn’t end until 1 a.m., and they had to be up by 4 a.m. In comparison, I slept from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m.
I got the flu and lost my voice a few days before the parade competition, just as I had predicted, so imagine how bad it would have been if I had been the commander.
Life after camp
Life after camp has been spent nursing myself back to health and catching up on lost sleep. Sleeping for four hours every day can mess with your head. I slept from 2 p.m. to 11 p.m. the day I returned home. I got sick during the last week of camp and I am still recovering. I’ve gotten darker, and I’ve had too many bouts of food poisoning. Thanks to trying different vendors at Mami, LOL.
Conclusion
For the first time, I saw Nigeria as a country concerned with its citizens. It is common for developed countries to provide financial help to their citizens, but this was the first time I received such support from my government. I truly enjoyed my time at the NYSC orientation camp Sagamu, and I hope that all corps members have a trouble-free year serving the nation under the sun and in the rain.
Quick update: I am done with my service year! yayyyy
