NYSC Palava 2:
The journey of 21 days started in a day. That day I had my box over my head, made ten copies of every document I had and said hello to people who didn’t respond because they thought I was too creepy to be nice.
Welcome to fanisau dutse camp, jigawa state. I’m so not happy to be here. I mean happy happy.
After dragging my box for what seemed like 10 minutes, I got to the female hostel and had to join the queue for hostel/room allocation. My legs were already sore from being sandwiched in the so called cab that I travelled in and the last thing I needed was a standing competition.
Little did I know that the journey had just began. Everything in NYSC camp happens while standing. I mean, you get to queue to buy bathing water, to get food, to sign a paper, to watch your cloths dry because some of them peeps be kelptos. It’s basically an association for the standing people and here I cursed and cursed NYSC every time that I had to stand for what seemed more than 2minutes.
NYSC day 1 brought back memories of my first days in Lagos State University as an undergraduate. The confused look of being lost and found at the same damn time. Belonging but not understanding exactly what or where it is that I belong to… I sigh!
I looked around and everyone seemed to have a friend or someone they’ve jelled with or please just borrow me a better word; I’m not that bright.
All I know is? I was not just looking lost but hungry too.
I didn’t know where the popular mami market was and I looked even worse trying to plead with the worms in my stomach, begging them to corporate as they make disgraceful noise. How could only one person go through all these? Get me my mother!
I settled in my hostel and alas I found something close to a friend; except it’s called a bunk mate. As an experienced ex boarding school student, I chose the upper bunk because I didn’t want people stepping all over my bed to get up on theirs or crashing after a long day of unwarranted stress. I like all my things impeccably neat.
Beside my bunk was this really pretty girl looking all cute in her boubou dress. I had been staring at her right from the time she stepped into the camp gate; if I was a guy, I’d have mistakened it for love but I knew better.
I was just trying to figure out how many hours she took to dress up like that coming to NYSC camp. I know I would only look like that going to a wedding but what do I know?
She looked really pretty and classy in her bold red hijab and matching bag; did I mention she had a peng make up on and her brows were on fleek? She made me feel like I got NYSC mistaken but that’s cool. I needed the humour.
My body was all sticky and the tip of my dress was packed full with weed that’d take too long to remove if i dared to have them taken out; so I just walked the whole camp looking like an homeless itchy kid who’s been starved of motherly care.
Days are faint but I, the daughter of Salaudeen was woken up with a trumpet the next day. Absolute disrespect!
As I rushed out in my abayah dress following the confused crowd of other grumpy and excited otondo’s, I thought about my father’s house and I missed so much how my mother used to wake me up from sleep calmly and right there and then, I knew that NYSC was a scam.
Dear new corps members; let this episode be an alert that you can never be prepared for NYSC camp, just PRAY!
My comment box is open; kindly drop your first realization in camp and how you handled it. Let’s gist!
See you in a couple of days on my NYSC story!
Did you miss the first episode of my NYSC story or are you just dropping by? Then here’s where to catch up.
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Thanks for reading.
Soaked In Love