This memoir sets on a voyage of looking into the life of a youth corp member. The content are the life account of the events in the particular camp the youth corp is. His experiences, though virtually the same with that of every other youth corp members, do not translate to that of all corp members.

Abusive languages are avoided to the lowest level possible, and where it is almost impossible, the spellings would be altered I.e idiot to 'hediot', nuisance to 'knewsance.' If the said words are adopted to qualify any camp officer for his/her perceived strictness, it is not meant. The author begs for pardon.

Offensive references on the grounds of sex, age, body morphology, skin colour, religion, accent, appearance, philosophy or tribe are highly avoided. However, in the very unlikely circumstance that a character's good or bad attitude is linked to any of the above factors, the author does not mean it. This memoir is not an attempt to libel or insult the institution of the NYSC. However, the author does not regret identifying certain flaws in the running of the system or criticising same fairly.

NO part of this memoir may be used for any reason except the written permission of the author is sought and granted.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER (Episode 1- June 2. Camp opens.


Go back, come put your bag for head and dey run back here!' he retorted in a harsh tone like a voice from a broken ahuja gramophone. I sighed, a touch of legal arrogance took over my face. But then, 'obey first! Others are already going through the same ritual', Claro's crazy voice rang a bell.

I went back to the gate, hurriedly placed my bag on my head and made to race towards the visibly arrogant khaki men. 'Hey, you get mouth pain? You no fit dey reply as your mates dey do?' Another arrogant khaki man interjected as he gave me my version of mantra to reply. I do not speak Hausa, so I approached a man sitting under a mango tree and inquired what the word I was to reply with means. To my consternation, the soldiers were chanting 'mumu (fool)' in Hausa language and we were all meant to reply 'I have come.' I was dazed, but in a very confused manner. 'But I am not a fool! Why should I reply to such?' I asked the interpreter under the tree. 'You wee aks the fursion wey tell you to talk am.' The man managed to reply with his concoction of Pidgin and whatever made person became fursion and ask to aks. I could not ask though- if you've witnessed a soldier slapping a civilian, you would understand better. Yet, the question kept coming to my mind, but that was after I had gone through the ritual of running with my bag on my head and endorsing the soldiers ridiculous assertion that fools have arrived. For once in my life, I have unconditionally consented that I was a fool. For choosing to serve my fatherland, I am a fool!

After 8 hours on a crazy queue, my adherence to the principles of civility did not birth a positive result. All over the places, there are lawless individuals who came after me. Yet, they have either sowókúdúrú or dógbón si. I am here preaching the sermon of 'obedience' & 'civility.' Someone would still beat me. That person? I don't know yet.

... It is night. Since 11: 14 am, I was able to complete my registration by 10: 06 pm. Can you see that I am really serving my fatherland? Which camp am I sef? Time will tell.

So, these guys here do not know what it means to be constituting nuisance? At 11:26 pm, they kept clattering like Cuckoo birds 'opportuned' to do thanksgiving. I was not interested in whatever it was that they were discussing. I wanted to shut my eyes and feign sleep, but my nature won't let me. Pretence does not work with me and for me... So, I got the shock of my life. Did I hear the guy beside my bunk say 'he was delighted to be here?' I jumped up from my bed. Obviously, that move was against my initial self-inflicted Nigerian gentleman nature. At least, without checking whether it would be my size or not, I exchanged virtually all my kits with different ladies who came across me complaining about their too big or too small kits. By tomorrow, i may have to be flowing in a vest as big as an agbada and a pair of shorts tighter and smaller than one of the ones I wore 13 years ago. To, show them that I was 'God' sent and not after worldly gains, I did not request for their contacts or wish we would see again in this camp. I mean that! No friend or foe here. But wait, I made a foe already or maybe, they made a foe of me- the soldiers that asked us to say yes, when they chanted that 'mumu don arrive'.

If I were a military man after my degree, I would have been a first or second lieutenant- a very senior officer to all these 'hediots' telling me to dance to a song of humour. It is okay. If you get to realize I am in for the military direct short service in kaduna later this year. Walahi, na vengeance I wan take am do. These soldiers must pay. They must pay!

So, back to Deji, the delighted camp boy. I retorted as I jumped up 'are you serious that you are delighted'. 'Yes, boss. The feeling is just awesome.' 'aw what? Did you come through the gate? I asked waiting to figure out why consenting that you are a 'mumu' would be awesome to you. 'Yes, where else would I take?' I then continued, 'did you meet anyone at the gate?' 'No, you know I came around that 6.' Huh! I scuffed and buried my head under my cover cloth. Deep inside, I prayed silently 'dear God, do not spare Deji the experience of admitting that he is a fool.' Thank you for I know you will answer my prayer- if Deji no late come parade ground, make he sha do something wey go warrant frog jump and admission of unconditional 'mumuness.'

... To be continued.

Today, I am so tired. However, one thing that can't take away from me is writing. I can't even take away writing from myself. So, I have hurriedly narrated the experience of today here.


NOTE: The content of this series and the sequels are true to the letters. Though, we may express the things we mean like we don't. Yet, not paying attention to little details is fast destroying the world. Nothing big starts big- whether good or bad. So, paying attention to them in their infancy stage would help. It may interest readers to know that my camp is one of the five (5) best in Nigeria, yet here is the story:


MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER


(Episode 2, June 3- The pain in the ass)


'Heyyyy, double up! I say double up!!!.' The intimidating broad voice echoed all over the hall. I jumped up to see others in the hall running up and down. I was not sure I had up to 3 hours of sleep. Then, from outside, the number 1 nuisance in my hall came laughing menacingly and chanting 'double up!'. It was 3: 26 am. Obviously, we all thought the soldiers were around to push us to the parade ground, but no. It was that same mad cow who once sent all of us out from the hall with his fart. He also left us in the dark for almost 40 minutes last night when he tampered with the switch.


While some were almost forced to hit him, some launched vituperative lines on the unrepentant crook of our yard. On my part, I went back to bed and was staring at the guy from a distance. I felt like shooting him! But then, peace- remember, no friend or foe, except those soldiers that erred in episode 1. So, I went back to bed. Yet, it won't last. Another round of shouting bout started from the same nuisance. This time around, a genuine one. Na so 5 am dey knack? I nagged as I remained on my bed for another 3 minutes. I did not think that my committee of friends did well by advising me to come to camp this time around. But, I shall chase the hyena far before returning to chastise the hen. I made for the tank and took my bath in the waterlogged bathroom. That is the fad here! Most people will bath in the open field as early as 3 am or 4. The toilet is worse. For that, I had a deal with my tommy- do not tell me you want to empty anything here tommy! We can't use that toilet because Ebola never get cure. I will eat, but just don't make the mistake of thinking you can push me to the toilet. The camp offers free meals three times a day, but I just don't want to take the risk.


'Don't let us be friends with you. If you obey the laws here, we won't know you and we won't be friends, if you don't obey, we will know you, you will be our friend and the friendship will be terrible.' The soldier in charge of the parade warned as he moved up and down waving a long rod like a Fulani herdsman does to his cattle to ensure compliance with the 'stand at ease' order. By then, I was having pains in places I never knew I had- my inner thighs, my outer knee caps, the perpendicular area of my waist- whatever those ones mean, I am saying it as it is. We already did this and that- frog jump, toad walk, kneeling, squatting and all those death-inducing exercises... Then, just somewhere behind me, a voice whispered 'all these exercises no do me, he no hard me, body still dey sweet me, abeg give me cement make I carry'. 'Who said that?' The almost-gone soldier turned back and ordered my part of the queue to kneel down. At that point, I knew whoever said that just invited devil for a novelty match with us. I am getting to the point of feigning faint in this camp. For God sake, I have not breached a single law. Yet, the mad cows are always patronising my area and purchasing troubles at the expense of the rest of us.


Immediately, a tiny voice fearfully came from another side of my area 'it is him sir' as she pointed to the same nuisance that has been wrecking havoc in my hall. 'Thank you Jesus'. I said with an inner smile. The guy was ordered to come out. To my consternation, he was not even given a cup of cement to carry, just frog jump and in no time, he was sweating like a Christmas goat. We were to vacate the parade ground and report by 10:15 am again. We all left that nuisance almost sweating river Niger. Then, on my way, Deji caught up with me holding his waist and panting. 'Hha, mhen, this place is not easy.' 'Oh, I thought you said here was awesome. Changed your mind? I asked. 'No, here is dope, see chicks.' I diverted towards the mami market with this simple prayer line 'God, Deji is still here making mouth. Just let this khaki men show him something'. I will be more godly if that is what it takes to fetch Deji a conviction of 'mumuness' and frog jump.


'Orderliness,' Deji called by my bed as he hit my bunk. That name was given to me by the hall nuisance when I approached him in the morning to maintain same. I opened my eyes and saw fellow 'corpers' fully kitted for the 10:15 am parade. I rushed up and made to step down, but they all came calling for like karma- the pain around the neck, the one at the ankles, the ones at the wrists, the pain around my waist, those at the back of the thighs, and of course, the pain in the ass. That moment, I regretted not taking to the sport discipline instilled by Coach Amire back then in the university. Dear Coach, if you are able to read this, please forgive our recalcitrance then.


On my way, I met Bukola, the lady who took my canvass last night. I was finding it difficult to recognise her. You know, I am God sent now and I hardly recognise those assisted. 'You gave me your pair of canvass, mine were too small.' 'Oh, it is okay', I replied forcing a smile as I dragged the canvass she gave me towards the parade ground. I ensured that my pace was not the type any lady would attempt to catch up with. So, don't ask if we left together.


We were dispersed some minutes after 12 pm, but we must still return to the parade ground by 4 pm. Now, is it a mere exaggeration when Fela Kuti sang that there is double wahala for dead body?


When they say be careful of what you pray for or what you wish for, that is no joke at all. I had silently prayed that rain falls around 4, hoping the parade would be skipped. Yes, my prayer was answered- there was a heavy rainfall. However, the parade was not skipped. It started and ended on us. Was my prayer incomplete or it is also a way of serving my fatherland?


Meanwhile, we stood in the rain during the evening parade while offenders were meant to either roll in the murky water or sit in it. With that, we were all told to sing thus:


If you see my mama,
Hosanna,
Tell am say o,
Hosanna,
I dey for camp,
Hosannah,
I no get problem...


Of which, problem dey. One of it is the pain in the ass.

To be continued.
©2015.

Today, I am so tired. However, one thing it can't take away from me is writing. I can't even take away writing from myself. So, I have hurriedly narrated the experience of today here.


NOTE: The content of this series and the sequels are true to the letters. Though, we may express the things we mean like we don't. Yet, not paying attention to little details is fast destroying the world. Nothing big starts big- whether good or bad. So, paying attention to them in their infancy stage would help. It may interest readers to know that my camp is one of the five (5) best in Nigeria, yet here is the story:


MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER


(Episode 2, June 3- The pain in the ass)


'Heyyyy, double up! I say double up!!!.' The intimidating broad voice echoed all over the hall. I jumped up to see others in the hall running up and down. I was not sure I had up to 3 hours of sleep. Then, from outside, the number 1 nuisance in my hall came laughing menacingly and chanting 'double up!'. It was 3: 26 am. Obviously, we all thought the soldiers were around to push us to the parade ground, but no. It was that same mad cow who once sent all of us out from the hall with his fart. He also left us in the dark for almost 40 minutes last night when he tampered with the switch.


While some were almost forced to hit him, some launched vituperative lines on the unrepentant crook of our yard. On my part, I went back to bed and was staring at the guy from a distance. I felt like shooting him! But then, peace- remember, no friend or foe, except those soldiers that erred in episode 1. So, I went back to bed. Yet, it won't last. Another round of shouting bout started from the same nuisance. This time around, a genuine one. Na so 5 am dey knack? I nagged as I remained on my bed for another 3 minutes. I did not think that my committee of friends did well by advising me to come to camp this time around. But, I shall chase the hyena far before returning to chastise the hen. I made for the tank and took my bath in the waterlogged bathroom. That is the fad here! Most people will bath in the open field as early as 3 am or 4. The toilet is worse. For that, I had a deal with my tommy- do not tell me you want to empty anything here tommy! We can't use that toilet because Ebola never get cure. I will eat, but just don't make the mistake of thinking you can push me to the toilet. The camp offers free meals three times a day, but I just don't want to take the risk.


'Don't let us be friends with you. If you obey the laws here, we won't know you and we won't be friends, if you don't obey, we will know you, you will be our friend and the friendship will be terrible.' The soldier in charge of the parade warned as he moved up and down waving a long rod like a Fulani herdsman does to his cattle to ensure compliance with the 'stand at ease' order. By then, I was having pains in places I never knew I had- my inner thighs, my outer knee caps, the perpendicular area of my waist- whatever those ones mean, I am saying it as it is. We already did this and that- frog jump, toad walk, kneeling, squatting and all those death-inducing exercises... Then, just somewhere behind me, a voice whispered 'all these exercises no do me, he no hard me, body still dey sweet me, abeg give me cement make I carry'. 'Who said that?' The almost-gone soldier turned back and ordered my part of the queue to kneel down. At that point, I knew whoever said that just invited devil for a novelty match with us. I am getting to the point of feigning faint in this camp. For God sake, I have not breached a single law. Yet, the mad cows are always patronising my area and purchasing troubles at the expense of the rest of us.


Immediately, a tiny voice fearfully came from another side of my area 'it is him sir' as she pointed to the same nuisance that has been wrecking havoc in my hall. 'Thank you Jesus'. I said with an inner smile. The guy was ordered to come out. To my consternation, he was not even given a cup of cement to carry, just frog jump and in no time, he was sweating like a Christmas goat. We were to vacate the parade ground and report by 10:15 am again. We all left that nuisance almost sweating river Niger. Then, on my way, Deji caught up with me holding his waist and panting. 'Hha, mhen, this place is not easy.' 'Oh, I thought you said here was awesome. Changed your mind? I asked. 'No, here is dope, see chicks.' I diverted towards the mami market with this simple prayer line 'God, Deji is still here making mouth. Just let this khaki men show him something'. I will be more godly if that is what it takes to fetch Deji a conviction of 'mumuness' and frog jump.


'Orderliness,' Deji called by my bed as he hit my bunk. That name was given to me by the hall nuisance when I approached him in the morning to maintain same. I opened my eyes and saw fellow 'corpers' fully kitted for the 10:15 am parade. I rushed up and made to step down, but they all came calling for like karma- the pain around the neck, the one at the ankles, the ones at the wrists, the pain around my waist, those at the back of the thighs, and of course, the pain in the ass. That moment, I regretted not taking to the sport discipline instilled by Coach Amire back then in the university. Dear Coach, if you are able to read this, please forgive our recalcitrance then.


On my way, I met Bukola, the lady who took my canvass last night. I was finding it difficult to recognise her. You know, I am God sent now and I hardly recognise those assisted. 'You gave me your pair of canvass, mine were too small.' 'Oh, it is okay', I replied forcing a smile as I dragged the canvass she gave me towards the parade ground. I ensured that my pace was not the type any lady would attempt to catch up with. So, don't ask if we left together.


We were dispersed some minutes after 12 pm, but we must still return to the parade ground by 4 pm. Now, is it a mere exaggeration when Fela Kuti sang that there is double wahala for dead body?


When they say be careful of what you pray for or what you wish for, that is no joke at all. I had silently prayed that rain falls around 4, hoping the parade would be skipped. Yes, my prayer was answered- there was a heavy rainfall. However, the parade was not skipped. It started and ended on us. Was my prayer incomplete or it is also a way of serving my fatherland?


Meanwhile, we stood in the rain during the evening parade while offenders were meant to either roll in the murky water or sit in it. With that, we were all told to sing thus:


If you see my mama,
Hosanna,
Tell am say o,
Hosanna,
I dey for camp,
Hosannah,
I no get problem...


Of which, problem dey. One of it is the pain in the ass.

To be continued.
©2015.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER

(Episode 3, June 4- God saved this camp)

'in the sun and in the rain...' The morale boosting NYSC anthem went on in a composed manner as sounds of drums and trumpets left me thinking I could consider applying that my camp be extended for another three weeks. But that premature thought won't come to life as a lady few metres away from me slumped. It took the intervention of the guy behind her to afford her a soft landing. Immediately, my default setting came back- I want to be done with this and get out.

We had our opening ceremony today. Truth be told, if you don't like anything about the camp, you would like the ceremony except you are a professional sadist. Despite all the changes and trade by barter those ladies did to my kits, my jungle boots were still my size. My crested shirt was just on point. But that pair of trousers won't disappoint someone- I was swimming in it like several others. So, after almost three hours of standing on the parade ground, the rate at which people were slumping, falling and sweating left a shiver down my spine. I won't die before death comes, but when 'death is killing ojuba eni, it is talking to one in proverbial tones.' It was not hard to discharge myself because I was queuing at the back. I turned back, went straight to a soldier a few metres away with these words 'Sir, I am sweating, my legs are shaking, if I continue, something would happen.' I added some facial expressions that indicated a possibility of slumping right there. He interjected 'go back! Your life here is regimented!' Hha, so, all those things they said about you people are true? I did not argue, I turned back and walked back slowly. You won't believe that he did not deem it fit to call me back and offer me respite. What if I would actually slump?

In less than 5 minutes, I saw four members of the red cross clustering around a guy like hungry vultures do to cadavers. He fainted too! Okay, I did not waste time. I turned back and made for the soldier's spot again, but this time, another soldier was at his post. Now, I did not stand straight, I bent down holding my waist and panting like a duck killer hunter who encountered a leopard on his duck-hunting spree. 'What? What?' He asked. 'Oga, my legs..., something will happen.' He pointed to a section occupied by fellow 'tired' compatriots and asked me to go there and rest, but the shame won't let me run there as I should- na only ladies full the place. The guy who fainted was rushed to the clinic. Whether as an act or genuinely, I can't drag mine to a fainting stage. I turned back and headed for my spot on the queue. 'Wetin, you no go again? He asked. 'Oga, I am well!' That was my reply as I found my lost morale.

Ladies, like are you people crazy sometimes? Who carries heavy make up everywhere like a Chinese doll ready to be auctioned? The moment the ceremony came to an end, we were assigned to our platoons and then I met this lady greeting all and sundry like a new wife in a typical Yoruba setting. You need see the makeup. With everything she applied and her combination of colognes, all I perceived when she approached me was the same odour that comes from a cockroach when it falls into a jar of kerosene. Pardon me, but please, make this makeup thing minimal, and know that it is not too advisable to wear it to a parade ground. The most beautiful lady in my life does not wear it (*winks* I love you). The most intelligent lady I know does not need makeup to be who and what she is, and the most fashionable one does not go about with that amount of makeup like an amateur Ibadan masquerade.

So, after the whole ceremony, we were to rest for about an hour and return to the parade ground. However, in between that, our transportation and bicycle allowances arrived from their base.  The trumpet was blown to suit the tone that 'allawee don land'. We all proceeded to the venue of collection, but to my surprise, the whole scene was nothing to sing and dance home about. For crying out loud, why would such degree of lack of composure deprive us of our 4, 5 and 6 years of disciplines instilled in the academic world? In my estimation, behaving in such a shameful manner leaves our degrees a mere floccinaucinihilipilification. I'm sorry for the grammar, the scene did not speak noble of Nigerian graduate. Between, I saw that grammar a while ago and I need use to ensure proper storage.

So, we were later told to vacate the premise. We went to the parade ground for the evening dose and had our platoon leaders and supervisors assigned to us. Before I go, I think that government need look into the issue of old men and women of over 30 to 50 and above coming to camp. For God sake, I met a woman two days back, she was practically crying because she was standing at the registration venue and was becoming so weak. I do concede that it is illegal to put oneself forward for service when you are above 30, but what about the government and private sectors demand for the NYSC certificate from these old people? I think that other demands will do for their calibres. Those of us wey fit sef dey slump and pant for parade, let alone people who are old enough to become an idol in their respective communities.

So, I met my first semi-friend today. I resisted the temptation of conceiving the idea as put forward by my learned friend but I am sorry, he is a lawyer. We discussed a lot while we were waiting for the bosses for the evening parade- we considered publicly criticising ladies being made to sit on murky water as a form of punishment. It could lead to serious infections. The motive of punishment is correction, not destruction. However, when we were made to hurriedly go to our platoons, we both got missing in the crowd. That was how God saved this camp. I need a push to act; he has the push, he needed a dude who is crazy as hell to publicly talk on that; I get the craze for head. That moment reminded me of my good friend, Wole-Olaleye, the legal 'lunatic' of OAU law and other members of the committee in legal 'lunacy' and intellectual intellectual revolution.

© 2015.
Copyright protected.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER
(Episode 4, June 5- 'my boobs made you fail')

Some minutes after the morning devotion on the parade ground, we were all instructed to go to our designated platoons. I got to mine and maintained my usual style- straight face, no speech, arms folded. In fact, come rain and shine, I got myself a pair of sunglasses through which I can observe without being observed. Then the platoon commander came and made us go through series of drillings. At a point, we were all instructed to do 'press-up.' Then the show started for both ladies and gentlemen. However, in less than a minute, the ladies started pulling out. In their typical nature, they did not pull out and find somewhere to sit and mourn their lack of fitness, na to dey look guys wey fit pass among us as we continued ours. Call this laziness, I won't argue, brazenly, I don't enjoy 'press-up,' but this morning I did not know the spirit that came over me, so while few other guys pulled out, I was among the 'wannabe' fit guys showing off.

Soon enough, about 8 of us were the men of the moment as ladies kept hailing us. A moment later, I was exhausted, but I kept acting like a stubborn goat struggling to eat his way through a bag of maize. At a point, I realized the other guys were smokers- addicted weed smokers- for if they were not, they won't continue with such pace. I can't prove my assertion because I did not see them smoking, but they should be arrested, they use and abuse banned substances. 'Build that muscle! Build that muscle!!!' The platoon commander shouted with the air of pomposity hovering around our heads for our supposed 'fit' status. Then, my movements slowed down rapidly, I was going up and down as if I had 10 bags of cement strapped to my back. 'Abeg! I no commot house with any muscle and amant did not threaten to leave me if I don't return with muscle- after all, na lizard do press up pass and he no get muscle'. I thought to myself and stopped abruptly, sat on the floor and started panting. I could not see those around me clearly for like 3 minutes. 'Oga, let those with muscles build it, let me build my career, àlùbáríkà ló jù, ká sisé bí erú ò da nkan'. The whole members of the platoon erupted in laughter. That moment, I sensed that some doubts were erased as to whether or not I was the 'Molè' character in the Yoruba best seller- Ojó burúkú, èsù gbomimu. You need read that book if you have not. Molè was a daredevil whose face is devoid of any expression. He wore sunglasses every now and then for reason unknown. His modus operandi was incredible and left no mark for a possible clue. Let me not deviate much, I was not paid for an advert by the author. In short, I was just that stern looking guy in my platoon, but the press up saga would later make me a converted clown. Also, all doubts were erased as to my tribe.

Some minutes later, we were to practice for a march. Initially, I did not have a problem with that, but I started having my reservations about the idea when the platoon commander promised to make the best in the march among us 'quarter guards.' Quarter what? Quarter kor, half ni. What is quarter guard sef or who are the quarter guards? They are the selected corp members assigned to watch over some quarters in the camp. Also, they do parade around even when the rest of us are relaxing on the parade ground. They stand still like the statue of the legendary Timi of Ede while the rest of us can manage to 'scratch' our legs or arms. Anyway, my interest in the march died down and I promised myself to fail the march test so as not to end up among the guards. So, the march started and I did well- I failed. I was still basking in the euphoria of my victorious failure of my escape from the recruitment as a quarter guard when someone drew me by my shirt from behind. In the process of turning back, I heard these sentence with a banned word 'my boobs made you fail.' I turned back and saw a fair lady laughing like a fox that sees a trapped fowl.

I was 100% silent, not because I did not want to talk, but there was absolutely nothing to say. My word pouch was empty. I looked at her for proper examination in a bid to appraise the basis of her assertion and behold, they are capable of making someone fail, but God knows, they didn't make me fail- mine was self-induced. I walked to another part of the venue and looked back, trying to be sure I heard her right only to see her laughing again. 'She said something about her boobs?' The dark guy asked in a concentrated Hausa accent. I just smiled and heaved at the mystery of that moment. 'She already told me about you. She said you were not paying attention to the march but her boobs.' I was shocked that such a scandal would emerge. For God sake, I did not see this lady before or during the march, how come? Deep inside me, she must pay for lying on me and like I have been praying for Deji's Karma, I won't forget to pray that her own should come too.

While leaving the parade ground, she walked up to me. 'You go lie say when we dey rush the other time, you no know say my bobby touch your back?' She asked laughing hysterically like a promoted member of the coven. This is the truth, I felt different touches at my back in the rush moment, but I never knew 'they' were one of those things. She dashed away to the lady who stood under a mango tree looking at us, 'my boobs made him fail.' That one too must be one sentimental individual, she joined in the laughter without giving me fair hearing. For once in my life, I was ready to tell my side of the story to anyone she goes to. I felt cornered up, but life continues.

And earlier this morning, this guy in my hall was preaching to us about faith. I was in bed, but I was listening. He preached on faith and blew it up by advising us not to pick the redeployment form, but to proceed to Borno after the camp since that is what God wants and we must have faith. Then the rebellious part of me whispered, 'faith has a limit, the elastic limit of faith is where foolishness takes over.' The guy won't stop, he was moving around when one Igbo guy shouted 'guy, if you near me I go naked you!' Carry your faith comot.' This die-hard preacher won't let us be still, at 5 a:m. He avoided the angry fellow and came to my side of the hall, everybody feigned sleep. I peeped from under my cover cloth and beckoned on him. He approached with his sermon and I told him that Jesus is my role model in the religious aspect, devil told him to jump, he had the faith but He did not. Now, why should I ignore His laid down style and believe you? You are telling us to leave here and proceed to Borno when God already spoke through NYSC to give us redeployment forms. Don't put God to test! I warned and jumped down for the business of the day as I proceed to the tank with one of our platoon songs:

Wayo, wayo, wayo
Wayoyo

Wayo, wayo, wayo
Wayoyo

Mama come and see o
Wayoyo
Wetin man go suffer
Wayoyo
Dem go give us water
Wayoyo
Dem go say na tea
Wayoyo

As I was reading tru d last episode, I was imagining within me, how the preacher would felt wen u responded to him that way, you didn't wait to hear his response self. I love that. lol.

Following again!!!!

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER

(Episode 5, June 6- The fire outbreak!)

'Fire! Fire!! Fire!!!', the noise erupted from different quarters of the camp. Fire ke? The time was just 12:03 am and I went to bed around 11:13 pm. There was no time to think that one of those camp crooks is up to a prank again. The sound of the trumpet that alerts in a case of emergency followed- that erased all doubts. Hhen? I jumped from my bunk and picked up the pair of rubber tennis by my bed. I swear, I can run! I did not know how I got outside in a space of 7 seconds-but I was not the fastest, I met some corp members outside- I think I know why they were that fast to run- evil people fear fire. It is only people like me that will be patient enough to get the gist well before we run.

To our surprise and anger, the soldiers were the ones raising the alarm that there was a fire outbreak when in the actual sense, there was none. We were all led to the parade ground around 12:08 am and there were many guys wearing just shorts, some ladies wore their night gowns, some tied wrapper. Yet, they were made to run out like that. Then for coming late, some people were going through the frog jump ritual. Whoever introduced the frog jump mode of punishment to the Nigerian Army is guilty of crime against humanity, and must be charged. I was not even interested in that, I need an explanation for the false fire alarm and why I would be led to the parade ground that time of the 'night'. See, forget that civilisation thing or whatever has turned that time to morning, na òru (midnight). As if they read my mind right, one of the soldiers came to the front and went thus: you said you want to meet with the camp commandant, he is here. This is the time for the meeting.

From nowhere, a guy approached me and asked 'abeg o, help me check my phone, is my time correct?' I perceived the odour of alcohol oozing out of his mouth around 12 in the midnight. Even a drunkard was sane enough to doubt his time when we were told to come out at that time of the night. Happy by his question, but vexed by his drunkenness, I replied 'your time is correct, na your head no correct.' Mind you, I did not let him hear that head part.

What! Is the camp commandant a bat? Meeting at 12 am? For the Federal Republic of Nigeria's sake I did not demand to have any meeting with the man. I don't even want to know him. I am sure our paths won't cross. While lamenting about all these, a guy walked by and behold, whoever said nothing lasts forever has never encountered a perfume made in the North. No be parade we wan do? If na bath you no bath, 98% of us wey dey parade too never bath now, we were called in the midnight. Why must you kill your body odour with this kind of body spray and kill us in the process? I bargained more than I want for coming to camp. It is not even my fault, it is the fault of the Nigerian Army who woke me to make this body spray endanger my specie. I blame the Nigerian Army for everything- the scorching sun, the drenching rain, climate change, global warning, poverty, poor network coverage- everything!

'Are you happy?' The khaki man echoed to the displeasure of his neck veins and nerves that were almost ripping apart due to the force applied to the question, my travelled thought raced back to the parade ground. 'Yes', we all echoed hypocritically like the National Association of Nigerian Students' executives do to any political party that gives them money. You dare not say you are not happy because five minutes after trying such, your body, soul and destiny will never remain the same due to frog jump. 'Oya, sit,' he continued as we all struggled for the areas with less gravel on the floor. Before we could complete the process, he shouted again, 'jump up.' That moment reminded me of Efúnsetán Aníwúrà in the primordial Ibadan- Efúnsetán was the ìyálóde whose tentacles of influence went beyond the ordinary- she was a draconian individual who wielded power without control. For Efúnsetán, she must either have it or destroy it. Bashòrun Gáà also comes to mind when you want to appraise these soldiers on their use of power here. Then, my teenage memory was invited by the circumstance, it painted a picture of Bàbá Fálétí's song in the celebrated Saworoide as he stood on the wooden balcony. He sang thus:

Àwon ìjòyé yí mà le ò, wón mà le ò
Àjàntièlè...

Before I get carried away by the deep reflection that scene of Saworoide should fetch every man, let me proceed. I started thinking about varying experiences I've had so far- the ones I wrote and the ones better left to fade away with time. I remembered that like most camps in Nigeria, my camp does not have a single ATM point. You have to travel for 40 minutes before you can see any ATM point. To apply to go out of the camp, you need write a letter that will go from one camp officer to another- something tells me before you can get a reply, your grandchildren would be serving by then.

I went for the breakfast prepared by the camp today. You can learn from anything, anybody and any circumstance in life. I realized that foods do aspire too- we were served aspiring tea. Aspiring tea? The tea that lacks the complete quality of adding something to you. The tea here is taken to push the fear of starvation away for another 3 hours. I still dey vex with the Deji sha. Saw him at the field today smiling to a lady with his wide glasses like that of a researcher searching for goldfish under the ocean.

Remember the die-hard preacher in episode 4 too? I mean the brother Jero who preached about going to Borno? He is on my tail, he was unable to reply to my question yesterday. I guess a verse to reply has been sent to him via text, now he is eager to chat. But, then I deflated his tiny spiritual ego when he met me tonight. He asked 'are you born again?' I replied yes. He then asked if I speak in tongue, I replied Yes. For God sake, why won't I? I speak in my mother tongue. He was yet to overcome the shock when I walked away whistling a song which lyrics I don't know- you can't know all the lyrics of the songs we are taught here. You just can't.

Hidentity i think you should work on your conversation. More better to space them


Above all, its good for you to share this Camp life for the readers here. The last part really got me.

stuff46:
Hidentity i think you should work on your conversation. More better to space them


Above all, its good for you to share this Camp life for the readers here. The last part really got me.

Thanks for the good word Sir. I can say that the very short time I have to type is the reason behind the spacing flaw. However, I take to your hint. Thanks for reading.

Nice update bro

As for the false fire alarm...pele

Born Against Hidentity

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER

(Episode 6, June 7- The mami water)

I headed for the mami market feeling fly. The last time I had the chance to communicate with people in Nigeria, Abusgar told me there won't be parade of any sort today. Here is not Nigeria. In Nigeria, my life is not regimented. In Nigeria, I have access to the dailies anytime I want, here nothing like that. In Nigeria, I see beyond the dusky field and the green terrain- I see beyond giant of rocks surrounding everywhere. In Nigeria, soldiers don't demand for frog jump from civilians as if it is their birth right. Nigerians, is President Buhari still the President of Nigeria? Is Otuoke still in Bayelsa state of Nigeria? I hope Ibadan has not become the Federal Capital territory? Is electricity supply still dwindling? What about the Dollar and Naira saga? I ask because here is just not Nigeria.

So, since I was told the day would be a free day, I took it free within the context of my understanding. By 6:am, the national anthem was taken but I did not even pause like we must always do. Remember, this is not Nigeria. I saw others standing still, but I did not. I started keeping malice with the proper routes and crossed lawns, leaving hundreds of tender grasses to be murdered by my arrogance. Others were on white vests, white pair of shorts, white shoes and their caps. I was not-Abusgar told me today would be free, so I wore a green top which is the colour of my platoon, I then celebrated it with a camouflage military shorts I bought at Abuja while coming. I do not consider myself a bloody civilian anymore- our platoon commandant, a soldier already said we are not bloody civilians.

I got to the mami market and observed the unusual- the whole environment was bereft of ever-patronising fellow youth corp members. I paused, thought about going back, but then Abusgar from Nigeria told me today would be a free day. I proceeded to a shop and requested for water. Apparently reluctant, the attendant, a woman looked at me critically and asked 'you be corper.' I wanted to say Yes, but then Abusgar told me today would be a free day. Corpers are not known with freedom here-their lives are regimented. 'No!' I replied adjusting my standing position and looking very stern. 'Chike, bring water for oga.' Oga? That title is reserved for soldiers here. But then, I won't reject it. Instead, I shouted at the already approaching Chike, 'answer me, you think say I be bloody civilian?' Chike made to run, but then he stumbled and fell. I wanted to kick him in the nose, but I don't want a bloody civilian to 'die on my neck.' I picked the bottle of water rolling on the ground and made to go. 'Oga, you never pay,' the woman said from behind. I turned back, wearing a frightening outlook. Today is a free day, Abusgar from Nigeria told me. I thought within me and the visibly scared woman moved back because of my intimidating look. I was almost out of the mami market when I saw 5 soldiers approaching. Behind them were several corp members looking curious because of reason(s) unknown to me. 'Squat down, bloody civilian', the soldier in the middle shouted and pointed at me. I don't have to be told the day is not a free day, or maybe no longer a free day.

Why should I even believe Abusgar at first? He is in Nigeria, here is not Nigeria. The other corp members were already murmuring and saying the stuffs they were created to say anytime someone is in trouble. 'Where is your state code?' The soldier who asked me to squat initially continued. It was not hung on my neck like always because I was told the day would be a free day. I checked the pocket of my military shorts but it was not there. I was told to rise, another soldier approached me and pulled off my Khaki shorts. 'You dey craze, you think say bloody civilian dey wear this.' By then, I knew the day was not, is not and will never be a free day again. The woman at the shop was watching all this while, then she spoilt my blues with a touch of 'Makossa.' 'He talk say him be officer, he no even pay for the water, he wan beat us.' 'Hha!' The other corp members watching interjected.

The soldiers all came closer to me. 'Wetin you come do here? The questionnaire among them asked. I raised the bottle of water up and all that could come out of my mouth repeatedly was 'mami water.' 'Oya, squat, begin dey do frog jump to the administrative building. You must face the panel.' I bent down and put the 'mami water' down. 'Mami water,' I shouted as I opened my eyes and saw Deji, my 'bunkie' who woke me. I have been dreaming. The day is a free one, for if not, I won't be in bed till 1:53 pm. However, I won't go to mami at all, let alone bargain for a mami water. 'Won't we go and get something at mami?',' Deji asked. I looked at him and saw trouble highly personified beside my bed, I turned and shut my eyes again.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER

(Episode 7, June 8- The people adjudged cowards)

There is something interesting about the human nature- it gets modified by circumstances. However, there are certain people who would only be modified in the area of the means and not the end. Whether they are more human or less human, it is a topic of discourse that does not interest me to the least. Whether it is a good news or a bad one, I do not know. What I know is that I belong to the category of those who don't lose the means and the end to the turbulence of circumstance at a time.

The issue of ethnicity and religion are very sensitive in a nation like ours. My ardent readers must have noticed that I am always extra careful in subjecting any of them to public discourse or intellectual discourse. Just like same sex marriage, abortion and euthanasia. I am human- one of the 'rebels' who seek to tilt more to the side of reason (logic) than convention. I think that we were given brains, so that we can let God 'hear word' sometimes. You don't cry to Him because you want a cup of water or need fix your buckle. In the same vein, I do strike a balance between logic and public policy- early in life, I realized you have to tell people what they want to hear in order to have the audience to tell them what they need to here. If it sounds proverbial, I think that it is.

I have not for once fixed the tiles of any negative puzzle to a tribe or religion in Nigeria. At least, not that I can remember. Though, I have observed certain inimical acts that are peculiar to people from given areas, but I always seek to attach it to either the human nature as a whole or circumstance- that is the public policy part of me at play. But for the sake of record, I think that 'most' of those practicing the two key religions in Nigeria need reexamine themselves. In a bid to extend the tentacles of one, the believers in it can be highly insensitive sometimes. On the other hand, those on the other side can be highly intolerant. Perhaps, those guilty of these do not know that the motive of religion is not to push humanity into extinction. I will pause on that.

On ethnicity, on many occasions, I have witnessed the people from my tribe making comments that were unbecoming of other tribes. Wait! They do it to us too- they lambaste us and associate us with different negative attitudes. However, the paragraph you just read was not meant to justify the penultimate. It is only a comparison and justification of my worry- a worry that has a touch of anger. Last night, one of those meant to clean my hall here in camp entered the toilet and came out with a stridency of insulting clatters- they have done it again, the graduates whose years of education could not afford the least of etiquette, even in the toilet. In their case, the presumption of sanity is highly rebuttable. Perhaps, their finding themselves among human is synonymous with an accidental discharge from a rifle- it was not well-thought out nor planned. They age, but never grow, and with them, the compass of decency indicates North when they face South. They did defecate in the sink this time around!

The disgusting development was reported to the soldiers in camp. Soon enough, there were news here and there that the soldiers promised to come like a thief in the night and instill some senses in us through punishment. For those of us who have it, common sense is never enough, we would be fed more. Immediately, some youth corp members in the room started speaking in their language- obviously, insulting and maligning whoever it was that did such. Then at a point, the word 'Yoruba' started evolving in the midst of their utterances. For me, l felt something not too pleasant was being said about my tribe, but still, it is a waste of energy to unleash the god of emotion when fact is lacking. I could read the faces of other friends from the Yoruba tribe- they felt the same, but they bottled up their dissent. When it was getting too much and prolonged, most dashed out. Perhaps, to avoid a clash, but I lied still on my bed, pretending to be carried away by whatever it was that I was doing with my NYSC camp. Then feeling free with the believe that I belong to their tribe or maybe the darkness did not allow them see me on my bed, this collective children of anger chorused different inflammatory statements at a time. The statements included but not limited to 'Yoruba, dirty people!' 'The tribe of cowards ran away because soldiers dey come.' They then climaxed at their short pathetic tribal masturbation with a bout of menacing laughter. Never before have I felt that Nigeria's mistake is in making 'us' one. I felt pained, and that moment changed something. It changed the means, but again, not the end. Immediately, I linked the picture to why I ended all forms of communication with a lady from the same tribe as these irritating people- she wanted me to go for someone from the tribe and when I asked to know why, her reply was that 'I should not go for those dirty girls with stretch marks in my tribe.' She said that on phone, I wanted to suggest that she see a psychiatrist, but I did not. Again, I did maintain my silence because I lack the strength to address uncultured talkers bluffing in heavy accents in the imaginative attires of their superiority.

Guy u are actually making sense enjying ur story :-)

*parks Porsche Cayenne....

*spreads Persian rug

*grabs popcorn and andré....

*scouting for the next available chick to sit with me

Haaaa!Bro,hope you have learnt that Nigeria as a country is a joke.The unity is not really there and we are just deceiving ourselves.
I do not think,you can build a nation with this mindset of tribes suspecting and denigrating one another coupled with the secession threat of some tribes.
I also hope the Yoruba's know this very soon. Because having noticed on both offline and online forums, it seems most of them are still delusional about this country,being more vocal about so called One Nigeria.
It just a matter of time before this country is washed away and new nations emerged. Nigerians are more attached to their tribes and religion than being a 'Nigerian ' in question.
Pardon me for the distraction and I have enjoyed your piece so far.
Waiting for more of your updates.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER

(Episode 7, June 8- Bad market)

'Walahi, if I did not see you in at least one of the platoon activities, you will do frog jump tire.' The platoon commandant threatened me in the presence of other platoon members. Yes, I deserve all the threats in this world. I have not been an asset to the platoon in any way. Though, not a liability too, but my input in the platoon so far is just to watch and learn. But this morning was different- the commandant was inspecting the parade when he noticed me. He then threw questions in succession. Are you among the quarter guard? No. Are you in the dance group? No. Drama nko? No. Football team? No. Volleyball? No. Basketball? No. I ticked NO in all. Then that threat emerged.

I started my journey with the dance group, but it was a bad market for me. My back was too stiff to do the cultural dance. I made for the football team, the coach required that we all run round the field 8 times to ensure fitness. With other players, I did. The training session started and contrary to his instruction that no one should touch the ball more than 3 times, I did 5 times- I encountered a player very easy to dribble, so I felt it was an advantage to show that I should make the final team- I was desperate. In the next 30 seconds, I was running round the field again- 5 laps was the punishment for breaching the rule of 3 touches. After running it 2 times, I felt my heart almost jumping out through my mouth. I ran out of the lane and made for the drama group- No vacant role!

I ran back to the football field and continued my punishment. The task was not an easy one, but I was coping. Did I ever think I would be running around a big field chasing an inflated circular leather at my age, shoe size, marital status, state of origin and religion? But the session won't just last- as I write you, I've got a dislocation in my left toe. The match is tomorrow. I don't play volleyball and basketball, I have been banned from the cultural group. I no fit near parade- hours of standing come rain and sun is no joke. Any idea on how to escape the frog jump? Go to the commandant with the injury? Trust me, I did that. He said death is the only excuse I have. I plan on starting frog jump training on my own. Before Friday when all events will end, frog jump would have become my hobby- when he brings the punishment, I won't have a problem doing what I love.

MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER (June 9- And so, the Director General came)

The Director General came visiting a couple of days back. In his address, he made it clear that it is highly prohibited for a youth corp member to address the press, post on the social media or post certain pictures of his experience in camp. In the light of this, the memoir is stopping officially today. There should be regard for the rule of law and principles guiding the affairs in a place.

Thanks.

Hidentity:
MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER (June 9- And so, the Director General came)

The Director General came visiting a couple of days back. In his address, he made it clear that it is highly prohibited for a youth corp member to address the press, post on the social media or post certain pictures of his experience in camp. In the light of this, the memoir is stopping officially today. There should be regard for the rule of law and principles guiding the affairs in a place.

Thanks.

oh, this is not ending on a good note @all. *sob*

[Recording stopped]

Hidentity:
MEMOIR OF A 'CORPER' LAWYER (June 9- And so, the Director General came)

The Director General came visiting a couple of days back. In his address, he made it clear that it is highly prohibited for a youth corp member to address the press, post on the social media or post certain pictures of his experience in camp. In the light of this, the memoir is stopping officially today. There should be regard for the rule of law and principles guiding the affairs in a place.

Thanks.

So the cotton fades? Is this not an unbearable suspense?

Your last post made me realise one fact- You are a true lawyer,no doubt!
Kudos!

Ubi jus ibi remedium!

Depending on the situation, lawyer can work with us to determine the different roles can play to ensure your family is protected.
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