A Journey to Remember: My NYSC Posting Adventure

Let me begin by saying that checking NYSC postings is not for the faint-hearted. I remember back in 2018 when I checked for my e-call-up letter. Prior to that, I sought help to avoid being posted to the South and North Eastern states due to the distance and insecurity in those regions. You know, in Nigeria, it's all about having the right connections. I was assured that I would be posted to Kano. So, when my friend Faruk called me to ask where I was posted, I confidently said, "Kano" before even checking. But fate had other plans; I was posted to Delta state. As soon as I entered my details and the webpage loaded, I saw "Delta," and I felt uneasy and disgruntled, which was quite unusual for me.

I'm about to embark on my NYSC journey. I lost my opportunity to enroll for the mandatory youth service of Batch B after the café guy, Ghali, played a trick on me. He short-changed me after taking my registration fee, using the money for personal expenses. After confronting him and threatening to report him to his boss, his superiors intervened and scolded him. A day later, he registered me for batch C, stream 2.

Fast forward to printing the slip; I immediately called my uncle, a cosmopolitan who has worked in the North, East, and West. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about. I remember him saying, "This will be your opportunity to see Nigeria's diversity firsthand." His words eased my fears. I couldn't afford any more disappointments, and Delta state was never on my bucket list.

Realizing there was nothing I could do to change my deployment, I resigned myself to my fate. Now, all I needed was information about the camp's location in Delta State. I called my elder brother, who had once lived in Port Harcourt, South-South Nigeria, to ask if he had heard of Issele Uku town in Aniocha North Local Government. After a brief pause, he replied, 'Yes, I have. It's by the roadside before you reach Asaba, the state capital,' he said. That was somewhat reassuring.

'Not to brag, but I know the region like the back of my hand,' Abdulrahman said. Abdulrahman hails from Edo state, which is a few hours away from Delta.

I booked an evening bus to Delta state, staying at the park until 9 pm before we hit the road at Television Garage. There was a brief commotion at the park when we heard a loud bang, and everyone scattered for safety, including the driver. Unbeknownst to us, it was a burst tire; bomb blasts were rampant at the time. After realizing what had happened, we all laughed it off.

With my headphones on, I immediately plugged in my phone to listen to the then-trendy music, pondering what lay ahead. While vibing and grooving to the music, I heard a loud thud. Our bus nearly veered off the road around midnight, sending shivers down my spine. The driver managed to hit the brakes, bringing the bus to a halt. All passengers, including myself, hastily disembarked. It took the driver about an hour to fix the hummer bus.

We reboarded the bus, this time with my senses on high alert, scanning the road. Along the way, the hummer bus developed another issue, with the front light failing to illuminate the road ahead. We were in a tight spot, and I couldn't help but wonder, "What if armed robbers were to target us?"

The front light was badly damaged due to the earlier accident. The driver, realizing this, called his co-driver and waited for us. We drove at a snail's pace to catch up with him. He provided us with backlight so that we could continue the journey until we reached Lokoja. We made a stop at Lokoja not only as a transit point but also to offer our prayers.

After fixing the front light, we continued our journey. I noticed the driver discreetly handing money to soldiers manning the checkpoints we passed. I wanted to ask but kept quiet like a spy.

The Okene road was in terrible condition, and it took us hours to get past Okene. I noticed enormous palm trees along the way. We arrived in Benin City at dawn, where I observed tombstones in front yards and statues carved to honor the deceased. That marked the beginning of my culture shock.


We arrived in Delta State around 12 pm. The vegetation is lush green, with gigantic canopy-like trees. I took a taxi that dropped me off at Aniocha North Local Government Area. The taxi, upon reaching there, dropped me by the road. From there, I hopped on a motorcycle to Issele Uku NYSC Orientation Camp. We haggled over the fare, settling on N100. I informed the bike man that I had to go to the camp and was aware of the standard fares. Later, I found out that motorcycle riders often charge as much as N500 per trip.

Upon reaching the camp, I disembarked from the motorcycle and picked up my bags at the gate. I showed the soldier my call-up letter to gain access. I immediately joined the registration and documentation queues. After completing the registration, I was shown the way to the hostel. I belonged to Platoon 3 (Humility).

I was excited to see people from diverse cultures and ethnicities. Nigeria is truly diverse. I learned about the culture and traditions of Deltans, who are known for their hospitality.

NYSC camp is like a military barracks, where those in charge decide what you eat, wear, when you sleep, wake up, and even your mobility is programmed as well. We were woken up early in the morning for parades and in the scorching afternoon for various forms of physical exercise. The camp commandant called me and Sakina 'water bottles,' a military term for individuals of small stature and petite build.


A camp is a place where a well-mannered person can become promiscuous. When I realized this, I acquainted myself with well-mannered and culturally diverse friends, and in camp, I learned to become more tolerant. It's a place where the haves and the have-nots mingle. I remember that the half-sister of the then Kwara state governor was in the camp.

Sakina and Fatima are Yoruba girls from Osun state, while Victoria is from Ondo state. They are nice and down-to-earth ladies. I was able to clear up some misconceptions about the North. I also set some boundaries in the camp; I stated that no one should call me 'Aboki' because it is derogatory to me. When someone refused to comply and called me 'Aboki,' I responded with 'Alade,' a Hausa word for pig.

I remember a day when I barged into a conversation with an Igbo girl, Esther. She claimed she had never been to the North. She said her dad warned her to stay away from Northerners, as according to him, they are evil and have no regard for the sanctity of human lives. Her dad planted a seed of hatred for the North, but during camp, she learned about the North firsthand and even wanted to visit after NYSC. We had a lengthy conversation and instantly became friends. I also had another encounter with a South Easterner, and I was able to educate her about the North. She seemed pleased.

I also met those who are espoused to the Biafra ideology and cultists. I was able to pinpoint them during our debates. One day, my friend Aminu from Katsina rushed to the place where we normally hang out to rest under a tree. He was shocked and fidgeting. From his countenance and body language, I could tell that something was amiss.

"Do you remember that tattooed guy with a strong physique and a strange hairdo?" I asked. "I saw him drinking a black, thick concoction with a half-naked lady in the bush, and I also saw a deity-like figure," he said. "Yes, I do," I replied.

My mind then wandered in thoughts. I remembered my altercations with him. What if he hunted me, I said to myself discreetly. I think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill; there's no cause for alarm, I concluded quietly and unnoticed. I mustered some courage and continued my path of bravery, even though my heart was palpating.



I joined the cultural dance troupe and drama group. That's soothing; at least I can now avoid the parade; it's exhausting. To avoid the parade, I normally hide in the toilet until I hear no more sound before coming out.

"Hey! I haven't been seeing you at the parade," I said. "I'm like MTN everywhere you go," I replied to the soldier. He smiled. "From today onwards, we'll have cultural dance rehearsals. The dance group is for those who are removed from the parade for one mistake or another.

We learn how to play and beat the drum. We came first in the drama display. I played the role of a police officer.



I, Muhammed from Jos, feigned sickness in order to get relocation, despite Sakina and Fatima's advice. They tried to talk us out of this.
We were all homesick, missing our friends and family.

Upon passing out, I noticed that Fatima and Sakina were teary-eyed. I was moved to tears too inside the bus we booked. That same fate returned to Kano where I was posted to SDY Engineering and Construction Company in Bompai, Kano. I made friends, who are more than friends, both in the South and North, all thanks to NYSC.

I missed Delta State. I missed their food, and I came to realize this: "Truly, Warri no dey carry last.


*About Me*
_Freelance architect with 3+ years experience, skilled writer, columnist with passion for designing and communicating innovative and functional spaces._

Name: Arc Aliyu Tanimu
Email: Aliyutani@gmail.com
Social media handle: @IamAliyu_Tee
Number: +2347033399363

Aliyutani:
A Journey to Remember: My NYSC Posting Adventure

Let me begin by saying that checking NYSC postings is not for the faint-hearted. I remember back in 2018 when I checked for my e-call-up letter. Prior to that, I sought help to avoid being posted to the South and North Eastern states due to the distance and insecurity in those regions. You know, in Nigeria, it's all about having the right connections. I was assured that I would be posted to Kano. So, when my friend Faruk called me to ask where I was posted, I confidently said, "Kano" before even checking. But fate had other plans; I was posted to Delta state. As soon as I entered my details and the webpage loaded, I saw "Delta," and I felt uneasy and disgruntled, which was quite unusual for me.

I'm about to embark on my NYSC journey. I lost my opportunity to enroll for the mandatory youth service of Batch B after the café guy, Ghali, played a trick on me. He short-changed me after taking my registration fee, using the money for personal expenses. After confronting him and threatening to report him to his boss, his superiors intervened and scolded him. A day later, he registered me for batch C, stream 2.

Fast forward to printing the slip; I immediately called my uncle, a cosmopolitan who has worked in the North, East, and West. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about. I remember him saying, "This will be your opportunity to see Nigeria's diversity firsthand." His words eased my fears. I couldn't afford any more disappointments, and Delta state was never on my bucket list.

Realizing there was nothing I could do to change my deployment, I resigned myself to my fate. Now, all I needed was information about the camp's location in Delta State. I called my elder brother, who had once lived in Port Harcourt, South-South Nigeria, to ask if he had heard of Issele Uku town in Aniocha North Local Government. After a brief pause, he replied, 'Yes, I have. It's by the roadside before you reach Asaba, the state capital,' he said. That was somewhat reassuring.

'Not to brag, but I know the region like the back of my hand,' Abdulrahman said. Abdulrahman hails from Edo state, which is a few hours away from Delta.

I booked an evening bus to Delta state, staying at the park until 9 pm before we hit the road at Television Garage. There was a brief commotion at the park when we heard a loud bang, and everyone scattered for safety, including the driver. Unbeknownst to us, it was a burst tire; bomb blasts were rampant at the time. After realizing what had happened, we all laughed it off.

With my headphones on, I immediately plugged in my phone to listen to the then-trendy music, pondering what lay ahead. While vibing and grooving to the music, I heard a loud thud. Our bus nearly veered off the road around midnight, sending shivers down my spine. The driver managed to hit the brakes, bringing the bus to a halt. All passengers, including myself, hastily disembarked. It took the driver about an hour to fix the hummer bus.

We reboarded the bus, this time with my senses on high alert, scanning the road. Along the way, the hummer bus developed another issue, with the front light failing to illuminate the road ahead. We were in a tight spot, and I couldn't help but wonder, "What if armed robbers were to target us?"

The front light was badly damaged due to the earlier accident. The driver, realizing this, called his co-driver and waited for us. We drove at a snail's pace to catch up with him. He provided us with backlight so that we could continue the journey until we reached Lokoja. We made a stop at Lokoja not only as a transit point but also to offer our prayers.

After fixing the front light, we continued our journey. I noticed the driver discreetly handing money to soldiers manning the checkpoints we passed. I wanted to ask but kept quiet like a spy.

The Okene road was in terrible condition, and it took us hours to get past Okene. I noticed enormous palm trees along the way. We arrived in Benin City at dawn, where I observed tombstones in front yards and statues carved to honor the deceased. That marked the beginning of my culture shock.


We arrived in Delta State around 12 pm. The vegetation is lush green, with gigantic canopy-like trees. I took a taxi that dropped me off at Aniocha North Local Government Area. The taxi, upon reaching there, dropped me by the road. From there, I hopped on a motorcycle to Issele Uku NYSC Orientation Camp. We haggled over the fare, settling on N100. I informed the bike man that I had to go to the camp and was aware of the standard fares. Later, I found out that motorcycle riders often charge as much as N500 per trip.

Upon reaching the camp, I disembarked from the motorcycle and picked up my bags at the gate. I showed the soldier my call-up letter to gain access. I immediately joined the registration and documentation queues. After completing the registration, I was shown the way to the hostel. I belonged to Platoon 3 (Humility).

I was excited to see people from diverse cultures and ethnicities. Nigeria is truly diverse. I learned about the culture and traditions of Deltans, who are known for their hospitality.

NYSC camp is like a military barracks, where those in charge decide what you eat, wear, when you sleep, wake up, and even your mobility is programmed as well. We were woken up early in the morning for parades and in the scorching afternoon for various forms of physical exercise. The camp commandant called me and Sakina 'water bottles,' a military term for individuals of small stature and petite build.


A camp is a place where a well-mannered person can become promiscuous. When I realized this, I acquainted myself with well-mannered and culturally diverse friends, and in camp, I learned to become more tolerant. It's a place where the haves and the have-nots mingle. I remember that the half-sister of the then Kwara state governor was in the camp.

Sakina and Fatima are Yoruba girls from Osun state, while Victoria is from Ondo state. They are nice and down-to-earth ladies. I was able to clear up some misconceptions about the North. I also set some boundaries in the camp; I stated that no one should call me 'Aboki' because it is derogatory to me. When someone refused to comply and called me 'Aboki,' I responded with 'Alade,' a Hausa word for pig.

I remember a day when I barged into a conversation with an Igbo girl, Esther. She claimed she had never been to the North. She said her dad warned her to stay away from Northerners, as according to him, they are evil and have no regard for the sanctity of human lives. Her dad planted a seed of hatred for the North, but during camp, she learned about the North firsthand and even wanted to visit after NYSC. We had a lengthy conversation and instantly became friends. I also had another encounter with a South Easterner, and I was able to educate her about the North. She seemed pleased.

I also met those who are espoused to the Biafra ideology and cultists. I was able to pinpoint them during our debates. One day, my friend Aminu from Katsina rushed to the place where we normally hang out to rest under a tree. He was shocked and fidgeting. From his countenance and body language, I could tell that something was amiss.

"Do you remember that tattooed guy with a strong physique and a strange hairdo?" I asked. "I saw him drinking a black, thick concoction with a half-naked lady in the bush, and I also saw a deity-like figure," he said. "Yes, I do," I replied.

My mind then wandered in thoughts. I remembered my altercations with him. What if he hunted me, I said to myself discreetly. I think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill; there's no cause for alarm, I concluded quietly and unnoticed. I mustered some courage and continued my path of bravery, even though my heart was palpating.



I joined the cultural dance troupe and drama group. That's soothing; at least I can now avoid the parade; it's exhausting. To avoid the parade, I normally hide in the toilet until I hear no more sound before coming out.

"Hey! I haven't been seeing you at the parade," I said. "I'm like MTN everywhere you go," I replied to the soldier. He smiled. "From today onwards, we'll have cultural dance rehearsals. The dance group is for those who are removed from the parade for one mistake or another.

We learn how to play and beat the drum. We came first in the drama display. I played the role of a police officer.



I, Muhammed from Jos, feigned sickness in order to get relocation, despite Sakina and Fatima's advice. They tried to talk us out of this.
We were all homesick, missing our friends and family.

Upon passing out, I noticed that Fatima and Sakina were teary-eyed. I was moved to tears too inside the bus we booked. That same fate returned to Kano where I was posted to SDY Engineering and Construction Company in Bompai, Kano. I made friends, who are more than friends, both in the South and North, all thanks to NYSC.

I missed Delta State. I missed their food, and I came to realize this: "Truly, Warri no dey carry last.


*About Me*
_Freelance architect with 3+ years experience, skilled writer, columnist with passion for designing and communicating innovative and functional spaces._

Name: Arc Aliyu Tanimu
Email: Aliyutani@gmail.com
Social media handle: @IamAliyu_Tee
Number: +2347033399363

Pls, do u have any construction firm where I can serve in kano state please??

Qualification: HND, Quantity Surveying

Jafar1:
Pls, do u have any construction firm where I can serve in kano state please??

Qualification: HND, Quantity Surveying

SDY Engineering and construction company in Bompai, Kano. It's opposite Amasco lubricant factory.

Aliyutani:


SDY Engineering and construction company in Bompai, Kano. It's opposite Amasco lubricant factory.

Pls sir, do they accept corps members there?
And pls do u have any idea what their arrangement for corpers is like?

In terms of accommodation and stipend if possible

Jafar1:

Pls sir, do they accept corps members there?
And pls do u have any idea what their arrangement for corpers is like?

In terms of accommodation and stipend if possible

Yes, they do.

Aliyutani:
A Journey to Remember: My NYSC Posting Adventure

Let me begin by saying that checking NYSC postings is not for the faint-hearted. I remember back in 2018 when I checked for my e-call-up letter. Prior to that, I sought help to avoid being posted to the South and North Eastern states due to the distance and insecurity in those regions. You know, in Nigeria, it's all about having the right connections. I was assured that I would be posted to Kano. So, when my friend Faruk called me to ask where I was posted, I confidently said, "Kano" before even checking. But fate had other plans; I was posted to Delta state. As soon as I entered my details and the webpage loaded, I saw "Delta," and I felt uneasy and disgruntled, which was quite unusual for me.

I'm about to embark on my NYSC journey. I lost my opportunity to enroll for the mandatory youth service of Batch B after the café guy, Ghali, played a trick on me. He short-changed me after taking my registration fee, using the money for personal expenses. After confronting him and threatening to report him to his boss, his superiors intervened and scolded him. A day later, he registered me for batch C, stream 2.

Fast forward to printing the slip; I immediately called my uncle, a cosmopolitan who has worked in the North, East, and West. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about. I remember him saying, "This will be your opportunity to see Nigeria's diversity firsthand." His words eased my fears. I couldn't afford any more disappointments, and Delta state was never on my bucket list.

Realizing there was nothing I could do to change my deployment, I resigned myself to my fate. Now, all I needed was information about the camp's location in Delta State. I called my elder brother, who had once lived in Port Harcourt, South-South Nigeria, to ask if he had heard of Issele Uku town in Aniocha North Local Government. After a brief pause, he replied, 'Yes, I have. It's by the roadside before you reach Asaba, the state capital,' he said. That was somewhat reassuring.

'Not to brag, but I know the region like the back of my hand,' Abdulrahman said. Abdulrahman hails from Edo state, which is a few hours away from Delta.

I booked an evening bus to Delta state, staying at the park until 9 pm before we hit the road at Television Garage. There was a brief commotion at the park when we heard a loud bang, and everyone scattered for safety, including the driver. Unbeknownst to us, it was a burst tire; bomb blasts were rampant at the time. After realizing what had happened, we all laughed it off.

With my headphones on, I immediately plugged in my phone to listen to the then-trendy music, pondering what lay ahead. While vibing and grooving to the music, I heard a loud thud. Our bus nearly veered off the road around midnight, sending shivers down my spine. The driver managed to hit the brakes, bringing the bus to a halt. All passengers, including myself, hastily disembarked. It took the driver about an hour to fix the hummer bus.

We reboarded the bus, this time with my senses on high alert, scanning the road. Along the way, the hummer bus developed another issue, with the front light failing to illuminate the road ahead. We were in a tight spot, and I couldn't help but wonder, "What if armed robbers were to target us?"

The front light was badly damaged due to the earlier accident. The driver, realizing this, called his co-driver and waited for us. We drove at a snail's pace to catch up with him. He provided us with backlight so that we could continue the journey until we reached Lokoja. We made a stop at Lokoja not only as a transit point but also to offer our prayers.

After fixing the front light, we continued our journey. I noticed the driver discreetly handing money to soldiers manning the checkpoints we passed. I wanted to ask but kept quiet like a spy.

The Okene road was in terrible condition, and it took us hours to get past Okene. I noticed enormous palm trees along the way. We arrived in Benin City at dawn, where I observed tombstones in front yards and statues carved to honor the deceased. That marked the beginning of my culture shock.


We arrived in Delta State around 12 pm. The vegetation is lush green, with gigantic canopy-like trees. I took a taxi that dropped me off at Aniocha North Local Government Area. The taxi, upon reaching there, dropped me by the road. From there, I hopped on a motorcycle to Issele Uku NYSC Orientation Camp. We haggled over the fare, settling on N100. I informed the bike man that I had to go to the camp and was aware of the standard fares. Later, I found out that motorcycle riders often charge as much as N500 per trip.

Upon reaching the camp, I disembarked from the motorcycle and picked up my bags at the gate. I showed the soldier my call-up letter to gain access. I immediately joined the registration and documentation queues. After completing the registration, I was shown the way to the hostel. I belonged to Platoon 3 (Humility).

I was excited to see people from diverse cultures and ethnicities. Nigeria is truly diverse. I learned about the culture and traditions of Deltans, who are known for their hospitality.

NYSC camp is like a military barracks, where those in charge decide what you eat, wear, when you sleep, wake up, and even your mobility is programmed as well. We were woken up early in the morning for parades and in the scorching afternoon for various forms of physical exercise. The camp commandant called me and Sakina 'water bottles,' a military term for individuals of small stature and petite build.


A camp is a place where a well-mannered person can become promiscuous. When I realized this, I acquainted myself with well-mannered and culturally diverse friends, and in camp, I learned to become more tolerant. It's a place where the haves and the have-nots mingle. I remember that the half-sister of the then Kwara state governor was in the camp.

Sakina and Fatima are Yoruba girls from Osun state, while Victoria is from Ondo state. They are nice and down-to-earth ladies. I was able to clear up some misconceptions about the North. I also set some boundaries in the camp; I stated that no one should call me 'Aboki' because it is derogatory to me. When someone refused to comply and called me 'Aboki,' I responded with 'Alade,' a Hausa word for pig.

I remember a day when I barged into a conversation with an Igbo girl, Esther. She claimed she had never been to the North. She said her dad warned her to stay away from Northerners, as according to him, they are evil and have no regard for the sanctity of human lives. Her dad planted a seed of hatred for the North, but during camp, she learned about the North firsthand and even wanted to visit after NYSC. We had a lengthy conversation and instantly became friends. I also had another encounter with a South Easterner, and I was able to educate her about the North. She seemed pleased.

I also met those who are espoused to the Biafra ideology and cultists. I was able to pinpoint them during our debates. One day, my friend Aminu from Katsina rushed to the place where we normally hang out to rest under a tree. He was shocked and fidgeting. From his countenance and body language, I could tell that something was amiss.

"Do you remember that tattooed guy with a strong physique and a strange hairdo?" I asked. "I saw him drinking a black, thick concoction with a half-naked lady in the bush, and I also saw a deity-like figure," he said. "Yes, I do," I replied.

My mind then wandered in thoughts. I remembered my altercations with him. What if he hunted me, I said to myself discreetly. I think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill; there's no cause for alarm, I concluded quietly and unnoticed. I mustered some courage and continued my path of bravery, even though my heart was palpating.



I joined the cultural dance troupe and drama group. That's soothing; at least I can now avoid the parade; it's exhausting. To avoid the parade, I normally hide in the toilet until I hear no more sound before coming out.

"Hey! I haven't been seeing you at the parade," I said. "I'm like MTN everywhere you go," I replied to the soldier. He smiled. "From today onwards, we'll have cultural dance rehearsals. The dance group is for those who are removed from the parade for one mistake or another.

We learn how to play and beat the drum. We came first in the drama display. I played the role of a police officer.



I, Muhammed from Jos, feigned sickness in order to get relocation, despite Sakina and Fatima's advice. They tried to talk us out of this.
We were all homesick, missing our friends and family.

Upon passing out, I noticed that Fatima and Sakina were teary-eyed. I was moved to tears too inside the bus we booked. That same fate returned to Kano where I was posted to SDY Engineering and Construction Company in Bompai, Kano. I made friends, who are more than friends, both in the South and North, all thanks to NYSC.

I missed Delta State. I missed their food, and I came to realize this: "Truly, Warri no dey carry last.


*About Me*
_Freelance architect with 3+ years experience, skilled writer, columnist with passion for designing and communicating innovative and functional spaces._

Name: Arc Aliyu Tanimu
Email: Aliyutani@gmail.com
Social media handle: @IamAliyu_Tee
Number: +2347033399363

What an interesting read, I wish to enjoy my time in camp like you.