₦airaland Forum

The Longest Journey of My Life

I want to use this medium to say thank you to NYSC for taking me on the longest, most unnecessary, mentally destabilizing journey of my life.

I didn’t pray for it. But NYSC, in its infinite wisdom, said, “You. You look like someone who should suffer small.”

I went on a 14-hour journey because I wanted to serve my fatherland. Even though, let’s be honest, I’m still not sure how my fatherland has served me.

It all began on an early Monday morning in Osun State. That’s when I saw my posting letter. Ebonyi State. Faraway land.

At that point, I became an emergency geographer. I was reading maps like 1800s pirates searching for buried treasure. Google Maps told me 10 hours. But this is Nigeria. So I added road factors, traffic, spiritual delay, and poor decision-making. Final estimate: 15 hours.

Now, how do I even get there?

There’s no direct bus from Osun. Osun and Ebonyi are like two exes who blocked each other. Zero connection. Neither Osun nor Ebonyi has a functioning airport. (I heard Ebonyi has one, but it’s only functional on paper.) So I had to link up with fellow Ebonyi corps members. I could not find any in Osun because apparently no one else in Osun was posted there. I found my comrades in Ibadan.

After rounds of WhatsApp confusion and collective suffering, we agreed after a lot of disagreement to use a company called Tesom Transport Company (TTC). That was mistake number one. But the woman in charge, Monica, said her bus would take us straight to the camp. Unlike Peace Mass Transit, which said they’d only drop us in Enugu.

Monica sold us hope. We bought it like cold water on a hot afternoon.

We even paid the day before, so things could go “fast and smoothly.” That was cute.

The next day came. Nothing was fast. Nothing was smooth. In fact, nothing was planned. There was no bus. It was like they collected our money and deleted the memory of our existence. We shouted, argued, and almost fought with the manager. The kind of shouting that makes your ancestors look down and ask, “Is this my lineage?”

At one point, I considered asking for a refund just to return home. But guess what? They don’t do refunds. The money moves in a one-way traffic. My sister already called and told me to return home and forget about the money.

By almost 11 AM, they finally produced a car for us. A gold colored Toyota Sienna that looks new inside and outside, with a siren blasting from the front. The driver looks like a Hausa man, but his name is Yoruba.

So we started.

The car moved with the right level of urgency... until the driver started channeling his inner Fast & Furious. We had to beg him: “Oga, remember we are human beings, not plantain chips.”

We passed several states: Ogun. Ondo. Edo (where I finally saw the famous Benin City, but if we’re judging based on that route, then someone needs to remove “city” from the name). Delta. Anambra. By the time we reached Onitsha, it was 9 PM.

Then came Plot Twist Number Two: The driver wasn’t even going to Ebonyi. The real plan, which the TTC company knew all along, was to dump us in Onitsha and hand us over to another random bus. Like luggage.

We slept at the park. Or tried to. I couldn’t sleep. I was too busy questioning every life decision that led to that moment, and maybe planning to sue TTC for emotional damage. But that's too American, and this is Nigeria. The judges here have probably never heard such a thing before.

But we’d crossed the Rubicon. No going back.

The next morning came. And of course with more arguments. About the next bus. About the price. About who’s paying. About why we’re even alive.

By 9 AM, we finally moved again. Four hours left to reach camp. At least I saw Enugu City, beautiful, well-arranged (by Nigerian standards). Then again, maybe it was just the route. But at that point, beauty was not my concern. Survival was.

As we approached Abakaliki, it looked like a ghost town. I could count the number of people I saw with one hand and still have fingers left. Someone said it’s because we didn’t enter the main city. Google backed me up. Ebonyi is one of the least populated states in Nigeria.

But I didn’t come for population census.

I came to get to camp.

At this point, I had been on the road for well over 24 hours. I was tired in places I didn’t know could be tired. But then I saw it: Google Maps showing a straight line to Afikpo. The line kept reducing, poco a poco.

By almost 5 PM, we finally reached the camp gate. We arrived in one piece, with our belongings, frustration, and enough stories to traumatize our future kids.

The journey was unnecessarily long. Brutal. Confusing. But I made it.

And now, I have tales for a lifetime. Thanks, TTC, I guess. I finally saw firsthand why your company doesn't exist anywhere on Google. And maybe it shouldn't exist anywhere on Earth as well.

Round two please.
It's my best read today.
Comically relatable.

U av outdo urself again.nice read.guy!!!drop something for literature section now haba!!!

Be thankful you got to your destination in one piece!

thesolutions:
Round two please.
It's my best read today.
Comically relatable.

Round two??

Person dey go camp twice?

I no wan experience am again abeg ooo.

Biqsahm:
U av outdo urself again.nice read.guy!!!drop something for literature section now haba!!!

I don't think I have ever been to that section. But will check it out one of these days.

Jacktheripper:
Round two??

Person dey go camp twice?

I no wan experience am again abeg ooo.

Experiences may not be repeated but it would be relieved as long as you share the story with someone. And each time it is shared, new details emerge.

This should have made it to the front page where we will be demanding that you make it a sequel.

I enjoyed the sarcastic comic tone though.

You can make it a sequel even though it wasn't appreciated.