"Women don't know what they want. They want you when you're a bad boy, when you're emotionally unavailable, when you are sassy and insensitive, they complain and complain and nag and nag about how you don't really care about them. When you do change for them, when you give in to your emotions, when you show them how much you really love and care about them, when they are certain that you are in love with them, that's when the attitude starts."

- Wayward Pikin

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A series of failed relationships have left Wayward Pikin disillusioned, bitter and broken. He is an empty shell, a ghost of his former self. But when he is posted to Lagos state in service to his country as a National Youth Service Corps member, a series of events conspire to set him on the path of true healing and redemption... or was it the other thing?




Starts Friday, May 8, 2020...

Booked my space already

DOAI:
Booked my space already

DOAI on my thread!!!

God don butter my bread, it's obvious

EXCERPT:

When someone makes you feel like you're not good enough, or not worthy, or chooses someone else over you. That shit hurts. No matter how mature, seasoned, or experienced you are in handling the opposite sex or life's vagaries, things like this will sting even if it's just a little. Rejection will always leave us feeling a little sore, especially when you really like the person, and hoped that it could've been the start of something new and truly beautiful.

That night, I lay in bed with my phone in hand, a battle between my Ego and Common Sense ensuing in my mind.

**********************************************************

Few hours to go. Are you ready?



cc: Divepen1

wetin be dis now when man don dey salivate already abegi oya come and start what you have not started to finish. waiting patiently

OP I'm ready, waiting patiently.

ashatoda:
wetin be dis now when man don dey salivate already abegi oya come and start what you have not started to finish. waiting patiently

Don't worry. It's dropping soon.

Destinylink:
OP I'm ready, waiting patiently.

Your patience will soon be rewarded.

CHAPTER 1: ORIENTATION

I stared at my call up letter with a look of shock on my face, shock slowly turning into a huge smile. I had been posted to Lagos - the city of hustlers. The irony of it was that I never chose Lagos as any of my choices. I had chosen Benue, Abia, Kano, and Ogun state, all horrible choices to me. Fortunately, my elder sister had introduced me to this guy who worked (translation: arranged) her posting to Osun state where she wanted years back, so it was with plenty of fear that I transferred the required sum of money into his account to facilitate the process for myself. I had already made peace with the fact that if it was a scam, I would accept my fate after all, and such is life. This is despite assurances from my sister, whom I trust with my life.

In Lagos, if mugu fall guy-man must chop (translation: if you aren't street smart, you'll get scammed), and no matter how smart you are you cannot always be a guy-man (translation: street smart), sometimes you must be the mugu (translation: the victim). Alas, it all worked out! I had already bought all the paraphernalia that I would need for service as far back as November 2016 before realizing that I was one of the unfortunate people that had been relegated to stream 2. At the time it was the most painful thing, and I found myself wondering whom I had offended. Thinking back to all my past girlfriends, I was hoping that none of them had stripped naked in the middle of the night to lay a curse on me. I had been through a lot prior to this moment; school issues, clearance wahala (translation: problem), inexplicably being exempted from the Senate list, etc. The thing be like say person swear for me abeg (translation: It seemed like I was
under a spell)!

So, you can imagine my happiness – a whole me, a Lagos Corper? My bank account was swelling with cash, money that had accrued after hustling overtime waka-ing (translation: walk) the length and breadth of Lagos. Hell, I almost bought a car. So in the days leading up to when we were supposed to resume at camp, I was literally in cloud nine. As a matter of fact, I was in cloud nine for the full three weeks I spent in camp. Wayward Pikin go show them fire (translation: I was going to make my presence felt).

Loneliness had seriously dealt with me for the period I had spent at home. Not that I couldn’t get a girl to date, it was just that I was yet to find anyone I really liked, and I had also become ensnared in a cat and mouse game with an ex who put herself above everyone else; even her present boyfriend, the poor dude. I kept enduring those periods of loneliness and semi-depression with one thought and one thought only:

"When I get to camp, I’m going to find The One."

I believed that so much with all my heart, I didn’t know why. I felt like Ted Mosby from the TV series “How I Met Your Mother.”

As a Wayward Pikin (translation: bad child), one of my major concerns was how I was going to cope in camp for three whole weeks without my favorite diva MJ. By MJ, I mean marijuana. The three weeks stretched out in front of me like three years as I contemplated such a horrible possibility. I thought about smuggling some of that good stuff into camp but then I knew that they would search all of us at the gate for contraband, and even though the devil in me was whispering in my ear that I could hide it in my bag where no one would see it, it was not a risk I was willing to take. On the day of resumption, I took with me two white shirts and shorts, two pair of mufti shirts and trousers, my documents, my ATM cards and two pair of glasses in a small bag. I strolled into the camp like a boss, the place where I would be remanded for the next three weeks. There, I met this mammoth crowd! Everybody just dey bone face
based on say the sun dey fry all our collective skulls (translation: we all suffered under the glare of the blazing sun). At the gate, a stern-looking Man o' War personnel searched my bag disinterestedly. After turning over my clothes in the bag, he asked if I had smuggled anything into the camp. Anything like weed or drugs. Even if I was carrying something, was I going to say yes?

I looked at him with my innocent face, saying, "No oh, I don't do such."

"Good. Anyone caught with forbidden items will be paraded within the camp and finally decamped. You may go in."

I went in with tears in my eyes because if I had known the officer was barely going to rifle through my stuff I would have carried in my sweet and wonderful MJ with me. We were surely going to miss each other. I got to the parade ground to see another large crowd, everybody lined up. In short, in camp, you had to line up for everything - even sanitary pads. It was the longest queue I had ever seen in my life. With my heart in my throat, I went to stay behind the last person, afraid that my suffering was about to begin. Two hours later, I found myself on another queue comprising of guys, a queue that was leading nowhere. We must have stood there for hours, the sun trying to show us that it could shine brighter than all of us combined. The officer that instructed us to line up was nowhere to be found as well. Suffering!

Another thing that struck me was the sheer number of pregnant women present in the camp. I had never seen such a large population of pregnant women gathered in one place. Anyone that went to Lagos Camp Batch B, Stream 2 of 2016 would attest to that. Were we here for Orientation camp or did this place also serve as a maternity ward I was yet to know about? Their queue was two times longer than the queue for guys and was also moving at a much faster. I stared at them all in annoyance as if they were owing me nine months salary arrears. Where
were all the fine sexy girls that we were promised? Was this how my three weeks in camp was going to be? We I wasn’t going to take this.

When I couldn't take the sun cooking my brain anymore, I quickly went to secure a hostel room space. I was shown to a room where I chose the top bunk and summarily jumped on it and went to sleep.

I was tired and stressed out.

***

I woke up in the evening energetic and reinvigorated, so I headed out with my documents to complete my registration. In the process, I found out that I had been drafted to Platoon 7. I went to the canopy that had the inscription 7 written boldly on it, where another queue was waiting for me. By this time it was dark, but I was determined to finish my registration that day and the crowd had significantly reduced. As I stood in line thinking about my life like I always do, my phone beeped. I whipped it out to see a message from this girl I'd met in a WhatsApp group for Lagos Camp Stream 2 Corps members. She had come a day before registration since she wasn't based in Lagos and had already completed her registration. How we met? I joined the group and being the keyboard warrior that I was, I inexplicably found myself fighting every member of the group as they attacked me left, right and center; and I responded to their attacks as it came. She had to message me privately to be the bigger man and let peace reign, to which I reluctantly obliged. Eventually, the arguments were settled as we discovered it was just a problem of miscommunication among us. Anyway, that is how this lady and I became good friends, as we began to chat frequently in the days leading up to camp. We had exchanged pictures a lot, and she seemed to have taken a liking to me. She had this oval face, this demure personality, and a very beautiful ebony skin with a cute pointed nose. Also, she was an Hajia (translation: a female Muslim faithful), that’s what I always called her. In all the pictures she sent me, she was always wearing a Hijab. However, I was yet to meet her in person.

"Where are you?" Her message read.

"Still doing my registration. I'm at Platoon 7 canopy."

"Okay, I'm coming," She replied immediately.

In my mind, I wondered, "Coming to do what?"

I have to state it at this point that while I am generally a nice person, I’m the ultimate definition of an asshole. I become an asshole when I'm cranky, tired, stressed, sweaty, hungry, pissed off, etc. This period I was all of the above, so I wasn't in the mood to have small talk with anyone. The line proceeded so I took a step forward. I felt the slight touch of soft boobs against my sweaty back. A few minutes later my phone beeped and it was Hajia:

"I'm at Platoon 7. I can't see you. Come outside," She said.

I was almost at the front of the line, so I couldn't go back to see her and I told her as such. She said she would wait and I said okay. I took another step further and felt the slight brush of succulent boobs against my back. I turned to see who the perpetrator was and saw this unassuming nice looking girl. She was dressed like an S.U (translation: a virtuous, morally upright, somewhat hypocritical, naive lady). The gown she was wearing was buttoned from the bottom all the way up to her neck. When it got to my turn and I had presented my documents, I found myself in need of a stapler. The S.U babe promptly handed hers over to me. She also showed me the correct way in arranging my documents before submission and was generally very helpful. I asked what her name was, and she looked at me with such an innocent expression on her face.

"My name is Nifemi, from OAU," She replied.

I introduced myself too and was happy that I had made another friend. In the midst of so many people and all the stress I'd been through, I felt a little alone and less excited. By the time I was done with my registration Hajia had left, she said she couldn't wait any longer, that we would see tomorrow. In the meantime, we were told to come and collect our NYSC kits tomorrow as the ones in their possession were finished. I went back to the hostel famished and was wondering if I’d really enjoy my stay in camp. With all the stress I'd gone through on the first day, the huge number of pregnant women present in the camp, and the abnormally high number of married women that were serving in this particular set; I was beginning to have my doubts.

The only silver lining was that in a population of over 2000 Prospective Corps Members (PCMs), 1500 were female and 500 were male. Picture the possibilities of such a scenario for a second. The odds were definitely in my favor.

Nice 1 OP am calmly following.

Miravision:
Nice 1 OP am calmly following.

Thanks and fasten your seatbelt. I wiill be dropping an update at noon everyday until the story is completed. Blink, and you might miss something!

Wait! Have you not written this before?

Only one update per day, suspense should sha not kill us wayy
You're doing well tho.

pabon:
Wait! Have you not written this before?

Soft reboot.

eloyce:
Only one update per day, suspense should sha not kill us wayy
You're doing well tho.

Eloyce on the beat!!! Are you really on this thread or are my eyes deceiving me?

Bump

waywardpikin:


Eloyce on the beat!!! Are you really on this thread or are my eyes deceiving me?

Haha
Following you bumper to bumper

OP Thanks for the Update

Following!

eloyce:

Haha
Following you bumper to bumper

Enjoy the ride shugar

Another update dropping

Destinylink:
Following!

As you should, my brother!

"Hello, where are you?"

"I'm at the video game place. I can't see you. Where are you?" She said.

"Just wait there, I'm on my way." I excused myself and went to meet her, Dumebi's voice trailing after me. She was probably saying something she thought was funny. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, the girl was slowly getting on my nerves. I met up with Hajia and I must confess that she was the most beautiful Hajia I had ever seen in my life. She was the CocaCola to my orange juice, her black ebony skin glistening in the darkness, her Hijab framing her face so perfectly. This was a new uncharted territory for me. I told her I was with some guys from the WhatsApp group, and her discomfort at the prospect of hanging out at a joint was palpable, probably against her religion. I told her we wouldn't waste anytime there, that we would just say hi and leave, to which she obliged. We went back to the joint where the others were and introduced her to the gang. I held out a seat for her and ordered a nonalcoholic drink for my new best friend. Dumebi looked at me with eyebrows raised and I was wary of what she was going to say next.

"Hmm... ladies man! Baba for the girls!" She teased, and I resisted the urge to strangle her. She talked too much. Hajia and I talked for a while, and she was quite chatty. She gisted me about how lonely she had been in camp since the day she'd arrived because she was one of the first people to resume. She'd been so bored the day before which was why she came to see me at the Platoon 7 canopy but I was too busy to see her. A guy at the next table sitting alone with a bottle of Andre lit a stick of cigarette and Hajia became visibly uncomfortable. She said she wanted to leave and I obliged her, deciding to escort her to her hostel, with Dumebi's voice trailing us as we left.

Damn, that girl was so annoying!

I escorted her to the front of the hostel, bid her goodnight and made my way back to Mami market to join the others.

"Is she your girlfriend?" One of the girls asked me.

"She's just a friend," I answered.

"Hmmmmmmm!" They all chorused.

What have I gotten myself into with these people? I thought to myself.

"But how are you going to cope? She's a Yoruba Muslim and you're an Igbo Christian. Won't your mum oppose the union?" Dumebi asked in her usual hyperactive way.

"As I said, she's just a friend," I said through gritted teeth. Please, just shut up already.

After a while, I excused myself and went to join the guy sitting alone at a table with a bottle of Andre, but this time he was joined with some other guy who was wearing a branded Indomie noodles shirt. In my mind, I had left the kids behind and had come over to discuss with more mature individuals. If only. I sat at his table and introduced myself to the two dudes. The Corps Member introduced himself as David, an upcoming singer, while the other guy was working at the Indomie stand. I poured some of the Andre into my glass cup - my mission there - as we talked about random stuff. David was about to light another stick when he hissed and put it back inside the pack.

"I hate cigarettes. This shit kills. What I really need is some high-grade marijuana," he thundered.

"You also smoke MJ? No worries, I can help you get some when next I'm going out of the camp. I hate cigarettes as well," the Indomie guy offered.

As he said those words my ears perked up.

"Bro, did you just say you can help us buy some weed?"


***


I was having a very wonderful dream when the sound of the bugle broke through my consciousness. It was a grating, annoying sound, and the last thing anyone would want to hear so early in the morning when sleep is sweetest. I rolled around in bed, refusing to get up, as everyone around me hustled to prepare before we would be chased out of the hostel. The soldiers and Man o' War officials thundered through the hostels like there was a war going on, moving from room to room, shouting at the top of their voices and generally scaring and disconcerting more than a few of us. I was the last person to wake up from his bed, and this was to be my ritual till I left camp - I don't joke with my sleep. I went through the motions with a scowl on my face, ignoring one soldier screaming in my face "Move it!! Move it!!
Move it!!" What nonsense!

I got out of the hostel and headed to the parade ground in the midst of other PCMs all dressed up in our white on white. I felt so awkward in the outfit, my shorts were too small and I felt so exposed, my hairy legs sticking out and staring me in the face. It took me a while to get used to the dressing, thankfully the white shirts and shorts I bought were of far better quality and bigger in size. I found my platoon and stood at the back, still confused about what was going on. I was supposed to be asleep for Pete's sake. The time must have been around 4 am. We were informed of the dos and don'ts in camp, and told that we were still only just prospective corp members until we had concluded our swearing-in ceremony during which we would be sworn in as bonafide corps members. They requested volunteers for the quarter guard; these were the people who would carry the flags and really do the marching during the ceremony. I watched as a few people stepped out excitedly, and I wondered if terrestrial forces were after them.

Why in God's green earth would anyone volunteer to go through such stress, I wondered.

Damn! I just have to say at this point that my first week in camp was quite horrible, and it really started from this point. My legs were shaking seriously like I wanted to faint. We just stood there, from 4 am till 7:30 am listening to them drone on and on, marching, learning the salutes and other things. As it turned out, there would be morning drills every day (apart from Sunday), as well as afternoon drills that would run well into the evenings. I started to envy those who came to camp with medical reports so that they could be excluded from annoying camp activities such as these. I stared at them longingly as they sat under the canopies with their legs crossed, watching us, while we the suckers were made to stand for such long stretches. In camp, every 6 am the Nigerian flag is raised as the bugle is played, and every 6 pm the flag is lowered to the sound of the bugle. You are expected to stand at attention where ever you may be in camp until the flag is lowered and the darn bugle has stopped playing. It's amazing being in the outdoors when it's really dark and witnessing the daybreak as everywhere slowly becomes bright, heralding the arrival of the sun. It was quite an experience for me. One of the camp's objectives was to instill discipline in all corps members - for those in dire need of it. I was hating everything so far.

After the morning assembly was over, our platoon officer asked us to converge so we could discuss some things. As we were converging, I saw this girl with the sweetest ass walk across (some meters ahead of me) to join the other members of my platoon. It felt like something straight out of a Hollywood movie; felt like she was walking in slow motion, her hair blowing in the wind. I was taken aback. Who is this being that walks with such poise, such grace, such panache; her ukwu (translation: ass) swaying confidently behind her with little or no effort, on such a cold, cold morning? I composed myself as I walked up quickly to get a better view of her face.

To my surprise, it was none other than the stapler girl! You know, from that registration night at the Platoon 7 canopy. The girl with the stapler.

When did this S.U have such a big nyansh (translation: ass)? She had hardly seemed worth a second look that first night. Or is this what she was hiding beneath that unassuming gown she wore? The NYSC outfit somehow had all the girls looking really sexy. The image of her casually walking across the parade ground towards where the rest of our platoon was remained forever seared into my memory. For most guys, there is one defining moment or imagery, that occurs in which we lose ourselves in our desire for a member of the fairer sex. This moment was happening to me right now, and I could feel my heart racing as I walked up to join the rest of my platoon in order to hear what our platoon officer had to say.

Be still, my beating heart!


Thoughts?

Masterpiece.!

So far so good. Next update pls!

The platoon officer informed us that there were a lot of activities lined up such as drama, debate, cooking, volleyball competition for ladies, a football competition for guys, Mr. Macho, and Miss NYSC. In the meantime, she urged us to choose a platoon leader who would represent us. A guy stepped forward, nominating himself. Then I saw this really good looking fellow; he was dark, tall, muscular, hunky, with the cutest pink lips I had ever seen. I am definitely not gay, but I had stood there admiring his features. It was the first time I'd ever admired a guy like that.

"I nominate him," I said, pointing in his direction. We put it to a vote and my nominee won. Needless to say, the ladies were intrigued by him as well. His name was Atela. After discussing, we were to write our names on a piece of paper. I stood strategically behind Nife. She was startled when she turned and saw it was me.

"Hi, you're that girl from the other night right? The one that gave me her stapler?"

"Yes, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you enjoying camp so far?"

"Boring, but then again I've always been a boring person," she said.

"Are you sure? With all I'm seeing you cannot be a boring person," I replied, subtly referring to her sweet ass. She laughed and I promised to see her later, even though I wasn't sure when that would be. From there I headed into the hostel to meet my bunkie, Maintenance, who was holding a flask in his hand with his face set like he was going to war.

"Maintenance, what's up?"

"I'm cool but those soldiers are trying to kill us with those intense drills they're subjecting us to," he said, his slim frame shaking with him as he spoke. The hunger was real.

"Don't mind them. They can only try."

"They'll soon chase us out for the swearing-in ceremony so we have to eat while there's still time."

"You mean we are still going to stand outside for hours under the sun?" I wanted to die.

"Didn't you hear when the announcement was made?"

I didn't hear anything. I never heard anything.

Maintenance turned to Oyo man, "Are you ready?"

"I'm coming just trying to find my spoon," Oyo man replied as he rummaged through his luggage on the top bunk right next to mine.

"What are they serving today?" I asked. I almost forgot that I was starving.

"Beans and pap."

Beans and pap! Who came up with such a deadly combination? God forbid!

"You're not interested?" Maintenance asked, noticing the look on my face.

"If I eat that food, my farts will lead to the deaths of all of you in this room." No, I wasn't joking.

I quickly freshened up and headed out to the Mami market to get my khaki that was left with the tailor. I picked it up with disappointment - upon the exorbitant cost, the idiot still did a shoddy job. Next, I went to eat, and as I was eating, they started blowing that darn bugle again, indicating that we needed to start getting for the swearing-in ceremony. According to them, Ambode himself, the Governor of Lagos state at the time, was going to be there.

"Again?" A girl eating beside me cried out in protest, echoing my thoughts.

My legs were still aching from standing for over three hours, I was still unsettled from waking up so early, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, and I desperately needed to find a bed to sleep in. Just then, the soldiers and Man o' War officials started flooding the Mami market like termites amidst shouts of "Move it! Move it! Move it!" Some people stood up and ran, leaving their food behind. But me, Wayward Pikin, I remained there until I finished the food, then went on to the shoemaker to pick up my jungle boots which had haphazardly been resized to fit me perfectly. Went to the hostel, changed up in my full NYSC uniform, and went outside to join the others.

I felt like an egg being roasted in a frying pan. Nobody told us that this khaki uniform was a great insulator of heat. As we stood there rehearsing, sweating buckets, learning the steps before the Governor and the rest of the people that mattered arrived, I wondered what the point of the whole NYSC scheme was. I finally understood all those stories I'd read where Corps Members would be marching then some of them would suddenly faint. Not everyone was strong enough to go through these rigorous exercises, much less under the scorching sun. A girl in front of me, visibly exhausted, beckoned on a soldier to permit her to go sit under the canopy as her legs were about to give out. He asked for her doctor's report but when she couldn't provide any, he eyed her terribly and said "If you want to die, die," before walking away. It seemed like I'd missed a turn and ended up in Guantanamo Bay!

"Prey preyyyyyyyyy... SHUN (translation: stand at attention)!!!" The soldier addressing all of us thundered. We obeyed the commands as they drilled us on what our responses to each command should be. Suddenly there was a shuffle to my far right as two boys carried a girl who had fainted in the direction of the clinic. Members of the Red Cross ran behind them. The soldier looked at them as they ran off, unimpressed.

"Some of you think you are here on holidays. That is false. We are here to drill you and mold you into something of worth. By the time we are through with all of you, your fathers and mothers will not recognize you. Your boyfriends and girlfriends will ask 'Who is this?' You can all see that someone just fainted, right? You haven't seen anything yet."

That day, about seven people fainted. Legitimately.

After the grueling swearing-in ceremony, we were now officially Corps Members, no longer prospectives. I went to the hostel exhausted and rested till evening, then went to the cobbler to pick up my white shoes. There I saw two cool guys from my room, I tried to greet them but I don't know if they didn't see me or they did and couldn't be bothered to respond. I wasn't really a clique person, and it seemed like quite a number of people had formed alliances and groups that would see them through the next three weeks. I wondered if this was how my life was going to be, but I couldn't force anything, it would have to come naturally like minerals. That evening I buzzed a girl from the WhatsApp group to come meet me so we could hang out. She obliged and came with two of her friends, and said she hoped I didn't mind. I didn't. Mami was electric as usual, the chairs were out, the speakers were blaring, and people were trooping in.

I didn't really need the girls for anything, just needed companionship. Soon our table was full, the ladies never knew that they were in for a treat. Next thing I order chicken and chips for each of us. The lady with me refused my offerings, that it was way too much. But I was in Lagos camp, and you only live once, so I insisted and she agreed. I drank three bottles of Orijin, she drank three bottles of Snapp, her friends drank three bottles of small Stout each. It was a really swell evening and soon they were on their feet dancing, swayed by the music and the alcohol swimming in their systems, not to mention the chicken and chips. I and the girl I called were engaged in idle conversation when my phone rang - it was Hajia. I looked around me in case maybe she had seen me but I couldn't see her. I hesitated and didn't pick her call. I knew if I invited her to join me she wouldn't, being a Hajia and all. So I was determined to enjoy myself and go see her when I was through. At the back of my mind, I wondered where Nife would be at the moment. I had forgotten to collect her number earlier in the day.

Runtown's 'Mad Over You' started playing and the girls went wild, including the one I was talking to.
They increased the velocity with which they gyrated while I sat in my chair watching them and feeling like a boss - like a young Hugh Hefner in his very own playboy mansion.

A few tables away, my roommates watched with their jaws touching the floor. A legend had just been born.

***

lit

Hey guys, the anti spambot ate my last update and banned me from this section - thanks for asking.

Will post the next update soon. Have a date tonight

WaywardPikin1:
Hey guys, the anti spambot ate my last update and banned me from this section - thanks for asking.

Will post the next update soon. Have a date tonight

I best leave what you must've written about to my imaginations
But then I'm curious, was it rated 18

The platoon officer informed us that there were a lot of activities lined up such as drama, debate, cooking, volleyball competition for ladies, a football competition for guys, Mr. Macho, and Miss NYSC. In the meantime, she urged us to choose a platoon leader who would represent us. A guy stepped forward, nominating himself. Then I saw this really good looking fellow; he was dark, tall, muscular, hunky, with the cutest pink lips I had ever seen. I am definitely not gay, but I had stood there admiring his features. It was the first time I'd ever admired a guy like that.

"I nominate him," I said, pointing in his direction. We put it to a vote and my nominee won. Needless to say, the ladies were intrigued by him as well. His name was Atela. After discussing, we were to write our names on a piece of paper. I stood strategically behind Nife. She was startled when she turned and saw it was me.

"Hi, you're that girl from the other night right? The one that gave me her stapler?"

"Yes, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you enjoying camp so far?"

"Boring, but then again I've always been a boring person," she said.

"Are you sure? With all I'm seeing you cannot be a boring person," I replied, subtly referring to her sweet ass. She laughed and I promised to see her later, even though I wasn't sure when that would be. From there I headed into the hostel to meet my bunkie, Maintenance, who was holding a flask in his hand with his face set like he was going to war.

"Maintenance, what's up?"

"I'm cool but those soldiers are trying to kill us with those intense drills they're subjecting us to," he said, his slim frame shaking with him as he spoke. The hunger was real.

"Don't mind them. They can only try."

"They'll soon chase us out for the swearing-in ceremony so we have to eat while there's still time."

"You mean we are still going to stand outside for hours under the sun?" I wanted to die.

"Didn't you hear when the announcement was made?"

I didn't hear anything. I never heard anything.

Maintenance turned to Oyo man, "Are you ready?"

"I'm coming just trying to find my spoon," Oyo man replied as he rummaged through his luggage on the top bunk right next to mine.

"What are they serving today?" I asked. I almost forgot that I was starving.

"Beans and pap."

Beans and pap! Who came up with such a deadly combination? God forbid!

"You're not interested?" Maintenance asked, noticing the look on my face.

"If I eat that food, my farts will lead to the deaths of all of you in this room." No, I wasn't joking.

I quickly freshened up and headed out to the Mami market to get my khaki that was left with the tailor. I picked it up with disappointment - upon the exorbitant cost, the idiot still did a shoddy job. Next, I went to eat, and as I was eating, they started blowing that darn bugle again, indicating that we needed to start getting for the swearing-in ceremony. According to them, Ambode himself, the Governor of Lagos state at the time, was going to be there.

"Again?" A girl eating beside me cried out in protest, echoing my thoughts.

My legs were still aching from standing for over three hours, I was still unsettled from waking up so early, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, and I desperately needed to find a bed to sleep in. Just then, the soldiers and Man o' War officials started flooding the Mami market like termites amidst shouts of "Move it! Move it! Move it!" Some people stood up and ran, leaving their food behind. But me, Wayward Pikin, I remained there until I finished the food, then went on to the shoemaker to pick up my jungle boots which had haphazardly been resized to fit me perfectly. Went to the hostel, changed up in my full NYSC uniform, and went outside to join the others.

I felt like an egg being roasted in a frying pan. Nobody told us that this khaki uniform was a great insulator of heat. As we stood there rehearsing, sweating buckets, learning the steps before the Governor and the rest of the people that mattered arrived, I wondered what the point of the whole NYSC scheme was. I finally understood all those stories I'd read where Corps Members would be marching then some of them would suddenly faint. Not everyone was strong enough to go through these rigorous exercises, much less under the scorching sun. A girl in front of me, visibly exhausted, beckoned on a soldier to permit her to go sit under the canopy as her legs were about to give out. He asked for her doctor's report but when she couldn't provide any, he eyed her terribly and said "If you
want to die, die," before walking away. It seemed like I'd missed a turn and ended up in Guantanamo Bay!

"Prey preyyyyyyyyy... SHUN (translation: stand at attention)!!!" The soldier addressing all of us thundered. We obeyed the commands as they drilled us on what our responses to each command should be. Suddenly there was a shuffle to my far right as two boys carried a girl who had fainted in the direction of the clinic. Members of the Red Cross ran behind them. The soldier looked at them as they ran off, unimpressed.

"Some of you think you are here on holidays. That is false. We are here to drill you and mold you into something of worth. By the time we are through with all of you, your fathers and mothers will not recognize you. Your boyfriends and girlfriends will ask 'Who is this?' You can all see that someone just fainted, right? You haven't seen anything yet."

That day, about seven people fainted. Legitimately.

After the grueling swearing-in ceremony, we were now officially Corps Members, no longer prospectives. I went to the hostel exhausted and rested till evening, then went to the cobbler to pick up my white shoes. There I saw two cool guys from my room, I tried to greet them but I don't know if they didn't see me or they did and couldn't be bothered to respond. I wasn't really a clique person, and it seemed like quite a number of people had formed alliances and groups that would see them through the next three weeks. I wondered if this was how my life was going to be, but I couldn't force anything, it would have to come naturally like minerals. That evening I buzzed a girl from the WhatsApp group to come meet me so we could hang out. She obliged and came with two of her friends, and said she hoped I didn't mind. I didn't. Mami was electric as usual, the chairs were out, the speakers were blaring, and people were trooping in.

I didn't really need the girls for anything, just needed companionship. Soon our table was full, the ladies never knew that they were in for a treat. Next thing I order chicken and chips for each of us. The lady with me refused my offerings, that it was way too much. But I was in Lagos camp, and you only live once, so I insisted and she agreed. I drank three bottles of Orijin, she drank three bottles of Snapp, her friends drank three bottles of small Stout each. It was a really swell evening and soon they were on their feet dancing, swayed by the music and the alcohol swimming in their systems, not to mention the chicken and chips. I and the girl I called were engaged in idle conversation when my phone rang - it was Hajia. I looked around me in case maybe she had seen me but I couldn't see her. I hesitated and didn't pick her call. I knew if I invited her to join me she wouldn't, being a Hajia and all. So I was determined to enjoy myself and go see her when I was through. At the back of my mind, I wondered where Nife would be at the moment. I had forgotten to collect her number earlier in the day.

Runtown's 'Mad Over You' started playing and the girls went wild, including the one I was talking to.
They increased the velocity with which they gyrated while I sat in my chair watching them and feeling like a boss - like a young Hugh Hefner in his very own playboy mansion.

A few tables away, my roommates watched with their jaws touching the floor. A legend had just been born.


***

Seems like the anti spambot has banned him again..

mynd44 farano kindly unban waywardpikin / waywardpikin1..

eloyce:

I best leave what you must've written about to my imaginations
But then I'm curious, was it rated 18

Lol it's not. The story is a slow burn so we might get to some delicious 18+ stuff eventually