This is a sequel to a previous post. Please see HERE for beginning.
As I approached
the sergeant (I could tell from his insignia), I detected the sickly sweet
smell of marijuana on his uniform. Without stopping, he directed me towards a
queue where other would-be corp-members were in line waiting to register. Somehow,
they all happened to be huge and didn’t look like they were in the mood to chat.
I joined them and set my bag on the ground, I was about to sit on it when…
Whack!
I jumped up.
It was the cracking sound of a whip.
“You see
anybody sitting here? No dull oh…stand alert!
It was
another soldier, a private this time.
I was angry;
here I was hungry, tired and without the least bit of strength in me and some bloody
new recruit wanted to pull his weight at my expense. I shook my head and concluded
within me that it was not worth the trouble, so I kept silent and stood up.
Before long
it was my turn to register.
The
registering officer was a woman and she didn’t look ordinary in the least bit. She
wore a military style vest and the tattoos on her massive arms told me that she
was a combat soldier. What was wrong with this camp, didn’t they employ any
regular people?
“Where
are your papers?” She demanded.
I
handed her my deployment letter and ID card. She took one look at it and
frowned.
“Is
this a joke? I mean your conscription papers!”
“Huh?
Conscription kwa? Those are my NYSC letters.”
She
looked at me and narrowed her eyes, probably to determine if I was serious. When
she realised I was genuinely confused, she sighed and handed me my papers.
“My
friend, this is 25th Division, Nigerian Army Boot Camp Kabba.
Everybody here is reporting for drills and combat training. If you are an NYSC otondo then you have missed the turn.
Your camp is the other side of town, about an hour away.”
Ha!
It now made sense; the soldiers, the automatic guns and strong-faced recruits
in line with me. I looked at the large signpost above to confirm.
That frigging bush-meat hunting driver…
“I
see…thanks Ma.”
I
picked my bag and began heading towards the main gate when a bugle sounded in
the air.
“Heyce,
where do you think you are going?” This was another soldier, bulky build and nearly
seven feet tall.
“Can’t
you hear the bugle? It is curfew, after 6.30pm nobody in, nobody out”
I
was weak.
“There
is a misunderstanding sir; you see I am not supposed to be here. I actually
missed the way to NYSC orientation camp and ended here so I am leaving.”
He
studied at my papers and gave them back.
“Sorry,
rules are rules. Do you see those towers up there? There are snipers who have
been trained to shoot at sight...any moving thing near the gate. Besides it has
been locked, you will just have to spend the night here and leave tomorrow morning.”
“Spend
the night?”
I
was perplexed. Did this man hear what he was saying? That I would have to spend
the night, as in sleep in a military base with battle-ready gun-toting soldiers
a whole night? I mean a rat can run past and before you know it guns will start
blazing…
“What
is the matter, you can’t handle a few more hours here?”
He
was now smiling. But the smile was shallow, it didn’t reach his eyes. It was
the way a mean kid would smile while burning ants in the sunlight with a
magnifying glass.
“Okay
whatever you do, make up your mind before they release the patrol hyenas. I am
going inside…”
“Hyenas?”
I started to hurry after him.
“Yeah,
hyenas…dogs are too mainstream so we have trained hyenas to do our patrol
instead. They are fiercer, tougher and understand the bushes more. Oh and they
are effective attack species too.”
This
was not funny. I started jogging alongside him. It was hard to keep up with his
long strides. I didn’t even notice the weight of my bag anymore…or my hunger
for that matter. Attacking hyenas were just not comforting news.
During
the walk to the resting quarters, my new companion (whose name was Sergeant
Nwafor) filled me in on a few bylaws of the camp.
Always address a drill sergeant as ‘drill
sergeant’ and never Sir or Ma.
Do what the drill sergeants tell you
to do.
Never look directly (eyeballing) at a
drill sergeant…blah blah
I
smiled inwardly. I needn’t bother myself; I was going to be out of here first
thing in the morning. Sergeant Nwafor showed me where I would bunk for the
night. I surrendered some items from
my bag as they were not allowed on camp, like clippers, medicines…
After
a quick shower (which was like the kind at a sports locker room; all open and
no privacy), the Sergeant then showed me where I could get some food. What a
cool guy, probably the coolest soldier yet. The food was horrible but I was so
hungry I devoured it in seconds. I thought about taking a short stroll when I
decided it might not be the best idea here, besides those patrol hyenas still
bothered me. I went back to my quarters.
I
tried unsuccessfully to make small talk with some guys in my room. One guy wouldn’t
stop his Tyson push ups and another
merely turned in his bed, not encouraging… I made a few calls home and fell
asleep. Sleep, long overdue comforting sleep. Sigh….
Wheeeeeeeeeeee-yoooooooooooooooo!!!!!
The
sound seemed distant at first, and then it became louder. It was the wake-up
siren. I checked my watch, 4am.
What
the hell?
Ah,
it was for the soldiers. I smiled and pulled the covers over my head, in a few
hours I would be out of here….
When
the sheets were yanked off my body I was still in dreamland. But when an ice-cold
bucket of water splashed on my face I was awake and in reality-land.
“What
the fuck?” I questioned, squinting at the flashlight being shone in my face.
“The
fuck is that you are still asleep!" The voice boomed.
“You
don’t understand, I am not a soldier. I am merely here to…”
“No!
Rules are rules, you bunk with us, you train with us! If you are not out in
five minutes, there will be consequences.”
Before
he left, he explained that the main gates would not be open till breakfast at
9am. Until then I would have to participate in every drill activity organised.
What had I got myself into?
I
put on a pair of jogging sneakers I found under my bed. The room was empty as
all my roommates had left at the first call. When I arrived the assembly ground
in front of the hall my mates had already begun exercising; they were jogging
at a spot.
“Thank
you for gracing us with your presence sir!” The sarcastic comment was made by
the drill sergeant.
“Bloody
recruit!”
This
time I looked at him and recognised him as the cool soldier from yesterday.
“Sergeant
Nwafor, it’s me!” I called with excitement hoping to famz with him.
“You
will address me as drill sergeant!” He shouted fiercely.
“Yes
Sir…drill sergeant!!” I corrected myself.
Who
was this man? Certainly not the same person who told me about hyenas last
night, or brought me towels and showed me where I could buy food. No, this man
was different. I saw in him someone who could end a life at a moment’s whim. I
studied him closely, intrigued.
“Are
you eyeballing me?!”
“No
sir…I mean drill sergeant!” Too late!
“What?
Drop down and give me thirty NOW!”
In
the span of just two minutes, I had broken every rule he told me about last night
and I wondered if I could keep up. I was made an example of many times and for the
next four hours I was punished with more drills and push-ups than any of the
real soldiers. We jogged, crawled through mud, barbed fences and climbed steep
training rocks (of course I fell several times). The drill sergeant (no longer
cool in my books anymore) amused himself by watching us swing across leech
infested swamps with slippery ropes. Those of us that fell got a taste of the
bloodsucking parasites.
By
the time it was 9am I could barely recognise myself. My back was cricked, my
bones were aching and my hands bruised. The annoying part was that other
soldiers seemed to enjoy it; they were giving each other hi fives and cheering
with bloody noses, broken teeth or chafed knees which they didn’t seem to
notice.
After
I had my shower and breakfast, I limped to the admin office to retrieve my
declared items. There Sergeant Nwafor met me. He smiled and asked how I felt.
How did he think I felt?
“I
only prepared you. That was just a taste of the kind of fun we usually have
here…If you ever get tired of the bullshit civilian life, feel free to contact
me and join us here in the real world. You have got grit…I saw it in you.”
He
tucked a contact card in my shirt pocket.
“Are
there really any patrol hyenas?” I asked, now doubtful
His
laughter was deep. “My friend, if you believed that then you will believe
anything!”
I
took the next bus out of the boot camp and this time I arrived at the real NYSC
camp which now looked like a joke to me. I remembered what Sergeant Nwafor had
said:
I had grit in me.
I
held my chin high in the air, and with my bag slung over my shoulder I bounced
casually towards the main area. My wounds now seemed like a thing of the past.
The world was at my feet and I was ready to take on any challenge…
To be continued.
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