MY JOURNEY: ON THE CAMEL'S BACK

"One single file!"
The soldier barked. I complied immediately and joined the queue in front of the NYSC camp consciously avoiding his gaze. My turn for checking-in quickly arrived.
"My friend come here" One policeman beckoned to me.
"Yes sir."
"Do you have any sharp, metallic or contraband item? Any clipper, cutlery?"
"No sir."
"Drop you bag on the floor and open it quickly."
I complied in a hurry.
He bent from his seat and searched my bag. Seconds later he sat up and looked me in the face giving me a clearance ticket on which was written a number. I immediately zipped up my bag with one hand and picked up my bucket with another. By my recollection, about seven intending corps members were searched and checked in simultaneously. We progressed to where two soldiers stood  sticks in hand  separated by about 20 meters.
"Put ya bag on ya head and double up." The first one pointed at us with a strong northern accent.
"Yes sir." We replied.

Omo this na Hausa man I thought.

I lifted my bag in one swing and placed it on my head. I had packed light for the journey. I jugged slowly towards the second soldier puzzled. Later a friend would tell me that this was a regular welcome exercise for corps members nationwide. At the time I was still puzzled. My worst fears were becoming reality. This was going to be hell. My thoughts ran as well.

O God please help me.

I was too slow in jogging.

"O boy! You dey do fine boy for here? Go back and double up." The second soldier ordered.
A couple of us backed up and jogged towards him again. This was it. By now, every cubic millimetre of adrenaline in me had been poured into my blood stream. I ran with good speed  bag still on my head and bucket in my hand.

What a day this had been already. My friends, Bukky and Patrick, and I were posted to Kwara state alongside others. Three of us agreed to set out for Ilorin by 6 am on Tuesday. Camp was scheduled to open on the same day and we figured that the earlier we arrived the greater the chance of getting better accommodation.  This prior bonding would later comfort me in no small measure in camp as I found myself bobbing up and down in the sea of strangers united only by the militaristic routines, the kitchen and the white and white attire.

The luxury of the Toyota Sienna minivan we boarded coupled with the early morning weather shushed my worrying mind. We passed through the notorious Lagos-Ibadan expressway and I felt in familiar territory but soon we moved through unknown tracks. The narrow profile of the Ibadan  Ogbomosho expressway as well as its meandering and undulating elevation did much to rouse me from the pleasurable ride. Furthermore, the accident wreckages on one too many spots along the way reminded me of my mortality and caused my eyes to be fixed summarily on the road  as if my looking at the road ahead could save me in the case of any mishap.

It seemed to me that the Road Safety Officials deliberately refused to clear these wreckages off the road to warn drivers of the nature of the road. If this was so, our driver didnt notice. He kept driving at a high speed and overtaking along bends and hills. Indeed by my recollection, he broke almost every safety rule that my father had ingrained in me when he taught me how to drive some years back. God helped us arrive safely.

Ilorin slithered into my view and my senses immediately picked up the high temperature of the new environment. Were clouds Nigerian civil servants I would have assumed that they were on strike at the moment as the solar insolation descended directly on everything in sight  even the air was hot. This reminds me of a literature text we studied in senior secondary school; "The Beggars Strike". In the text, a famous politician passed a decree banning begging on the streets of the country. A few years later, while seeking re-election into office, he consulted a marabout and was told was told that the sacrifice required to secure him in office was to give gifts to beggars on the street. So the great man had to beg the beggars to resume on the streets. The beggars refused and went on a strike. What a paradox!

We soon arrived at the park where we were welcomed by senior corps members. These were the executives of the various corps groups in Kwara state  Christian Corps groups, Muslim corps groups, etc. With the help of these senior corpers, we boarded a cab, at the proper price, headed for Yikpata, the village where the NYSC orientation camp is situated. The cab driver helped us load our bags into the boot of his car while we waited at the back of the car for the fourth and final passenger. A short while later, a mini drama ensued.

"Na four people I dey carry  three for back and one for front," the driver said as he dusted his hands and jammed the boot.
"How much be your moni oga," I heard Patrick say.
"Three hundred Naira."
As we waited for the fourth person, three people appeared at once and our driver got smart
"Oga na four people you talk se you go carry now why  you wan come carry six?" Patrick said.
Silence.
"But its not fair o! You tell us se you wan carrying four but now you de carrying six," my friend Patrick was now very unhappy with the development.
"Okay now we you de carry six, how much be our moni?" Patrick asked.
"Na still three hundred Naira."
And so we were welcomed to Kwara state by an ominous entourage; hot air and a deceitful driver. We zoomed off. Although I had brought out a novel to read just before we left the park for Yikpata, the hot dry air made me lose interest and wonder instead. To my right, Patrick was fast asleep and drenched in his sweat after just 20 minutes into the journey, obviously stressed out and piqued by the drivers subterfuge, my shoulder being his make-shift pillow. By my left, Bukky was still pinging. I looked at her and she smiled, her trademark reaction, saying that her Black Berry battery was almost running out. An uneventful hour of driving followed before our cabs back tire went flat. We had to spend another 30 minutes fixing it up before we hit the roads again. I felt bad that we had delayed realizing that the later we arrived, the lesser our chances of having good accommodation. We kept at the road and the journey never seemed to end after an additional hour of driving I asked the driver when we would stop. He replied:
"Nko bi fifteen minutes lo ma je."
That is to say in about fifteen minutes.  After another twenty minutes of driving the driver confessed that he didnt know the way to the camp. What a thing to say to strangers! We were many things at the same time: angry, worried, semi-panicking, etc. He had acted with so much confidence as though he knew the way. This was indeed a journey on a camels back. We had just refuelled at a filling station and yet he never betrayed his ignorance nor cared to ask, how callous. We had to stop and ask and a good Samaritan in a suave saloon car. The car owner, evidently a parent of a corps member, drove ahead of us and led us to the destination. I think the drivers attitude is typical of human beings. Pride deludes us into thinking that we are self-sufficient. How wrong we are! I strongly believe that God deliberately withholds some ability or information from one person, and furnishes his neighbour with same, so that we can appreciate our frailty and value others. God is wise! When I sighted a well worn out sign post labeled NYSC orientation camp, I heaved a sigh of relief. More exasperating events were to follow!

     "TITLELESS" A SONNET
Alas dear friend for time by trick does creep
Away to serve Naija I stride with zeal
With bag in hand and shoe on leg I skip 
Though mind may fray beneath the eye; Im still
Like kernels dried; I hit to win my prime
In bus with eyelids closed your face I see
I mouth you a whisper; mark your time
For solemn dream by ticks will come to be
For though Canaan stood still away on ridge
And milk and honey flowed in ceaseless spray
A journey through the wilderness was bridge
To bring to fore the dawn of golden ray
This known, in metal box I move  on tar
Sulking no more for camp that seems so far

Dear Reader,
PHCN helped delay this publication by a day. Apologies! Have a smashing weekend!

Next Episode:
Date: 6  May  2013
Time: 2100 Hrs. (GMT +1)