Camp Fire Night Blows

As I stepped out of my flat, the sight of the great fire burning brightly in the far distance caught my view. My eyes stayed open and I didn’t blink for many seconds – neither did I move.

“What! A fire?” I thought.

Soon enough however, I figured out what it was and sighed. Manoeuvring my way towards the parade ground in the darkness, I could smell dust everywhere. People ran past me in many directions – some holding spoons and food warmers.

“Sandra! Sandra! Keep a seat for me.” A lady shouted behind me, probably to a friend who was running already. I felt my leg grow tight and, next I knew, I was jogging too. I arrived at the parade ground and swept my gaze quickly round about looking for a free chair.
My eyes stopped at one and I walked briskly towards it. As I made to sit, I heard:

“There’s someone there.”

I straightened myself and spotted another plastic chair not too far away from where I was. Just as I took my first step towards it, the MC said:

“The National Anthem after the count of two. One, two, go.”

With soldiers round about, I was forced to stand at attention as everyone else – but me – sang the national anthem. Just as the last word was sung, a lady tiptoed and stood in front of the chair.
Opportunity wasted.

I rubbed my lower back muscles with my right fist and pulled my toes in cracking them inside my canvas.

“Every platoon, starting from platoon one, will dance round the fire”, came the voice from the PA system.
“This is my chance.” I thought.

I watched briefly as corps members began dancing round the fire, in wild ecstasy, to the Man O’ War songs:

“Dem go give us stone O!”   [Why yo yo!]
“Dem go call am bread O!” [Why yo yo!]
“Dem go give us water!”      [Why yo yo!]
“Dem go call am tea O!”      [Why yo yo!]
“Why O! Why O! Why O!     [Why yo yo!]
“Why O! Why O! Why O!     [Why yo yo!]

I didn’t notice the flight of time and soon I remembered I was looking for a free chair. As I scanned some more, I noticed large food warmers in front of my platoon. Instinctively, I walked back to my platoon to meet a greater need – hunger. After volunteering my services cooking for my platoon earlier in the day, I was famished. I forgot about the chair and hoped food would be served soon so that I could get my share and run away from the noise – to my room.

“All platoons should keep their delicacies in front as the state co-ordinator will be going round tasting them.” The MC announced.

The cooking competition was next on the agenda and the state co-ordinator – with a small group of inspectors – gracefully went round every platoon taking time to taste the meals. People were still dancing and walking everywhere. If I had quietly gone back to my room at this time I would have been spared from what was to follow.
The tastings were soon over and it was time to share food to every member of my platoon. I had paid the voluntary fee of 500 Naira so I was well entitled to the platoon’s three course dinner of Pepper soup, Jollof rice and fruit juice. Besides, I knew the food servers personally; since we worked together in the kitchen. I also knew there was enough food to go round. At least forty five thousand naira worth of donations had been realized asides the contribution funds. My platoon was indeed the envy of all eyes. I heard my stomach churn and my mouth felt wet.

“Those with food flasks should come out for food.” A lady shouted from the front of our platoon.
“Didn’t they say there was going to be take away packs for everyone?” I thought.
“Shey person bin don donate food pack for us – which one be dis?” A guy beside me said.

Most ladies stepped out and collected food. I wondered if it was planned. How it was that only ladies brought food flasks I never can tell.
“Someone is bringing the take away packs – it’s with the platoon leader.” The same lady, shouting, said.

While I waited, I saw a free seat – but as I sat on it, I heard it crack and I stood up just in time to avoid a fall. My body tightened up and I decided that I’d stand for the rest of the night and kill time by watching those still going round the fire.
“And the second position in the cooking competition goes to platoon five.” The MC announced.
Cheers.
Everyone in my platoon cheered, we had a better reason to expect the food.
Suddenly, I saw food packs flying in the air in all directions and guys rushed forward scrambling for them. Some jumped up to catch them while others combed the ground for the fallen ones. Some ladies screamed while I heard the sound of pushing and shoving. In the twinkle of an eye, the food packs finished and those who were fortunate enough to get them were immediately served food. This was just the beginning.
Fifteen minutes after, a friend of mine handed me a food pack and I quickly joined the serving queue. When I was about 5 persons away from the serving point I heard:

“Meat has finished O! Only rice is left.”
“Meat? Finished? As big as our cow was? What?” I kept thinking – aloud sometimes.
“Uk, anything would do” I told myself still standing on the queue.
As  I stood there, some guys came from behind and started shouting. The louder they shouted, the angrier they got. Before I could say “Jack Robinson” they shoved the servers aside and took the whole cooler of rice. As they made to leave with the food, some ladies were just bringing the pepper soup from the kitchen. The same guys hijacked the entire pepper soup and took it with them in Gestapo style.

“Guys make una wait.” The platoon leader ordered.
Boom Ba Boom.

I thought blows landed on the platoon leader – later on, I confirmed they actually did because he spent some time in the camp clinic.
A friend, the one who gave me a food pack, told me that the ladies already shared the food amongst themselves in the kitchen and that some sharp guys had joined them too. He confessed that he had eaten and that in fact he was full – he merely came to watch.
“What they are sharing here is just the remainder.”
“Really?” I asked him.
“Yea! In fact some guys brought meat and plenty pepper soup to my room. We locked our room and and ate and ate. Oboi food don tire me sef.”
I clutched my white rubber spoon and the food pack more tightly – exercising faith.

I think corruption has finally spread to the youth of this nation. Substitute food for money – in my story – and you can safely say that if most youths get into political office they’d consume our monies with impunity. Besides, what is it with ladies and food in parties and celebrations? I am of the opinion that from now henceforth, when it comes to cooking for a group, only guys should do the cooking – you better take my advice. Also, our oyinbo engineers should quickly manufacture a food detector so that ladies’ hand bags and stomachs can be searched for food embezzlement – what do you think? 

GLUTTONY (UKEMEOBONG OWOH)
They once ate an elephant whole
And forgot their fingers in their stomachs
With what –then – will they handle the bolus?

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