Finally the last day of camp had arrived. All my thoughts
reduced to where I’d be further sent to – afterall coming to Kwara State, in
the first place, was being sent. Had I known where I would be posted too, I’d
have slept a little longer and enjoyed some more rest and comfort while I had
the chance to. Most corps members began that fateful Tuesday by 3am in the
morning. My roommates and I were no different. We had our baths defying the
cold, packed our mattresses to a designated mattress collection point and soon dragged
our luggage to the NCCF chapel for safe
keeping. Straightaway, Patrick, Segun and I headed for the parade grounds. As
we drew closer, corps members, outfitted in the ceremonial green khakis, dotted
the landscape – although, by now, it was just about 5:30 am. Some were in and
around the mammy market transacting others discussing. It was, afterall, the
last day of business and the mammy marketers wanted to milk their cows dry for
the umpteenth-plus-oneth time. We passed on to the parade grounds and found
seats for ourselves. Around us, corps members sat in groups while others slept.
I remember a guy – sitting on a white plastic chair with legs stretched out in
front of him and head hanging precariously over his chair, he slept with his
cap covering his face. His luggage, beside him, ‘watched’ over him patiently.
“What a suffering.” I thought.
[I have often wondered
about the rationale behind NYSC. When the heat gets high, I sometimes wish the
scheme wasn’t in place. “Afterall” I think “NYSC was meant to integrate Nigeria
after the civil war. Hasn’t it achieved its purpose?” But
then, if you think same, remember that “without NYSC you won’t be reading this
piece and neither would I have written it.”]
We discussed at length about many issues one of which was a
bible character called Melchizedek. He is a character whose origin so little is
written about and it occurred to me that our posting was just as mysterious.
Many small events occurred of which my memory has failed to
remember but by 10 am the “Passing out of camp” parade began with a representative of the governor in attendance. The parade was so excellent that I almost forgot
what was nibbling at my mind – “Where
would I do my Primary Assignment – a village or a city?”. Those on parade
marched so well that severally I saw my hands clapping for them before I willed
them to do so. We had heard, days before, that those on parade would be posted
to Ilorin – the Kwara State Capital – for primary assignment. Of course, to me,
joining the parade was a worthy price to pay for such preferential treatment. Those guys worked. They had forbore the
sun while we “Otondos” – a military term for those who cannot march – lazied
about.
The parade ended as quickly as it started, dignitaries
dispersed, and after a speech or two, the moment of truth arrived.
“Those with state code numbers 0001 to 0100 should come to
the pavilion” came the announcement from the P.A system.
Some corps members, obviously those whose numbers fell
within that range, ran in that direction.
“Those with state code numbers 0101 to 0200 should move to
the left of the parade ground”
“0201 to 0300 move to the right of the parade ground!”
“0301 to 0400 move to the centre of the parade ground- …!”
“0601 to 0700 move to the rear of the parade ground!”
Immediately Patrick and I ran behind the NYSC official who bore the posting
letters for those of us in that number range.
As we ran, I looked around me. I saw some ladies jumping and screaming for
joy:
“It’s Ilorin – Ilorin!” One of them kept shouting. Some
others looked sombre and I was sure of the cause – posting to a rural area.
Something interesting had happened moments before. After the
parade, the podium upon which the Governor stood had to be returned to the
office and nobody wanted to do that dirty and hard job. Most were interested in
simply collecting their posting letters to see where fate would throw them to.
I volunteered – alongside 5 other guys - and indeed it was heavy. While we
lifted the podium, one of us said “as we dey carry this thing make e be se na
Ilorin dem go carry us go o” to which some others replied “abi o.”
[I have come to
discover that at moments of truth, we tend to hang on to any ray of hope
available; much like a drowning man who desperately clutches twigs thinking
that they can save.]
“0604!” Came the voice from the centre of the small crowd
and Patrick stretched out his hand collecting his posting letter. I stood
behind him looking for his posting details.
“0605!”
“Sir! Am here!” I replied as I collected my posting letter
reading it immediately.
KANTURU SECONDARY COMMERCIAL SCHOOL (not real name)
KANTURU-JAMA COMMUNITY
IREPODUN LOCAL GOVERNMENT AREA
KWARA STATE
I felt cold then hot.
Although I didn’t even know where KANTURU community was, I
felt sure it wasn’t in the city. Things couldn’t be worse – Could they?
“Patrick how far?” I remembered to ask Patrick.
“It’s Ilorin O!” He said quietly.
We walked to the NCCF chapel to get our luggage for onward
movement to our location. As we walked, mostly in silence, I observed many
buses from the various LGA’s waiting for their booty of corps members. And,
seriously, I remember that the remote and underdeveloped local governments had
larger and more buses waiting.
“So these village places are expecting more people abi?” I
said to no one in particular.
I met a friend and roommate who was a part of those who were
on parade moments ago – Llyod.
“Llyod where dem post you go?” I asked.
“Oboy! Na Ifelodun O!”
“What! Even you on parade?”
And so it was that those who had joined the parade with a
hope of getting a preferential posting were summarily disappointed. Suffering in vain you’d say.
I got my luggage and found a bus marked with the local
government to which I was posted to. To be sure, I handed my posting letter to
a senior corps member inside the bus.
Placing his hands on
his head and mouth opened. “Kanturu? It’s remote O!”
My hart skipped several beats.
THE STORY CONTINUES
AND GETS MORE INTERESTING – WATCH OUT!!
**********************
HOPE (A
POEM)
That the creation
Would be set free from decay
Into the glorious freedom
Prepared before the world’s foundation
In this lies my hope
**********************
Dear Reader,
If you liked what you read, do others a favour by sharing it
too – there’s a share button beneath this page. Also, your comments and
questions are welcome. Besides, if you are a corps member and you have a
fascinating true life experience to share about your service year, email me ukmantle@gmail.com. Have a smashing week!
NEXT EPISODE
FRIDAY, 28TH JUNE 2013
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