Just Before Work Began

It felt good to be free from my Alter Ego; the corps member identity I had acquired. Like melting candle wax, three weeks of holiday went by at home – with family. It was good to be me – away from the parades, away from Kanturu, away from the green khaki uniform, away from all such stuff. Nevertheless, like all holidays do, the three weeks ran out fast and I had to get back to work.
“Oga, how much be bus to Onitsha,” I said, “bus even dey?”
With his hands pointed, he said, “That bus dey go Onitsha – na 1200.”
I gave the motor-park’s cashier the money and he tore me a receipt while I signed the vehicle manifest. I boarded the bus from Uyo and in about 4 hours time, looking out to right from the vehicle window, I saw the great river Niger and the Niger bridge; that great bridge that connects Eastern Nigeria from the west – by the way, I heard it was designed by a Nigerian: Is that true? My journey to Kwara had to be split in two since there wasn’t a direct bus – and Onitsha was the ‘middle point’. The Okada man that brought me from where the first bus dropped me said that cars to Ilorin filled fast. I wrongly believed him. I had to drop form the car I had boarded in Onitsha and cross the Niger Bridge into Asaba. There I boarded a bus at the bridgehead.
“You know, serving in the village isn’t good for we ladies.” Jane (not real name) said typing furiously on her blackberry.
“Really,” I said, “why?”
She stopped typing and looked into my face. “It’s hard to find a guy to marry when you’re there.”
At once I appreciated her sincerity and we got talking.
“Are you really sure?” I said.
“You know, them good guys are mainly in the city. Them really good ones.”
Although I didn’t agree with her, I nodded my head affirmatively. Jane, an NYSC corps member, was my neighbor in the car; we were both heading to Ilorin. I didn’t see the sense in disagreeing with her so early in the journey when I had more than six hours of travelling to do with her by my side. There’d always be time to argue things out I thought. If anything, I didn’t want an enemy so early in the journey. 
[SOMETIMES, it’s good to agree now to disagree later; the temporary agreement provides the needed peace from which you weave out a gentle but effective alternative viewpoint which will win your discussant over without him/her even noticing it]
I must confess, she was good company and the journey felt shorter. More so, she was a big help to me later on – as you’d see.
“Driver,” a co-passenger called out, “why you take this road?”
The car was stationary, stuck in a thick traffic jam. “I no sabi Iwo road. Na why I – ” The driver replied.
Iwo road was a shorter and better route. I wondered why anytime I came into Kwara drivers always missed their way (Remember The Journey?)
“- and you no talk, I sabi the road well well na.” The Passenger said.
To cut a long story short, after an hour we, escaped the jam and coasted away on the freeway. Soon enough, we were at Ife driving in that ancient city of the Yoruba people.
[Humorously, I tried looking for a hole in the clouds from which that cock and maize, from which some Yoruba claim they originated from, came to earth. It strikes me hard that every tribe has its concept of God and creation – which, I believe, is a show of ignorance. An intelligent God would have just one means of creation and by extension, only one means of relating with his creation.]
“Stop there, Stop there – I said stop.” Immediately I looked straight ahead unto the road.
Five men stood on the road; the Federal Road Safety Corps. Our car pulled over by the side of the road.
“Driver come down – your car is overloaded. Come down now.” An officer ordered.
Killing the ignition and sweating profusely, our driver began: “God bless you officer. Abeg I jus receive call se my wife don born pikin. Abeg – abeg make I rush go meet them for Ilorin. Na serious mata.”
“If not for your pikin I for don deal with you today. Anyway – congratulations.” Having said that, the officer waved us off and our driver sped away – a grin on his face.
“Driver, kai, you sabi lie O.” A passenger said from the back seat of our Sienna.
“Madam, if I no talk like that na 5000 fine I go pay and dem go waste our time.”
By now, it was around 2pm and we were approaching Oshogbo – the capital of Osun state. I got a call from the Kanturu coordinator that the monthly NYSC clearance was the following day. I couldn’t help but thank God that I left home early; had I delayed for an additional day, I would have missed the clearance.
[The monthly NYSC clearance is an exercise where corps members have to appear in person with a letter from their employees stating that they have worked satisfactorily for a particular month. If a corps member doesn’t attend the monthly clearance, such fellow forfeits his monthly allowance.]
Days later, a corper friend named Matthew recounted his experience. When he received information that clearance was the next day, he got into a car heading for Ilorin; unfortunately, the driver was a bit hesitant in stepping on the pedal – so, Matthew had to collect the keys from the driver and take to the steering will. He arrived early enough and was cleared; also, other passengers were thankful that they arrived earlier.
By 9pm, we entered Offa, a town in Kwara state.
“Everybody come down from this vehicle.”
Whether it was the fact that our driver was stressed out or the fact that the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency officials seemed very strict, I never can tell: but our driver complied without a word, without a lie. We all alighted and took the time to stretch properly. The NDLEA people looked into our vehicle as though they had a tipoff that we were transporting drugs.
“Who has that bag?” One of the men said focusing his torch’s light on my bag.
I don’t do drugs – there is no drug in my bag. I went in, and handed over my bag to him. He searched and searched and then gave the bag back to me upon which he asked us to get back into our vehicle. We hurriedly complied and sped off. By now, I had been able to change Jane’s mind about men in rural areas. She agreed and we moved unto other important topics. I won’t bore you with the content. We entered into Ilorin by 10:30pm and it was certain I couldn’t get back to Kanturu.
“Ha, I might have to sleep at the park till tomorrow. Kanturu is quite far from here.” I told Jane.
“Really, anyway am gonna stay at a Family House – mind coming along?”
“Not at all, I don’t mind – I don’t even have a choice.”
So, we alighted at the park and chattered a taxi to the family house.
[A ‘family house’ (FH) is an NYSC lingua, which means, a building or apartment used solely for accommodating corps members. Various religious groups build or rent houses and use them as family houses.]
This family house was a large three bedroom flat. The guys used a room, ladies another and the third room served as a mini office. There was no power supply and a kerosene lantern burnt brightly in the parlor.
“O, good evening, how was your trip – O, you must be tired.” A lady whom I later got to know as ‘mama’ said to us quite affectionately. Taking a seat in the parlor, I placed my chin on my palms – my bag by my side – and fed my eyes, trying the best I could to rotate my eyes without turning my neck. It was a cool environment; corps members played here and there while others discussed in pairs. For a moment I wished I was living in a family house back at Kanturu. However, family houses had a downside too, the relative lack of privacy. I was offered a meal of yam and fried egg, which I graciously rejected. I did so because I figured that my arrival at some minutes to 11pm was unbudgeted. If I ate, it would be someone’s meal. I soon found a place to sleep.
Morning came quickly and I boarded a bus to the NYSC secretariat of my local government. I felt abashed going for the monthly clearance bearing my luggage. However, I was in no small measure comforted when I found others like me; bearing luggage. Most batch A corps members had travelled and had to rush back for the clearance.
“You just just arrived?” A dark guy asked me at the secretariat.
“Yea,” I replied, “You too abi?”
“Yes, my father died and his burial is tomorrow. I just received a call that clearance was today so I had to use a night bus to get here.”
”Gosh! Really? That’s serious.” I said.
“How we go do na – that’s NYSC for you.”
I got cleared and soon connected with other corps members from my PPA – we all boarded a bus heading for Kanturu. School was to resume for the third term the next day – by tomorrow I would become a secondary school teacher!

DEAR Reader,
There would be no post on Friday – that’s why today’s post is longer. Also, thank you for filling out the survey forms – your observations will be reflected here ASAP.