It's a new phase of my life. Once upon a time, I was a toddler, then a child, and now an engineering graduate from a prestigious university. The time has come when freshly baked graduates leave their fathers' houses to cleave to their service to their motherland, but for eighteen score days.
Nigeria called me to serve her under NYSC, National Youth Service Corps. I answered, and that's how I landed on a bus on a 12-hour drive to another part of the country.
I'll be away for the next three weeks at the orientation camp. And I would like for my experience to be journaled, so I am going to put up some entries to make up this diary I am starting. But, just in case you don't see me for a while, know that they are after my life at camp. Meanwhile, it's Corper Olujay now.
Okay. Before I begin, I should put it out there that heaven knows that I am the complete opposite of what the title says at this moment of writing. I ain't feeling patriotic in any way. But I look forward to getting there.
The journey
For some reason, I should have been awarded as the most unprepared prospective corp member. I wasn't feeling the enthusiasm most people seem to have had, and therefore I contemplated passing on the call to serve with the first stream, especially because I had plans that were going to be shattered. After weighing my options and the repercussions of skipping this stream, I took a deep breath and concluded that I was going to go.
I begrudgingly gathered myself to prepare and pack for the journey and the three weeks that I would be away. Due to my delay, I had to leave the next day after my arrival date, on Thursday.
With a journey of about 12 hours to cover, I was bound to arrive at the camp in the early hours of the night. That would have been the case if the bus had left right on time, at 8 a.m. rather than 10:30 a.m. This is a good example of decentralised African timing.
The Amazing Driver-Man
To my surprise, there were only five passengers on the bus. I had expected about fourteen of us. I was glad anyway, since it meant having more convenience and fewer chances of meeting obnoxious people. The driver, however, was the spectacle of the journey.
We were just about to leave when this man, the driver, showed us his true colour. For something trivial, he blurted out his bottled-up emotions at an innocent person. In that moment, I knew I had entered "the bus."
The driver was stern with us all. He didn't have regard for any of us, so he just spoke to us anyhow. I steered clear and didn't even interact with him. But his driving, oh lord, was essentially dramatic.
 We made a stop and I got some juicy bananas, my favorite |
By the way he was driving, it seemed as though the driver had someone to beat at our destination. And, at some point, I contemplated whether we were in a jet or an actual bus. This man was fast! And he drove quite incredibly, too.
 I was going to buy some suya (meat), buy I couldn't afford abrupt nature business on the way |
Other than the fact that this man turned our ride into some military mission with his strict rules, I appreciate the fact that he was a pretty sharp driver, even though he was fast. There were a couple of times that things could have gone south owing to the responsibilities of other people on the road, and he saved the day.
The arrival
I am not sure what I expected, but Nigeria looked pretty much the same all through the journey. There weren't spectacular things to marvel at on the way, so I was mostly underwhelmed by the trip, except for the Amazing Driver-Man, of course. And, also, there was this regular bickering between the driver and some other passenger that I found hilarious.
I arrived at the destination, the orientation camp, very late at night, around 11:30 p.m. Fortunately for myself and some other prospective corp members, they were just about to shut the gates.
The first thing I noticed as I arrived was that this was going to be just like boarding school, only with the military around. But, hey, there's nothing to worry about. I did attend a military secondary school. I just have to summon the inner Tarzan in me again.
Hopefully, I can indeed handle it and be able to share my journey here at the orientation camp from time to time. Thank you for reading!