Saturday, 16 November 2013

PLATOON 3 (An Nysc Camp Love Story) Part 1.

The high pitched sound of the bugle pierced through the peace of the morning and soldiers started swarming around the different hostels in Nysc orientation camp Umudi, Imo state issuing orders, hitting the hostel doors and windows all in a bid to wake up the corp members. It was 5 am and the cold harmattan wind was blasting fully, wrapping its cold arms around each and every one that dared to step outside. The orientation broadcasting service (OBS) guys were already on air issuing their morning wakeup calls; “if you are still sleeping you are wrong” “if you are still brushing your teeth you are wrong” ”if you are not at the parade ground now you are wrong!”

The corpers came out from their different hostels and all made their way towards the parade ground for the daily morning devotion and military drills & exercises. They stood at the positions assigned their to platoons in the parade field. In their plain white tops, white shorts & stockings, white canvas shoes and a waistbag around their waist, an outsider coming into the camp for the first time could have mistakened them to be secondary school students.

It had been exactly one week since the orientation camping exercise began and most of the corpers had adjusted to the regimented lifestyle in the jungle-like camp, where every single activity had a specified period of time for completion. Some others were fed up and were counting the number of days left for the completion of the exercise.
There were 12 platoons in total.

Kenny was a member of platoon 3, he was a graduate of Chemistry from the university of Jos. He had been one of the early birds who registered on day 1 and as such was able to secure a choice bedspace in Gold kingdom hostel. There were three male hostels: Gold kingdom, Diamond kingdom and Silver kingdom and two female hostels; Queens world and Ivory world.

The morning devotion was a routine exercise and was moderated by the camp director Mr Joe Obi. The commandant of the camp Captain Ahmed a soft spoken but deadly effective soldier who tolerated no acts of indiscipline was also on ground.

Jogging was the only aspect of the morning drills that Kenny liked as it afforded him the opportunity of seeing the world outside the camp’s gate. He liked the military songs they sang as they marched out of the camp’s gate and jogged along the road, he also liked singing along to the improvised songs composed by his fellow platoon members….

“dem go born better, dem go born better, if copa marry copa dem go born better’
“dem go born mumu, dem go born mumu if soldja marry copa dem go born mumu!”

Sometimes when a platoon makes a u-turn at a point in the road and a rival platoon passes by, they changed whatever song they were singing and start chanting;

“see monkey, see banana”
“see monkey, see banana”

He saw her again. She was a very pretty girl in his platoon that he admired. He didn’t know her name. She was darkskinned and had a  petite body build. He had been seeing her everyday and each time he came close to her he always felt something deep stirring inside him, it didn’t help matters when she noticed and started returning his glances and stares. Each time he wanted to approach her, he lacked the willpower to make the move.

7pm later in the day, the roomates in Gold kingdom hostel, room 4 were exhausted from the day’s activities and were chatting in groups.
There were a total of 17 corpers living in the room. Kenny’s bunk was at the first row and he was surrounded by a couple of interesting guys. There was Obinna a fun loving guy who occupied the top bunk, the adjacent bunk was occupied by Kunle and Ejike, next to them was Martins the lonely wolf who always had his earpiece stucked inside his ears and didn’t chat much with others. There was “Pastor” who stayed in the middle of the room and often woke up the occupants for prayers at 4am.

“ol boy they are really stressing us in this camp, said Obinna who was in seated position dangling his feet from his top bunk, my guy for Abuja camp tell me say dem dey flex everyday for there!”

“Na so na, Abj camp na for governor, minister and senators children or people wey get been get moni to do“runs”chipped in Kunle lying on his bunk.

And they are marginalizing us guys too, how can they post 1700 corpers and only 300 are females? Ejike queried.

Na true o, dem wan make we fight, see as every guy dey struggle to get the attention of Aisha that fulani babe with very striking features in my platoon, Obinna said.

A sonorous voice from the back interrupted their chatter “young men you were sent here to serve your country, no be to dey find woman up and down”.

The voice belonged to “chairman’. Chairman was the oldest corp member in the room, from his body physique and facial features he was well over 40 yrs. This was contrary to the nysc rules which pegged 30 yrs as the maximum age for youth service.. He was called chairman by the other roommates as a sign of respect for his age and authority as he was influential in settling disputes and maintaining a semblance of law and order when tempers flared up in the room. The guys had always wondered to themselves why he bothered to stress himself to serve when he could have gotten an exemption letter. However no one brought out the issue for discussion as they all knew they were in Nigeria where everyone was running his/her own racket and besides Chairman was a cool man and got along with everybody.
“Chair chair”! They hailed, body no be fire wood o.

The bugle for dinner suddenly sounded, announcing the time to queue up for food in the cafeteria.
Guys make we enter mammy market find something chop, I can’t stand their kitchen food this night, Kunle suggested. (continue reading below)
Mammy market was the camp market often referred to as “the happening place”. It was a different world; bright, shiny and a beehive of activities, it was a place where tired, weary, hungry, restless and fun loving souls found succour. You could get anything you wanted in the market even if it was a human head as long as you had the money!!...but things were however expensive, because the sellers were eager to make the most profits in the shortest possible time. There were drinking pubs, restaurants, ice cream spots, video game hangouts, match viewing centers, provision shops, medication stores, battery charging spots, relaxation joints etc.

Kenny and his roomates walked through the narrow earthen path that linked the parade ground to the market. As they passed the three rows of oil palm trees that grew on both sides of the road, from the corner of his eyes he saw the pretty girl in his platoon walking up ahead of them. He made up his mind on the spot to approach her, it was a good opportunity. Just at that moment she glanced back and gave him a sidelook that seemed to say “what are you waiting for boy? come and get me!” that was all the motivation he needed, he excused himself from his friends and hurried up.

Hello, I am Kenny, im in your platoon.
Yea, i’ve been seeing you, she replied, Im Adamma.
Nice name, from which school? he asked.
Enugu state university, you?
Unijos. So where are you from?
Imo state she replied, you?
Kogi state, im from the Igala tribe.
She was igbo.

So where are you heading to? he inquired.
To eat! You?
Same thing
Well, let’s go together then.
Kenny coludn’t believe his goodluck! She was inviting him to go with her.
Alright let’s go to Madam chika’s spot he said.
No, that place is always crowded and i am a bit reserved in nature, i don’t like crowds.

A shy girl?...my type of girl! Kenny said to himself as they walked towards Pristine restaurant behind the Pepsi stand. It looked quite serene with few customers. She offered to pay for their meal…this was almost too good to be true to Kenny. There was something graceful and charming about her.
By the time they left the place he was head over heels in love with Adamma.
They walked back to “Queens world” her hostel before light outs by 9:30pm. When he took her hands to say goodnight he noticed how soft and tender her hands were, how exquisite and full of fire her eyes were. He couldn’t help wondering how good it will feel to hold her in his arms. They exchanged numbers. That night in his dreams he was walking hand in hand with Adamma in a beach in Bahamas Island.


Seargent Mustapha was the RSM(regiment seargent major) of the camp, the man in charge of maintaining law, order and discipline in the camp. He was also the head of all the soldiers and was answerable only to the Camp director and camp commandant. Mustapha had a weird sense of humour and gave weird punishments. He was nicknamed “old soldja” not because he was old but because he was canny and always able to outsmart and outmanouvre all the machinations and schemes of the corp members. It was rumoured that he always made sure that any corper who got into his blackbook gets posted to the remotest part of the state where there was no telecommunication network. So every one tried as much as possible to be in his good books.

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