After missing Batch A registration due to the verification process, I was finally able to register for Batch B, after finding out I’d been posted to Lagos (lucky me), it was on to the part I feared the most: camp.
After hearing countless tales of woe and horror, ranging from ‘shotput’ to cramped living conditions with strangers who would ‘steal your underwear if they could,’ I was absolutely terrified of camp.
I’m not an outdoorsy person. I’m only interested in one sport and my interest is limited to watching it and yelling at my TV screen. I don’t like shared living environments, especially bathroom facilities. I abhor early mornings. I also detest restrictions and bathing with cold water.
My fears were assuaged by other ‘returnees’ who had told me of a golden ticket also known as an exeat letter. Don’t worry, assured a friend. You can stay during the week and go home to shower at the weekends.
Couldn’t be that bad then, right?
Upon arrival at the camp gate, my suitcase broke which I took as an ominous sign of things to come.
I remember feeling completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, all wearing similar expressions: frustration, bewilderment, irritation.
It didn’t take long to figure out why.
Clarion calls, marching drills, endless lectures and near constant queuing, the first week of camp was a blur, a rainy, messy blur.
By the second week though, things had become more fun, there were people to meet, small chops to eat at Mammi Market, but it was time to apply for the golden ticket. My skin was craving hot water and my eyes needed a break from some of the sights of the bathroom.
To get the golden ticket, I’d have to write a letter explaining why I needed to be excused from camp. I had heard about the sorts of excuses people had given: weddings, funerals, a banking emergency. The most common excuses, were health related, medication had to be picked up or a doctor had to be seen, they usually worked because no one wants to take a gamble on someone else’s health.
Anyway, I wrote my letter, dreaming about the hot shower that awaited beyond the gates, but before I handed it into my platoon leader, I paused. Did I really need to do this? Wouldn’t it just prove all those people that complained about ‘ajebutters’ not being able to handle it right?
The NYSC program for better or worse is considered by a lot of people to be an integral part of Nigerian life. And camp is a part of that. If I was going to do it, what was the point of doing it half way? Because really if I walked out of those gates, would I actually come back?
I decided not to hand it in. Because it was just three weeks, a fun filled, boundary pushing three weeks, and I survived it. I certainly came out better prepared me for the year of teaching ahead.