SURVIVING NYSC CAMP

In 2017, I received my NYSC call-up letter, posted to Edo State for the three-week compulsory orientation. If you're not familiar with NYSC, it's a programme set up in Nigeria since 1973 to foster national unity and integration while also developing young graduates through leadership and skills training. Nigerian graduates between the ages of 18 and 30 are called to serve for one year, deployed across the country to work in various sectors like schools, hospitals, and government agencies, while also participating in community development projects. The service year starts with a three-week orientation camp, followed by 11 months of actual service. 

Now, let me gist you about my experience at the camp in Okada, Edo State.

When I saw that I was posted to Edo State, I thought my life had come to an end. I cried, ah! I was telling myself, “Me? Edo state? No way, I’m not going!” But I was lying to myself. On the day of departure, I packed my bags and set off. The journey was horrendous; the longest and most uncomfortable road trip I’ve ever experienced, but that’s a story for another day.

When I finally got to camp, soldiers were everywhere, along with NYSC officials who were feeling like demigods, shouting orders. We stood in line for what felt like forever. Eventually, we were handed these sorry-looking mattresses that had clearly seen better days. I dragged my mattress, bags, and buckets to the female hall assigned to me. It was a massive hall packed with hundreds of girls like me. I met a girl while in line who helped me carry some of my things, and we became friends. She even picked the bunk opposite mine.

As I tried to settle in, I was a complete mess. I hate disorganisation, and the faster things move, the more confused I get. By God’s grace, I made it to my bed, famished, and with my body aching all over. I ate some cereal, climbed onto the top bunk, and passed out. But before I could even enjoy the sleep, a trumpet blasted, shaking my whole body. "Omo, what is going on? I just want to sleep!" But the soldiers weren’t playing at all. They punished the last people to reach the parade ground.

At that point, I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake graduating from school. Should I have stayed longer? But honestly, I hated school too. So, I gathered myself and decided to face this new reality. So let's talk about shoes. My mum bought me white sneakers, but somehow they were either too small or they’d shrunk. My feet were killing me, and I hadn’t even started the long trek to the parade ground. Did I mention I hadn’t had a bath or eaten anything? After endless registrations and allocations, I finally got my khaki, boots, and other NYSC gear. But as expected, nothing fit me. My friend took me to the tailor, who charged me an arm and a leg to fix everything. 

By the second day, I knew better and got up early to bathe. But when I stepped outside, the bathrooms were overcrowded, and girls were having their baths outside in the bush! I had to question my life choices at that moment. "Is this punishment for enduring five years in university?" I asked myself. I finally managed to bathe, dressed in my white shirt and shorts, and limped my way to the parade ground. My shoes were too tight, and my legs hurt badly. We did morning drills and dances I had zero interest in, but I endured.

The rest of the first week was pure survival mode. I met two other girls through my new friend, and we formed a clique. We were the "it" girls, and I kind of feel like that made us stand out. I got plenty of compliments, especially for how clean my clothes always were (thankfully i had plenty pairs to spare, making it easy for me to use without running out). Not a single day went by without me sending them out to be washed and having my shoes cleaned. Thanks to my parents for giving me enough cash because that helped me get things done like washing my clothes and so on. By this time, I had already switched to the new sneakers given to us by NYSC, ditching the old pair I brought from home. My friends were on the same vibe, and we just clicked naturally, having a lot in common. We did everything together, even going to the mosque for prayers, which, to be honest, was my saving grace and reminded me of home. 

Parade rehearsals started, and guess what? They pushed me into the marching team to represent my platoon. I can’t even march! But they insisted I had to be there because of my height. It was funny watching myself struggle, but somehow, I kept getting thrown back into the mix. 

For someone who’s spent her whole life in the North, meeting people from different walks of life was fascinating. Northerners were so few that I could count them. These people I met here were outspoken, lively, and some were even downright weird. I kept getting noticed, maybe because I was so reserved, and people didn’t understand why I wasn’t trying to stand out more. I got pushed into all sorts of activities, volleyball being one of them. I’d never played in my life, but because of my height, they taught me, and we won the trophy for first place. I ended up enjoying it, despite my initial hesitation.

I was persuaded by a bunch of people to represent my platoon in the Miss NYSC beauty pageant. It got to the point where I had to hide from the officials and others just to get some peace. How was I supposed to pull that off? They tried to convince me, saying I’d have an outfit I’d be comfortable in, covered and all, but I knew for sure I’d faint from anxiety walking down that runway. Even with all my protests, they kept pushing until they finally gave up. They were quite disappointed with my decision to stay away from the pageant.

As for the skills acquisition classes, those were something else entirely, probably the most boring lectures ever. Almost everyone was dozing off. Afterward, I had to drag my sore legs to the clinic. Even after ditching the bad shoes, my legs were swollen, and the pain was unbearable. It must have been from all the long hours of standing or those terrible shoes, I’m not even sure. At some point, I fell sick and had to get medication. Along the way, I met more people, talked to a few, and got acquainted with others.

One of the most memorable times was at Mami market. The food was odd but satisfying, and I had some lovely moments gossiping and laughing with my friends there. One particular gossip I remember vividly was about a girl who was supposedly flogged mercilessly by a male soldier for not walking fast enough when everyone was asked to leave for their rooms. Did any of us actually witness it? Of course not! But it gave us something to talk about. Another person even added that the soldier had been dismissed, to which one of my friends blurted out, "Aaah" in exaggerated shock. We all burst into laughter as we ate, momentarily forgetting all the pain from the day’s drills. The gossip and laughter at Mami market became a regular escape from the chaos of camp life, and those moments bonded us as friends even more. The trumpet, the shouting soldiers, and the chaos became routine, and it all started to feel less overwhelming. I began to adapt, march, attend volleyball practice, and even had small chats with people here and there. 

One of the more dreadful moments was when we had to return the mattresses. Those lean, poverty-stricken mattresses were barely deserving of the name. By the end of camp, my back was practically broken from sleeping on what felt like strings instead of foam. We had to sign a bunch of papers to confirm we had returned them, and I couldn’t help but wonder who in their right mind would even consider stealing those miserable mattresses. After what felt like another eternity of queuing, I finally handed mine back. That whole process, even though it was earlier in the day, marked the beginning of the end for me before the ceremonial send-off parade for the dignitaries and the final shenanigans that followed.

The experience changed me. It toughened me up and made me more resilient. NYSC eventually came to an emotional end. I was relocated to Abuja, which was a huge relief. I couldn't imagine surviving in Okada for a whole year! Abuja was familiar, close to home, and felt like a breath of fresh air. 

Looking back now, I realise how much I’ve grown and how those experiences shaped me. It taught me the value of teamwork, resilience, and the importance of living in the moment. That’s the real lesson; to live through the challenges and not just wait for them to end. Every experience, good or bad, adds something to your life. And trust me, you’ll have many of those experiences, but living through them is where the growth happens.