Corpers Wey Dey Nasarawa

I went to Nasland with my trusty pad of paper and me pens. So when I wasn't catching trips or just basically trying to enjoy myself, I would scribble away. Enough said, I think. :

October 16, 2007 NYSC Warriors. The elite class – shinagami – taken against their personal wishes and desires to satisfy the national decree – to frog jump to the discontent of their knees, to sit on the ground after standing far longer that than the ‘unlucky’ 99% of the country not chosen. 

October 18, 2007 I Thinking of what to write is a dulling activity. The fact that sleeps’ call has been unanswered couldn’t be helping the matter much. I am sitting, in the midst of a mass of funk. It seeps out from the ground and chokes me when I dare to venture towards cramped quarters. – When I choose to believe a hall built for NYSC corpers could actually house all of them. When I’m naïve enough to think anyone feels I deserve a seat. I am sitting on concrete steps directly across from my hostel. Looking at the window beside my bed, casually checking that the door is still locked. – Just in case I might steal a wink or two, on a bed that stamps a pattern of iron on my back, yet oddly, feels like home. I am hearing and seeing and smelling my fellow corpers all around me, not so much a sensory feast as an ever constant ebbing pulse. -Not to be confused with the situation in my dust orange ‘jungle boots’ as they are so lovingly referred to. A party of sorts is taking place, nerve endings dancing galala sporadically as I walk, sit or stand. The mere notion of movement starts the festivities and my “rubber” soled boots transfer the shape, size and texture of everything they touch. -Thank God for sports. We were divided into platoons today. God help anyone in my group who has prepared to dull in any capacity. May the good Lord help then to cope when I begin to demonstrate my craze, for by the Lords’ grace I gotta enjoy myself. Any and all trips that I could catch will be caught, and I shall not dull for too long. No sha. 

October 18, 2007 II Officially, the period of Dorcasing has begun. I think it started at the gate with preliminary scoping. Mens and mostly boys –with no knowledge or care of previous attachments are forming serious activity. Already I’ve given out 2 fake numbers and endured what only could have started out as ‘smoothness’ in their collective minds. Its only the first Thursday. Did I neglect to mention that I can barely call? By this I mean I’ll go towards the main gate and reboot my phone in order to catch a service window. All this stress so thieves don’t steal my 3230. Right now it rests peacefully in my fathers house. I’ll let you know if it was worth it. ?? NCCF, apparently, is the place to be – that is if the concept of taking my soul to rest with Jesus makes sense. It was by chance that I went today, or this evening, but I thank God that I did. If I can go to church every day for the rest of camp; maybe it’ll make up a bit for my general lack of church-going-ness. Maybe. ??? Today a solider told me my glasses were not allowed, that I had to go without them or produce a paper, abi- my paper or whatever he said. Like ‘Prescription’ was too heavy for his mouth. --As I write this, leaning on a door post in a crowded lecture hall, I’m aware that I will be writing many a blog-entry-full. I can already think of two of my ppl who may just decide to boycott your humble Bee-ness in favor of more concise blogrolls. -Tres sorry, the things to do here in corper-topia are suffer (apparently), sports, eat, sleep and of course – the necessary evil that is Dorcasing. 

October 23, 2007 These guys force us to go to seminars. Oh yeah, I’ve been to two days’ worth. That is, I actually heard what they were saying twice. That’s about the last 2 of 3 or so. I can remember. I’m too busy trying to sleep while doing drills at the parade ground; sleeping while sleeping, standing or walking. I’d jog with my eyes closed if not for fear of the terrain. For fear of falling on my face. And getting things in my hair. Everyday is at least a lecture. During every worship, they market their goods. I need to find my Ride-or-Die's. One’s in the kitchen, one’s proly talking to mon, the other two are proly talking to womon. Me? I’m sitting in the first row and trying seriously not to fall asleep. Wishing I was sitting with a Platoon member I could talk to like the one five rows back. Ok, I really wish I was in his seat, cuz then I could sleep with ease. E-ea-se. Wishing I was in my b-e-d, oh yeah……. I run down, no one to talk to, nothing to do- I’m thinking about drumming up the courage to bounce. ~Like a ride or die . Praise Jesus, I need someone to carry me. Indeed. 

November 6, 2007 I Thank God for our-crested vest, oh my bad- the NYSC T-shirt. Praise god for our ugly trousers and jungle boots too- because it makes people recognize you- 4 aid or 2 cheat Praise God it’s been more of the former. So I marched in the passing out parade. First line. I knew I was hungry before we began. I knew I wanted to faint when the mechanics of vision and breathing eluded me. The Sun bore into my flesh like a strategically placed needle sapping me of strength. My lips knew grief as the later unfulfilled promise of water was given. I broke out of my solider stance and gave Governor and the press varying poses instead. What I wanted to do we give in a full-out pass out. No sounds, no theatrical flailing of the arms. Just me relieving my feet of their duty and falling to the ground like a log of wood. Enter images of my head CRACKING on the cement parade ground and the wahala that is Red Cross coming to take me away or revive me. Whatever. So I gasped for breath and shifted my weight to my toes and vexed silently for the 2 opening statements and award ceremony that preceded the Governors speech. I vexed for the Governors speech as I trickled salty water under an angry Sun. I consoled myself with the idea of sitting down immediately after being dismiss. Forgot about the business of collection my posting letter. ---So I stood among the mob and strained to hear my number. They were about 100 away. Did I mention the Viju or Nutri Milk? My almighty Bank-of-Me pouch was with a friend, upon seeing my ½ dead state, he hooked me up with some. God Bless ‘im. So I stood and got my paper. My friend got Karu. My friend who worked her posting. My friend that would’ve joined me into her runs if not for that fact that other runs were meant to be going on or………..Hmm, perhaps I gawked myself – cuz I jealous small. No worries, possibilities remain for as long as God dey. I found a friend going to Lafia. Bussed with him. Half of my load went to Karu. Somehow the dirty little business of registration got taken care of. ~~The day I left it was about 6pm, I probably got cheated on the fare, I got to Abuja about 9 and would've been stranded if not for God and GSMs. The next morning I started my fantastic journey to Lag, sleeping or pretending to the whole way. Then I proceeded to sleep for the whole weekend. So sweet.~~ 

  --The main block of time that is unaccounted for was probably when I was playing volleyball, cooking, eating at Mami, going to daft shows, enduring lectures or sleeping, who knows? -Here's to all the Batch B kiddes that got a shade or more darker during the 3weeks.... Tha blacka tha berry, sweeta da juice-Tupac