TWENTY-ONE KUSALA DAM DAYS: 2nd Sun Down

I was stupid enough to have a fill of laughter in camp today. Adults were behaving like children during the inauguration parade, and at some point, I was wondering whether I was the stupid one to find their acts funny, or they were really the stupid ones. It's 10:42pm on the 7th of July, and as I reflect and write on the activities of the day, I can't but help a couple of laughs, abstract enough to make the people around me think something could be wrong with my mental state. But overall, I did have a fulfilling day, if my expectations were to be considered. The height of it all, was when I met a bunch of guys from the Federal University of Technology, Minna. A lively bunch of dudes they were, and each one had a dose of laughter to dole. Not sure if I'd ever had a fill of sit-coms all my life as I did today.

I woke at 6:40am, ignoring the early morning bugle, summoning us to the parade ground, as I wasn't confirmed registered yet. I brushed in the open with other people staring, quite how odd it felt. I had Masa for breakfast from the mammy market, and finally got some place to take my bath. Atleast, I was getting acquainted with the geography of the camp ground. Then the bugle sounded, for us to gather and file for the swearing of oaths ceremony. I had managed to collect my khaki the night before, and still wondered what was going through their minds, when they were piecing together the apparels. Nothing wasn't left oversized and out of shape. Even the tailors who tried to make them bespoke, couldn't get them around to fit me.

At the parade ground, I made my first friend - Hosea Gana, a graduate of Physics. His friend Jey was from Jos, and was excited when I told him I had schooled in his native Jos. There was alot of protocols with the oath swearing parade, with the soldiers making a big deal of it, us, bothered more with the picture taking. You could see it from the faces of alot, that this was more of a milestone in their lives, than a new experience, in another part of their country. We then dispersed for lunch - mashed beans, on which I spread some garri to make a nice mix although the beans begged for a little more salt. Surprisingly, I ate with much gusto and was glad I didn't tell them to reduce the ration on the line.

Evening parade was at 4pm till 6, after which we were addressed by our Platoon Officer, talking about monetary contributions for inter-platoon competition and we taking it very serious. There was this selected Deputy Platoon Leader - Vicky, from Zuru who was getting in to my "likes" book. I quickly left the parade ground, and set off for an audition with the OBS -  Orientation Broadcasting Service. I was auditioning to be on the editorial and reporting department. Bumped in to a couple of lovely ladies from Lagos, who were no finding the sun here in Kano funny. Then I met a couple of Jossites, and wanted to scream out loud for finding 'kindred'. Gift talked with me more, probably finding fascination with my stories. She'd had a couple of laughs anyways. Her friend looked on, her mind focused more on something outside the camp than in it. I was already liking Gift's smiles though. They were always from ear to ear. I sent Egbo an sms, and she replied complaining of lack of sleep and all. I got a call from Jos, to learn that Ugo was finally getting back with her boyfriend after a few days of standoff. I wanted her to hold off for a few more days, but I guess she didn't have enough resolve either. I concluded, they both were just feeble hearted kids in love.

Lights went out at 11:42pm, just before I finished writing this. I had used phone calls and Carlos all the way in Liberia to strike a deal, which had me happy before going off to bed

TWENTY – ONE KUSALA DAM DAYS: 1st Sun Down

Having wild romance at midnight with a lady you had just met the afternoon before, and refusing to call it a one-night stand, would be bizarre. Well, after the club at Nomansland disappointed, we managed to psyche a bike to ride us all the way to Danbare, the students’ neighbourhood opposite the new site of Bayero University, Kano. We had the room to ourselves, and my blood got hot. If Sika had anticipated this all evening, she must be having her wishes played out before her. We were clear-eyed; a bit tired, and cursed the searing heat. I lay beside her, tucked my left arm round her, resting it on the voluptuous breast. I was satisfied with the sigh she gave. Rhythmically, I began roving over her trunk while the tempo of her sighs continued to heighten. Then I jumped on her, and began kissing, caressing and undressing her simultaneously. She reached for my loins, and undid my belt. My maleness had come to terms with the air in the room, while I reached for my bag. The oil and latex were always in my bag. Together with my toothbrush and paste, Jasmine – my laptop, and some fragrance, I always made sure I was always ready for the moment.

It was 1:30am, and I had just put a call through to Ugo. I was still naked; Sika had switched off to sleep within moments after my climax coincided with her fourth – she’d had too much. Ugo was having relationship issues, and while we had constantly made love in her hostel room back in Jos, we still kept our relationships, and called the other, friend. Yes, we were friends with benefits. Her lame boyfriend as I’d seen him was at being childish again. She was pissed, and was ignoring him for the umpteenth time. The last time she had cried in her room, I had consoled her, wiped her eyes, hugged and kissed her, and then we made some good, good love. She had cursed me that night for not doing enough to snatch her from her boyfriend. Tonight, she was narrating how he kept bugging her with calls and messages, and how tempting they have been for her to resist. She likes him, but his immaturity bored her to death. She was learning, and sought motivation to continue at her course from me. Then she'd bribe me with sex.

It was July 6^th; I’d just woken up still drowsy and terribly in need of a massage. My host was long gone to school, and no one was in the compound either. I trudged off in to BUK new site with Sika, got some breakfast, and wandered around in vain, looking for internet. You wonder why it is so difficult to find public cafes in and around students’ neighbourhoods. In anger, I returned home, and packed. I enjoyed just my third tricycle ride to Kikabuga, and got a cab going to Karaye. Passangers mused about the distance, the heat and what to expect at Karaye, but after about two hours, a high-walled compound stood before me. I went through routine security checks, and walked in to the compound. My first sight flashed back imaginary scenes from Kalu Okpi’s “Biafra Testament”. Orders barked out in confusing staccato, and the field was a sea of white. More enquiries sent me further in to the belly of the compound. In thirty minutes, call-up letter was verified, platoon assigned, but the accommodation officer was nowhere around. You could see frustration on the faces of youth who had turned up from all across the country, tired, hungry, weary and fearful of the land which they would call home for the next one year, and in for which I became the 2292^nd person to report to camp with primary assignment in Kano State.

Egbo had not said a word all day, and even though I find myself cheating on her, I still DEARLY love and yearned daily for her. A bugle sounded, and we were all gathered. I promptly stood in line, and waited for over an hour, before we were addressed by the Camp Coordinator, a large Gwari woman with a deep voice, evidence of how she had systematically solved stress with tobacco. I lined at the rear, within close proximity of the military instructors. One was wearing a blue United Nations shirt, with UNMIL inscribed on it. I knew what it meant, and they were bemused that I did. We talked about the Nigerian contingent to the United Nations Mission in Liberia, and some shared stories of their expnce in Liberia, Sierra Leone and most recently, Sudan. I had fried yams for dinner at the mammy market, where some girls were already selling their wares for that hour come. I scoured my environs and began adapting to the crowd gathered in the hall, waiting till 11:30pm to get a mattress. I had not been allocated to any room still, and I knew I was going to spend the night in the "open"; but the anger was doused by a call from Egbo after I had sent her an sms. Mummy also called to know how I have fared and cope with the new culture, and having eased 5,000 NGN extra above budget from my account, I knew I needed to act financially sustainable to be able to adapt here.

It’s 12:11am, the morning of the 7^th of July, and am  about to doze off to sleep with thoughts of Egbo on my mind.

The Compulsory One Year Youth Service in Nigeria

The Nigerian society is perplexed. It continues to trudge in antiquated paths, yet expect to get the best out of life, and perhaps, slide to the top of economies in the world. Well, it better reinvent its dreams. The other week, I finished school. I wrote my final exams, and father reminded me of Youth Service.

He so exalted it, that it seemed like the pinnacle of living here in Nigeria. Perhaps he still reminisce his days in camp. But I bet he doesn't realise things have changed since then. He has gone on to marry, have kids and now, one of them have turned a graduate. However, the thing is that the National Youth Corps Service have gone down the abysmal alley, becoming another scorn for Nigerians.

Today, you can bet, school proprietors are not recruiting staff. They have a steady flow of hands coming from orientation camps. All they need do, is apply for the next batch of Corpers, and yepee, the staff list is complete. Think also, of competent people who have the skills required to excel in certain fields who rather are confined to the walls of the classroom. Most of these guys are actually not trained to teach. And the last time I checked, the teachers Registration Council was rueing the quality of teachers in the country.

Yet, we want to be one of the top 20 economies come the year 2020. I think this is vague for us for now, and we are not really ready to achieve what we so babble about. Why must I be subjected to the scheme? Must I be far flung within my country because someone thinks its best for me? While somebody else earns fat pays for over pricing the Youth Corps apparel? Or recent graduates get posted as cannon fodder to some political cum religious battlefields?

Well, I'm a recent graduate, and am not ready to serve. Tell me I lack national consciousness, and I'd let you know that leaders are not made as such. What if these recent graduates are sent to such countries as Sierra Leone, Liberia, Sudan, Haiti, Burma, Zimbabwe et cetera, and made to contribute voluntarily to the building of these crumbling economies? Wouldn't we be doing great justice to the now capsizing image of "Giant of Africa"? I've seen many young people who claim they are serving in some purported hinterland, cooling off all year round in their homes somewhere, because somethings have traded places.

While some have played down their ages, because they want to get enlisted in this show of shame. Its compulsory, and I say that's not right. Give us the right to develop ourselves mentally and entrepreneurially, to enable us become independent, and social entreprenuers.