A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

4:38 a.m. 

Iā€™m fully awake, Iā€™ve taken a bath and Iā€™m dressed in my all white. My roommates are beginning to let their guards down because itā€™s the last day. Why are they not awake by this time. They will blow the bugle now and they will start rushing. Anyways, let me go back to bed. Itā€™s my last sleep inside this place. Let me enjoy it.

5:45 a.m. 

My first roommate wakes up and the noise he makes wakes me up. 5:45 a.m. and these people havenā€™t woken us up. Am I the only serious person in this camp? I ask whatā€™s going on, and he tells me that they announced yesterday that we have all till 7 a.m. to prepare fully and move our boxes out of the rooms.

Oh, wow. Is this who I am now? So many questions come to my head:

1. Will I now be awake by 4 a.m. everyday?
2. Will I sing the national anthem and NYSC anthem everyday?
3. Will my new style of greeting people continue to be halting and saluting them like a soldier?
4. Will I drop everything Iā€™m doing and freeze by 6 am and 6 pm because Nigerian is either waking up or going to bed?
5. Will I wear a waist pouch everywhere?
6. Will I only wear white clothes now?
7. Will the sound of trumpets make me angry?
8. Can I still walk normally, or will I ā€œdouble upā€ everywhere Iā€™m going?
   

7:12 a.m. 

Weā€™re all out and taking pictures now. Weā€™ve packed our boxes out and finally locked the hostel. Thereā€™s so much joy in the air. Iā€™m seeing smiles Iā€™ve never seen before. Omo.

7:45 a.m. 

Iā€™m running towards OBS now. Last night, I was the one shouting that we must all be there by 7:15 for the group pictures, but let me not lie, I forgot. I get there and meet only a few people. Theyā€™ve taken the pictures and most of the other people have left. So this is how when they ask if I was in OBS during my NYSC, I wonā€™t be able to say yes with my chest because I didnā€™t take a group picture with OBS people. Itā€™s paining my chest. 

10:45 a.m.

The marching has ended. The entire program has ended. This was much better than the swearing-in parade. The special guest of honour arrived much earlier than we thought they would so we skipped some part of the parade and just got into the thick of it. I stan a punctual special guest of honour. 

Theyā€™ve told us bye-bye and just like that, camp has ended. We can go home. People are hugging and being very emotional. I havenā€™t seen anyone crying. But the hugs and goodbyes Iā€™m seeing are like those of people who have known each other for years. 

I go back to OBS. Thatā€™s where all my own friends are. PPAs have come out. I got where I wanted. I can see tears and I want to laugh. Nobody wants to go to Gwagwalada. I think some people can see Gwagwalada on their PPA.

12:00 p.m. 

Iā€™m in the Bolt cab going home. Weā€™re speeding on these smooth and beautiful Abuja roads when suddenly the bonnet springs open and crashes into the windshield, shattering it and leaving glass droplets on us. Itā€™s super scary but Iā€™m thankful because it could have been much worse; the driver could have swerved to another lane or come to a sudden stop out of panic and then the accident would have involved more than just us. 

1:35 p.m. 

I get home to meet a welcome card and a spa reservation from the loml. Wahala for who single o. 

10:00 p.m. 

Iā€™m feeling sleepy again. This is the fourth time Iā€™m sleeping since I got home. Thereā€™s tired, and thereā€™s tired. 

I am tired. 

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

8:48 a.m.

People are looking at me weird because Iā€™m washing my hair. Itā€™s just shampoo, leave-in conditioner, and moisturizer. My hair has horribly dried out and tangled in these couple of weeks and Iā€™m beginning to feel like a mad person. Iā€™m going out into the real world tomorrow, please. Let them not chase me from home.Ģż

10:00Ģż²¹.³¾.

Iā€™m in church. I came here to focus on God but because Iā€™m in OBS, now Iā€™m dealing with technical and sound issues. Wherever I walk, work meets me. Money, see your mate?

11:30 a.m. 

Iā€™m going back to my hostel when I pass by a hostel. I laugh. This hostel must be full of Yoruba angels. I decide to walk a bit more so I can find more hostels that are perfectly fitting for Yoruba men

Because Yoruba men are committed till the end. Every allegation you hear is a lie.

Yoruba men are honest and full of integrity. They will never break your heart. Any objections?

12:00 p.m.

These people like lying. They said every Sunday is for rest until 4 p.m. but theyā€™re chasing us out of the hostels because the Director General of NYSC is coming to speak to us. 

Every speech Iā€™ve heard in this place sounds like the same thing. Itā€™s like ā€œYes you can copy my assignment but donā€™t let it be the exact same thing.ā€ Sometimes, I predict what theyā€™re going to say next. This man seems nice though. 

6:26 p.m.Ģż

Weā€™ve just finished final parades along with some long addresses. I think we did great. I remember that weā€™re going to have to wear those orange combat boots tomorrow and my heart starts beating fast. Oh well, tomorrow will take care of itself. Let me rush to OBS. 

7:03 p.m. 

So this is why they were telling us to rush down to OBS. We call the coordinator of OBS ā€œMummyā€ because she is such a great woman. Sheā€™s the perfect boss/mother combo. I will miss her. She bought chicken suya, beef suya and drinks for us and then we went round speaking about how nice it has been working at OBS. Someone is crying. This is giving me university ending vibes. Ugh. 

7:48 p.m.

I see the guy that got punished in my stead yesterday. I laugh as I pass him by. Maybe this is what movie villains feel like and thatā€™s why they never stop being villains. 

Before they cancelled evening parades yesterday the military instructor asked if we enjoyed the carnival and what we wanted to make it better. From the crowd, I shouted ā€œAlcohol!ā€ and he looked in our direction, fished him out and punished him for wanting alcohol. 

Good times. 

10:00Ģż±č.³¾.

Iā€™m finally packing my box. People are asking me why. They should not even vex me this night. Did you people not get the memo that weā€™re leaving tomorrow????

In case you missed it:

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

6:30 a.m.

I donā€™t like all this nonsense. They said we should sleep all we want today but they are already blowing bugle. Does 6:30 sound like ā€œSleeping all you wantā€?

Anyways, Iā€™m not even in my hostel. Iā€™m preparing with the rest of my platoon for the carnival. If you see what other platoons are doing in their canopies, and then look at our canopy, you will just be pitying us. 

But never despise the days of little beginnings. 

9:53 a.m. 

Okay maybe our little beginning was just signs that we were not up for all this because all these things Iā€™m seeing from other platoons as we proceed for the procession are bursting my head. These people obviously did not hear about all these things last night like we did. They are preparedddd!! I love to see it. 

12:47Ģż±č.³¾.

The ā€œcarnivalā€ ends. It wasnā€™t fun. Maybe because my platoon didnā€™t win anything. But oh well, they said thereā€™s bonfire at night. Maybe that one will be interesting. 

I see the camp commandant taking pictures with the shortest guy on camp. I join in the photos. Please, Iā€™m short too. 

1:35 p.m.

My phone screen stops working. It just stops. Itā€™s been acting up all day but now itā€™s just stopped. I know Dipoā€™s number so I call him with someoneā€™s phone. I explain whatā€™s happening and he says the screen is spoiled and Iā€™d have to replace it. God, please. 

I take it to Nas. He says I donā€™t have to change it. Or at least he hopes so. He will help me bring it out and clean the panels. I really like Nas. 

4:39 p.m.

Weā€™re cooking for the platoon. Weā€™re all under a canopy talking and making noise. Itā€™s fun, one of those things you miss when you leave. 

I see a chicken. No, not the one that chased me. Thereā€™s a face mask around it and itā€™s struggling. I want to take a picture, but my phone is still with Nas. But I pity it. Itā€™s suffering. 

I keep talking about it and people keep telling me to forget about it, itā€™ll be fine. 

The quiet girl beside me says ā€œDo you want us to go and help?ā€ 

ā€Ōرš²õā€

We spend the next 20 minutes chasing a chicken who thinks weā€™re here to kill it. Chickens are foolish. We finally catch it and help it get free. 

I wish someone recorded us. Somebody can use such a video to run for political post. 

ā€œHe cares about even the birds of the field. He will definitely care for your children. Nigeria, vote David Odunlami for president, 2031.ā€

6:00 p.m.

Nas gives be my phone back. Itā€™s working fine now. I thank him. Heā€™s such a nice guy. I give it back to him to charge. I have to get a celebratory haircut. 

6:48 p.m.

Please, dear barber, stop showing me pictures of haircuts on your phone. Cut the one on my head. Heā€™s been on a non-stop talking frenzy trying to impress me since I told him I lived in Lagos. I canā€™t blame him. Maybe I pronounced ā€œLagosā€ like somebody that has money and heā€™s trying to secure a customer. 

I donā€™t really like him though. He said because Iā€™m from Lagos I probably do fraud because Lagos boys are fraudsters. Then he started glorifying fraud just to make me feel good. 

When he tried to confirm if he was right, and I told him he was wrong, he asked,

ā€œIs it your choice, or is it because your dad is a pastor?ā€

ā€œItā€™s because Iā€™m a pastorā€

He was quiet for the rest of the haircut. 

He gives good haircuts though. 

8:53 p.m. 

The definition of bonfire has changed. It now means ā€œPeople dancing in circles platoon by platoon with Man Oā€™War music playing in the background without any fire involvedā€.

Oxford, please do well to update your dictionary.

In case you missed it:

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

9:13 a.m. 

I thought they said there was no SAED today. Now itā€™s SAED competition. These people will do anything to keep us in one place for a long time. 

Iā€™m running in the opposite direction of where people are going when two soldiers stop me. One of them is the soldier who told me to play R. Kelly for him. Yesterday, with his phone in his hand, he helped me catch a ball that was going to hit some random stranger and then lied that it was the impact of the ball that cracked his phone screen and everyone playing had to pay for it. Me I knew he was joking, but the other guys were scared. 

After some time and some laughter, he let us go on the condition that I play the same song for him on OBS. No wahala. I like him. He lets me go. I think weā€™re friends now. 

I tell him that I played his song yesterday, but he says he didnā€™t hear it. Okay. I will play it again today. 

As I leave, the other soldier shouts at me to come back. 

ā€œSo youā€™re doing music requests, but you didnā€™t give me a shout-out yesterday that was my birthday.ā€

ā€œAh… I didnā€™t know that.ā€

ā€œGood, now you know. Play me ā€œToe Toeā€ by Tekno.ā€

ā€œI shall. And I shall give you a shout-out too.ā€ 

ā€œOkay, you can go.ā€

10:36 a.m. 

I plug in my earphones to listen to the song he wants me to play on air. 

AH!

This man should go and tell whoever sent him that he didnā€™t meet me at home o. Because if I play this song on air, Buhari himself will come and shut down OBS. 

Please, Iā€™m not doing. You will manage Sunny Nejiā€™s ā€œHappy Birthdayā€ sir. Thanks. 

3:04 p.m. 

The loud talking in my room wakes me up and the first thing that comes to my mind is OBS. Iā€™ve probably missed a lot of shows. I came and slept immediately after SAED, and my phone was dead so nobody could reach me. 

As Iā€™m dressing, I listen to some of the things being said. Some guy is talking about how now that weā€™ve collected our alawee, girls will be telling guys to take them to Mami. It has already happened to him. 

Some other guy talks about how he canā€™t talk to women and thatā€™s his biggest problem in life. Heā€™s asking for advice. Some of the stuff heā€™s saying catches my attention, so I ask him if he would like to talk about it later. He says yes. 

7:00Ģż±č.³¾.

Weā€™re done marching, it was great. Everyone loved it. I stayed a bit at OBS. Everyone judged me with their eyes. Jay judged me with his words. I like Jay. Me and the guy are about to have the talk. I ask him if I can write some of the stuff he says and use it for my article. 

ā€œWhy not?ā€

ā€œA·É±š²õ“Ē³¾±š.ā€

We go ahead and have an interesting conversation.

ā€œThe last time I spoke with a woman freely, I was in primary 5. She was my classmate. I used to be one of those rough kids in primary school that got all the attention, and I noticed that this girl liked me. We started talking, sharing pens and stuff like that. I have strong memories of this because itā€™s the only period in my life where I was genuinely happy. My brother was friends with her older brother, so I used to go to her house as well. She was basically my girlfriend. 

She had a friend that hung out with us, so I told my friend to come and join our squad so that heā€™d ā€œdateā€ her and weā€™d be couple friends. 

Worst idea ever. 

He was much more interesting than I was, so whenever we were at their house, he would get all the attention. I became old news. It felt like I was now living in his shadow. I eventually stopped going and started writing letters to her. 

I changed schools in secondary school. My new school was a better school in a better environment than my old school. I like to think that maybe if I went to a school where I could easily blend in with my classmates, I would have had the chance to start talking to girls again, but the only people in my class were rich kids. I didnā€™t feel like I belonged or that I was good enough for their attention, so I withdrew further into a shell. 

I started doing research. I canā€™t remember the name of the books I read about talking to women when I was in SS2. It might sound weird that at 24, Iā€™m saying that since primary school, I havenā€™t had a proper conversation with a woman, but itā€™s true. Iā€™d only talk to women maybe when we were in a group assignment and a direct question was thrown at me and I had to say something.  

In uni, I was a teacher in the mosque. The head teacher. My assistant was a woman. I had to hire a personal assistant just to deliver messages to her. 

Hereā€™s the twist: when it comes to texting, I have no problem. Thatā€™s why I could write letters as a kid. In the days of 2go, I was a legend. Iā€™d text anyone textable. But calls or a face to face conversation? Never. Even now, on WhatsApp, I can text, but I cannot meet in real life. 

The text conversations never go beyond constant exchange of pleasantries and getting to know one another on the surface level. 

If you want to see me have a panic attack or just start running, tell a woman to approach me. I will bolt. I now have the ability to know when someone Iā€™m walking with is about to stop and greet a woman that they know. I will stop 20 metres before we get there, make a u-turn and pass another place. My friends have tried several times to set up random meetings with women for me. I donā€™t think they do it out of love. They just want to laugh. 

I talk to my sisters, but Iā€™m not even comfortable doing that. I remember one time when I was waiting outside my sisterā€™s hostel in uni. I heard my name and turned. It was a girl. A childhood friend. I just turned and walked away. She eventually found my number and texted me. We were talking and it was great. That was the first time I was having proper conversations with a woman.

Things changed when she asked that we meet in person. I wasnā€™t about to do that, so I told her to block me because I couldnā€™t proceed with that. I think she understood. We still text now. 

When I ask people for advice, they say things like, ā€œJust do it!ā€ and ā€œWomen donā€™t biteā€, but they donā€™t realise that at this point itā€™s running away when I see a woman is reflex. 

Itā€™s painful for me because Iā€™m super attracted to women. I see them and I want to talk to them and make physical contact with them. I want to be a normal guy. So itā€™s not like Iā€™m not trying. 

In my spare time, I fantasize about women and write love poems. . 

I hear classes that could help me win these battles exist. If the books Iā€™ve read wonā€™t work, maybe a class will. But then again, I hear that all these classes only give you ginger and confidence, nothing else. 

Maybe what I actually need is therapy.ā€

10:55 p.m. 

My hands hurt from beating chairs as makeshift drums in practice for the inter-platoon competition at the carnival tomorrow. 

As I drift off to sleep, I canā€™t help but think about how this guy must feel not being able to talk to women. It makes me sad.Ģż

In case you missed it:

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

Earlier this week, I sent out a tweet asking for corp members from other states who read NYSC Diary and would like to contribute their stories to send me a DM and theyā€™d get to write the diary for one day. 

is a corp member in Dakin Gari, Kebbi state. 

Hereā€™s her Day 14:

4:20 am

It’s not easy going to bed by 11pm and waking up by 3:40am but that’s why I have a personal alarm clock, Tope. People are still trooping to the bathroom but guess what? I’m about to sleep again. Wahala for who no get personal alarm. 

8:35 am

Nobody hummed when they played that Nigeria wake up song today, I almost burst out laughing but I didn’t want to sit on the floor. 

Who serves someone beans and pap when they’re supposed to go for a lecture? 

Wicked people no longer use bombs and guns, they now roam about in the kitchen! 

12:00 pm

One PRO North West something something lady came today. Omo you had to see protocols. Honestly, I didn’t see the need for her visit. Like you just came to gist us what we already know, it’s not fair now. The dance groups actually did well but one aunty with big head sat in front of me so I couldnā€™t enjoy it as much as I was meant to.

 And the girl that gave the vote of thanks was obviously her daughter because I don’t understand how she know she’s a loving mother. 

PS: We didn’t do SAED today.Ģż

7:05 pm

I’ve not had a lot of time to myself between us preparing for the DG’s visit and me frolicking with boyfriends upandan. The DG is finally here and he’s giving a speech. I donā€™t know why, but Iā€™m scared that one of the soldiers/bouncers will start shooting and the bullet will hit me because I’m at the front. 

The man sha gave us cow, One Fat Cow! Wahala for who no come life come chop meat. He also gave leader people money. Thank God I made friends with Abiodun, the dance troop leader, and Opeyemi, the parade commander.

We’re going to have to split the money somehow somehow. All my moral support and Strepsils can’t go to waste.

8:55 pm

My friend is participating in Big, Bold and Handsome that means I get to be a personal hanger, manager and PA. I’m walking around with his native wear and trying to cheer him up. Baba was initially scared but he answered his question correctly and the oil on my head is overflowing. I’m a good charm oh, ma fo . 

The Big Bold and Beautiful contestants pulled up and you had to hear the way people were shouting. 

Small asses matter too, you know.

In case you missed it:

Ģż

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

6:06 a.m. 

The camp director is angry. People have offended and broken the rules. Sheā€™s listing out the offenses and calling out the culprits. One guy had five bottles of Erujeje. Heā€™d been caught before with a few bottles and now heā€™s getting caught with more. He will be expelled. Poor guy. Getting expelled because of Erujeje. Itā€™s funny to me. 

Another girl was sitting on the slab of  hand wash basin. 

Two people were romancing and caressing each other in public. She goes on a bender with this one about how we cannot control our urges for such a short period of time. 

ā€˜Urgesā€™ is such a weird word. 

They will face the camp court and whatever happens will happen. 

Iā€™m praying for them. 

9:55 a.m. 

Today, weā€™re learning Igbo. They couldnā€™t get an Igbo coordinator, so a corp member taught us igbo. I donā€™t think he did a great job because right now the only Igbo phrase I know is ā€˜otutuomaā€™, and I already knew it before the lecture. 

1/10. Would not recommend. 

10:41 a.m. 

The woman speaking tells us that lectures officially end tomorrow and this is the loudest cheer Iā€™ve ever heard in this camp. I understand it. This thing is punishment. 

She then tells us that CBN, Bank of Industry and some other people would come tomorrow to tell us how to access money from our SAED skills and all of that. 

So basically, another set of lectures tomorrow. 

Women and their lies. 

2:16 p.m. 

Iā€™ve just finished another show at OBS. I could get used to this. In the past few days, Iā€™ve been doing the my job as a broadcaster so efficiently. Lowkey, Iā€™m enjoying it. 

Iā€™m go to the bole womanā€™s place and sheā€™s not around. Her neighbor who sells Chicken and Chips is around. She sells for her. But as sheā€™s approaching, she limps. I ask her what is wrong with her. 

ā€œMy brother, these people want to kill us.ā€

ā€œM²¹?ā€

ā€œThe workload is too muchā€

Silence. 

I try to tell her sorry. Camp will soon end. She can rest. 

ā€œThey need to let us have some assistance. But because of COVID, they wonā€™t let us bring any apprentices in. Even my children are grown, they can assist me in this place. Iā€™m an old woman. I have to do everything by myself; Cook, clean, wash up after, take orders from all of you, wake up early, go to the gate to pick up the items Iā€™m trying to restock on. Itā€™s hard. It doesnā€™t help that Iā€™m the only one that sells what I sell here. Chicken and Chips, and Fish and Chips. 

I havenā€™t left here since I got here. They donā€™t let us go out because of COVID. Iā€™m very surprised that Iā€™m still alive and kicking. With the stress Iā€™m going through, I expected my body to have given up by now. But Iā€™m still here. 

If they donā€™t let us have assistance next time camp resumes which is next week, Iā€™m not coming. Iā€™ll leave here and rest. I cannot kill myself because of money.ā€

3:45 p.m. 

This is the time Iā€™ve been waiting for. This is the reason I came to camp. Itā€™s time for my platoonā€™s Man Oā€™War drills. Iā€™m the first to get there because I want to climb rope and show myself.

It goes really well. I do alllll the drills. I will not put the videos in the diary. I will just put a picture. Maybe Iā€™ll add a picture. 

4:35 p.m. 

The female corp members are finally out of the top secret meeting with the camp coordinator and weā€™re ready to march. I ask a few of them what they discussed and oh my God, the replies I got;Ģż

ā€œWhatā€™s your business?ā€

ā€œIf you want to know, be a woman in your next life.ā€

Why so angry?

I ask one more person and apparently it was a ā€œThese men are useless and they will not marry you, so guard your hearts. They donā€™t have money and they donā€™t have sense, jazz upā€ type conversation.  

Now I know why I got those responses. Ugh. 

Donā€™t worry, youā€™ll all be fine. 

5:45 p.m. 

I overhear some guy talking about his experience in the camp court. I look and itā€™s someone I know. I couldnā€™t see earlier because it was dark. Heā€™s the nicest guy on camp, no lies. 

ā€œSo why were you caressing and romancing a woman in public, my guy?ā€ I ask him. 

ā€œI swear, I just hugged her. It was the simplest of hugs. It wasnā€™t even a long hug. It was just a simple, short hug. Thatā€™s how I got into trouble.ā€

Eeish. 

Idea for toasting a babe: ā€œYouā€™re so hot, I can risk facing the camp court just to get a hug from you.ā€

*blushes*

6:45 p.m. 

Iā€™m joining my roommate to argue and make noise today. Todayā€™s topic is ā€œIs Buhari even really alive?ā€ I get irritated and leave the argument quickly. I donā€™t like arguing with people that bring emotions into argument, no matter what they believe. It makes the entire thing sound corny and stupid. 

8:28 p.m. 

Iā€™m eating before they start the socials show for tonight. I see a girl beside me and so I ask her for her name. Mariam. She sounds Hausa, so I ask, ā€œAre you Hausa?ā€ 

ā€œNoā€, she says. ā€œIā€™m Kambariā€

ā€œWhereā€™s that?ā€

ā€œIā€™m from Niger. My people originated from Borno but weā€™ve settled in various places in Nigeria like Kebbi, Nassarawa and Niger. Our language is not Hausa, but whenever people see me, they just assume Iā€™m Hausa. Like you did. I donā€™t get offended by it though, Iā€™m just quick to tell them about my people and where Iā€™m from. 

Hereā€™s a fun fact: A huge number of Kambari people in the most remote places in Nigeria still donā€™t wear clothes. Many times, theyā€™re naked. Other times, they wear animal skin.Ģż

You should read about us.ā€

10:32 p.m. 

The ā€œBig, Bold and Beautifulā€, and ā€œSlim, Tall and Handsomeā€ contest was great. One platoon won the two categories. It was not my platoon. Thatā€™s bad. 

Tomorrow is the Mr. Macho contest. I just might take matters into my own hands and go for this thing. 

After todayā€™s Man Oā€™War drills, I should be able to win Mr. Macho, donā€™t you think?

In case you missed it:

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

2:49 a.m. 

I wake up and I know instantly. Iā€™m sick. Okay, maybe ā€œsickā€ is a tad dramatic. I have phlegm and it wonā€™t stop until I use some medication. It happens to me every year during harmattan and itā€™s usually very frustrating. Ugh, now I will be spitting all day. Iyama. 

6:36 a.m. 

All Iā€™m feeling is regret. Who told me to be good at this marching thing? Theyā€™ve flung out about 70% of the entire camp from marching, but I remain. Me and a few others. Weā€™re the chosen ones for the Passing Out Parade and apparently itā€™s a really big event so the soldiers are making sure we do everything perfectly. Thereā€™s so, so many instructions and formations. All my body is paining me. The people that are not marching are laughing at us. I want to laugh at people too, please.Ģż

10:55 a.m. 

This is my turn to laugh at people. Weā€™re doing Yoruba lectures at SAED and oh my God these non-Yoruba people donā€™t know Yoruba. How can you be pronouncing Yoruba words like that? 

The woman teaching calls out my roommate who is Hausa to recount one to ten in Yoruba and he totally destroys it. Very good. Now I have stuff to laugh about when we get to the room. 

1:32 p.m. 

Weā€™re doing SAED training. Iā€™m learning so much about catfish farming. I tried to do it earlier this year but it didnā€™t work. The man teaching us does a good job making us interested in farming.

Someone talks about how the dignitary came yesterday didnā€™t give us money. 

ā€œWait, he shared money?ā€

Yes. He shared money. He was doling out bundles of cash to other groups but he came to advise us. He gave one group N100k and they shared it N2k each. But he gave us advice. 

What a way to encourage young farmers. Iā€™m upset. 

2:44 p.m. 

I have taken a few pictures of peopleā€™s rubber shoes. Can you guess which shoes theyā€™re impersonating? 

4:30 p.m. 

Iā€™m proper tired now. My head is jammed with tiredness. My body hurts as hell but we have to keep marching. Iā€™m tired. I want to scream. As we march, they tell us to be close to one another. Thereā€™s a lot of pushing. Iā€™m marching in between two big bodied people. Every time I make contact with them, I almost fall because the impact is bad. I will keep marching, but when I leave this camp, I must eat well. 

7:19 p.m. 

I am in the clinic. I need meds for my phlegm. I cannot come and kill myself. The doctors are nice. Weā€™re gisting. No wonder people are always in the clinic. It seems like a nice place to be. 

8:15 p.m.

I call my dad and tell him Iā€™m tired. He says I should stop saying that. 

ā€œIf you were at war, would you be tired?ā€

Daddy please, weā€™re not at war. Iā€™m tired. I want to go home.Ģż

In case you missed it:

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

9:42 a.m. 

This is the first time today I donā€™t feel like a robot. Theyā€™re teaching us Hausa at SAED. Iā€™m really interested in learning Hausa. I bring out my phone and continue taking notes. I speak something I think Iā€™ve learned to a Hausa speaking person sitting beside me and he just fully bursts into laughter. 

Iā€™ve marked his face. 

One day, when Iā€™ve perfected my Hausa, I will find him and speak it to him so much that he will genuinely apologise for laughing at me ten years ago. 

2:42 p.m. 

As usual, I am woken up because my roommates are making noise. I join them in their conversation. Weā€™re talking about traffic when one of them starts complaining that sometimes Abuja traffic is bad. That he remembers one time when he spent one hour and thirty minutes in traffic and he wanted to lose his mind. 

Ha ha ha. One hour thirty minutes in Lagos is the time you use to drive out of your street sir. Please let it go. 

4:00 p.m.

I HAVE COLLECTED MY N3200. Mami Market, meet David Odunlami. I already have a list of some of the stuff I want to buy but let me not lie, itā€™s actually just N3200. Because of my experience in Mami Market, I already know some of the things I cannot buy because the money will finish before I can mention 

1. Noodles: A plate of three strands of noodles and small fried egg is N500. Noodles that I can go and loot from palliative warehouse? No, thanks. 

2. Soda: Every bottle of soda here is sold at twice the price. I have kuku now taken a liking to kunu. Healthy living as I save my money.

3. Fruits: The guy selling fruits here doesnā€™t know that we have only seven days left and that on the seventh day, we will leave and he will remain here with his fruits. The wicked cannot rule forever. 

4. Fried eggs: How can two fried eggs be N300. POLICE!

5. Face masks: You know that surgical face mask? Here itā€™s N200. Why?

6. Slim fitting: Slim fitting that is N200 outside camp? Please hold your N1500 as youā€™re going to slim fit your clothes, thanks.

Maybe I will just buy chicken suya and eat it with french fries. 

7. Water

8:23 p.m.

I was on my own, arranging gadgets for the talent show when these people came to tell me I was the DJ for the night. Now Iā€™m sitting on the stage, getting overwhelmed my peopleā€™s requests. Iā€™m definitely playing more recent music than any other DJ has. People have been complaining. Today, theyā€™re not. Theyā€™re vibing. Theyā€™re telling me Iā€™m

doing a great job. They think itā€™s me. They donā€™t know that Iā€™m just using a playlist I found on Deezer. 

Haq Haq Haq. 

10:24 p.m.

I just finished eating dinner. N500 suya and garri. Maybe tomorrow is the day I will shut down Mami. Today, I sleep.

In case you missed it:

NYSC Diary Day 10 ā€“ A Mother Hen Showed Me Pepper

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

6:00 a.m. 

My alarm wakes me up and I get up and out of my bed. I need to be at OBS by 6:30 a.m. Who sent me work. I joined OBS to avoid marching and working, yet all I do in this place is march and work. I see my roommates and theyā€™re all deep in sleep. Itā€™s as if I should bring out a speaker and start playing heavy metal rock. When Iā€™m sleeping, they will be arguing about meat. Now they are sleeping. There should be no peace for the wicked. I dress as noisily as I can. Somebody must wake up. Nobody does.Ģż

6:32 a.m. 

Now Iā€™m changing out of my mufti to wear my prisoner white on white. Today is Sunday, Iā€™m meant to be able to wear normal clothes until 2:00pm, but Iā€™ve just received a call to remind me that my platoon is on camp duty. It means that today, Iā€™d have to either do camp sanitation, help in the kitchen, or do security duties. No more OBS. 

As I step out, I hear a sound beside me. I look down and I see that same chicken that attacked that woman last night charging towards me. Omo. I just begin to run like itā€™s two mad people and three lions holding guns that are chasing me. My phone falls out of my pocket and onto the ground. I look back. The chicken is still chasing me. How can you leave your children behind and be chasing me. Are you mad? At this point, Iā€™ve run almost 30 meters (I measured it afterwards) and sheā€™s still chasing me, looking angry as hell. I swear I didnā€™t do anything. I come to a sudden halt. My pouch is open and I spot my lip balm so I bring it out and try to stone her. She stops, looks at me for a few seconds and goes back to meet her chicks. I follow at a safe distance to pick my phone. The screen is a bit cracked. I look around. Nobody witnessed the events that took place. 

In fact, what events? What chicken? 

We move. 

7:00 a.m. 

Theyā€™ve just told us to choose where we want to work. I chose security. I chose security because nobody else was choosing it and I wanted to end the awkwardness, besides who will protect the people? 

Now theyā€™ve given us red armbands and the DSP is telling us about our roles and duties and heā€™s basically saying that now that weā€™ve chosen security, we are part of security forever so even if we see anything wrong on other days, we should call him and snitch. 

Me I should snitch. Emi Don Corleone. 

Never. 

10:00

Iā€™m considering calling my sister and asking if I was adopted. See how people are bringing food for their siblings and children as if food is finishing in the world and they have to quickly eat. The things Iā€™ve seen at this security post. One girl even stopped to give us drinks and puff puff and buns while complaining that the food they brought for her was too much. Another girl gave us some expensive rich peopleā€™s chocolates. 

Security work isnā€™t so hard especially in a place with military strong protection from the outside. All weā€™re doing is checking peopleā€™s temperatures and making sure people wear face masks. When you throw in the occasional free food and the joys of bossing people around and creating a barricade between them and their loved ones (Theyā€™re not allowed near the gate. We search and then deliver whatever anyone brings for them), itā€™s actually a great job. 

2:00pm

Iā€™m going to grab a drink. The weather is hot. I see my assailant casually hanging around. Sheā€™s eating with her kids. Nobody is walking with me so I decide to take a longer route. Iā€™m not getting younger. Thereā€™s no point taking chances with my heart.

3:17 p.m. 

Itā€™s getting boring now. I move closer to the policeman and we start gisting. Obviously I move the conversation towards #EndSARS to know what he thinks. Itā€™s either heā€™s a really great guy, or heā€™s afraid of me, because heā€™s giving me FK Abudu vibes. Heā€™s spitting facts and heā€™s super happy that the protests happened. He says he hopes it keeps progressing from #EndSARS to #EndBadGovernance. 

I like him. 

7:30 p.m.

Today is the first time that thereā€™s no social activity. I go to see my OBS Platoon 6 Hausa Teacher friend. Sheā€™s been admitted to the clinic. She was sick but sheā€™s better now. Sheā€™s playing the guitar and singing and everyone is loving it so I tell her to teach me a few tricks. She does and I get it quickly. People are impressed. 

Iā€™m leaving NYSC camp as a certified musician and security personnel. My price has gone up. 

9:30 p.m.

Iā€™m fetching water outside when I look up on the roof of the building beside me. I see a few chickens. ON THE ROOF OF A HOUSE. HOW DID THEY GET THERE?

This is all the proof I need that the chickens here are all cultists. 

So yes, in the morning, I wasnā€™t running from a chicken. I was running from the powers of darkness. It all makes sense now. 

[donation]

A new NYSC batch has been called in for camp. So, everyday by 1:30PM for the next 21 days, one of our writers will be sharing his day-to-day camp experiences.

5:45 a.m. 

Iā€™ve just finished leading the entire camp in prayers. Pastor David. As Iā€™m walking back to my platoon, the woman who addresses us every morning calls me back.  I go to meet her. 

ā€œNice prayers,ā€ she says. ā€œGod will give you more strength.ā€ Iā€™m smiling. I say amen. 

ā€œB³Ü³Ł…ā€

Hay God!

ā€œYou were saying a lot of ‘uhm’. How can you be saying ‘uhm’ while praying. Everyone will just think youā€™re unserious. Learn to pray without saying ‘uhm’.ā€

I tell her thank you and I leave. Sheā€™s nice. I will stop saying ‘uhm’ when Iā€™m praying. 

2:14 p.m. 

Itā€™s a mostly uneventful day, so I go to get lunch. Bole and pomo. It used to be bole and fish, but please, fish is expensive. Me and the woman are gisting. Weā€™re friends now. She starts talking about her life so I ask her if I can record her and write some stuff. 

Hereā€™s some stuff I found interesting:

ā€œI came to Abuja from Benue in 2000. My dad died when I was four, so I cameĢż to live with my aunt. She put me through to get my O-Levels before she passed away. In 2008, a friend found out about selling food in Mami Market and told me to try it out. I wasnā€™t interested, but somehow, she convinced me, so I came here, registered and started business.Ģż

It was terrible. There were already about five women here selling fish, and I started with low capital, so when they would be roasting a lot of fish, I would have only three on my pan. Nobody bought from me. The corp members would come out and troop to all those other women and nobody would buy from me. I was getting depressed. 

Iā€™m Catholic, so I decided pray about the situation. I did a novena (prayer and fasting for nine days). On the ninth day, the Holy Spirit spoke to me. He told me that instead of roasting only three pieces of fish, I should buy a whole carton and roast it all at once. I didnā€™t even consider disobeying once. I just did it. The first time I did it, I sold out in minutes. And thatā€™s how business success started for me. 

In the next few years, I transitioned between roasting fish and selling drinks. We used to sell alcohol on this camp until a few years ago when we got a new administration. After about three years, I started selling actual food. My restaurant is called ā€œWinnersā€. Iā€™m not selling food this time because of COVID. The administration only wanted a few food sellers so I decided not to do food. In fact, this is my first time of selling bole. 

Iā€™ll be honest, I really donā€™t like the the roasting job. The heat is unreal. Even when youā€™re asleep, after a long day and a bath, you can still feel the heat inside you. And thereā€™s no getting used to it, you feel the same thing everyday. I canā€™t wait for COVID to go away so I can get back to selling my food. Iā€™m tired of selling bole.ā€

9:00 p.m. 

Iā€™ve always said it. The chickens in this place are not normal. They are angry. This chicken with new chicks just started chasing this woman unprovoked. She had to drop her bags and run. Lowkey, Iā€™m a terrible person because I couldnā€™t control my laughter. The chicken stopped chasing the woman when I brought out my phone to record though. 

Another opportunity to have a viral video on the internet, gone.

In case you missed it: