That we compulsorily recited all the states and capitals in Nigeria every school day for six years in primary school didn’t stop me from checking Jigawa state on Google as if it was a new word.
Talking about primary school reminds me of those early days of schooling, and if you ask me I still feel that those naïve days left a more enjoyable memory in my schooling memoir. This were times when you just wanted to do everything practically possible to be on top of the competition, either at answering questions in class or copying notes from the chalkboard. Nobody wants to be wooed by fellow colleagues or be nicknamed by the super talented dissers. Besides that, it’s pretty smart and canny to avoid the heavy and torrential effect of the teacher’s cane or ‘Uncle’ like we most times refer to our male teachers.
But for many reasons which I just feel I shouldn’t bug you with, at least for now. I didn’t really have too many long lasting or terrific memories while in the university. Really if I must confess, I was already tired of staying in school in my second year. I lost the desire to do sciences. However, I couldn’t but patiently and endlessly wait to complete my program which lasted almost six years instead of five academic years-no thanks to incessant strikes.
At the end of my final exams and project I was so glad. Partly because it was over but majorly because I can now desperately pursue my real life.
When it was time for clearance and other related documentations, I felt very reluctant to return to school. Some parts of my brain (whether left or right now I can’t tell) already attached inconvenience to school. The feeling is quite mixed anyway, mixed in the sense that, I always wanted to see my junior colleagues and more importantly draw strength from a place called Father’s House, in Abeokuta. This place is overly more dangerous than Okija shrine yet it’s a place where friends meet friends and we all meet Jesus. Like I most times say, I attended Fathers House but ironically graduated from University of Agriculture Abeokuta.
Just as there can’t be rain without clouds, also, without clearance there would be no call-up letter and without a call up letter no youth service. Therefore, I had to return to school after delaying my clearance for almost forever.
That curious filled afternoon, I could remember laughing heartily like I most times do. This time it was at a particular friend who has remained closer to me than my inner wears. I told him that how can he be so unfortunate to have been posted to Gombe state. Oh you need to see me pour scorn on my very good friend who was doing everything practically possible not to express his shock. But little did I know that he who laughs last laugh best.
At the site of my yellow card called Call up letter, my blood pleasure lost regulation and everyone around me could sense the unrest that travelled from the excess hair strands from my bushy afro down to my socks. I impatiently skipped other details on the letter as I rushed to the bottom where my fate would be revealed. Lo and behold it was Jigawa!
The funniest part was that camp would open in four days and my letter reads that I've been posted to Jigawa but amazingly my journey started first from repeatedly visiting the rest room as if my agenda in-there would make me serve in Lagos like I have always envisaged and proudly ventilated.
Initially I felt filling my empty belly with so much food would heal my empty yet heavy heart, I didn’t just lose my composure, I lost my wild appetite too. I couldn’t figure out how long the journey would take but friends and family who called me increased my blood pressure, they said stuffs like “Jigawa Bawo ” meaning why Jigawa? Others said ‘just ensure you redeploy after three weeks you can’t afford to stay in the north’. All of these just made me uncontrollably restless. But amidst this hullabaloo the positive side was that some had enough sympathy that they made me smile as their pockets and wallets brought a measure of calmness to my restlessness.
I travelled with one of the luxurious buses well known for plying the north. Meeting a fellow Corps at the Otto Park reduced the tension and helped raise some excitement after realizing that we shared the same Alma-Mata.
The overwhelming desire for more money by this transport company brought a promising looking journey to an abrupt halt when we got to somewhere around Berger, an outskirt of Lagos. Though there were few unoccupied sits here and there in the bus, but till now I can’t still understand why the bus crew took in passengers from the road side till there was no passage anymore in the bus, not considering that they could freely pick up robbers who actually have no precise destination. Anyway, my research revealed that it’s a tradition and that the act of picking up passengers on the road side and ensuring that the bus is filled till there is no air space is called ‘attachment’. A slight ethnic war almost commenced between those of us whose comfort had been thwarted and those who came in as attachments, as many attaches were northerners returning to Kano, you really need to see human beings hang and lean by the sit sides, on a journey that lasted over eighteen hours. Infact many sat on the floor.
Traveling via road engendered me with the opportunity of viewing the vast but un-maximized land that Nigeria has. Truly I could see for myself that Nigeria is so big and blessed though, for obvious reasons we don’t look it. Right from Zaria I could sense the temperature difference, I later discovered that the further we travel the hotter it becomes.
Gumel where Jigawa uses as NYSC camp has such a funny weather, during the day you can’t tell what exactly angers the sun that its pours out its venom angrily on the people of Gumel. The dusty wind wasn’t all that friendly, incredibly, even when your mouth is well closed, you just can’t tell how sand particles navigate their ways into your mouth and clothed body.
The camp experience was fun; it did two things for me; it made me admire the military the more especially in terms of discipline, strength, respect, bravery, and co-ordination. Secondly it was an opportunity to mix and interact with other graduates from different cultural and social background.
larigold
Going to the parade ground in the morning is an experience I wish lasted a lifetime. It’s so cool to jug with other colleagues while chanting funny songs that has the morale to raise the dead. I sometimes wonder what inspired those songs, they indeed boost morale especially when you respond to them sharply like they require. But I never loved going for parade in the afternoon or evening, you need to see Corps members faint on parade ground due to the venom of the sun which causes dehydration, cum dusty wind that blows sand particles even into your blood vessels. For the flies they can be so disrespectful, they go as far as kissing your dry and broken lips and that can be very annoying. At a point the regimented lifestyle became boring and the incessant sound of the bugle for boring lectures became nauseating. One singular thing I would also not forget camp for is the opportunity it afforded me to express my artistic cravings.
from L-R Teddy, Grampolo, Ibekwe, larigold
I took lead roles in dance and drama for my platoon (platoon three), I was able to work with brilliant young people who have studied theater art, and others who were just talented actors like myself. We came first in dance and second in drama and this made me feel cool all through camp. But annoyingly many folks didn’t get to know my real name because I was called by my stage name-Baba Bayo all through camp.
from L-R Grampol,Ibekwe, Larigold
It was another opportunity for me to make new friends especially the female ones since I went with big fishing nets. Though, it wasn’t all that easy when many relationships got terminated as a result of posting to different Places of Primary Assignment.
We weren’t informed of our participation as ad-hoc INEC staffs not until our second week in camp and I could remember that during training I asked that what security measure is in place for Corps members but sadly, no assuring or concrete response came.
The National Youth Service Corps, which is a brainchild of Gen. Yakubu Gowon’s administration in 1973, has brought so much call on the Federal government by a critical mass of the population to either review or scrap the scheme. The involvement of Corps members in the election wasn’t a bad idea in itself considering that many are serving outside their state, but while INEC was trying to achieve the utmost goal of having a free and fair election, it never paid attention to the doubt that existed on the minds or Corps members and their parents on security. No thanks, national salute or removal of hair dress to our northern brothers who cleared our doubt vehemently. All Nigerians, most importantly Corps members will agree with me that the executive governor of Bauchi state need attend a school of public speaking.
It’s sad enough that this jobless, illiterate and impoverished youth who are not of so much economic importance to the nation killed scores of vibrant, young educated people who have got more than the potential to birth the New Nigeria that we all crave for.
I rigorously pondered on the issue of scrapping the scheme and I almost agreed. In my opinion I think a review free of selfishness, greed and sentiment would be better. Because I realize that it’s a fundamental tool to promote unity among the educated young Nigerians who are saddled with the bigger than life responsibility of re-birthing our soiled and comatose nation.
I use this medium to salute all the 2010 and 2011 batch A youth Corpers and the ever brave and effective Nigerian Army for the bravery and response to the patriotic call with discipline and zest. After all, it’s this generation of Corpers that brought about the electoral revolution of almost free and fair election
Am getting more informed about the northern part of Nigeria and the peculiar issues that prevail. I now see no reason why Nigeria should be called a developing Nation since I now know that Nigeria doesn’t only comprise of Victoria Island in Lagos, Port-Harcourt and Abuja. In addition I’m also learning the Hausa language so fast so I can speak as fluent as I can before next February.
To all the national heroes who lost their lives during the last election I say may your heroic soul rest in peace. I also pray recovery of mind and soul to all their loved ones.
At this point I rest my case.
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Talking about primary school reminds me of those early days of schooling, and if you ask me I still feel that those naïve days left a more enjoyable memory in my schooling memoir. This were times when you just wanted to do everything practically possible to be on top of the competition, either at answering questions in class or copying notes from the chalkboard. Nobody wants to be wooed by fellow colleagues or be nicknamed by the super talented dissers. Besides that, it’s pretty smart and canny to avoid the heavy and torrential effect of the teacher’s cane or ‘Uncle’ like we most times refer to our male teachers.
But for many reasons which I just feel I shouldn’t bug you with, at least for now. I didn’t really have too many long lasting or terrific memories while in the university. Really if I must confess, I was already tired of staying in school in my second year. I lost the desire to do sciences. However, I couldn’t but patiently and endlessly wait to complete my program which lasted almost six years instead of five academic years-no thanks to incessant strikes.
At the end of my final exams and project I was so glad. Partly because it was over but majorly because I can now desperately pursue my real life.
When it was time for clearance and other related documentations, I felt very reluctant to return to school. Some parts of my brain (whether left or right now I can’t tell) already attached inconvenience to school. The feeling is quite mixed anyway, mixed in the sense that, I always wanted to see my junior colleagues and more importantly draw strength from a place called Father’s House, in Abeokuta. This place is overly more dangerous than Okija shrine yet it’s a place where friends meet friends and we all meet Jesus. Like I most times say, I attended Fathers House but ironically graduated from University of Agriculture Abeokuta.
Just as there can’t be rain without clouds, also, without clearance there would be no call-up letter and without a call up letter no youth service. Therefore, I had to return to school after delaying my clearance for almost forever.
That curious filled afternoon, I could remember laughing heartily like I most times do. This time it was at a particular friend who has remained closer to me than my inner wears. I told him that how can he be so unfortunate to have been posted to Gombe state. Oh you need to see me pour scorn on my very good friend who was doing everything practically possible not to express his shock. But little did I know that he who laughs last laugh best.
At the site of my yellow card called Call up letter, my blood pleasure lost regulation and everyone around me could sense the unrest that travelled from the excess hair strands from my bushy afro down to my socks. I impatiently skipped other details on the letter as I rushed to the bottom where my fate would be revealed. Lo and behold it was Jigawa!
The funniest part was that camp would open in four days and my letter reads that I've been posted to Jigawa but amazingly my journey started first from repeatedly visiting the rest room as if my agenda in-there would make me serve in Lagos like I have always envisaged and proudly ventilated.
Initially I felt filling my empty belly with so much food would heal my empty yet heavy heart, I didn’t just lose my composure, I lost my wild appetite too. I couldn’t figure out how long the journey would take but friends and family who called me increased my blood pressure, they said stuffs like “Jigawa Bawo ” meaning why Jigawa? Others said ‘just ensure you redeploy after three weeks you can’t afford to stay in the north’. All of these just made me uncontrollably restless. But amidst this hullabaloo the positive side was that some had enough sympathy that they made me smile as their pockets and wallets brought a measure of calmness to my restlessness.
I travelled with one of the luxurious buses well known for plying the north. Meeting a fellow Corps at the Otto Park reduced the tension and helped raise some excitement after realizing that we shared the same Alma-Mata.
The overwhelming desire for more money by this transport company brought a promising looking journey to an abrupt halt when we got to somewhere around Berger, an outskirt of Lagos. Though there were few unoccupied sits here and there in the bus, but till now I can’t still understand why the bus crew took in passengers from the road side till there was no passage anymore in the bus, not considering that they could freely pick up robbers who actually have no precise destination. Anyway, my research revealed that it’s a tradition and that the act of picking up passengers on the road side and ensuring that the bus is filled till there is no air space is called ‘attachment’. A slight ethnic war almost commenced between those of us whose comfort had been thwarted and those who came in as attachments, as many attaches were northerners returning to Kano, you really need to see human beings hang and lean by the sit sides, on a journey that lasted over eighteen hours. Infact many sat on the floor.
Traveling via road engendered me with the opportunity of viewing the vast but un-maximized land that Nigeria has. Truly I could see for myself that Nigeria is so big and blessed though, for obvious reasons we don’t look it. Right from Zaria I could sense the temperature difference, I later discovered that the further we travel the hotter it becomes.
Gumel where Jigawa uses as NYSC camp has such a funny weather, during the day you can’t tell what exactly angers the sun that its pours out its venom angrily on the people of Gumel. The dusty wind wasn’t all that friendly, incredibly, even when your mouth is well closed, you just can’t tell how sand particles navigate their ways into your mouth and clothed body.
The camp experience was fun; it did two things for me; it made me admire the military the more especially in terms of discipline, strength, respect, bravery, and co-ordination. Secondly it was an opportunity to mix and interact with other graduates from different cultural and social background.
larigold
Going to the parade ground in the morning is an experience I wish lasted a lifetime. It’s so cool to jug with other colleagues while chanting funny songs that has the morale to raise the dead. I sometimes wonder what inspired those songs, they indeed boost morale especially when you respond to them sharply like they require. But I never loved going for parade in the afternoon or evening, you need to see Corps members faint on parade ground due to the venom of the sun which causes dehydration, cum dusty wind that blows sand particles even into your blood vessels. For the flies they can be so disrespectful, they go as far as kissing your dry and broken lips and that can be very annoying. At a point the regimented lifestyle became boring and the incessant sound of the bugle for boring lectures became nauseating. One singular thing I would also not forget camp for is the opportunity it afforded me to express my artistic cravings.
from L-R Teddy, Grampolo, Ibekwe, larigold
I took lead roles in dance and drama for my platoon (platoon three), I was able to work with brilliant young people who have studied theater art, and others who were just talented actors like myself. We came first in dance and second in drama and this made me feel cool all through camp. But annoyingly many folks didn’t get to know my real name because I was called by my stage name-Baba Bayo all through camp.
from L-R Grampol,Ibekwe, Larigold
It was another opportunity for me to make new friends especially the female ones since I went with big fishing nets. Though, it wasn’t all that easy when many relationships got terminated as a result of posting to different Places of Primary Assignment.
We weren’t informed of our participation as ad-hoc INEC staffs not until our second week in camp and I could remember that during training I asked that what security measure is in place for Corps members but sadly, no assuring or concrete response came.
The National Youth Service Corps, which is a brainchild of Gen. Yakubu Gowon’s administration in 1973, has brought so much call on the Federal government by a critical mass of the population to either review or scrap the scheme. The involvement of Corps members in the election wasn’t a bad idea in itself considering that many are serving outside their state, but while INEC was trying to achieve the utmost goal of having a free and fair election, it never paid attention to the doubt that existed on the minds or Corps members and their parents on security. No thanks, national salute or removal of hair dress to our northern brothers who cleared our doubt vehemently. All Nigerians, most importantly Corps members will agree with me that the executive governor of Bauchi state need attend a school of public speaking.
It’s sad enough that this jobless, illiterate and impoverished youth who are not of so much economic importance to the nation killed scores of vibrant, young educated people who have got more than the potential to birth the New Nigeria that we all crave for.
I rigorously pondered on the issue of scrapping the scheme and I almost agreed. In my opinion I think a review free of selfishness, greed and sentiment would be better. Because I realize that it’s a fundamental tool to promote unity among the educated young Nigerians who are saddled with the bigger than life responsibility of re-birthing our soiled and comatose nation.
I use this medium to salute all the 2010 and 2011 batch A youth Corpers and the ever brave and effective Nigerian Army for the bravery and response to the patriotic call with discipline and zest. After all, it’s this generation of Corpers that brought about the electoral revolution of almost free and fair election
Am getting more informed about the northern part of Nigeria and the peculiar issues that prevail. I now see no reason why Nigeria should be called a developing Nation since I now know that Nigeria doesn’t only comprise of Victoria Island in Lagos, Port-Harcourt and Abuja. In addition I’m also learning the Hausa language so fast so I can speak as fluent as I can before next February.
To all the national heroes who lost their lives during the last election I say may your heroic soul rest in peace. I also pray recovery of mind and soul to all their loved ones.
At this point I rest my case.
