When the bugle bugles: My camp experience.

It felt cold but not as tart as camp's. Camp: The pre-dawn bathe on asphalt which conveyed vehicles to mami market, the silent prayer jostling to gush out from a sealed mouth - that my bar soap doesnt fall off into the drainage laying beside the road, the abstainment from eating beans in camp so as to prevent visiting a toilet that could be messed up. . .

It was strange after I stretched my hands out into thin air hoping the growth was curbed by the steel carrying the bunk bed, Stranger when I heard the buzzing sound that sounded similar to the ancient ceiling fan hanging in my bedroom. 'My mind is playing a joke on me' I thought. That dragging noise from Feets that swept the room floor was absent and that had been my alarm in those dark mornings before the blare from bugles. Am I home now??

It was a Wednesday! The day before, i had summoned into the camp all the high spirits i could. I felt estranged at first since I had never spent a time on my own: looking out for myself and not someone doing that. It was around 4 am; I thought I heard a honk from Dangote trailers that travelled through the night but I was wrong. It was a bugle! The Bugler bugled twice a day: When Nigeria awoke and when she wanted to sleep. 

Guy a friend called out to me.

Shey u wan make soldier come wake u up? 

Nah! I wouldn't want that so I flew up hastily. I felt like a just starting up system - Booting. I sat for few minutes on my little bed, my face rested on my right palm, my right arm making an angle on my right thigh. I searched back into the depth of the room and I saw heavy penises dangling like a bell clapper after being jingled. I had never seen grown ups walking naked and not ashamed. What made the scene worse was that a friend had mentioned earlier that there could be fags around and I was the type who thought everything(even the impossible) could happen to me. I was startled; I returned my face immediately to where it was. I think I said a very quick prayer. The lord is my shepherd. . .

Hours accumulated, days passed, a week approached and I barely could boast if I had adapted to that bizarre way of living. I realized that my life that I'd believed was below par was what others would pray for. We are not rich but I always do have someone to ask for money whenever necessary but some other niggas I met had no one; I heartily thanked God. 

In camp, I saw varieties of beings masking their insecurities and goals in white attires. We had early morning meditations where we recited hymns and deep mantras. We chorused those words with so much energy but less than two percentage amongst us actually meant those words. 

under the sun or in the rain... Na! I didnt mean those.

I met smart people and unfortunately most were females. It hurts me to inform you that Females are quite studious and brighter than males. Some males could hardly keep up a conversation in English. I know you think my classification of being smart sucks. English shouldnt be a criteria for being smart. I agree with you but damn! you were there serving your country, you could not have made it there if you had not completed your tertiary institution. You had presentations in your school and im sure you presented in English. If you cant at least keep up a conversation in English then School has refused to pass through you and that I may say is so much wasted years. I believe.

I was sauntering down to my hostel after a tedious day when I heard some girls from the University of Ibadan saying Guys dont have brain. However, UI ladies were smart but assholes. Since the country had ingrained in us that UI is one of the best University, The students acted it too - even the dumber ones. 

Oh! Biggy! If you camped in the NYSC Orientation camp, Ede, Osun State, Batch B, stream one, and you never heard of BIGGY. . . Biggy, as the name sharply implies, was chubby. He'd stroll into the room naked from the bathroom with just a handkerchief-sized towel wiping his fat buttocks. Before I got used to seeing his lil prick, I felt disgusted.

He had a heavy and saggy stomach and he could only see his d**k through a mirror. 

He taught me that you need street orientation in this country if you wanna survive outside your comfort zone. He particularly reiterated that he came from a very convenient home but he equally adopted a street mentality. We gisted about spirituality and what he tried explaining that cold night was that spirituality has levels. Its like excavating. The farther you dig the more difficult it is to come out. Dig a little and you could easily climb out of the hollow but make a deep trench, you would need extra hands. Although I fancied him, I felt equally uncomfortable around him because he could talk about anything but I wasn't the type who cheered attention. 

I realized that Nigeria's alarmingly deteriorating state had imbibed in a lot - that only the rich are meant to be calm and collected. A country where Normal seems abnormal! Gentility is mistermed ego. When your pops is not extremely rich, below par Nigerians - a circumference vast Nigerians had fallen in - assume you need to be everywhere: lousy and unnecessarily responsive. 

I sometimes feel terribly sorry for the demeanor I wear. Quite a number of people assumed that I must have rooted from a wealthy family. I could not go around and explain to everyone that I grew up with my maternal grandmother; you know how pampering grandmothers are. Wealthy was never the word but you know those homes where your parents - though barely have enough - ensure that they kids have the best lives. I was coddled in our own very little way. 

There was this small (literal) girl who studied Petroleum Engineering from the University of Ibadan. If sizes were criterias in gaining admission into tertiary institutions, she'd have to grow more inches. Definitely, she was smart! 

female Engineers are quite fascinating to me. Its like having a male who fixes nails or a Dude friseur specializing in dressing females hair, There must have been nuggets of passion. We gisted and I couldn't be sure if I'd managed to prove to her that I knew something too. I felt intimidated sometimes but I'd still keep up. She stated her hubbies and I did mine too. Showed her my designs and i'm sure i'd wowed her. Our friendship was running fine till I started seeing her with another male. I remember my USA female friend mentions how intolerant I am though I'd still argue with her anyday. I regressed a little from striking a conversation with her whenever we met, just hi. whats up? 

TF! I halted a perfectly pacing relationship with her simply because I saw her with some other dude. This other dude, I believed was better than I am that's why they hung about more often. I desist from using the word Jealous. . .

I compare myself to others a lot and it seems like a curse Merlin cant even break me from. My sight catches just my intimate frailties and I wish I'm hyperopic. Maybe my strengths are at a distant. 

I embraced my being an asshole and moved on. This may be outrightly childish but I get attached to someone more quickly, could be just few hours of dialoguing and I may feel the urge to tell you I like you. I think proclaiming you love or like someone has processes and those rungs I always wrongly climb. 

After admitting how terrible I was in making new friends, I lived for few days by myself hoping that I wouldn't screw up my next attempt at making friends. 

I met a beautiful girl whose name was Peace. She was dark, short and I'd thought about kissing her lips. She was totally cool, kept conversations lively and I still think about making her my girlfriend. She might be reading this so I refuse to make her blush but I really like her. lol

The days crawled by like a snail, a hour seemed like sixty five minutes. I'd walk aimlessly to mami market just to hasten the creeping time; I'd realize again that making new friends - I was terrible at.  I barely saw just one corp member without at least a friend beside, I was the exception!

I'd walk alone and imagine the countless thoughts thrown at every step I took, I'd say hi to the girls I'd known earlier and say my goodbye almost immediately if my jokes didn't go well. If she's vibing along, I'd spend few seconds or minutes before vanishing, I'd held on to the law of diminishing return - More repeated jokes, the lesser those being felt. 

So, this day, one of my lonely little stroll to mami market,  I decided to eat at my regular joint. I saw some Hausa folks which I knew one among them; and since I liked hanging around them, I immediately hauled a seat, sat and waited for the page to bring my meal. Foods were expensive af but what in camp wasn't? I think I had printed just a colored page for Five hundred naira. 

Shortly before the meal came in, Megila, the guy I knew among them, was gisting the other two about one chick I'd seen him with earlier. He reiterated that he would be serving in Osun - in contrast to his own plan - if only the girl was  willing to be his girlfriend. He was firing on about how good he believed the girl to be when one of the Hausa dude interrupted

Girls no dey part of my plan. He wanted him to stop talking about the girl and he succeeded. I thought him to be one of those who had failed at attracting ladies and therefore consoled themselves that 'girls ain't sh*t'. I ignored while Ibrahim, the third guy, said I swear replying the dude. 

If there's a quality I admire in those who came from extremely wealthy homes, Reservation, it'd be. However,  many Hausas were quiet, until they were among theirs. But,  No! Ibrahim was really reserved. I asked where he was staying and he said Maitama. I had heard but It's a place I  knew little of. I didn't know it is a Goldmine: a place of importance and class. Rich kids - the meek ones sha - pretend to be normal when among poor folks like us, a thing they suck at. Ibrahim would say yeah, naso to almost everything we said at our platoon meetings, whenever we ate etc. 

Another thing I realized about him was that he barely participated in anything that involved crowd. I salute those who are in reality very wealthy and discreet about it. He was really cool though and I thanked camp I met someone like that. Three weeks came and went like bad moments, no matter how interminable they may seem at first, (I'd be a beautiful motivational speaker), I know don't mention! 

I'm in my bed thinking about how camp went, trying to exact every single minute but the noise from this ceiling fan is not helping.