Once A Corper, Diary of Ayodeji Lancaster

Chapter 3

I knew a lot of things were about to change right there at the security unit where I and the rest were searched thoroughly like convicted hardened criminals about to be committed into a Maximum Security penitentiary. The rat race to get a good bed ensued the moment we were cleared and given a "pass".

I've heard a lot of stories and tales, both true ones and some fabricated, about how stirring and fun-filled camp always is. I was ready and prepared to get my share. I did the necessary registration, got allocated to Platoon 6 and also got my kits - All done...

Not far away from where I queued was a lady, standing almost dejected, looking frustrated and obviously bereft of the knowledge of what to do. She wasn't on the queue and wasn't pleading to join nor seem interested. I took pity on her being the gentleman my mum taught me to be and have always been by allowing her stand in front of me. She eventually got the state code AB/2011C/1235 which should have been mine and I got the one after hers. I didn't ask for her name nor pry into her personal details from the file she held. She looked too tired to be bothered so I just watched her walk away.

Like a village Yoruba boy who just got to Lagos, I stood at the centre of the hall and looked around. There were people, lots of guys and ladies, though some of the ladies seem out of my league. They were either married, older, unappealing or pregnant. I cared less though because I was sure to meet ladies who will fall into my class and are endowed with what I love and also love what I possess.

I had the worst dinner since September 17th 2007 when I was totally and completely broke back then in university days. So-called jollof rice with a piece of meat a little bigger than the size of a groundnut was served by the Kitchen. I hadn't tasted anything as unsavory as it ever but this is camp I had to adapt and cope- at least for the night. I took a survey round the "mammy market" the next day and spotted few canteen where I got better food.

My hostel was the wackiest of all. It was later dubbed the sobriquet "Malabo Republic" by the drunks, the noise makers and guys who want to attain for themselves cheap popularity. The rack time we were entitled to were always hijacked thanks to their loud noise and argument which one could easily mistake for a riot.

Twice I bought a bucket, twice it was stolen, always with water I paid someone to fetch for me. Always, there were people wailing, screaming and shouting each and every morning over one missing item or the other. The most intriguing was the case of a guy who controversially lost his Blackberry Touch. He briefed the soldiers who later invaded the hostel around 2am and ordered us to stand in the terrible cold outside until someone "froduce" the phone. It almost turned violent when corps members started challenging the self-imposing authorities for punishing over four hundred people for an offence more than 99% know nothing about. Trading of disparaging and obloquious words became the order of the day until we were ordered to move back into the hostel. No one could sleep that night as people kept venting their rage at the top of their voices.

Camp isn't one of the places you sleep, wake up and start "tweeting" about how great the night was. Except you got drunk, left subconscious and being picked up from the gutter, nobody dare ask you the odd question "How was your night?". The answer to the seemingly rhetorical question will be obviously staring them in the eyes. It was tough on men, and everyone I spoke or chatted with, for the first two days but I got used to it since I hardly sleep on a normal day.

Every 4:30AM you hear the sound of the bugle and the soldiers screaming at the peak of their voice ordering you to wake up and move to the Parade Ground, not caring if you've brushed or bathed. I always beat them to it though, by waking up thirty minutes before due time, brush my teeth, have my bath and get kitted up before heading for the morning parade under the extremity of the cold weather.