“Youths obey the clarion call
Let us lift our nation high
Under the sun or in the rain…”
Thus goes the
morale-boosting, short-versed, mission-inspiring anthem of the National Youth Service
Corps (NYSC). It is arguably a gigantic scheme which was set up on 22nd
of May, 1973 by the Federal Government of Nigeria to boost patriotic leadership
and citizenship amongst Nigerian youths, based on the collective ideology that
youths constitute a dominant force for national mobilization, growth and ethnic
bonding.
In more than one ways, the
NYSC scheme has greatly contributed in raising the moral tone of the youths;
developing communities; shared experience; promoting national unity;
mobilization in the national interest; building the spirit of self-reliance
after school; with positive national ethos-leadership; producing a sound,
result-oriented organization that is alive to set responsibilities and
responsive to the economic needs of the its country among others.
Of course, all Nigerian
graduates (maybe home or abroad) dream to wear the NYSC khaki. They want to
take the great salute, for better, for worse; putting the nation first and help
build their father land. They contribute their quota, based on the knowledge
acquired from educational (and religious) institutions.
Nevertheless, the NYSC story
has greatly-transformed from a happy-starting to an unpredictably-intending
horror movie. The situation has gradually evolved from good, bad to worse. As
usual, we know how fresh graduates swim through the muddy waters of graduation,
mobilization, screening, orientation programme, Place of Primary Assignment
(PPA), Community Development Service (CDS) and the final winding up activities
for Passing out Parade (POP).
However, the discourse of
this write-up will focus on the sorry-state of the NYSC Orientation Camp
(Okada) in Edo State; an indescribably-appalling place to be; an
oddly-disorienting orientation camp.
Apparently, I was opportune d to serve in Edo state, passing through the temporary, make-shift, prison-like,
much-dreaded Okada camp. The three weeks in camp could be simply tagged as
“hell on earth”. When we arrived camp, it was like a long dream-come-true. We
didn’t have the faintest idea of maggots in the offing. Infact it would be an
under-statement to say the camp was in a sorry state. Corp members were forced
to sleep in classrooms (hostels) which were grossly overcrowded and filled to
the brim. The windows in the hall I stayed were far from normal, coupled with
the clash of body odours and ceaseless-sweating, since there was no cooling
fan, let alone air conditioners. We spend most of the hours in the hall
lamenting about our inescapable predicament. Thank God the Ebola virus was yet
to me fully confirmed as at then.
To be upfront, the heavy
downpour in camp worsened the situation. Those of us who came to camp with
designer-cum-expensive tennis shoes had to lock them in their Ghana-must-go
bags and wisely purchased the rubber ones that flooded the camp. Even the Mammy
market traders made more than enough profits, as the price sky-rocketed
expectedly when demand was higher than stock. Things were as tough as rawhide.
After washing our near-white uniforms, looking for where to sun-dry them is
another task, akin to Guinness ultimate search. Though some wise dudes
displayed “otondo creativity” by
hanging clothes on tree branches, doors, water pipes, poles and etcetera. Some
very desperate ones sneaked into nearby villages to get some space. Even when
the camp soldiers cajoled us repeatedly to be as strong as Mustangs, we all
felt we were being short-changed in a Maximum Prison Quarters.
Without apology, the food
“pasted” on our plates (of different sizes) was a far cry from quality and
quantity. I saw mini-protests where corp members who don’t joke with their
stomachs engaged in a theater of harsh words with the passionless kitchen
stewards. It even reached a climax whereby the camp coordinator ordered for a
reasonable increment on quantity, but nothing was done about quality. I could
use my Ogbono soup as a mirror. To
crown it all, a handful of the camp officials were impenetrably hard. In the
soldier’s diary, you only get lucky if you are not as slow as a porcupine on
the parade ground.
Lamentably, the cash-loaded
ones amongst us never used their meal ticket. They became regular customers in
mammy market, where your money can fetch you desired taste.
From the benefit of hindsight,
the convoluted truth is that, Edo state needs a real orientation camp
(permanent site) and not a make-shift secondary school. Infact I wouldn’t be
surprised a bit if this is being added as part of the manifesto for 2015
elections in Edo. The government should borrow a leaf from other beautiful NYSC
camps we have in this country. Oshun state should serve as a blueprint. Environment
and health hazards should be taken into consideration in this period where
Ebola is on “popular demand”. The camp must be disease-cum-virus free, spick
and span and home-away-from-home. The FG and NYSC should right the wrongs and
stop playing the ostrich.
Conclusively, objective nay
subjective, I hope this discourse would be treated as a positive catalyst of
unprecedented efficiency in the NYSC quarters, and not like a dynamite thrown
into a pool of supposedly calm water. Q.E.D.
