Tales Of A Corps Member
by Folarin Samson
THE time was 3am. It was icy cold outside and the earth was still submerged in heavy darkness. Even the sharp chirping of the night crickets had thinned out. I was fast asleep in my room when a quick rap on my window rudely ruptured my rest. I froze and curled up on my mattress with a start.
I gently pried my eyes open with the back of my hand, still feeling sleepy and waiting to hear the owner of the hand speak. “Folarin, you no go wake up make we go fetch water,” a rough Benin voice called out. I recognised it immediately. It was Oboh, my CLO. He was a fairly tall, light complexioned corps member, who, in his school days, held sway as a keggite chief. He thrilled us with stories of how he shook his campus with gyration.
“See, the handle of the tap don break o and we go trek go Ugbodo to go fetch water,” he added sadly, his falling intonation betraying fear and transferring the same to me.
I caught it mid air. “The handle of the pumping tap has broken? My God!” Cold sweats seeped from my brow. Fear seized me. My head spinned. The pumping tap Oboh mentioned was the closest to us. How do we cope without it?
I could remember how the long iron rod, used as lever to pump the water, had worn out from frequent friction. We had hoped it would still be intact before we finish our service in three months’ time, to escape the hardship of travelling far in search of water. But that was not to be.
Our present decision to be going out to fetch water at midnight was to avert joining the army of villagers that besiege the tap in the daytime. And even at that, we would still meet villagers queuing to fetch water. Some of them slept at the tap despite the risk of being stung by scorpions.
Our situation was worsened by the dry season and to pump out water in the day could be a life threatening exercise. I once told a friend that the technology behind the tap was punitive.
And now, to think of Ugbodo as a substitute, as suggested by Oboh, was madness. Nothing else came to my mind than that. That place was hellish far.
I shuffled my feet to our little kitchen, to carry some of the buckets we would use to fetch the water. Ikupoluyi had joined us. Okwose was already ahead in his faded blue short sleeves, his grey fraying knickers dancing to the tune of the cool breeze. We were four, the remaining Batch B corps members.
MY eyes roved round the environment as we trudged on, side by side. Tangible darkness enveloped us as the moon slightly peeked out from its shade to gape on these daring corpers who have defied sleep to go in search of water. She smiled, bade us goodnight and slowly retreated into hiding. The stars winked at us with childlike shyness.
The road was completely deserted except for some huddled sheep lying on the road and staring vacantly at us. There was something sinister in their look that I hated.
It was the lone shimmering light in their eye, which bore wickedly into my fragile courage. It increased my heartbeat and I quickly looked away in fright. The sheep all rose as we approached. They want to fight? Jesus, help us. I marched on with faked courage. Then they scattered and made way for us, only to regroup later.
The torch from our phones came handy, as it shone with forceful intrusion a little metre ahead to announce the portholes and gallops before fading out. It was a long dreadful walk.
We headed for another tap by the dusty road that led to Abakaliki, the State capital, not Ugbodo again. We met two scantily dressed girls at the tap. I imagined what risk they had exposed themselves to by coming out at such ungodly hour of the night.
We didn’t talk to them because you never could even tell if they were not humans after all. When they were done, they left and vanished into the looming darkness.
We took our turn. Oboh pumped the water while I exchanged the buckets. Everything was distilled in silence except for the squeak and screech of the lever Oboh was belabouring.
Returning was hard. Each of us clutched tightly to two buckets. Torch in mouth; buckets in hand. The thin semi-circle iron rod that provided the handle etched sore lines on our fingers. We felt scalding pain.
At intervals, we stopped to relax, catch our breath and stretch our fingers. After the pain had ebbed, we continued our tottering in the cold night. My mind was, however, on how I would not be behind or ahead: two dangerous positions.
As safety precaution, I tried to keep pace with someone after making each stop. Thankfully, we reached our lodge without any incidence.
THIS week, my one year of national youth service ends, together with many enterprising and adventurous stories like this. I took a look back and I saw no regrets. I couldn’t have served in a better place than Ebonyi.
I was one of those youths who almost influenced their state of deployment. But it just didn’t work out and I resigned to destiny, believing there was a purpose behind my deployment to Ebonyi, a state I reckoned not to be anywhere near my expectation in terms of resources and post-service opportunities.
True to my fear, though I studied Mass Communication, I was sent into an interior village to teach CRK of all subjects. I was disappointed and embarrassed. I could hardly share this with anyone when asked the subject I was teaching.
What good will I do the students’ intellectual capability teaching what they can ordinarily learn in their churches? I was worried although I did not show it. I just accepted as an obedient servant.
Soon enough, we got started and I saw it was fun teaching those boisterous youths about God. They enjoyed my classes and looked forward to it. But I was still not satisfied; their level of communication was poor.
The teachers seemed not to help matters, as they were constantly conversing with them in their vernacular. They found it convenient. Hence, my decision to begin a ‘Press Club’ where I taught as many of them who showed interests the basics of communication.
It was a chance to bring my communication skills into play and impart it in the young lads who appeared bemused many times I spoke on their assemblies during moral instructions.
Then, there were moments of sharing together, talking together and playing together. But I guess some of them took this for something else. I had heard of how corps members messed up with some of the female students in the past.
One in particular threw herself to me, coming to my room at 11pm for English coaching. Sho, what English will I be teaching at such time of the day? I understood the message clearly like a magician studying his crystal ball.
Being human, I almost fell for it. But on the second thought of my mission in the village, I withdrew and stylishly dismissed the poor girl. Several of such temptations came. This was probably one of my trying times at Ojiegbe.
The rural rugged outreaches offered the best opportunities to reach those the government might not even have oversight of due to distance. On such occasions, we would go with detergents, footwears, clothes, and other welfare packages to distribute freely to the villagers.
Doctors were also at hand to offer medical services to the old women and children some of whom were plagued with ailments fast draining life from their systems.
In such places, you’d find youths fast wasting away in vices, children suffering from malnutrition, men who had worked themselves out on their farms because the sustenance of their large families depended on it. The people drank water from the same stream in which they bathed and washed their clothes.
It’s usually the most exciting moments spreading the good news of Jesus around those jungles singing, dancing and watching the excitement and gratitude on the pale faces of those villagers.
The truth is that not all of us will get state or federal awards and we are not driven by such trifles. Some of us went hungry throughout our service year, running around and borrowing to see to the completion of a project.
Some of us felt so concerned about the state of our communities, we willingly sacrificed our life’s savings to finance life-saving projects. The need is great.
Many of us have seen the enormity of the development challenges of the country where we served and have been shaken to the marrow. We are no longer the same. Despite the challenges and difficulties of environment, we still forged on.
Some of us had miraculous escaped from snake and scorpion bites. Some of us lived and served where there was no electric pole running through the roads. Some of us stayed where we needed to climb hills, trees and mountains to catch fluctuating telecommunication networks.
All these have made us to see the many sides of the mammoth called Nigeria. Nigeria is bigger than what many city minds conceive in the cocoon and comfort of their bedrooms!
MY first parting shot goes to the Federal Government, to treasure the youth of this country. Many times, we are being placated with the platitudinous refrain of being leaders of tomorrow and yet, the leaders of yesterday have refused to relinquish power to the leaders of tomorrow.
This probably explains why, as a nation, we have been living in the past and groping in the dark when the whole world keeps marching ahead in quantum leap. Please, give us space and let us bring freshness into governance and public administration.
It is also unfair for us to go through all these and get back home only to become redundant. We need to be rewarded with gainful employment. Some of us have caught the vision of a new Nigeria, and we need room for exploration.
My challenge to prospective corps members is to step out of their shells. There’s a lot of excitement and fun in the NYSC. There’s a lot of adventure in the uncharted lands of the interiors. Nigeria is bigger and wider than what you can read up in any geography text.
I wish to state that any Nigerian youth that refused, boycotted or bought his way out of the NYSC has missed a lifetime opportunity of making the investment that never depreciates, memories that never fades, and impact that is not soon forgotten. Because he only has lived who has done something for someone who can never repay him. That probably summarises the essence of the NYSC to my mind.
I will spare a word for parents and guardians who, out of genuine love and concern for the security of their wards, influence their postings to choice companies and towns. It may profit in the short run, but the trail does not wipe out easily.
Such youths don’t grow up to have a comprehensive knowledge of the diversity of the country and if by any twist of chance they find themselves in leadership tomorrow, they will make bad leaders.
It’s true tragedy strikes sometimes, but to generalise from such isolated cases will tantamount to irrational judgment and irrelevant conclusion. Let your children be, and leave them in the hands of your God if you truly believe He’s almighty.
The NYSC must hear this. Since its inception in 1973, many Nigerian graduates have passed through the scheme with varying degrees of experiences, fairy tales, sights and stories. Many of these have gone without being passed on to people who probably have not visited such places or seen such glorious sights.
This writer thought it would not be out of place if the NYSC could institute a project to annually compile and document the experiences of corps members from the 36 States of the federation. The stories will certainly make interesting reads and will help keep memories of corps members alive.
I tried doing this via social networking site, Facebook, but the time frame was just too short and I could not muster the human resources.
The NYSC should also pay attention to the security of corps members, especially those posted into the interiors. And allowee should be paid on time so corps members don’t become derelicts in their places of primary assignments. We had this challenge in my time.
But I have no regrets for serving my fatherland. It’s been full of fun. I will miss the animal community in Randa. The musical bleating of the black goats in my neighbourhood gives a poignant presence of nature. The ducklings with their human interactions, the dogs and their pranks and barks, the hen with their troublesome male counterparts, especially the games they play before mating. I enjoyed the scene whenever they played out like theatre.
I will miss Nigeria Christian Corpers Fellowship (NCCF) and the Deeper Life Corpers Fellowship (DLCF) for all the rural rugged evangelisms we went for touching the lives of those villagers.
I will miss my students at Nkaleke Achara Community Secondary School, Ojiegbe, especially my Press Club members. I will miss my colleagues in Randa: Stephen, Jo, Frank, Jawa, Samson, and Alfa Ibrahim.
I want to thank the good people of Ebonyi State for the salt they have added into the lives of thousands of those who have served in the state and the state coordinator in particular, Mr. Otaru Eshimakhe, for his fatherly disposition to all the corps members.
The state is blessed with such resources that can provide good exports for the country. The Federal Government will need to give serious attention to the nutritious Abakaliki rice and promote its consumption in the country.
Dear Nigerians, I have served! I look forward to opportunities for higher calling to national service. Aru go mi ya, I have served!
• Samson, outgoing Batch B corps member in Ebonyi State
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