Camp Life......

Must read!!!

Hello Stella and everyone. 

This is the first time I’m trying out writing well except essays and dissertation. Lol!

I live in Abuja and was posted to Taraba state for my NYSC, I knew instantly that I was going to get redeployed after camp. My parents made sure of that. 

So I headed to Taraba with lots of money from my parents and siblings as consolation for me having being sent far from home. I had heard many stories about the life in NYSC camps, so I expected fun and wild parties. How wrong! 

My camp was so boring. My first few days of camp was filled only with morning exercises, parade and more parade. The routine was terribly monotonous and exhausting. It was then I decided to create some fun. I made friends with some cool guys from Lagos plus I had very interesting roommates. I and my Lagos friends decided to organize a party on camp. 

We pulled it off in one of the shops in mammy. I invited all my roommates, guys invited their friends. We all had an amazing time. For me, that event birthed my insatiable quest for adventure on camp. I wanted to do more. I wanted to step out of my usual reserved character and make the most of my time there especially since I knew I was getting the heck out of the place after 3 weeks. I participated in almost every activity on camp from parades to endurance trek to drama, burn fire night, parties every every, your girl was present.


My new found attitude for adventure landed me in serious trouble. 

So, one day another set of male friends I had, invited me for a party outside of camp. They were two of them let’s call them john and Steve. I was closer to john, Steve was john’s friend so we got along. But I considered john my friend. So john convinced me to go for a party with them and a few other corpers outside of camp. I was excited and up for it. So I agreed. He also told me not to talk about it to many people so word doesn’t get out and we get in trouble. 

On the day of the party, I got ready waiting for john to come get me. Instead, he called that he was busy picking up people from another location in camp that his friend Steve was going to come in company of another guy to pick me up (this particular guy is not a corper but lives in Jalingo). 

I went out and got into the car with Steve and the other man who was driving. We followed a lonely route through the back of the camp, I kept on asking where the other people going for the party are, Steve told me that john was going to bring them that we should keep going. We got to a point and Steve alighted from vehicle that was when I knew something was not right. I asked him where he was going and he informed me that he needed to change into mufti and that he only escorted us so he could show the route to the driver. I should have alighted too, but I was forming big girl, I could take care of myself.


We made the journey successfully out of camp, the man drove us to a nice suburb in Jalingo. We arrived there about 11pm maybe. We parked. I didn’t hear any music, I asked the man if he was sure a party was going on here, he replied in the affirmative. 

Again! I knew something was not right. We went in, it was a house, no guests, no party, no music. Frantically, I began to call john asking where he was, he kept on telling me he was on the way, he was near etc. At about after 12am I called john again, he sounded sleepy but told me he was on the way. That was when I gave up, lost my big girl cool and started crying. It dawned on me that my so called friend john, pimped me out to this man. Different thoughts crossed my mind; I was a stranger in Jalingo, I didn’t even know where I was, no phone, my roommates didn’t know my whereabouts. The only people who knew where I was were john and Steve. 

What if I get raped, killed, used for rituals. I cried. I cursed john as I cried. The man saw me crying, he tried to calm me, saying he wasn’t going to eat me that I should relax, he jokingly called me a cry baby. He showed me to his bedroom, while he stayed in the living room with a guest. (I even got more scared when the guest showed up that late, all bad thoughts crept up in my head). I locked myself up in the bathroom, crying and praying to God for help. I eventually cried myself to sleep, when I heard him come into the room, he tapped me and told me to change out of my clothes into his tee-shirt to sleep in. 

I said I was fine, he refused to let me go back sleep until I changed. He offered me a white tee shirt, I went into the bathroom and changed leaving my jeans on. It was at this point we managed a conversation, he asked questions about me and how I got myself involved in this. I asked him a few questions too, while begging he him to take me back to camp that night. He declined but promised to take me back to camp by 5am, he then told me try and get some sleep that he wouldn’t touch me, he also said that from my behavior he figured I’m not that kind of girl. I was able to get some sleep with one eye opened of course. I checked the time it was a few minutes to 5, I gently tapped him and told him it was time to take me back to my hostel. He obliged, got up got dressed and we headed out. I was so relieved. I gave him back his tee-shirt I slept in, he told me to keep it that I’ll need it to get back into camp.

We drove in silence through the back and lonely route till we got to camp. Fortunately, it was during Ramadan fast, so Muslim corpers were up and about at that hour. He turned off his car’s headlamps from afar, I slipped on the tee-shirt over my mufti, he squeezed something into my hands, and I muttered a thank you, got out and quietly blended with the Muslim corpers before I entered my room.

 Thankfully, my room was totally dark when I entered, so nobody noticed my absence through the night and nobody saw me come in. I tiptoed to my bed and put the money I was given under my pillow. It was only then I closed my eyes and had a peaceful sleep. My friend of whom our beds were joined together, woke up at dawn and was happy to see me. I didn’t, No couldn’t tell her or anyone about my experience. That day, I didn’t go out for parade, I slept in, when I woke up I counted the money I was given. It was 200NGN notes of 30,000. I bought food and drinks for all my friends including the Lagos guys. I did see John eventually, I felt broken, hurt and betrayed that I lost any courage to confront him. I barely spoke to him and avoided him till we concluded camp and I relocated back home to Abuja.

This is my service year boulevard. It’s been 9 years now. But I still remember that experience with vivid emotions. Sorry for the long read.

*Jesus!!!...Lucky you,some people dont live to tell their story like this!..you should have gotten the full names of those boys and reported them to NYSC later on....God knows what else they might have done and gotten away with...

If you have your camp life story,please send it in.....Note that camp life is different from service year Boulevard.....Camp life is the three weeks in NYSC Orientation camp while Service year boulevard is a round up of the one year and PPA brouhaha (if any)