It was one of those cold mornings, we slept late the previous night, thanks to some unending and yet unnecessary arguments in the room. Few hours into dreamland I’m awaken by loud bangs on the bunks and a false fire cry. Everyone runs out with little or no time to dress properly. While some run out with buckets of water, some run out in their night wears and others run out with their luggage.
I'm forced out of bed at about 2:00am courtesy of a fire drill and assembled at the Parade ground, which serves as a muster point, while officials come to take roll-call.
“I am a Stone o’ I am a Gravel, I am a working material, I will obey rules and regulation given to me by my Soldier.” We sang in chorus as we doubled up from the parade ground.
I had barely closed my eyes when the annoying bugle sounds; it’s the kick start to yet another day. After my normal morning rituals I head in the opposite direction of the crowd doubling up from the female hostel to the parade ground. “Kai! Where’s that one going to” says one of the men in khaki in a harsh loud tone as I keep walking in the opposite direction “Kai! Go back” he said. When I finally meet up with him, he points his touch at me, “Oh! OBS” he says after sighting my tag and lets me walk through. ‘Oshey immunity’
It was the same morning routine from meditation, to drills at the parade ground, breakfast followed immediately and then the infamous 5 hours unending lectures. The bugle sounds, it’s time for lunch and everyone seems happy but me. While others head out for lunch, I speedily transfer the “Gadgets” (sound equipment), as it was fondly called by the Schedule Officer, from the lecture hall back to the studio in time to go on air for the OBS (Orientation Broadcasting Service) afternoon news and follow up afternoon programmes. Being General Manager (GM) of the OBS, and doubling as Sound Engineer and Disc Jockey meant I had little or no time for myself, and occasionally I’m denied a three square meal.
The bugle sounds yet again, it’s time for parade and as usual while others proceed towards the parade ground, I go in the opposite direction to mami to have my first meal of the day.
The day fades away slowly and at about 7:00pm I assemble the crew for post mortem, with few programs aired, the day’s post mortem is brief and ends just in time for me to watch the kick off of an International friendly football match involving the Super Eagles.
I hurriedly heard out to mami and check into one of the pubs, a famous spot colonized by the infamous “Platoon 11” (Platoon 11 - a group of corps members who can be found in the pubs at mami market, drinking alcoholic beverages and are usually forced back to the hostel after lights out) and grab a sit in the dark arena. Soon after, a stranger approaches the table “Is this sit taken?” “No, it’s not” I answer reluctantly as I turn towards the direction of the inquirer. Surprisingly, its 736, the lady I had recently developed a soft spot for. “You are the last person I expected to see here” she says, “Yea, same goes to you” I reply without hesitation.
So we get chatty like we've know each other forever, in comparison with that of the previous day proves to be a mere warm-up, and this time I’m lucky to receive that long overdue kiss and a little more than I had anticipated for. “It wasn't a bad day after all” I say to myself, as I lay on my bed reminiscing on the day’s activities. The night breeze hits me gently like a lullaby and in no time, puts me to bed.
Read A PAGE FROM MY CAMP DIARY (PART 1)
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