By Rilwan Muhammad
Graduating from the university comes with its unique pleasure and happiness, especially in Nigeria where ASUU strike is part of the erratic academic calendars of our universities. So, knowing that you have now put university behind your back is, in itself, a source of joy and a thing to take, nay derive, delight from.
But is the university statement of result the only thing one needs to saunter into the competitive Nigerian labour market whose forces are beyond the ones known and taught in our elementary economics?
That was the vexing question that kept assailing, in a disturbing manner, my mind when I finished the university in February 2020.
Because my university, ATBU, Bauchi, doesn’t delay the release of students’ results, I was, in some way, happy that I’d soon be mobilised for my one year mandatory national youth service.
That was it. I was mobilised early March, and so I didn’t hesitate doing the registration.
It wasn’t smooth going, and I didn’t, in all sincerity, thought it would, thus there was no point complaining.
Because of certain reason, I couldn’t register on time until when the registration was in its 4th or so day.
While at a commercial place that provides cyber services in Bauchi, I spent hours seated next to Alqaseem, the “computer man” who, with eyes fixed on the moderately-sized computer screen, kept hitting the keyboard as though punishing it for some wrong it did him, dragging the mouse in a playful manner that amazed me.
“No available states of deployment” the screen showed for the umpteenth time. When my tolerable patience threshold was tried out, I weighed the options of going and staying to try after some hours lest the network – if at all it was a glitch from the network – would yield. I decided I would come back the following morning.
A few minutes before the Muezzin of the mosque a few feet to “Total Cyber Cafe” – the place I was fast becoming a regular visitor to in those few days – called the “Magrib” prayer, I sighed a sigh of relief after having seen from the computer screen that my registration was successful.
I rushed home, happy that it was a finished business. I promised it won’t miff me nor would it rile me up were I deployed to a state in the southern part of the country. It would be good to travel out of your zone to see and have a taste of life in a place you have, probably, only been to in books or in clumsy figment of your imagination.
What others say about a place may not represent the real situation of the place. Seeing, after all, they say, is believing.
If ever I was on pins and needles looking forward to a particular activity, I was on more pointy needles the night we were to download our Call-Up Letters. I spent some quality time refreshing my browers after having tried accessing the NYSC portal with all of them. The wise among the Hausa say that resting with a pile of luggage on one’s little head is but a discomfort. Every graduate’s dream is to get NYSC certificate, wade through the lousy road to labour market and secure some handsomely paid job. I wasn’t an exception.
Not seeing my Call-Up Letter in that solemn March night meant I had to have and imbue myself with the patience of a saint and wait for another stream or even batch, and that was what actually happened. I waited until I began to place a curse on Covid-19 for upsetting everything, including my NYSC.
In February 27, 2020, the virology laboratory of Lagos University Teaching Hospital confirmed Nigeria’s index case. Because of the perceived virulence of the novel virus, Nigeria, as though receiving and nodding to the dictates of some powerful countries, followed suit and shutdown the country; schools, NYSC Orientation Camps and virtually everything. While that was happening, yours truly was kitting up for camp in a week’s time.
We all didn’t expect it to last longer than it did. Our colleagues whose camp activities were cut short continued to receive their pay even without taking to and spending quality time at their places of primary assignment. That wasn’t deliberate nor their doing. A host of them would have loved to work well, to serve, in their respective individual capacity, the country better. No thanks then to the intruder.
As months crawled by and with the Covid-19 curve flattening down against its inclination, normalcy started returning. Schools opened. Markets – did they even close? – opened, and so did places of worship.
November 10, 2020 was announced as the date for camp reopening. I was on tenterhooks.
Because the government wasn’t ready to, in any way, risk the lives of Nigerians, safety guidelines and protocols were rolled-out, the observance of which was mandatory and prerequisite to the smooth and safe reopening of orientation camps across the nation. Use of facemask by all corps members, washing of hands under running water or with hand sanitiser, physical distancing must all be strictly observed at all camp activities.
The absorption capacity was slashed by good percentage so that only a manageable number would be registered at a time. My name made it to the list of those whose camp would commence November 10.
I, as was required of me, generated the Covid-19 test slip code, downloaded and printed it. I did photocopy of all the documents I was told were required at the registration on camp. A friend of mine, “corona corper” (for that’s the name Batch A Corps Members are better known with), spent minutes telling me how expensive items and services are at the camp, and why it’s more wiser to finish everything even before stepping leg into the camp. I didn’t argue with him as I would if it were on other mundane issues which require opinion venturing.
In the early morning hours of Monday (November 9, 2020), I hopped into a car whose number plate I made to take and write but couldn’t get around to because my mind had gone on some tour and wouldn’t come back until the car had gathered speed on the pothole-laden road. The idea was to pass a night in a town in Jigawa and then proceed to Dutse the following morning.
November 10, 2020.
A few minutes after 8 in the morning, I was on road to Fanisau Camp, Dutse, Jigawa state.
What a wonderful experience shared!
May you finish your service well and find favour in the labour market.