NYSC – WHERE DID WE DERAIL?

Of all the usual negative attitudes that are prevalent in this country, three things annoy me the most; the first is corruption, the second is littering and the third is nepotism. The other two (corruption and littering) are topics for another day, but nepotism is the reason I am in a rage right now, and […]

Of all the usual negative attitudes that are prevalent in this country, three things annoy me the most; the first is corruption, the second is littering and the third is nepotism. The other two (corruption and littering) are topics for another day, but nepotism is the reason I am in a rage right now, and have been since I arrived at NYSC Camp. Nepotism is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “giving unfair advantages to your own family if you are in a position of power…” In a country like ours, nepotism has sadly become a very common phenomenon.
My recent NYSC Camp experience brought this evil phenomenon to the limelight. On getting my NYSC call-up letter, I was full of trepidation. Even though the state I was deployed to is in the same North and has the same culture and religion and people like mine, the closest I have ever been to the state was reciting it in a poem I taught my nursery school pupils; and we sang it with so much happiness. Now I was not so sure I was going there with the same smile I had when singing States and Capitals (from Adamawa-Yola to Zamfara-Gusau). But being one not to shirk my national patriotic responsibility, I packed bag and baggage, said goodbye to my family and set out. Deep down, however, I was feeling as if I was been launched on a rocket to outer space.
NYSC is really a noble thing created to unite the country’s youth. I had read the NYSC pledge and I loved it:
 “Youth obey the clarion call,
let us lift our nation high,
under the sun or in the rain,
with dedication and selflessness,
Nigeria is ours,
Nigeria we serve.
It is quite beautiful, but I don’t get something here, is serving the nation exclusive to just ordinary Nigerians like you and me? I had a dose of nepotism the very first day on Camp. While poor we were waiting on long queues for days and sweating it out in the heat, a sleek car zipped by and parked nearby. I would not have complained if I didn’t know the lady sitting at the back; she had her face hidden behind goggles like a movie star, but I knew it was her because we went to the same secondary school. Then her father went into politics. Shortly after, she went to study abroad. And now she is back here to serve the nation just like me. But the big difference is that she didn’t have to join the queue; a hefty soldier with a gun at the ready ushered her to the front of the queue, and she instantly collected the forms!
As if that was not enough, the NYSC officers issuing the forms had to stop everything and everyone in order to explain to Ms. Goggles-Honourable-Daughter how to fill the form! She stood there like a retard she is, like a dunce, like a…, like a…, I was lost for words. Nepotism really does take the cake. People like her, those born with the silver daggers (silver spoons, some say) use their daggers on you and me. They take what belongs to us. Their parents are up there sitting sharing the national cake while their children come and hijack our queue. And we all watched helplessly as Ms. Goggles finished in thirty minutes flat what was taking us three days to accomplish. Then she just walked away, with Soldier-Boy in tow, leaving us to continue facing the consequences of serving our country “under the sun or in the rain”. Indeed!
Then Silver-Daggers go away, never having to stay on Camp, leaving poor you and me at the mercy of the khaki boys who scream and harass you at the slightest opportunity. Ms. Goggles-Honourable-Daughter and other Silver-Daggers are at home while you get to wake up by 3am. You continue to wonder what they might be doing while we bath with cold water at five o’clock in the morning. They must still be in bed while you are on your feet going out for the morning drill. Yes, Ms. Goggles-Silver-Dagger is still in bed. You endure it, thinking you are serving your country “under the sun or in the rain”.
When you go for the NYSC on-Camp lectures, you wonder where they are. Don’t they need to hear all these life-saving techniques? No, they don’t need them, nor do they need the skill-acquisition programme you are advised to learn. Someone quipped that the reason why they are so bent on poor you and me learning those skills is because the ‘ogas-at-the-top’ have reserved the available federal government jobs for their kids, such as Ms. Goggles.
Silver-Daggers probably didn’t even collect their NYSC kits and even if they did, you can bet your first ‘allowee’ they didn’t even open it, for they don’t have to endure the NYSC shorts that bare all when we go for the man-o-war activities. Man-O-War indeed! We are taught survival skills, we need them, they don’t; they have gun-toting soldiers at their beck and call. We go for endurance treks so we can learn how to endure the difficulties we might encounter during our primary assignment, they don’t need that, they don’t have to go through all that; after all they have jobs waiting for them.
They don’t need to be members of any platoon nor do they have to do any activity; that is for someone like you and me who needs to be there or risk not having a certificate; their fate has already been decided by their parents who were sensible enough to join politics. Fathers of Silver-Daggers convince us that they are looking out for us, when the truth is they are looking out for themselves, and Ms. Goggles. They take everything good and leave us to suffer, and what’s more they make so much noise and then we queue up again to vote them back into office “under the sun or in the rain”.
While you are posted to a place for NYSC primary assignment, Ms. Goggles is nowhere to be found. But on Passing Out Day you suddenly see her taking fake pictures with fake friends. And as if that is not enough, she gets her NYSC discharge certificates before you, and they get the better job. You never get that kind of job because the interviewer ask tough questions – “What is your father’s name?” They want to hear ‘Distinguished’ or ‘Honourable’ as a prefix. So Ms. Goggles-Honourable’s-Daughter takes the job.
Then she never turns up for the job, but the salary keeps coming in. The alert is all she needs. For Ms. Goggles-Honourable’s-Daughter has gone back overseas for one thing or the other. Or two things. Or even three.
Then as you fall asleep dreaming about the dream job Silver-Daggers took away from you, a sudden nightmare bursts in: Camp soldiers screaming “Otondo, Attention!” (‘Attention!’ is pronounced ‘Tension!’). Otondo? Who is Otondo? Otondo is back overseas!
And we are here “under the sun or in the rain”.