FEATURE ARTICLE |
Babs Ajayi | Friday, October 6, 2006 |
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[email protected] Toronto, Ontario, Canada | ANNOUNCE THIS ARTICLE TO YOUR FRIENDS |
JOURNEY THROUGH NATIONAL SERVICE:
OUR CROSS RIVER YEAR
e all had to make it to Uyo. No one had a choice and one is compelled to be there punctually. It was a call to duty, national duty for all young (and not so young) graduates of higher institutions at home and abroad, who wish to work and live in Nigeria. You have to submit yourself to the nation for one year and suspend all personal plans until you've completed the service. It was a noble idea that became ignoble in the hands of implementers and their sidekicks. Colonel Obasa and Alhaji Kila were just some of those caught and punished; several others went undiscovered and unpunished for looting the funds and assets the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). The service was to be a new beginning for most of us and none knew what the future has in store - but everyone was hopeful, excited and anxious to get to the Orientation Camp.
"O'Brien," I shouted repeated even as the jumble of noise and destination-calls from the motor touts drowned my calls. I was fortunate enough that Bode looked in my direction and his soft smile and firm wave of the hand confirmed he had seen me.
"O'Brien," I repeated when he got close to me.
"Tunde, what's up," came his response.
"I am going to Uyo. Corper shun!" I saluted in a mischievous manner.
"Did you say Uyo? Did I hear you say Uyo just now?"
"Uyo in Cross River State," I replied.
"That makes two of us, two of us."
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It was with this chance meeting that I headed for Uyo in the company of Bode Aboderin. Only recently was I able to re-establish contact with Bode after nearly 20 years. Bode kept his dream of moving overseas alive despite some heavy hiccups at some points and a few obstacles he surmounted. He had wondered to the United States while I took various jobs in Lagos and only recently moved here a few years back.
I have never even been to the Eastern part of Nigeria and here I am heading for (and with full submission and desire) the South-South. Bode was also very excited about this trip. Being already addicted to The Guardian, thanks to the contribution and urging-on of Professor Niyi Osundare at Ibadan, and heavily attracted to the writings of the paper's columnists and writers that then included Kongi himself, Eddy Iroh, Sonala Olumhense, Biodun Jeyifo, Kole Omotosho, Femi Osofisan, Ama Ogan, I went in search of a copy around Ojuelegba. But the price of The Guardian is never an issue with me despite the fact that it sells for far more than any other Nigerian newspapers. Lagos vendors will then add their own excess on top of the cover price. Of course vendors never display The Guardian; regular buyers and addicts knew this and as such have to ask the vendor, who will promptly fish out a copy if he has. I bought a copy and returned to the bus to join Bode. Then came the shocker. The Guardian had chosen my day of departure to Uyo to publish one of my poems. The title of the poem was 'Departure'. Rather than delight, it was fear that gripped me; the superstitious took over and a million evil thoughts went through my mind in a flash. Could this be my point of departure? Am I going to die on this trip? Perhaps I will not make it back to Lagos even if I succeed in getting to Uyo, my destination. All sorts of garbage invaded and took temporary hibernation in my mind. I chose to immediately banish them before they take concrete space.
My mood immediately switched to that of a boxing-cum-wrestling spectator excited about the fight that is being staged in the open nearby. We were not sure what the issues were between the two touts at war, but we suddenly responded to the screams and the sudden creation of a big ring as the exchanges went on. No one breaks a fight at Ojuelegba; the combatants have to see it through. The unwritten law, it seems, is that there is no need to start a fight you cannot finish. For more than ten minutes the touts battled one another with fists, broken bottles, sticks and finally with a suya knife from an unsuspecting Mallam selling Suya by the roadside. It was after the shorter and stockier tout had slashed his taller and slimmer opponent with a knife and a tap of blood was opened that Ojuelegba moved on and each one went about his business. The spectators included soldiers, naval men, policemen and other men in uniform, but none of them took any action; they were mere spectators here in Ojuelegba. Ojuelegba is outside the jurisdiction of law enforcement officers, the only exception being toll collection from commercial transporters. When the battle was over the chief touts were seen issuing orders and the fighters were taken away and the crowd simply vanished like they never actually existed before now. The shout of "palmgroof-Onipan, Palmgroof-Onipan," "Ikeja-Marylan, Ikeja-Marylan," and "Oshodi-Oloshi, Oshodi-Oloshi," took over once again.