So, JS1 was gradually coming to an end, by now we had learnt everything possible and were fully equipped to survive the remaining 5 years, we knew how to dodge, how to manufacture lies within micro seconds, for example a senior calls you and without thinking you say “I am under parade sir”, meaning someone else has sent you to do something, if he asks “whose parade”, you must manufacture something o, “senior bla bla sent me to do bla bla at bla bla with bla bla so that bla bla and bla bla”, you must make sure to use the name of someone who is his senior, or his coursemate that he respects, and the lie must rhyme perfectly with current events. By now, asides my Ilorin friends, I had made 3 good friends, Osaki Harry, Sani Zakari, and Ayang Obiodu, I had other friends like Musa Babale, Shedrach Chunu and Kazeem Tajudeen, but Osaki, Sani and Ayang were my actual partners in crime.
One person I had huge respect for was the JRSM, Nittie, somehow, he never had to talk, I don’t think I ever came within closer than 500meter radius of where he was except on parade ground, he commanded the respect of his mates and juniors in a very subtle way, I remember clearly his ever gleaming boots and swagger stick, the swagger stick didn’t spare any heads that deserved it, I observed from a distance as it was being used on some SS1 and 2 boys a few times, the appointment holders in that set were crazily scary I just avoided them like a plague so never had any encounter with them, except for the day Ezra gave me a slap infront of JS1 classes and I spinned like 720 degrees on one spot before landing on the floor, I cant remember what my offence was. I just generally kept a distance, who wouldn’t, when you had names like Nittie, Buhari, the Sofoluwes, Dominic, Ezra, Godspower, Alfa, Archibong, just to mention a few
Dike Chinedu must also be mentioned, the JS3 provost that Dotun Adetoro handed me over to, he was just a JS3 provost so there was very little he could do, but everytime possible he made sure I didn’t do fatigue, I prepared his uniform instead, he also spoilt me with money and provisions, he always seemed to have too much for himself alone. I also have to remember the church was a place for some peace, we would go for choir practice and at least know you have some peace there, I was a member of the protestant choir, I was also a member of the French club because Ms Ogbozien, the patron was my guardian and also because I loved learning new languages.
We had reduced in number, some who couldn’t stand the stress left after the first or second term, some parents withdrew their children against the child’s wish because they saw marks on his body or because they heard of the suffering, for the remaining of us, third term was finally here, we were waiting for g-home day (vacation day), to finally go home and come back next term wearing two bars, we would now have JS1 juniors to demolish too, anytime we didn’t have lessons in class you could see us practicing different styles of knocks on the walls and tables, in preparation for the numerous knocks we would dish out to our juniors. SS3 boys were preparing for their P.O.P (passing out parade) and beating of the retreat (a parade held a day to POP to give out trophies to squadrons who won different competitions), we had finished exams and had 2 weeks before POP, not two weeks of rest though. Not with patchers (patching is sort of campaigning or hustling for an appointment) like Ikya, Mustapha Yakubu, Umar Yakubu etc, I can’t immediately remember too many of them because my memories of my JS2 life is blurred, I spent 98% of the time dodging and can hardly remember anything that happened in JS2.
The two weeks before POP are not very good weeks for a junior boy, you are free 24hours of the day, no classes, no military training, nothing, just you and the seniors, they have the full liberty to massacre you, and the whole of AFMS has to be squeaky clean before POP, so, you are doing fatigue all day, in the process you buy job and serve plenty job too. You are told to form a straight line and given 10 counts to sweep to the end of a 50m road, obviously impossible, so you plant and face the music, then you have another 10 counts, and another and another.
We survived through all this as usual, dodging, serving job, doing fatigue, it was now 1 week to POP, due to the stress of fatigue, where junior boys are given 10counts (or told to run and see who the last man will be) to dash to the incinerator and empty their dirt, there were loads of dirt around the incinerator because most people just dumped their dirt before getting there in order to meet the timings, we were told to push all the dirt around the incinerator into it and we were given ten counts, we had wooden boards which we were supposed use, but in the process of giving us 10counts we were rushing and pushing trying to do the impossible, pushing all that dirt into the incinerator under 10 counts was certainly impossible,
As we pushed, something pricked my finger from the rubble of dirt, I looked and saw some blood, I immediately squeezed it so hard and had a lot of blood covering my hand, I then screamed and held out my hand, the blood was all over, the senior obviously thought it was a big wound and he asked me to go to the medical centre and have it treated, I got there and waited for my turn to see the doctor, it was a female doctor, she took a look at the finger and called a nurse to wash it and dress it for me, in 5minutes I was done and ready to return to school, with just a tiny cotton wool covering the very tiny spot of wound on my finger, I couldn’t believe I would go back to school, I went back in to see the doctor, mustered the most pitiable face I could and whispered to her “Please ma, admit me”, she burst into laughter, she couldn’t hold herself and was laughing for so long, when she regained her composure she told me “I understand, I know what you people go through, see how small you are”, she then asked the nurse to admit me, that was how I got my one week of peace, she informed the other doctors, and every morning when they were going round to see other patients they would all joke with me calling me their hotel guest, I got all my remaining provisions from my guardian’s house and I was the hospital ward’s official supplier of provisions, I could sleep when I wanted, wake up when wanted and just spent the last one week relaxing, the female doctor would come to check on me every morning and ask a nurse to redress my wounded finger, the nurses always laughed at me because there was nothing to dress, I still have the mark of that tiny spot on my finger till date, the spot that gave me peace for one week.
I was discharged from hospital a day to POP, went to the hostel, packed my load, got my results, the next day was POP AND G-HOME day, we were proudly hanging two bars… We had survived the first year, Next term we will be JS2 boys.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Monday, 12 July 2010
10. JS1 way of life
We gradually got used to our new ways of life, we knew how to dodge and where to dodge, at the big black tank, at the communications centre, military wing, field, gym downschool, everywhere you will not like see a senior, we learnt how to sleep anywhere, so long as you are safe from seniors, it could be on your bed, in the bush, under the big black tank, inside a locker in class etc, somehow we survived as the days went by.
Weekends were really very bad, there was usually fatigue for the whole school, and you would cut grasses till you had blisters, serve job in the process etc. I remember when we are in the hostel and the usual chattering of voices can be heard, when the provost marshal, Alfa steps into JS1 hostel, he only needed to say one sentence ‘skies skies I’m getting noise’ and the JS1 block will turn to a grave yard, infact if you are in the toilet doing number 2, you will hang it midway because you fear he might hear the sound of it dropping, that was how much we feared him, we were too small for him anyway, he was the ss3 provost marshal and had more important culprits like ss2 boys to deal with.
There are 3 events that are tattooed in my mind from JS1, the deputy Junior RSM(assistant headboy) (RSM means Regimental sergeant major), was staying in JS1 block, his name is Buhari, nickname Brazo, but he never talked to us, he also had bigger culprits like SS1 and 2 boys to deal with, but one fateful morning the JS1 hostel wasn’t properly cleaned and one of the officers spoke rudely to him, he asked them to march us to the hostel during breakfast, he was holding a branch (yes, it was a tree branch), Brazo was huge, and the branch was so big he couldn’t hold it with one hand, he wrapped it round with a pillow case and held it with two hands and gave us 2 strokes each, I don’t think anybody in my set can forget that day, Brazo lived in Ilorin like me and I knew him from home, so I expected my own strokes to be light, his younger brother was in JS1 too and was about 10 spaces ahead of me, I expected him to let his brother pass and not cane him or maybe make it light for him, to my greatest surprise he gave his brother 4 extremely heavy strokes, instead of 2, I immediately wiped away the thoughts in my mind that my strokes will be lighter, he gave me 3 strokes, that is one extra stroke, so those of us he knew from home got a bigger punishment than the others, welcome to AFMS.
Second event was a constant one, one of my mates Mbakara Enang was a very funny guy, we knew JS2 boys could not enter our hostel because they wouldn’t want the trouble of the deputy JRSM, one of the rooms in our block was just near a room in the JS2 block, the JS2 boys in that room could hear whatever we say in our room if we shouted loud enough, and we would converge there, Mbakara formed a song ‘JS2 boys are lousy, du pa, pa, pa du pa’, making the ‘du pa, pa, pa, du pa’ sounds with our mouths, singing and drumming we would taunt the JS2 boys, they tried asking some JS1 boys they knew for the names of people who slept in that room but we had learnt not to give each other away, so we actually got away with that, it was fun looking for trouble when you know there is a low risk of being caught.
Third event involved my lovely aunt, I have an aunt who lived in Jos then, we weren’t allowed to receive visitors, but we attended the church for the whole air force base, so many people from outside the school also attended, she would come on Sundays and pretend to attend the church service, she would have cooked rice and chicken for me, imagine this kind of life, I would see my aunt but cannot talk to her, she would stylishly drop the cooler of food under a flower shrub, I will stylishly go and pick it, I and my friends, Ayo Adams and Wole Popoola would hide somewhere and eat it, then drop the cooler back, she will pick the cooler and go home after service, this was extremely risky for her, if she was ever caught she would have been banged into the guardroom straight away, she brought provisions for me and dropped it the same way, after a while my French teacher, Miss Ogbozien Isagua became my guardian and we stopped using the flower shrub method, she would wait for us at the corper’s lodge where Miss Ogbozien lived, and we would have to sneak into her room to eat the food and take our provisions, my aunt did this every week, bringing me food, provisions and money on a weekly basis, she only missed it if she wasn’t in Jos, I will never forget this act of kindness, went a long way in keeping me in AFMS, thank you Aunty Lolly.
Weekends were really very bad, there was usually fatigue for the whole school, and you would cut grasses till you had blisters, serve job in the process etc. I remember when we are in the hostel and the usual chattering of voices can be heard, when the provost marshal, Alfa steps into JS1 hostel, he only needed to say one sentence ‘skies skies I’m getting noise’ and the JS1 block will turn to a grave yard, infact if you are in the toilet doing number 2, you will hang it midway because you fear he might hear the sound of it dropping, that was how much we feared him, we were too small for him anyway, he was the ss3 provost marshal and had more important culprits like ss2 boys to deal with.
There are 3 events that are tattooed in my mind from JS1, the deputy Junior RSM(assistant headboy) (RSM means Regimental sergeant major), was staying in JS1 block, his name is Buhari, nickname Brazo, but he never talked to us, he also had bigger culprits like SS1 and 2 boys to deal with, but one fateful morning the JS1 hostel wasn’t properly cleaned and one of the officers spoke rudely to him, he asked them to march us to the hostel during breakfast, he was holding a branch (yes, it was a tree branch), Brazo was huge, and the branch was so big he couldn’t hold it with one hand, he wrapped it round with a pillow case and held it with two hands and gave us 2 strokes each, I don’t think anybody in my set can forget that day, Brazo lived in Ilorin like me and I knew him from home, so I expected my own strokes to be light, his younger brother was in JS1 too and was about 10 spaces ahead of me, I expected him to let his brother pass and not cane him or maybe make it light for him, to my greatest surprise he gave his brother 4 extremely heavy strokes, instead of 2, I immediately wiped away the thoughts in my mind that my strokes will be lighter, he gave me 3 strokes, that is one extra stroke, so those of us he knew from home got a bigger punishment than the others, welcome to AFMS.
Second event was a constant one, one of my mates Mbakara Enang was a very funny guy, we knew JS2 boys could not enter our hostel because they wouldn’t want the trouble of the deputy JRSM, one of the rooms in our block was just near a room in the JS2 block, the JS2 boys in that room could hear whatever we say in our room if we shouted loud enough, and we would converge there, Mbakara formed a song ‘JS2 boys are lousy, du pa, pa, pa du pa’, making the ‘du pa, pa, pa, du pa’ sounds with our mouths, singing and drumming we would taunt the JS2 boys, they tried asking some JS1 boys they knew for the names of people who slept in that room but we had learnt not to give each other away, so we actually got away with that, it was fun looking for trouble when you know there is a low risk of being caught.
Third event involved my lovely aunt, I have an aunt who lived in Jos then, we weren’t allowed to receive visitors, but we attended the church for the whole air force base, so many people from outside the school also attended, she would come on Sundays and pretend to attend the church service, she would have cooked rice and chicken for me, imagine this kind of life, I would see my aunt but cannot talk to her, she would stylishly drop the cooler of food under a flower shrub, I will stylishly go and pick it, I and my friends, Ayo Adams and Wole Popoola would hide somewhere and eat it, then drop the cooler back, she will pick the cooler and go home after service, this was extremely risky for her, if she was ever caught she would have been banged into the guardroom straight away, she brought provisions for me and dropped it the same way, after a while my French teacher, Miss Ogbozien Isagua became my guardian and we stopped using the flower shrub method, she would wait for us at the corper’s lodge where Miss Ogbozien lived, and we would have to sneak into her room to eat the food and take our provisions, my aunt did this every week, bringing me food, provisions and money on a weekly basis, she only missed it if she wasn’t in Jos, I will never forget this act of kindness, went a long way in keeping me in AFMS, thank you Aunty Lolly.
9. General JS1 life continued
It wasn’t all gloom; every Monday was military training for JS1 boys, so we didn’t have any academic classes, we were taught how to handle rifles, principles of firearms, military communications, dismantling and re-assembling a rifle etc, Learning how to use a gun was probably the most interesting part, actually holding a real gun, I remember very clearly the very first day we were taught how to catch a rifle by the barrel when it is thrown towards you, we learnt about the safety, jamming etc, we learnt that you load a rifle with full 25rounds in normal conditions in war, but in muddy conditions you load with only 15rounds to avoid jamming, we learnt how to strip the rifle incase of a jam and remove the jammed bullet and re-assemble the rifle, we learnt how to clean your rifle, we had not yet started shooting, but hey, we were getting there.
We had made new friends, we had dodging spots where we spent our days and sometimes nights to escape the rigours of the hostel, we had learnt that you didn’t always have to ‘fall in’ when you heard the command. You could risk the consequences of being caught and dodge instead of falling in.
One of my personal ways of getting extra sleep in the morning, because I was so small, when I heard the call to fall in and I still feel sleepy, I fold myself as much as I can into a very small arc on my bed, and then squeeze my blanket over myself, so the bed looks empty and the blanket just looks like someone rushed out of bed and pushed the blanket to one corner, whereas I am under it sleeping peacefully, I hear the footsteps of the provosts passing round the rooms and passing my bed thinking it was empty, when I became a senior I made sure no junior did this to me by personally flogging every blanket I saw packed to one side on a bed and I succeeded in catching some juniors that way, hey, you cant use my tricks on me, invent yours… lol
We had many ways of dodging, it was in AFMS I learnt that anywhere your head can pass through, the rest of your body should be able to pass, we learnt how to ‘paratroup’, this actually means sneaking out of your hostel through a window or jumping from the balcony, we had these tiny holes in our windows and we could squeeze ourselves through it in seconds, we also learnt how to jump from the first floor balcony of our hostels, we learnt quickly that when jumping from such a height you land on your toes, and spring forward and dash for your life because if you are caught you have murdered peace for yourself for that day, sometimes if time permitted you could get a bed sheet, tie it to the balcony, and slide down, the bed sheet helps you half way down so by the time you are jumping the height isn’t as high as jumping directly, we learnt how to climb to the roof top of our hostels and sleep there, how to sleep in the bush all night (using the ‘see without being seen’ skills learnt during military training), how to curl up and sit in a small locker for hours, inshort, we learnt how to make peace for ourselves in an environment that was devoid of peace. I remember an unfortunate day I paratrouped out of a tiny window and landed on a JS2 boys head, he was dodging behind our hostel, he started hunching me, he was dodging, I was dodging, but I was serving job as I dodged, each time I wanted to cry he would slap my head ‘you idiot keep quiet, if they catch me here you are dead’. During classes we laughed, joked, played, studied, etc, just like any JS1 boy in any other secondary school.
Of particular note were our French teacher, Miss Ogbozien Isagua, Music teacher, sergeant Joshua, Fine arts teacher, sergeant Izekor, type writing (or was it english) teacher sergeant Adams and maths teacher, sergeant Ilesanmi, I can never forget sergeant Adam’s ‘agogomadiagba’, which was made out of red, grey and black electric cables woven together to make a flexible cane that would always leave permanent marks on your body when used on you. I remember Mademoiselle Ogbozien’s usual French lessons, when she comes into the class we all greet ‘bonjour mademoiselle’, to which she replied, ‘bonjour, comment ca va?’, ‘ca va bien, tres bien merci’, we would then sit and go through our French lessons, she would sometimes say something and ask us to repeat after her, ‘repeter après moi, je vais a l’ecole’, to which would repeat ‘je vais a l’ecole’ she would carefully listen to our accents and make sure we get it perfectly right, and she would say ‘encore’ and we would chant again, ‘je vais a l’ecole’, we certainly had the best education and I couldn’t have asked for more at the time, we constantly came out tops in all state and federal quizzes and exams. The AFMS culture was already being embedded in us ‘STRIVE TO EXCEL, in AFMS, second best was unacceptable, as you would observe as this blog goes on.
We had made new friends, we had dodging spots where we spent our days and sometimes nights to escape the rigours of the hostel, we had learnt that you didn’t always have to ‘fall in’ when you heard the command. You could risk the consequences of being caught and dodge instead of falling in.
One of my personal ways of getting extra sleep in the morning, because I was so small, when I heard the call to fall in and I still feel sleepy, I fold myself as much as I can into a very small arc on my bed, and then squeeze my blanket over myself, so the bed looks empty and the blanket just looks like someone rushed out of bed and pushed the blanket to one corner, whereas I am under it sleeping peacefully, I hear the footsteps of the provosts passing round the rooms and passing my bed thinking it was empty, when I became a senior I made sure no junior did this to me by personally flogging every blanket I saw packed to one side on a bed and I succeeded in catching some juniors that way, hey, you cant use my tricks on me, invent yours… lol
We had many ways of dodging, it was in AFMS I learnt that anywhere your head can pass through, the rest of your body should be able to pass, we learnt how to ‘paratroup’, this actually means sneaking out of your hostel through a window or jumping from the balcony, we had these tiny holes in our windows and we could squeeze ourselves through it in seconds, we also learnt how to jump from the first floor balcony of our hostels, we learnt quickly that when jumping from such a height you land on your toes, and spring forward and dash for your life because if you are caught you have murdered peace for yourself for that day, sometimes if time permitted you could get a bed sheet, tie it to the balcony, and slide down, the bed sheet helps you half way down so by the time you are jumping the height isn’t as high as jumping directly, we learnt how to climb to the roof top of our hostels and sleep there, how to sleep in the bush all night (using the ‘see without being seen’ skills learnt during military training), how to curl up and sit in a small locker for hours, inshort, we learnt how to make peace for ourselves in an environment that was devoid of peace. I remember an unfortunate day I paratrouped out of a tiny window and landed on a JS2 boys head, he was dodging behind our hostel, he started hunching me, he was dodging, I was dodging, but I was serving job as I dodged, each time I wanted to cry he would slap my head ‘you idiot keep quiet, if they catch me here you are dead’. During classes we laughed, joked, played, studied, etc, just like any JS1 boy in any other secondary school.
Of particular note were our French teacher, Miss Ogbozien Isagua, Music teacher, sergeant Joshua, Fine arts teacher, sergeant Izekor, type writing (or was it english) teacher sergeant Adams and maths teacher, sergeant Ilesanmi, I can never forget sergeant Adam’s ‘agogomadiagba’, which was made out of red, grey and black electric cables woven together to make a flexible cane that would always leave permanent marks on your body when used on you. I remember Mademoiselle Ogbozien’s usual French lessons, when she comes into the class we all greet ‘bonjour mademoiselle’, to which she replied, ‘bonjour, comment ca va?’, ‘ca va bien, tres bien merci’, we would then sit and go through our French lessons, she would sometimes say something and ask us to repeat after her, ‘repeter après moi, je vais a l’ecole’, to which would repeat ‘je vais a l’ecole’ she would carefully listen to our accents and make sure we get it perfectly right, and she would say ‘encore’ and we would chant again, ‘je vais a l’ecole’, we certainly had the best education and I couldn’t have asked for more at the time, we constantly came out tops in all state and federal quizzes and exams. The AFMS culture was already being embedded in us ‘STRIVE TO EXCEL, in AFMS, second best was unacceptable, as you would observe as this blog goes on.
8. General JS1 life
The rest of JS1 passed pretty slowly, we were now used to everything happening around us, we had made friends, formed clicks, etc, normal day to day life revolved around the same things, wake up for fatigue in the morning, morning PE, parade ground, classes, breakfast, back to class, lunch, siesta, afternoon prep, sports, dinner, night prep, night tattoo, lights out. Sounds all so smooth and easy I know, but it was a very different world altogether.
Waking up for fatigue, it was the duty of the JS3 provosts to organize fatigue (fatigue is simply morning cleaning), most times wake up time is anytime between 4am and 5am depending on the mood of the JS 3 provost, we had Provosts Dike Chinedu (who was now my godfather), Ermosele Okolo and Adams Diwa in JS1 block, they would distribute portions of work to different people, sweeping the floors, washing the toilets, cutting grasses around the hostels, cleaning rooms, cleaning the laundries and bathrooms etc, most times if it was Dike organizing fatigue for that day I was free, he would give me his white provost cap and belt to clean up and prepare for him, so I would be free of the pain of standing outside in the freezing Jos weather cutting grass or cleaning gutters, or having to wash the ever stinking JS1 toilets, Dike mostly spoilt me with money, milk, etc and I must confess I was a bit luckier than most of my mates, at least for the period we lived as JS1 in a block, before we were moved to hostels with our seniors. However, that didn’t spare me from the many stretched hangers of Okolo, or planks of Adams Diwa and Dike Chinedu(yes, we used to be caned with planks of wood and stretched hangers, the stretched hangers are actually metal hangers for hanging clothes that have been stretched out to become straight and very flexible, yes the same hangers you have in your wardrobe now).
Okolo was particularly feared for his skilled use of the stretched hangers, you couldn’t avoid it every morning, you hear the usual call ‘skies skies fall in, 10 counts, 1, 2, 3’, no matter how deeply you are sleeping you will hear that voice, and it is usually not loud, but somehow, you are always half awake in AFMS, even if the word of command comes at 2am within seconds we are all downstairs, in my set we were about 136 in JS1, divided into squadrons, blue, red, green and yellow squadrons, we would all dash down and within seconds everybody is downstairs, how dare you not be downstairs when Okolo is shouting ‘fall in’, this was no longer the nice and helpful Okolo, Dike and Diwa we knew during our first 2 weeks of grace, now we were seeing the reason why they were appointed as provosts, they were ‘effective’ (effective is a term used in AFMS for senior who can ‘move’ junior boys’, in other words, a wicked senior, but hanging an appointment, {provost is a form of appointment} isn’t just about being effective, you have to be effective, academically sound, and always neatly dressed).
So we are all downstairs, we form four straight lines according to our squadrons, I cannot remember exact numbers now, but let me assume in blue squadron we were 33, we would be asked to take number, ‘take number’, ‘1, 2, 3, …, 32 the last number SIR’, where is the last man, ‘sit on your heads’, ‘the hanger goes round on our backs and buttocks’, ‘jump up, go and get the last man’, we start searching the rooms for which of our sleep loving mates has refused to wake up, we sometimes find the culprit and wake him up with slaps and knocks and drag him down, sometimes we do not find the person (many dodgers would have ‘paratrouped’ out of the hostel at the sound of ‘fall in’) and we hear the sound again ‘blueeeeeee squadron JS1 fall in’ (that is the voice of the other boys told to call us down), Okolo gives the order ‘give them ten counts’, they count, ‘1, 2, 3, …, 10), we are all sprinting down, the late comers are told to plant (another name for sit on your head) and the hangers and planks do their rounds again), somehow we survive fatigue, it is time for morning PE, and Oga Jolly and Boxer (the two airmen who were in charge of PE) are going round hostels sending us all out for PE, we would do the normal early morning exercises and jogging, PE was a good time to rest because if you can succeed in dodging sports you can use that time to get some more sleep or prepare your uniforms etc. Sports used to be interesting with all the nice songs like ‘oga jolly give us glucose, if you give us moral go rise’, ‘who say we no go come back ayaya, catapult fire im papa ayaya, catapult fire im mama ayaya’. It is important to note how young we were, we were between the ages of 10 and 12, and some of us were even as young as 9years old in JS1, but we had grown up so fast in this fast paced environment.
After sports, dash back to your hostels, rush a bath, truth is most times we skipped the bath and just did what we call ‘rub and shine’, which involves washing your face, hands and legs and rubbing Vaseline (body cream), then before you have even finished your rub and shine, Dike, Diwa and Okolo are at it again, ‘skies move out for parade’, and again the now so familiar ’10 counts, 1, 2, 3, …, 9’, your seniors never count the last number, so if you are given 5 counts, it is actually 4, if you are given 10 counts, it is actually 9, and instead of counting to 10, it is usually ‘1, 2, …, 8, 9, drop your skulls(another name for sit on your head)’, so, those of you who couldn’t make it will plant, and the others who are coming after you will just join the planting parade like automated humans, after a while you are allowed to dash to parade ground, unfortunately by now you are late, and appointment holders in ss3 are now going to parade ground, you therefore have to hunch or forward roll to parade ground, you are not hunching alone, hunching with you are JS2 and 3 boys, SS1 and 2 boys, and most times one or two of them will pick you out for one offence or the other, either you were looking at him, or you were hunching by his side etc, you will have to face his own wrath much later in the days and weeks ahead.
Waking up for fatigue, it was the duty of the JS3 provosts to organize fatigue (fatigue is simply morning cleaning), most times wake up time is anytime between 4am and 5am depending on the mood of the JS 3 provost, we had Provosts Dike Chinedu (who was now my godfather), Ermosele Okolo and Adams Diwa in JS1 block, they would distribute portions of work to different people, sweeping the floors, washing the toilets, cutting grasses around the hostels, cleaning rooms, cleaning the laundries and bathrooms etc, most times if it was Dike organizing fatigue for that day I was free, he would give me his white provost cap and belt to clean up and prepare for him, so I would be free of the pain of standing outside in the freezing Jos weather cutting grass or cleaning gutters, or having to wash the ever stinking JS1 toilets, Dike mostly spoilt me with money, milk, etc and I must confess I was a bit luckier than most of my mates, at least for the period we lived as JS1 in a block, before we were moved to hostels with our seniors. However, that didn’t spare me from the many stretched hangers of Okolo, or planks of Adams Diwa and Dike Chinedu(yes, we used to be caned with planks of wood and stretched hangers, the stretched hangers are actually metal hangers for hanging clothes that have been stretched out to become straight and very flexible, yes the same hangers you have in your wardrobe now).
Okolo was particularly feared for his skilled use of the stretched hangers, you couldn’t avoid it every morning, you hear the usual call ‘skies skies fall in, 10 counts, 1, 2, 3’, no matter how deeply you are sleeping you will hear that voice, and it is usually not loud, but somehow, you are always half awake in AFMS, even if the word of command comes at 2am within seconds we are all downstairs, in my set we were about 136 in JS1, divided into squadrons, blue, red, green and yellow squadrons, we would all dash down and within seconds everybody is downstairs, how dare you not be downstairs when Okolo is shouting ‘fall in’, this was no longer the nice and helpful Okolo, Dike and Diwa we knew during our first 2 weeks of grace, now we were seeing the reason why they were appointed as provosts, they were ‘effective’ (effective is a term used in AFMS for senior who can ‘move’ junior boys’, in other words, a wicked senior, but hanging an appointment, {provost is a form of appointment} isn’t just about being effective, you have to be effective, academically sound, and always neatly dressed).
So we are all downstairs, we form four straight lines according to our squadrons, I cannot remember exact numbers now, but let me assume in blue squadron we were 33, we would be asked to take number, ‘take number’, ‘1, 2, 3, …, 32 the last number SIR’, where is the last man, ‘sit on your heads’, ‘the hanger goes round on our backs and buttocks’, ‘jump up, go and get the last man’, we start searching the rooms for which of our sleep loving mates has refused to wake up, we sometimes find the culprit and wake him up with slaps and knocks and drag him down, sometimes we do not find the person (many dodgers would have ‘paratrouped’ out of the hostel at the sound of ‘fall in’) and we hear the sound again ‘blueeeeeee squadron JS1 fall in’ (that is the voice of the other boys told to call us down), Okolo gives the order ‘give them ten counts’, they count, ‘1, 2, 3, …, 10), we are all sprinting down, the late comers are told to plant (another name for sit on your head) and the hangers and planks do their rounds again), somehow we survive fatigue, it is time for morning PE, and Oga Jolly and Boxer (the two airmen who were in charge of PE) are going round hostels sending us all out for PE, we would do the normal early morning exercises and jogging, PE was a good time to rest because if you can succeed in dodging sports you can use that time to get some more sleep or prepare your uniforms etc. Sports used to be interesting with all the nice songs like ‘oga jolly give us glucose, if you give us moral go rise’, ‘who say we no go come back ayaya, catapult fire im papa ayaya, catapult fire im mama ayaya’. It is important to note how young we were, we were between the ages of 10 and 12, and some of us were even as young as 9years old in JS1, but we had grown up so fast in this fast paced environment.
After sports, dash back to your hostels, rush a bath, truth is most times we skipped the bath and just did what we call ‘rub and shine’, which involves washing your face, hands and legs and rubbing Vaseline (body cream), then before you have even finished your rub and shine, Dike, Diwa and Okolo are at it again, ‘skies move out for parade’, and again the now so familiar ’10 counts, 1, 2, 3, …, 9’, your seniors never count the last number, so if you are given 5 counts, it is actually 4, if you are given 10 counts, it is actually 9, and instead of counting to 10, it is usually ‘1, 2, …, 8, 9, drop your skulls(another name for sit on your head)’, so, those of you who couldn’t make it will plant, and the others who are coming after you will just join the planting parade like automated humans, after a while you are allowed to dash to parade ground, unfortunately by now you are late, and appointment holders in ss3 are now going to parade ground, you therefore have to hunch or forward roll to parade ground, you are not hunching alone, hunching with you are JS2 and 3 boys, SS1 and 2 boys, and most times one or two of them will pick you out for one offence or the other, either you were looking at him, or you were hunching by his side etc, you will have to face his own wrath much later in the days and weeks ahead.
7. Drill square test and Attestation
7. Drill square test and Attestation
Next up was drill, we had to be trained to march like real military personnel, well, I used to march at home and all the soldiers in my cartoons used to march, so I guess this wasn’t going to be a big deal, we were told to move to the parade ground and the commands started rolling out ‘attention by number squadddddd one’ and we had to shout ‘ONE’, ‘squad twooooo’ and we had to shout ‘TWO’, (squad one you had to raise your leg up, and by squad two bang it hard on the ground, believe me all those marching you see soldiers doing on TV have a lot of rythms and nitty gritty details to make it look so beautiful), ‘byyyyyyy the right, quick march’, ‘left, right, left, right, left, right’, ‘a paceeeeeee, mark time’, ‘hmmmmm, left, right’, two paces mark time’, ‘hmmmm, left, right, left’, ‘about turn (sounded more like abbatoir)’, ‘hmmmm left, right, left’, ‘abbatoir’, ‘hmmmm left, right, left’, ‘righhhhhhhhhht turn’, ‘righhhhhht turn’, ‘abbatoir’ ‘hmmmmm left, right, left’, ‘abbatoir’ ‘hmmmmm left, right, left’, ‘paraddddddddde, halt’, ‘means one two’, ‘abouuuuuuuut turn’, ‘open orderrrrrrrrrred march’, ‘remain at shun (this basically means you should keep standing at attention), ‘hey, who is that scrashing his nose on my father’s holy ground’, ‘no movement, infact you are not allowed to blink’, wow, seems like the soldiers in my cartoons didn’t know how to march after all, they only knew how to do ‘leeeeft, right, leeeft, right’ and sang songs like ‘holiday is coming, holiday is coming, no more morning bells’.
Well, drill is beautiful; drill practice was one place where we had fun, adding our own songs to the calls by the drill instructors, when you are given a command, there are usually rhymes to go with it to help you get it right, for example when you are asked to do an ‘about turn (a 180degrees turn)’, the usual command you hear is ‘abbatoir’, or ‘aboturn’, there are many variations depending on the instructor, and to follow the rhythm you chant ‘hmmmm, left, right, left’, this helps you know you are supposed to cut your hand sharply and pause on your right leg during the hmmm sound, , bang firstly with the left leg, then right, then left as you do a 180degrees turn, we had fun changing the chant to ‘abbatoir’, ‘hmmmm I want garri to soak’, our drill instructors were funny, and never hesitated to use their dreadful wooden sticks on anybody found to be stepping out of rhythm, drill was interesting and we learnt pretty fast to march like real soldiers, with adequate discipline on the parade ground, no bending, no scratching of your eyes, nose or blokos(arse), obeying the parade commander etc, as the days went by we didn’t need the extra chants of ‘hmmm I want garri to soak’ to know when to pause, or turn, or bang the left leg etc, but we still chanted them for the fun anyway.
After a while we moved to tougher drill instructions, marching past in review order, eyes right salute, switching from covering up in 3 ranks, to covering up in 2 ranks, taking dressing etc and the many commands that came with them. ‘odd number a pace forward, even number a pace backwardddddd march’, ‘Parade we form two ranks, formmmmmm two ranks’, ‘rear rank a pace forward, front rank a pace backward march’, ‘eyes squat your right and take dressing, toesssss on the line’, ‘standdddd stilllllll’, ‘number one guardddddd, left willlllll’, ‘mark timmmmme, left, right, left, right, left right’, ‘halt’, ‘means left right’, ,number one guardddd, eyes right’, ;byyyyy the right, slowwwww march’, ‘eyesssss right’, ‘miss, pauseeeee, salute’ etc etc etc… we were now ready for our drill squared test, which we all passed, meaning we were now fully accustomed to military parade drills, next up was our attestation, the first real use of the new drill skills we just learnt.
Apparently, during these past months, we were still civilians, we had to do an attestation where we swore to serve the Nigerian Air Force, that was the point of becoming real Junior Air Men, it is after the attestation that you can be bamboozled and mishandled anyhow because technically you are now fully government property, your parents have signed you over to the Nigerian Air Force on the day you resumed, and you have now sworn to serve the Nigerian Air Force with your own mouth. The night before attestation we didn’t sleep, we were ironing out our military khaki uniforms, gleaming boots and preparing to appear the best during our attestation. There was a pastor and an imam there during our attestation, and we all swore to serve the Nigerian Air Force, as we were stepping out of the parade ground, the ever ‘job hungry’ JS2 boys were there waiting for us, now you are fully set to serve ‘job’, as you are stepping out of the parade ground ‘sit on your heads’, ‘lead on forward rolls’, ‘get on your hunches’, so many commands running concurrently from the cloud of JS2 boys who were eager to assert their authorities, they had to start patching for JS3 provosts and had to be amongst the toughest JS2 boys to be considered for selection. Well, so finally, we were wearing the military uniforms, hanging our ‘one’ bar proudly, we were now Junior Air Men.
Next up was drill, we had to be trained to march like real military personnel, well, I used to march at home and all the soldiers in my cartoons used to march, so I guess this wasn’t going to be a big deal, we were told to move to the parade ground and the commands started rolling out ‘attention by number squadddddd one’ and we had to shout ‘ONE’, ‘squad twooooo’ and we had to shout ‘TWO’, (squad one you had to raise your leg up, and by squad two bang it hard on the ground, believe me all those marching you see soldiers doing on TV have a lot of rythms and nitty gritty details to make it look so beautiful), ‘byyyyyyy the right, quick march’, ‘left, right, left, right, left, right’, ‘a paceeeeeee, mark time’, ‘hmmmmm, left, right’, two paces mark time’, ‘hmmmm, left, right, left’, ‘about turn (sounded more like abbatoir)’, ‘hmmmm left, right, left’, ‘abbatoir’, ‘hmmmm left, right, left’, ‘righhhhhhhhhht turn’, ‘righhhhhht turn’, ‘abbatoir’ ‘hmmmmm left, right, left’, ‘abbatoir’ ‘hmmmmm left, right, left’, ‘paraddddddddde, halt’, ‘means one two’, ‘abouuuuuuuut turn’, ‘open orderrrrrrrrrred march’, ‘remain at shun (this basically means you should keep standing at attention), ‘hey, who is that scrashing his nose on my father’s holy ground’, ‘no movement, infact you are not allowed to blink’, wow, seems like the soldiers in my cartoons didn’t know how to march after all, they only knew how to do ‘leeeeft, right, leeeft, right’ and sang songs like ‘holiday is coming, holiday is coming, no more morning bells’.
Well, drill is beautiful; drill practice was one place where we had fun, adding our own songs to the calls by the drill instructors, when you are given a command, there are usually rhymes to go with it to help you get it right, for example when you are asked to do an ‘about turn (a 180degrees turn)’, the usual command you hear is ‘abbatoir’, or ‘aboturn’, there are many variations depending on the instructor, and to follow the rhythm you chant ‘hmmmm, left, right, left’, this helps you know you are supposed to cut your hand sharply and pause on your right leg during the hmmm sound, , bang firstly with the left leg, then right, then left as you do a 180degrees turn, we had fun changing the chant to ‘abbatoir’, ‘hmmmm I want garri to soak’, our drill instructors were funny, and never hesitated to use their dreadful wooden sticks on anybody found to be stepping out of rhythm, drill was interesting and we learnt pretty fast to march like real soldiers, with adequate discipline on the parade ground, no bending, no scratching of your eyes, nose or blokos(arse), obeying the parade commander etc, as the days went by we didn’t need the extra chants of ‘hmmm I want garri to soak’ to know when to pause, or turn, or bang the left leg etc, but we still chanted them for the fun anyway.
After a while we moved to tougher drill instructions, marching past in review order, eyes right salute, switching from covering up in 3 ranks, to covering up in 2 ranks, taking dressing etc and the many commands that came with them. ‘odd number a pace forward, even number a pace backwardddddd march’, ‘Parade we form two ranks, formmmmmm two ranks’, ‘rear rank a pace forward, front rank a pace backward march’, ‘eyes squat your right and take dressing, toesssss on the line’, ‘standdddd stilllllll’, ‘number one guardddddd, left willlllll’, ‘mark timmmmme, left, right, left, right, left right’, ‘halt’, ‘means left right’, ,number one guardddd, eyes right’, ;byyyyy the right, slowwwww march’, ‘eyesssss right’, ‘miss, pauseeeee, salute’ etc etc etc… we were now ready for our drill squared test, which we all passed, meaning we were now fully accustomed to military parade drills, next up was our attestation, the first real use of the new drill skills we just learnt.
Apparently, during these past months, we were still civilians, we had to do an attestation where we swore to serve the Nigerian Air Force, that was the point of becoming real Junior Air Men, it is after the attestation that you can be bamboozled and mishandled anyhow because technically you are now fully government property, your parents have signed you over to the Nigerian Air Force on the day you resumed, and you have now sworn to serve the Nigerian Air Force with your own mouth. The night before attestation we didn’t sleep, we were ironing out our military khaki uniforms, gleaming boots and preparing to appear the best during our attestation. There was a pastor and an imam there during our attestation, and we all swore to serve the Nigerian Air Force, as we were stepping out of the parade ground, the ever ‘job hungry’ JS2 boys were there waiting for us, now you are fully set to serve ‘job’, as you are stepping out of the parade ground ‘sit on your heads’, ‘lead on forward rolls’, ‘get on your hunches’, so many commands running concurrently from the cloud of JS2 boys who were eager to assert their authorities, they had to start patching for JS3 provosts and had to be amongst the toughest JS2 boys to be considered for selection. Well, so finally, we were wearing the military uniforms, hanging our ‘one’ bar proudly, we were now Junior Air Men.
6. The weeks that followed
6. The weeks that followed
So, here we were, two weeks of grace, your first two weeks is given as a grace period during which you should be taught all you need to know. The two weeks of grace were filled a lot activities like learning how to wash and starch khaki, starting with our khaki ojebs, how to polish and shine boots, how to use a boot rag, how to serve different punishments, which weren’t called punishment but job (please note anywhere you see ‘job’ from now in this blog it actually means a form of punishment), we learnt different jobs like planting, langa, monkey crawl, air force wine, agama lizard, forward roll, hunching, hanging, press ups, hanging on your knuckles, etc, we learnt how to cover up in threes, we learnt we are not allowed to walk, as a clown you double (jog) from point A to point B, we got to know our classes, got to understand the rules of eating in the dining hall like gentlemen, learnt how to sit up and sit easy, learnt some slangs like azwire (as you were), we learnt so many things within these 2 weeks of grace, one thing was conspicuously absent from the two weeks of grace though – GRACE, it was supposed to be a two weeks of grace but grace was nowhere to be found during the period, we bought job after job, and served job after job.
We had adapted to our new surroundings quickly, we knew how to plant and azwire within seconds, how to sit up when a senior enters the dining hall, how to pay compliments when a senior passes, when on a parade how to say the right word of command to pay compliments, it involves standing at attention and then standing at ease, the usual way was ‘squad squad shun, squad stand at ease, squad shun’, but you would mostly here different versions, sounding more like ‘sko sko chan, sko stindad ice, sko chan’. Well, each day crept by and our theoretical two weeks of grace filtered away, JS2 boys now had total freedom to destroy anything hanging only ‘one bar’, we hadn’t been issued uniforms and boots so we had to wear our house wear always, they had to be neat, ironed and sometimes even starched for parade. By now I knew the ‘sit on your head’, ‘forward roll’ and ‘press up’ that Deji had taught me was in no way easy, life was tough.
One quiet evening, we heard there was trouble, a JS1 boy just resumed and was not aware of what AFMS was about, he wasn’t used to anybody talking to him rudely, he was approached and talked to rudely by a JS2 boy who was shorter than he was, and what did he do? He slapped the JS2 boy… OMG, heaven was going to fall, who is the JS1 boy, his name is Tosin Adeta, we heard we were in trouble, they had placed all JS1 boys on contact putty, we had ‘bought it’ big time.
After tattoo that night, we were told we had murdered our sleep, so no sleep for us, then the job began, planting, press ups, hanging, hunching, I thought the world was coming to an end, cover up in threes, open ordered march, adopt press up position, start counting from the first man and give 10 press-ups, after that count from the second man, we were over a hundred in my set, that means before we went round ten press ups per person we would have given more than 1000 press ups in total, and after the counting has reached the last person, you start from the first person again, then hunches, hanging, flogging, we were not crying, we were weeping, the funny part is, they asked who the offender was, and Tosin Adeta stood up, he was told to go and wait inside a room, to get a worse punishment, but by the time they finished with us they totally forgot him in the room, meaning he did not serve job with us, welcome to the sometimes unexplainable world of military life, I think it was about 3am, when sergeant Okoli came to the hostel, he said they had been hearing us crying and weeping in the barracks, and his wife refused to let him sleep all night, insisting he must come and plead on our behalf that they should release us to go and sleep, he begged them to forgive us so that his wife would let him get some sleep before morning, the job continued for a few minutes after he left, we were then finally released, thanks to the motherly thoughts of sergeant Okoli’s wife, it was a welcome relieve, straight to our beds, weakened, tired, exhausted. That was my first experience of ‘blanket putty’, blanket putty is a situation where one person commits an offence but all of you are made to suffer for it.
Blanket putty kind taught us to stand up for each other, usually called ‘esprit de corps’, this spirit is still with us today and I can say I trust most of my EXJAM friends when it comes to standing with you in times of trouble. We grew up with the mentality that one person’s offence is everybody’s offence, so, no need casting, and the usual casters (people who snitch and point out the person who committed an offence) were usually abused and isolated as betrayers.
Life continued, we survived and learnt more survival skills as each day passed by, personalities were being developed, the dodgers, the witty, the intelligent, the sharp ones, the riders, the daru strikers, the patchers (eye-service masters), we had every kind of personality… we were truly becoming Junior Air Men, but we hadn’t done our drill squared test, we hadn’t done our attestation, we were still in the process, so we couldn’t put on that camouflage uniform just yet, not just yet.
So, here we were, two weeks of grace, your first two weeks is given as a grace period during which you should be taught all you need to know. The two weeks of grace were filled a lot activities like learning how to wash and starch khaki, starting with our khaki ojebs, how to polish and shine boots, how to use a boot rag, how to serve different punishments, which weren’t called punishment but job (please note anywhere you see ‘job’ from now in this blog it actually means a form of punishment), we learnt different jobs like planting, langa, monkey crawl, air force wine, agama lizard, forward roll, hunching, hanging, press ups, hanging on your knuckles, etc, we learnt how to cover up in threes, we learnt we are not allowed to walk, as a clown you double (jog) from point A to point B, we got to know our classes, got to understand the rules of eating in the dining hall like gentlemen, learnt how to sit up and sit easy, learnt some slangs like azwire (as you were), we learnt so many things within these 2 weeks of grace, one thing was conspicuously absent from the two weeks of grace though – GRACE, it was supposed to be a two weeks of grace but grace was nowhere to be found during the period, we bought job after job, and served job after job.
We had adapted to our new surroundings quickly, we knew how to plant and azwire within seconds, how to sit up when a senior enters the dining hall, how to pay compliments when a senior passes, when on a parade how to say the right word of command to pay compliments, it involves standing at attention and then standing at ease, the usual way was ‘squad squad shun, squad stand at ease, squad shun’, but you would mostly here different versions, sounding more like ‘sko sko chan, sko stindad ice, sko chan’. Well, each day crept by and our theoretical two weeks of grace filtered away, JS2 boys now had total freedom to destroy anything hanging only ‘one bar’, we hadn’t been issued uniforms and boots so we had to wear our house wear always, they had to be neat, ironed and sometimes even starched for parade. By now I knew the ‘sit on your head’, ‘forward roll’ and ‘press up’ that Deji had taught me was in no way easy, life was tough.
One quiet evening, we heard there was trouble, a JS1 boy just resumed and was not aware of what AFMS was about, he wasn’t used to anybody talking to him rudely, he was approached and talked to rudely by a JS2 boy who was shorter than he was, and what did he do? He slapped the JS2 boy… OMG, heaven was going to fall, who is the JS1 boy, his name is Tosin Adeta, we heard we were in trouble, they had placed all JS1 boys on contact putty, we had ‘bought it’ big time.
After tattoo that night, we were told we had murdered our sleep, so no sleep for us, then the job began, planting, press ups, hanging, hunching, I thought the world was coming to an end, cover up in threes, open ordered march, adopt press up position, start counting from the first man and give 10 press-ups, after that count from the second man, we were over a hundred in my set, that means before we went round ten press ups per person we would have given more than 1000 press ups in total, and after the counting has reached the last person, you start from the first person again, then hunches, hanging, flogging, we were not crying, we were weeping, the funny part is, they asked who the offender was, and Tosin Adeta stood up, he was told to go and wait inside a room, to get a worse punishment, but by the time they finished with us they totally forgot him in the room, meaning he did not serve job with us, welcome to the sometimes unexplainable world of military life, I think it was about 3am, when sergeant Okoli came to the hostel, he said they had been hearing us crying and weeping in the barracks, and his wife refused to let him sleep all night, insisting he must come and plead on our behalf that they should release us to go and sleep, he begged them to forgive us so that his wife would let him get some sleep before morning, the job continued for a few minutes after he left, we were then finally released, thanks to the motherly thoughts of sergeant Okoli’s wife, it was a welcome relieve, straight to our beds, weakened, tired, exhausted. That was my first experience of ‘blanket putty’, blanket putty is a situation where one person commits an offence but all of you are made to suffer for it.
Blanket putty kind taught us to stand up for each other, usually called ‘esprit de corps’, this spirit is still with us today and I can say I trust most of my EXJAM friends when it comes to standing with you in times of trouble. We grew up with the mentality that one person’s offence is everybody’s offence, so, no need casting, and the usual casters (people who snitch and point out the person who committed an offence) were usually abused and isolated as betrayers.
Life continued, we survived and learnt more survival skills as each day passed by, personalities were being developed, the dodgers, the witty, the intelligent, the sharp ones, the riders, the daru strikers, the patchers (eye-service masters), we had every kind of personality… we were truly becoming Junior Air Men, but we hadn’t done our drill squared test, we hadn’t done our attestation, we were still in the process, so we couldn’t put on that camouflage uniform just yet, not just yet.
5. Day 2 in AFMS
5. Day 2 in AFMS
Here was I, second day in my new home, the events of the next few months would confirm the saying ‘khaki no be leather’, but on this second day, I obviously was still oblivious of the enormous-ity of what I was getting myself into, we woke up and were asked to get ready for breakfast, as I stepped out of the room going for breakfast, right there on the corridor there was a guy walking towards me, I kept walking straight and expected him to move slightly and I would also move slightly to give way for each other as it is in the normal world, how wrong was I, he stopped infront of me when I refused to get off the corridor completely, and before I could say ‘jack robinson’, he picked me up by jacking up my shirt from the front, he was quite tall and he lifted me up to his face level, slammed my back on the wall and said to me “look at me very well, I am the second son of the devil’, he dropped me from that height and I slid down the wall to the ground, he walked away without saying anything else, I thought to myself ‘oh my God, I have just seen the second son of the devil’.
Not yet sure what to make of the last episode I stepped out of the hostel and saw a young man with red lips, very cool, looking like an older brother, he was standing infront of a group of boys, I think they were JS2 boys, I just passed infront of them and kept going, he looked extremely shocked I would do that, he asked me to “backward roll myself back”, I just stared at him, he suspected I didn’t know what backward roll meant and he said, “hunch yourself back you bastard”, now he didn’t sound or look like an older brother anymore, I was shivering, not knowing what to do or what to expect, I kept staring, standing there confused, he then knew I didn’t know the meaning of hunch either, he then asked one of the boys who were there to show me how to hunch, I then saw hunch is actually frog-jumping, well, I hunched myself back, my first hunches in AFMS, sooner than later I got to know the gentle, peaceful, big brother looking young man was Muche, the famous Muche who would go on to be one of my worst nightmares in JS1, and I learnt later that my offence that day was that I ‘crossed his parade’, when your senior is having a parade you don’t dare pass infront, moreso when it is a parade of your seniors because that is double job, he asked the JS2 boys to plant for being useless, imagine a JS1 boy is crossing your path, and he doesn’t even know how to hunch or backward roll, meaning the JS2 boys weren’t harassing us well enough, I did not see what happened to them thereafter, but I can just imagine it. The hunching back couldn’t have taken more than 10 to 15 hunches, but my legs hurt so bad after it I almost couldn’t stand up.
After breakfast we were in our room when Dike Chinedu came in, the JS3 provost that Dotun Adetoro handed me over to, he was still dressed smartly like yesterday and was obviously still working down school as more JS1 boys arrived, he told me my mum was waiting for me down school, I got myself prepared and stepped out of my room, made sure to clean any signs of tears off my face, went down school wearing the best smile I could muster, convinced my mum the school was a wonderful place, told her I had seen Deji yesternight and he even gave me guava juice, I made sure she didn’t look at my head to see the contours, the soldiers down school made it easier because they made sure the meeting was very brief, and within 5minutes they were already ordering me back up school, apparently she was only allowed to see me because she stubbornly refused to leave until they gave in to her, she must have been relieved to see me happy, she didn’t break down in tears again, she was now ready to go back home, her son was doing fine. I hugged her and dashed back up-school, knowing fully well now to avoid the pavements, walk to other side when somebody who didn’t look like a JS1 boy was coming around, I seemed to have learnt real fast, but hey, who wouldn’t after such an unforgettable first day and the ‘great’ start to the second day.
The irony of the first few days in AFMS was that the JS3 provosts seemed to be your best friends, they tried to protect you from the ‘knock’ hungry JS2 boys reminding them it was period of ‘grace’, and they were always ready to answer any questions you had, even though they didn’t smile, or laugh, they were helpful and would answer your questions not minding the fact you didn’t use ‘sir’ or you stood on the same corridor with them, they were very approachable during those first few days. Unfortunately that friendship lasted less than 1 week; we soon got to learn the JS3 provosts were actually our worst enemies, when it was time to start teaching us how to shine boots, starch khakis, serve job etc, the JS3 provosts started showing their real colours. For me in JS1, the most memorable JS3 provost names were Ermosele Okolo, Dike Chinedu, Adams Diwa, Dunmade Abimbola, John Adoga and Musa Sagada, these names are here particularly because I happened to have many encounters with them, I am sure some of my course mates will have a strong memory of a different set of provosts, and of course not forgetting Adams Kayode, who was not a provost but was just as much a menace as the provosts, if not worse, and his very good friend, Tunde Oyewale.
Here was I, second day in my new home, the events of the next few months would confirm the saying ‘khaki no be leather’, but on this second day, I obviously was still oblivious of the enormous-ity of what I was getting myself into, we woke up and were asked to get ready for breakfast, as I stepped out of the room going for breakfast, right there on the corridor there was a guy walking towards me, I kept walking straight and expected him to move slightly and I would also move slightly to give way for each other as it is in the normal world, how wrong was I, he stopped infront of me when I refused to get off the corridor completely, and before I could say ‘jack robinson’, he picked me up by jacking up my shirt from the front, he was quite tall and he lifted me up to his face level, slammed my back on the wall and said to me “look at me very well, I am the second son of the devil’, he dropped me from that height and I slid down the wall to the ground, he walked away without saying anything else, I thought to myself ‘oh my God, I have just seen the second son of the devil’.
Not yet sure what to make of the last episode I stepped out of the hostel and saw a young man with red lips, very cool, looking like an older brother, he was standing infront of a group of boys, I think they were JS2 boys, I just passed infront of them and kept going, he looked extremely shocked I would do that, he asked me to “backward roll myself back”, I just stared at him, he suspected I didn’t know what backward roll meant and he said, “hunch yourself back you bastard”, now he didn’t sound or look like an older brother anymore, I was shivering, not knowing what to do or what to expect, I kept staring, standing there confused, he then knew I didn’t know the meaning of hunch either, he then asked one of the boys who were there to show me how to hunch, I then saw hunch is actually frog-jumping, well, I hunched myself back, my first hunches in AFMS, sooner than later I got to know the gentle, peaceful, big brother looking young man was Muche, the famous Muche who would go on to be one of my worst nightmares in JS1, and I learnt later that my offence that day was that I ‘crossed his parade’, when your senior is having a parade you don’t dare pass infront, moreso when it is a parade of your seniors because that is double job, he asked the JS2 boys to plant for being useless, imagine a JS1 boy is crossing your path, and he doesn’t even know how to hunch or backward roll, meaning the JS2 boys weren’t harassing us well enough, I did not see what happened to them thereafter, but I can just imagine it. The hunching back couldn’t have taken more than 10 to 15 hunches, but my legs hurt so bad after it I almost couldn’t stand up.
After breakfast we were in our room when Dike Chinedu came in, the JS3 provost that Dotun Adetoro handed me over to, he was still dressed smartly like yesterday and was obviously still working down school as more JS1 boys arrived, he told me my mum was waiting for me down school, I got myself prepared and stepped out of my room, made sure to clean any signs of tears off my face, went down school wearing the best smile I could muster, convinced my mum the school was a wonderful place, told her I had seen Deji yesternight and he even gave me guava juice, I made sure she didn’t look at my head to see the contours, the soldiers down school made it easier because they made sure the meeting was very brief, and within 5minutes they were already ordering me back up school, apparently she was only allowed to see me because she stubbornly refused to leave until they gave in to her, she must have been relieved to see me happy, she didn’t break down in tears again, she was now ready to go back home, her son was doing fine. I hugged her and dashed back up-school, knowing fully well now to avoid the pavements, walk to other side when somebody who didn’t look like a JS1 boy was coming around, I seemed to have learnt real fast, but hey, who wouldn’t after such an unforgettable first day and the ‘great’ start to the second day.
The irony of the first few days in AFMS was that the JS3 provosts seemed to be your best friends, they tried to protect you from the ‘knock’ hungry JS2 boys reminding them it was period of ‘grace’, and they were always ready to answer any questions you had, even though they didn’t smile, or laugh, they were helpful and would answer your questions not minding the fact you didn’t use ‘sir’ or you stood on the same corridor with them, they were very approachable during those first few days. Unfortunately that friendship lasted less than 1 week; we soon got to learn the JS3 provosts were actually our worst enemies, when it was time to start teaching us how to shine boots, starch khakis, serve job etc, the JS3 provosts started showing their real colours. For me in JS1, the most memorable JS3 provost names were Ermosele Okolo, Dike Chinedu, Adams Diwa, Dunmade Abimbola, John Adoga and Musa Sagada, these names are here particularly because I happened to have many encounters with them, I am sure some of my course mates will have a strong memory of a different set of provosts, and of course not forgetting Adams Kayode, who was not a provost but was just as much a menace as the provosts, if not worse, and his very good friend, Tunde Oyewale.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
4. First Day in AFMS part 3
So… here we go, I first carried my mattress, buckets etc up-school, we were shown to a room where there were other new JS1 boys, I was given a locker where I kept my things, and a bed where I put my mattress and blanket, I went back down school to get my box, I was almost in my hostel, gently rolling my box on the road, there were 2 pavements to the sides of the road, the pavements were smoother than the road, and I decided to climb one of the pavements to make it easier for me to roll my box.
It was dark already and the road was deserted, but not long after climbing the pavement, I saw a guy also walking down the pavement and when he got to me he asked why I was on the pavement, I didn’t give an answer because it sounded like a pretty stupid question to me, well, the result of that was 2 very sound and heavy knocks, the 2 points of the knock on my head got swollen immediately ( I later got to know those swollen bumps on the head are called ‘contours’, usually gotten from knocks with fingers, swagger sticks etc, infact it was almost impossible as a JS1 boy in AFMS to have a smooth head without contours), I started crying and got down from the pavement (I later learnt pavements were strictly reserved for the most senior boys in school which were the SS3 boys).
I got to my room, meeting the other playful boys who just finished primary school soon made me forget the pains from the contours on my head, we were laughing, gisting, playing and shouting like we would in our various primary schools, someone came in, he was wearing his brown housewear trousers and a black singlet, he looked gentle and simple, like he couldn’t hurt a fly, he asked why we were making noise, nobody answered, he then asked them to point someone who was making noise out, I was the unlucky culprit, he used the butt of the torchlight he was holding on my head, another contour immediately surfaced, I later learnt his name was Aaron Igono, he was in SS3 and was my squadron junior NCO, he left the room and my head was banging, a serious headache, the head was now swollen on 3 different spots, I retired to my bed and started crying and saying ‘I want to go home’, ‘I want to see my mummy’, ‘I don’t like this school, I want to go homeeeeeeeeee’, one of the new JS1 boys, Emem Enoh, tried to console me, he was apparently scared too, but he said I should not worry we will be fine.
After a while I decided to stop crying and go look for Deji Adetoro, at least he will be able to help me understand why I had been hit so hard twice, I stepped out of our room and saw two boys standing there, I walked to them and asked if they knew any Deji Adetoro, I got the shock of my life... ‘Ehn, he just called Deji by name’ and the two of them rushed me with kicks, blows and knocks’, I later got to know they were JS2 boys like Deji, they were having juniors for the first time and were ready to unleash all the frustrations of their JS1 years on you, my offence was that I did not say ‘senior Deji’, well, I crept back into my bed and resumed crying, they apparently went to inform Deji that a JS1 boy was looking for him, he immediately knew it was me and came down to our room, he asked me to stop crying, told me it will be okay, told me of how he also suffered at first, he promised me I would soon know how to stay out trouble, he said they shouldn’t have touched me because we are normally supposed to have 2 weeks of grace within which nobody can touch you and you are expected to learn the normal things to keep out of trouble, I later learnt the 2 weeks of grace was only in theory, it never did quite exist, he brought me a bottle of guava juice to drink, I drank the guava juice and dozed off, I think he sat by the bed until I slept off. That was the end of my eventful first day in AFMS, I woke up in the morning, I was still here… in this hell hole… the first day of the next 6 years had just gone by, welcome to Day 2 in AFMS.
It was dark already and the road was deserted, but not long after climbing the pavement, I saw a guy also walking down the pavement and when he got to me he asked why I was on the pavement, I didn’t give an answer because it sounded like a pretty stupid question to me, well, the result of that was 2 very sound and heavy knocks, the 2 points of the knock on my head got swollen immediately ( I later got to know those swollen bumps on the head are called ‘contours’, usually gotten from knocks with fingers, swagger sticks etc, infact it was almost impossible as a JS1 boy in AFMS to have a smooth head without contours), I started crying and got down from the pavement (I later learnt pavements were strictly reserved for the most senior boys in school which were the SS3 boys).
I got to my room, meeting the other playful boys who just finished primary school soon made me forget the pains from the contours on my head, we were laughing, gisting, playing and shouting like we would in our various primary schools, someone came in, he was wearing his brown housewear trousers and a black singlet, he looked gentle and simple, like he couldn’t hurt a fly, he asked why we were making noise, nobody answered, he then asked them to point someone who was making noise out, I was the unlucky culprit, he used the butt of the torchlight he was holding on my head, another contour immediately surfaced, I later learnt his name was Aaron Igono, he was in SS3 and was my squadron junior NCO, he left the room and my head was banging, a serious headache, the head was now swollen on 3 different spots, I retired to my bed and started crying and saying ‘I want to go home’, ‘I want to see my mummy’, ‘I don’t like this school, I want to go homeeeeeeeeee’, one of the new JS1 boys, Emem Enoh, tried to console me, he was apparently scared too, but he said I should not worry we will be fine.
After a while I decided to stop crying and go look for Deji Adetoro, at least he will be able to help me understand why I had been hit so hard twice, I stepped out of our room and saw two boys standing there, I walked to them and asked if they knew any Deji Adetoro, I got the shock of my life... ‘Ehn, he just called Deji by name’ and the two of them rushed me with kicks, blows and knocks’, I later got to know they were JS2 boys like Deji, they were having juniors for the first time and were ready to unleash all the frustrations of their JS1 years on you, my offence was that I did not say ‘senior Deji’, well, I crept back into my bed and resumed crying, they apparently went to inform Deji that a JS1 boy was looking for him, he immediately knew it was me and came down to our room, he asked me to stop crying, told me it will be okay, told me of how he also suffered at first, he promised me I would soon know how to stay out trouble, he said they shouldn’t have touched me because we are normally supposed to have 2 weeks of grace within which nobody can touch you and you are expected to learn the normal things to keep out of trouble, I later learnt the 2 weeks of grace was only in theory, it never did quite exist, he brought me a bottle of guava juice to drink, I drank the guava juice and dozed off, I think he sat by the bed until I slept off. That was the end of my eventful first day in AFMS, I woke up in the morning, I was still here… in this hell hole… the first day of the next 6 years had just gone by, welcome to Day 2 in AFMS.
3. First day in AFMS part 2
As I stand there waiting to be registered, I was told to change my clothes and wear the brown ‘housewear’ I had been told to bring, I changed into the brown shirt and trouser, which I later got to know is nicknamed ‘ojebs’. My mum seeing how I was being ordered around and shouted at burst into tears, she dragged me close and begged me to come back home with her, that she could still pull a few strings and get me into another school at home, but how could I give up now? Not after seeing my dream, seeing those young boys, who at most couldn’t be more than 2,3 or 4 years older than I was, they stood there helping the soldiers (who I later knew are called airmen and officers), obeying instructions, they looked impossibly smart, with their boots pitch black and shiny I could see myself on them, starch khakis and many white stuffs all over their body, with something on their shoulders that had different colours, much later I got to know these were JS3 provosts, and all the white on them were white anklets, mufflers, berets, belts and shoulder flashes, this is the way provosts in the Nigerian Air Force dress.
These boys were incredibly smart and neat, they did not smile, kept a straight face, spoke rarely, most times only in response to a soldiers instruction, and it was usually a simple ‘sir, yes sir’, if they needed to talk to me or any other of the new boys, they made it short, simple and firm, in a kind of tone that you dared not think twice before obeying them, they did not shout or scream, but the tone was firm enough to make you know they weren’t expecting you to refuse anything you were told to do, they looked so disciplined, like they could never do anything wrong, I admired them, and badly wanted to be like them. My mum couldn’t take it anymore, the air around the registration centre, which I later knew is called ‘down school’, was so tense, she kept crying and begging me, the soldiers acted like they did not see her tears, they only spoke to her when necessary, ‘madam oya come and sign here’, ‘madam, let him fill this form’.
I looked up, and who will I see, a young boy, he looked very familiar, smartly dressed in his starched khaki and all the white stuffs, had a yellow and white stuff with 3 lines on his shoulders, he marched (he was walking, but seemed to me back then like marching) straight down towards us, and as he got closer I was sure I knew him, it was Dotun Adetoro, I was tempted to scream and run towards him, but the tense nature of the atmosphere somehow restricted me (thank God I did not), as he got closer he saw my mum and I, he walked past me like he did not know me, I was shocked, isn’t this Dotun, is he crazy or what? He walked to my mum, I expected him to prostrate and greet her in Yoruba as usual, then my mum would pull him up and hug him, how wrong was I, he simply stood infront of her, barely bowed his head and said ‘good morning ma’, straight face, no smiles, no emotions, no actions, just like a robot, I was shocked, I am sure my mum was too, he turned to me and asked how my journey was, I told him fine, my mum greeted him in Yoruba and asked some questions in Yoruba, he maintained his posture, no movement, simple, straight, answers in English, acting like he wasn’t asked those questions in Yoruba, he was called to ‘take some new boys up-school’, by now my mum was pleading with him to please ensure I do not suffer, his replies were straight, sharp and unconvincing ‘he will be ok ma’, ‘don’t worry ma, he will be alright ma’, ‘I will make sure he is fine ma’, he had to go, and he called someone else, he told my mum the other guy was in my squadron and would take good care of me, the new guy was dressed just like him, the only difference was that the stuffs on his own shoulders were made of blue and white. The new guy introduced himself as Dike Chinedu. It was time for me to go, my mum burst into tears, Dike smiled briefly, I guess the smile was to make her relax and assure her I will be okay, and he said ‘he is in my squadron ma, I promise you I will personally take care of him’, he asked for my name and promised to check up on me later that night, it was time to go and I said a quick bye to my mum, and I was on my way ‘UP SCHOOL’… WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD… Where being second best is not good enough, where you are trained always to STRIVE TO EXCEL… Welcome to AFMS
These boys were incredibly smart and neat, they did not smile, kept a straight face, spoke rarely, most times only in response to a soldiers instruction, and it was usually a simple ‘sir, yes sir’, if they needed to talk to me or any other of the new boys, they made it short, simple and firm, in a kind of tone that you dared not think twice before obeying them, they did not shout or scream, but the tone was firm enough to make you know they weren’t expecting you to refuse anything you were told to do, they looked so disciplined, like they could never do anything wrong, I admired them, and badly wanted to be like them. My mum couldn’t take it anymore, the air around the registration centre, which I later knew is called ‘down school’, was so tense, she kept crying and begging me, the soldiers acted like they did not see her tears, they only spoke to her when necessary, ‘madam oya come and sign here’, ‘madam, let him fill this form’.
I looked up, and who will I see, a young boy, he looked very familiar, smartly dressed in his starched khaki and all the white stuffs, had a yellow and white stuff with 3 lines on his shoulders, he marched (he was walking, but seemed to me back then like marching) straight down towards us, and as he got closer I was sure I knew him, it was Dotun Adetoro, I was tempted to scream and run towards him, but the tense nature of the atmosphere somehow restricted me (thank God I did not), as he got closer he saw my mum and I, he walked past me like he did not know me, I was shocked, isn’t this Dotun, is he crazy or what? He walked to my mum, I expected him to prostrate and greet her in Yoruba as usual, then my mum would pull him up and hug him, how wrong was I, he simply stood infront of her, barely bowed his head and said ‘good morning ma’, straight face, no smiles, no emotions, no actions, just like a robot, I was shocked, I am sure my mum was too, he turned to me and asked how my journey was, I told him fine, my mum greeted him in Yoruba and asked some questions in Yoruba, he maintained his posture, no movement, simple, straight, answers in English, acting like he wasn’t asked those questions in Yoruba, he was called to ‘take some new boys up-school’, by now my mum was pleading with him to please ensure I do not suffer, his replies were straight, sharp and unconvincing ‘he will be ok ma’, ‘don’t worry ma, he will be alright ma’, ‘I will make sure he is fine ma’, he had to go, and he called someone else, he told my mum the other guy was in my squadron and would take good care of me, the new guy was dressed just like him, the only difference was that the stuffs on his own shoulders were made of blue and white. The new guy introduced himself as Dike Chinedu. It was time for me to go, my mum burst into tears, Dike smiled briefly, I guess the smile was to make her relax and assure her I will be okay, and he said ‘he is in my squadron ma, I promise you I will personally take care of him’, he asked for my name and promised to check up on me later that night, it was time to go and I said a quick bye to my mum, and I was on my way ‘UP SCHOOL’… WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD… Where being second best is not good enough, where you are trained always to STRIVE TO EXCEL… Welcome to AFMS
2. Resumption, first day in AFMS part 1
My mum got the sad news when we got home, she did not want me to go to AFMS, she would come into my room almost every night after I got the letter, sometimes crying and pleading with me “I heard they punish them so hard in that school”, “Jos is too far away from home”, “I heard they don’t let them bring provisions (milk, cornflakes, garri etc) to school”, this was the first time in my life that my mum’s tears was not enough to make me abandon something, this was my dream, my life, I was not ready to back down.
My mum took me to visit Deji and Dotun for some advice, Dotun didn’t say much (I didn’t understand then, but understood much later in AFMS that Deji was his junior and Dotun shouldn’t be talking a lot where Deji is present), Deji told me the different things that happened in AFMS, told me of the many punishments, told me of a punishment called ‘sit on your head’, I tried it, easy… bring on another one, press-up, easy, forward roll, easy… they showed me their pictures, looking all smart in starch khakis and military camouflage uniforms, wow… this is my life right infront of me, I couldn’t wait to start wearing one, I thought to myself ‘the punishments are not even difficult’. Let’s roll.
JS2 to SS3 JAM resumed 2 weeks before us, so Deji and Dotun had left for school, I got myself fully prepared, and my mum followed me all the way to Jos, she wouldn’t let me go without her seeing first hand what the school was like.
We arrive at the school gate… park the car, and start getting out my stuffs, mattress, clothes, box, pillows, cutlass, bucket etc, the soldiers refused to let my mum help me with anything, ‘madam leave everything let him carry it’, I guess my mum was thinking ‘here we go!’, but I wasn’t bothered, I was just about to start living my dream, dressing and marching like the soldiers in my cartoons. Let’s go there!
My mum took me to visit Deji and Dotun for some advice, Dotun didn’t say much (I didn’t understand then, but understood much later in AFMS that Deji was his junior and Dotun shouldn’t be talking a lot where Deji is present), Deji told me the different things that happened in AFMS, told me of the many punishments, told me of a punishment called ‘sit on your head’, I tried it, easy… bring on another one, press-up, easy, forward roll, easy… they showed me their pictures, looking all smart in starch khakis and military camouflage uniforms, wow… this is my life right infront of me, I couldn’t wait to start wearing one, I thought to myself ‘the punishments are not even difficult’. Let’s roll.
JS2 to SS3 JAM resumed 2 weeks before us, so Deji and Dotun had left for school, I got myself fully prepared, and my mum followed me all the way to Jos, she wouldn’t let me go without her seeing first hand what the school was like.
We arrive at the school gate… park the car, and start getting out my stuffs, mattress, clothes, box, pillows, cutlass, bucket etc, the soldiers refused to let my mum help me with anything, ‘madam leave everything let him carry it’, I guess my mum was thinking ‘here we go!’, but I wasn’t bothered, I was just about to start living my dream, dressing and marching like the soldiers in my cartoons. Let’s go there!
1. How it started
This is a blog dedicated to 6 years in AFMS, Air Force Military School, Jos, where I had my secondary education. I will be writing on everything I can remember, if any EXJAM writes something about his time in AFMS too I will post it on here, I might not be exactly accurate, any EXJAM who reads this and notices any errors should not hesitate to correct me please, I will try to write something new as often as possible, until i think I have exhausted my memories of AFMS. I see AFMS as the main place that built me into who I am, where I developed most of my abilities, I also see life in AFMS as very close to what I dream Nigeria to be like, a place where things work the way they are supposed to. Please enjoy.
How it all started
How did it all start… two young men, named Dotun and Deji Adetoro, we attended the same church, Zion Baptist Church, Adewole Estate, Ilorin, and spent quite sometime together, they constantly talked about their school, AFMS, Jos, I loved hearing the stories, the stories of marching, learning how to use guns, sports every morning etc, I decided this was the secondary school I also wanted to attend, I have an uncle who was in the military, and because of him I had always dreamt of joining the military, I was always drawing cartoons of soldiers, loved watching war films, and always played battle scenes in my compound using toy guns and sticks. This was my chance to actually hold a real gun and march in military uniforms and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.
In Nigeria, after primary education, you write a set of exams called ‘common entrance examinations’ in order to get into to secondary school, I wrote the exams for the federal and state schools, and some other schools like navy Abeokuta, Nigerian military school Zaria, command secondary school and of course, air force military school Jos. I passed all these exams and got admission letters from all the schools, AFMS was one of them; I was invited for an interview, to be held on the school premises in Jos.
The interview was loads of fun, first time away from home for so long, did all the necessary exams and tests, did medical check-ups, the school was like heaven, freedom to do whatever you wanted, made new friends, we all laughed and played the whole time, the food was not too bad, this was my world, I couldn’t wait to start living in that world, marching in military uniforms and learning how to shoot guns like the guys in the many cartoons I drew, after the interview I came home, waiting for my admission letter, waiting to resume in AFMS, my dream secondary school.
Well, the admission letter refused to come, I was very convinced that this was where I wanted to be, so I did not accept any of the other offers, and the deadlines for each one came and passed one after the other, my dad was getting scared I would not get the admission from AFMS and would miss all the other opportunities and have to stay home for one extra year, so when only Unilorin Secondary School was left, he insisted we go and pay the non-refundable deposit, I begged him to wait till the deadline date, that fateful morning I went to the post office, and there was no letter for me, I knew that was it, my dad wouldn’t let this last opportunity pass, so by 12noon we were in the car, on the way to the bank to pay the deposit for USS, I told my dad in the car, if God truly wants me to go to AFMS like I believe he does, my letter would be there now, he just laughed, because I had checked just 2 hours earlier, but he agreed we could stop by the post office again… and there in the mail box… was a letter addressed to me… I opened it… and it was an offer of admission from AFMS… I made it, being admitted into AFMS is no child’s play, the best 4 or 5 from every state in Nigeria are selected, so you must be extremely good to be admitted. My dad smiled and gave me hug, and we were on the way back home. Bye to USS, welcome to AFMS.
How it all started
How did it all start… two young men, named Dotun and Deji Adetoro, we attended the same church, Zion Baptist Church, Adewole Estate, Ilorin, and spent quite sometime together, they constantly talked about their school, AFMS, Jos, I loved hearing the stories, the stories of marching, learning how to use guns, sports every morning etc, I decided this was the secondary school I also wanted to attend, I have an uncle who was in the military, and because of him I had always dreamt of joining the military, I was always drawing cartoons of soldiers, loved watching war films, and always played battle scenes in my compound using toy guns and sticks. This was my chance to actually hold a real gun and march in military uniforms and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.
In Nigeria, after primary education, you write a set of exams called ‘common entrance examinations’ in order to get into to secondary school, I wrote the exams for the federal and state schools, and some other schools like navy Abeokuta, Nigerian military school Zaria, command secondary school and of course, air force military school Jos. I passed all these exams and got admission letters from all the schools, AFMS was one of them; I was invited for an interview, to be held on the school premises in Jos.
The interview was loads of fun, first time away from home for so long, did all the necessary exams and tests, did medical check-ups, the school was like heaven, freedom to do whatever you wanted, made new friends, we all laughed and played the whole time, the food was not too bad, this was my world, I couldn’t wait to start living in that world, marching in military uniforms and learning how to shoot guns like the guys in the many cartoons I drew, after the interview I came home, waiting for my admission letter, waiting to resume in AFMS, my dream secondary school.
Well, the admission letter refused to come, I was very convinced that this was where I wanted to be, so I did not accept any of the other offers, and the deadlines for each one came and passed one after the other, my dad was getting scared I would not get the admission from AFMS and would miss all the other opportunities and have to stay home for one extra year, so when only Unilorin Secondary School was left, he insisted we go and pay the non-refundable deposit, I begged him to wait till the deadline date, that fateful morning I went to the post office, and there was no letter for me, I knew that was it, my dad wouldn’t let this last opportunity pass, so by 12noon we were in the car, on the way to the bank to pay the deposit for USS, I told my dad in the car, if God truly wants me to go to AFMS like I believe he does, my letter would be there now, he just laughed, because I had checked just 2 hours earlier, but he agreed we could stop by the post office again… and there in the mail box… was a letter addressed to me… I opened it… and it was an offer of admission from AFMS… I made it, being admitted into AFMS is no child’s play, the best 4 or 5 from every state in Nigeria are selected, so you must be extremely good to be admitted. My dad smiled and gave me hug, and we were on the way back home. Bye to USS, welcome to AFMS.
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