11. End of JS1

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.