Oga Emeka Nzewunwah - It was 13 years ago, but now I am saying 'Thank you'!

It was that time again, SS3 boys had finished SSCE, their last exam in AFMS, and they were preparing for their Passing Out Parade (POP). SS2 boys were the new LORDS in school and they were patching for appointment, as expected they were spitting fire all over AFMS, acting appointment holders had been selected from amongst them and they were making AFMS a living hell for everybody hanging anything less than 5 bars. I was an SS1 boy, so I was hanging only 4 bars, but as a lance corporal (an SS1 appointment holder) who was also patching to remain an appointment holder in SS2 and be made an SS2 corporal, I was exempted from most of the fire being spat all over because I was also dishing mine out to all those hanging less than 4 bars.

On this fateful night after night prep, everybody was doubling (jogging) to the tattoo ground for night tattoo, as SS1 boys, we were walking, our immediate seniors were the LORDS so we were entitled to a little shai (peace), I was walking and chatting with my friend and coursemate Desmond James, the SS2 acting Junior RSM (headboy), Ahmed Abdullahi, was on his way to tattoo ground and he decided to single out Desmond and I of all the SS1 boys.

JRSM: "Why are you baggars walking to tattoo ground, both of you double infront of me straight to the guardroom"

So, we started doubling infront of him till we got to the guardroom door, somehow, something silly just got into my head... "All other SS1 boys were walking, why is he picking on us", "I am even a lance corporal so I shouldn't be doubling with junior boys", so... I decided not to enter into the guardroom. I turned back and told him I wasn't going in, Desmond had peacefully gone in.

Well, in AFMS, what I just did is tantamount to suicide, I had just sold my peace probably for the next one year. If you disobey the JRSM's orders, you have basically disrespected his whole set, like really nobody does that, you have just signed your peace and freedom away. Not that I did not know the implications, but I am just like that, I like trouble... lol.

He could not believe his eyes, I could read total disbelief all over his face, He had to go and lead the tattoo so he handed me over to the Acting Provost Marshal (PM) Ahmed Kabir, in AFMS you don't dare try the PM, that is an abomination, like you guessed, I still refused to go into the guardroom, by this time Desmond was likely already battling the mosquitoes in the guardroom and trying to find the softest part of the floor to sleep on, like there is ever a part of a floor softer than the other.

Within a few minutes, about 20 SS2 boys had descended on me, I couldn't even make out who was saying or doing what, all I knew was I was feeling kicks, knocks, slaps, sticks, wood, shoes, hands, everything landing on different parts of my body at the same time, and I could hear the chorus of voices:

"You bastard you can't enter guardroom", "you think because you are hanging lance corporal", "all these bastard SS1 boys are assuming too much" "you are sparking for the JRSM"... phew... if only I had peacefully entered the guardroom.

Then I heard a voice "take him to green squadron senior school"... Whattttt???? Green squadron what??????????? That block (hostel) housed the JRSM, PM, Labour Junior NCO (labour prefect), and it was extremely far from the officer's lounge so no officer or airman will even hear your cries and come to your rescue. I knew my life would never remain the same again if I got into that block that night, so as they dragged me down, with the constant kicks and slaps still ongoing, I timed a gutter, and as they were about to drag me across the gutter I pushed myself down into it, and kept struggling to remain inside as they struggled to pull me out, after a while I could not bear the pain from the kicks, sticks and wooden planks landing on my body in the gutter, I summoned all my strength, and I sprang up suddenly from the gutter with all my strength, this took them by surprise so they all scattered a bit, and I started running away as fast as I could.

I knew my sin was unforgivable, the only solution was to run away from school, at least by the time I come back the next day I will go and face my sorrows in stages and not the whole set after me at once, so I headed for the fence behind SS2 and 3 classes where I could scale the fence out of school. By this time I believe there were at least 40 SS2 boys running after me. There is a small grass field between blue squadron junior school and SS2/3 classes, and as I ran into that open field almost reaching my destination to jump the school fence, lo and behold, infront of me were about 20 SS2 boys. Obviously they had read my intentions because of the direction in which I was running and they had followed a different route (I should have known we all had military training and they will be reading my moves... phew), so suddenly I had approximately 20 SS2 boys infront of me, and another 20 behind me.

You know that time of your life when you just give up? When you KNOW, you are VERY SURE, there is no way forward? That was it for me. I just stopped, stood in the open field, breathing deeply, exhausted and tired, with my swollen head, swollen face, black eye, and swollen body, surrounded by VERY ANGRY SS2 boys... only AFMS boys will understand this kind of situation I am talking about, believe me you don't ever want to be in this kind of situation, you disrespected the JRSM, PM, his coursemates, then you made them run again... like for real... that was a death sentence literally.

You want to know why I am thanking Oga Emeka Nzewunwah? Then wait for part two of this unforgettable experience in my life.

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.

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.