Chapter 2 Welcome to Katsina

The road seemed endless.

Even as the sun began to dip low and the warm hues of evening painted the sky, the bus kept rolling onward. Ameerah's eyes caught a sign at last - "Welcome to Katsina" - but the journey did not slow. The bus pressed forward, winding through towns with names like Charachi and Malumfashi, each passing like a whisper in the fading light.

Her stomach churned uneasily. Traveling had never been easy for her. The cramped bus, the endless bumps, and the unfamiliar scents all wove together into a dull nausea that gnawed at her. She closed her eyes against the queasiness, telling herself to hold on just a little longer.

She wished she could just stop, get off, and catch her breath. But there was no stopping. The road stretched ahead like a long ribbon of unknowns.

Yet amid the discomfort, her thoughts drifted to the new chapter waiting for her. The chance to serve, to grow, to write a story that was hers and hers alone. That fragile hope, shining like a distant star, helped her breathe through the discomfort.

Before arriving, she had heard whispers about the Corps members' lodge - a humble refuge in Katsina town for those without accommodations or a Primary Place of Assignment (PPA). It was a small mercy, a place where weary corps members could find rest and community before fully beginning their service.

When the bus finally slowed to a stop at the Katsina motor park, relief washed over her. She stepped down carefully, feeling the soft evening air wrap around her like a gentle embrace. The sounds of the town were lively-vendors calling out, tricycles honking, the chatter of travelers and locals blending into a symphony of life.

She paused a moment to steady herself, then began asking for directions. Strangers offered smiles and pointed her toward the "Corpers lodge," sharing bits of advice and reassurance. Their kindness was unexpected, a balm after the long, tiring trip.

She climbed into a Maruwa tricycle, bouncing over the uneven roads as the city lights flickered around her. The ride was short but felt long, her thoughts spinning like the wheels beneath her.

At last, the tricycle pulled up to a high-fenced compound with a sturdy gate. She stepped out, eyes wide with a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity. The compound buzzed softly with activity-young women laughing in one corner, the low murmur of conversation, footsteps echoing against walls.

She was led to the female side, a cluster of modest rooms nestled close together. Nearby, the male corps members gathered outside the building, their voices carrying through the evening air.

The person in charge greeted her warmly but with a hint of weariness.

"The place is full," she explained gently, "but you can share a room with three other corps members. You'll be the fourth."

Inside, Ameerah's eyes took in the room - narrow and simple. Several flat beds lined the walls, each already occupied by sleeping or chatting corps members. There was no space left for a proper bed, so she was offered a mat to spread on the floor.

Despite the modest accommodations, Ameerah felt a quiet gratitude. A roof over her head, a place to rest after the long journey - it was more than many had.

She dropped her bag carefully, feeling the softness of the mat beneath her fingers. The hum of voices around her slowly eased the tight knot in her chest.

The women welcomed her with warmth. Their laughter and shared stories filled the room like sunlight breaking through clouds. They spoke of their experiences - the hardships of service, the friendships forged in the barracks, the lessons learned in discipline and resilience.

Some were still serving, their faces marked by the weight of duty but brightened by hope. Listening to them, Ameerah felt the first threads of belonging begin to weave through her heart.

As tradition dictated, she was offered food - a plate of rice and stew, fragrant and comforting. The meal was humble but rich with meaning, a symbol of welcome and community. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, feeling strength return with every taste.

Afterward, she found a quiet corner and prayed. Her whispered words floated into the air, grounding her amid swirling emotions and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

That night, lying on her mat beneath the modest roof, Ameerah closed her eyes. The exhaustion was deep, but so was the hope. Tomorrow, she would report to the Mani Road Orientation Camp, the next step in her national service journey.

Her mind drifted between fatigue and anticipation, dreams and doubts, fear and faith.

She was ready.