Chapter 3 The Orientation Camp

Morning light spilled gently through the window of the Corps lodge, signaling the start of a new day. The air was still cool, the world quiet but full of promise.

Ameerah gathered the few things she would need at the camp - her white shoes, crisp white shorts and shirts, several hijabs for prayer, and other personal belongings carefully packed in a small bag. Each item felt heavy with significance, a tangible preparation for the journey ahead.

After a simple breakfast and final goodbyes to the ladies she had come to know, she was given directions on how to get a bike to Mani Camp, the place where her service would truly begin.

The motorcycle ride was brisk, weaving through the waking streets of Katsina, the wind carrying sounds and scents unfamiliar yet alive. When she arrived, she climbed down carefully and stepped forward through the gate.

Her heart fluttered slightly.

The camp spread out before her - vast grounds dotted with orderly buildings, open spaces, and sentinels in uniform standing watch at the gates. The soldiers were unlike anyone she had seen before - stern, purposeful, and a little intimidating.

She handed over her call-up papers and other documents to the registration officers. Their efficiency was brisk but welcoming. Within moments, she was registered, and directed to a nearby pavilion where the Corps uniforms were issued.

Passing through the pavilion, Ameerah's eyes widened at the organized chaos - rows of khaki shirts, canvas bags, boots, socks, belts, and the crisp white shorts and shirts that awaited her.

She told the attendants her size - medium - and soon she was outfitted, the new clothes folded neatly in her arms. She was assigned a room to stay in - a modest space with a bunk bed. Her assigned spot was the top bunk, a small haven amid the bustling camp.

Looking around, she felt a wave of awe and belonging. So many faces like hers, each with their own story, gathered here for a singular purpose - to serve the nation.

Before long, voices nearby urged her to change quickly.

With a mix of hesitation and determination, Ameerah slipped into the white uniform. The shirt and shorts were crisp and new, but the sensation was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. The form-fitting clothes revealed more of her shape than she was used to showing.

She felt self-conscious, the introvert in her shrinking back. Yet she reminded herself quietly - this was a sacrifice, a rite of passage, a symbol of commitment to something larger than herself.

Just as she settled into the new reality, the sharp sound of a bugle sliced through the air - a clear, commanding call.

It echoed across the camp, a summons for all corps members.

Within moments, the camp buzzed with movement. The bugle's call meant one thing: failure to assemble promptly would bring consequences.

Ameerah took a steadying breath, straightened her shoulders, and prepared to join the gathering under the pavilion.

The journey had truly begun. Wonderful.

The pavilion loomed ahead, wide and open, echoing with the buzz of voices, footsteps, and the faint rustle of new uniforms. Ameerah joined the flood of fellow corps members walking in the same direction - a sea of white shirts, white shorts, and hopeful hearts.

Hundreds had gathered already. The place pulsed with youthful energy. Laughter bubbled here and there, some looked around nervously, while others struck up instant friendships as if they'd known one another forever.

Ameerah felt elated to be among them - yet a thread of solitude lingered at the edges of her mind. This was all new territory. Big, loud, and unfamiliar.

But then she noticed a few young women wearing white hijabs like hers - soft, flowing, and gently pinned over their freshly issued shirts. Her heart lifted. She moved closer and offered a smile.

"Assalamu Alaikum," she greeted, her voice low but steady.

"Wa alaikum salaam," came the warm response.

And just like that, the invisible wall cracked a little. A few brief exchanges followed - where they were from, how long their journeys had taken, what they'd packed. The small, comforting chatter eased the tension in her chest. She wasn't alone.

Minutes passed.

Then came the sound of boots.

From the back of the gathering, uniformed figures stepped forward - soldiers in beautiful dark green, Civil Defence officers in navy blue, and members of the Man O' War dressed in their signature black T-shirts and jungle boots. The effect was immediate. The noise in the pavilion thinned like steam as the corps members stood straighter, alert.

"Attention!" barked a soldier with a voice that carried like thunder.

It was the first real taste of command - and it silenced the crowd like a pin dropping in a cathedral.

"Form lines!" another soldier instructed, pointing in sharp motions. "In rows of ten!"

There was some confusion at first - people shifting around, trying to guess spacing and directions - but soon the bodies moved in rhythm. Lines took shape. White shirts gleamed under the morning sun. The once-scattered crowd became organized rows, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Behind them, the uniformed officers stood tall like guardians of discipline and order.

Then came a new presence.

From the side of the pavilion, a chubby man in Jersey trousers and a smart shirt climbed onto a small platform - the camp director. His expression was firm but not unkind, his voice amplified by a handheld microphone.

"Good morning, Batch C, Stream I," he began, scanning the sea of fresh recruits. "Welcome to the Katsina State Orientation Camp."

A cheer rose up in scattered pockets. Some clapped. Some whistled. Others just smiled in quiet relief.

"This is your first day. The beginning of a three-week journey that will test your patience, your discipline, and your spirit. You are no longer civilians - you are corps members. And here, you will be treated as such."

Ameerah felt her heart rise and fall with the moment - the pride of standing here, the nervousness of what lay ahead, and the realization that this was just the beginning.

The sun grew warmer. The uniforms clung tighter. But the moment was unmistakable.

She had arrived.