Chapter 4 Settling In

The rest of the day was given to them to settle in properly and prepare for a program by evening.

A program? Already? That part surprised her.

Still adjusting to the pace of camp life, she returned to her assigned bunk and lay on the upper bed, trying to ease into the rhythm of it all. The bunk creaked lightly beneath her, the sounds of chatter, footsteps, and distant whistles blending into the background.

She looked over at the girls on the bunks beside hers and tried to start small conversations. Some were friendly, others tired from travel, but they all seemed to understand that they were sharing something new - something strange but exciting. Before long, she drifted off to sleep, clutching her food flask beside her like a comfort item.

A soft nudge from one of the girls pulled her back from sleep.

"It's time to register for food," she whispered. "If we don't do it now, we won't be able to collect food later."

She got up and followed her. The food area was already bustling. A long queue had formed, winding around the building with anxious new corps members waiting for their green food cards. They searched for a shorter line and finally found one near the back. There, they filled out forms with their names and KT numbers - the official details printed on their call-up letters.

With the card finally in hand, she felt a small sense of relief.

Then came lunch - Eba and egusi soup with a small piece of meat. The soup wasn't thick or watery - just enough to pass. She opened her food flask and sat with a few girls near the female lodge. They ate, joked lightly, and traded stories about their journeys here. Some came from Lagos, others from Enugu or Jos. She was one of the few from Ilorin - and definitely one of the few wearing a white hijab.

After eating, she felt the tug in her heart - she needed some time with ALLAH. So she trekked down to the Masjid, her steps guided more by longing than habit. At the entrance, some sisters from MCAN smiled warmly and encouraged her to register for their orientation. "There's a certificate," one said cheerfully.

She nodded, did her ablution, and entered the mosque. It was quiet and calm inside. A few sisters were praying or reading Qur'an in soft, echoing tones. She joined them in prayer, letting the peace settle over her like a blanket. Afterward, she stepped out to fill the Muslim Corper Association of Nigeria (MCAN) form, then returned inside for some quiet time.

The sky had begun to darken when the bugle sounded with sharp rhythm, calling for dinner.

They were expected to assemble under the Pavilion for the evening program soon. She grabbed her food flask again and hurried to get dinner: rice and stew. It was surprisingly tasty. She sat near the lodge and ate while chatting with the girls. There was laughter - and stories. Stories of heartbreaks, excitement, dreams, and even fears. NYSC had a way of peeling people open without warning.

After dinner, she prayed once more at the mosque - completing the day's salah as a traveler.

Then she made her way for the evening lecture.

Under the large pavilion, floodlights bathed the crowd in gold. Hundreds of corps members gathered, some fresh, some already forming cliques, and others like her - observing, absorbing.

The Camp Director was introduced with fanfare. Then came the security personnel - soldiers, Civil Defense officers, and Man O' War leaders. There was something grounding about hearing their voices and watching their posture. These people were used to orders. We were stepping into their world now.

They were taught the NYSC anthem and given strict instructions to look out for:

Lights out by 10 PM.

Wake up bugle at 5:30 AM.

Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner will be announced by a peculiar bugle sound whenever it is ready.

Assembly is mandatory.

By the time she got back to her bunk, the sky was star-speckled. Girls chatted softly in their beds, some laughed, others read quietly.

She climbed onto the top bunk, pulled her hijab over her shoulders, and whispered a quiet prayer. She didn't know what tomorrow would hold.

But deep down, she felt it:

This wasn't just an obligation.

It was the beginning of something great.