thorns in my boat(a soldier's travail) a story by awoyere Dominic

 CHAPTER 3


We ran the race in batches of fifty persons, male
and female. I came back the fifth position in my
batch. Running had never been an issue for me, I
grew up in the Village so hunting games in the
forest had prepared me for the race, the only
difference was that here I was running on plane
and smooth terrain as we ran round the
circumference of the Barracks.
Upon arrival, our names and details were
recorded in a hard cover note book, the names
of the first ten persons were recorded while
others were declared disqualified instantly and
were advised to leave the barracks immediately.
We were then taken inside the Gymnasium for
push-ups and sit-up exercises. I did well in all the
physical exercises while more Persons were
disqualified.
At the end of the day, forty of us qualified from
all the batches and were eligible for medical test
the next day. I could not go home that day
because we had to report at the military hospital
early in the morning with our early morning urine
and sample of our feces, this was to be
collected before we taste anything in the
morning.
I knew my Mother would be very worried at my
absence from the house and I also knew that
Baba Miko would have questions to answer. I had
never slept outside the House in all my growing
up life. Mama at this stage did not know of my
plans to join the Army. I wanted it to be a
surprise to her, I knew she would oppose the
idea but Bab Miko had encouraged me to go all
the way as there was nothing to lose if I fail, he
also told me that I had to take certain decisions
as a man without seeking my Mother’s opinion.
After four days at Ede barracks, I was among the
Fifteen Boys and two girls of Osun state Origin
that were short listed for the 1990 Nigerian
Army recruitment exercise. We were to gather
together in two weeks at the Barracks from
where we would be driven to Zaria for a nine
months training at the “Land of no going back.”
I went back home and went straight to the
building site to meet Baba Miko but was shocked
to see my Mother seated at a corner with
swollen face, she had her scarf tied to her waist
and she was bare footed. Immediately she saw
me, she stood up and started walking away.
Oya! Oya! Just be going with your Mother like
that! Baba Miko said: pointing at my Mother’s
direction.
I knew better than say anything or apologizing to
Baba Miko at that moment because I knew what
my Mother must have put him through.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
It was a herculean task convincing my Mother to
let me go to Zaria for the recruitment exercise,
whenever I remember the drama that ensued in
the house on the day I finally left Esa-Odo to
meet our contingent at Ede, I weep. A mother’s
love for her Child is pure. Mother and Son wept
inconsolably, Villagers were gathered to see me
off as well as proffer several pieces of advice.
The Villagers kept singing into my head “Ma
gbagbe Iya e o!” do not forget your Mother o!
Of course I am all she had lived for, how can I
possibly forget her? I have no other person in
the world but her, we lived for each other, but I
needed to go and see the bigger world outside
my Cocoon.

I spent nine months at the Nigerian Army
recruitment Training depot Zaria and I survived
it. I went to hell and returned. I was in the
Charley Company, the yellow Company. My head
was shaven and it was taboo to allow hair grow
on it. All my belongings were separated from
me, I was given some pairs of military uniforms
and sports wears, and every other material used
there was made for the Army, from basic
utensils to toiletries.
The torture and suffering at the depot was
incomparable. We were reduced to nothing by
the military instructors. We were flogged like
Cattles whenever we erred, if a Man derails
during the training, all members of his team
suffer for it and one Man’s victory is equally
everyman’s. That is why you do not insult or
assault a Soldier in public because every Soldier
within the vicinity will fight for him. The weather
did not help matters, when it was cold; it was
extreme and when it was hot, was like a furnace.
It was nine months in hell, I had no visitor from
home, even though I expected none, I secretly
wished for a surprise visit from my Mother
especially when other recruits receive visitors
that bring them Garri and Kulikuli (Baked
groundnut) I had learnt to manage hunger right
from Child hood because I was brought up in
perpetual want and need. But I never missed my
meals at the depot, I do not do anything that
would make me to forfeit my meal and I take it
personal with any member of my team that
causes any situation that would make me to
miss my meal. Some recruits skip their meals
and use the period to rest since they have
alternative. I could not afford that luxury.
My mind was just fixed on the P.O.P day. I knew
the phase would pass someday. Many of us
could not cope with the rigours of the “land of
no going back” as the depot was tagged. Some
ran away while some left on medical grounds. I
could n not do either as I had nowhere to run
to, as long as there were still some recruits who
could endure this travail to the end, then I must
be amongst them.
I fell ill about four times: the first was as a
result of blood clot in my ears, we were made to
sit on our heads for three hours, some
instructors stood by with Kobokos in their hands
flogging and kicking anyone that falls down back
into position, the position is like this, we were
spread on the parade ground, the ground is
made of coal tar and gravel chippings so it is
rough and jagged. We squat with our palms on
the ground, the we tilt forward and plant our
shinning heads on the ground, we then raise up
our buttocks using our hands for support till we
form an ”A’” shape, then we stretch our hands
backwards behind our backs and clasps our
palms together consequently the weight of the
upper body is shifted to the head, in a couple of
minutes we begin to shake all over sweating
profusely and wailing, it is even made worse
when we are compelled to be singing while under
such in human posture “Go and tell my Mother
that I am doing well” is the ironic song we
normally sing under any punitive situation.
At the end of such session, it is common to see
some of us rush to the M.R.S (Clinic) to pull out
chipping from the head or to clean up blood
dripping from the Nose or ear, there is also this
disconnection between your lower and upper
body that you need to lie down for some time
to allow the normal flow of blood through your
body system. It is also a very common sight to
see recruits with plastered head or bandaged
joint in the depot. We lost eleven recruits to
incidents during my set at depot. Some fell from
height during the obstacle crossing exercise and
broke their necks, some died out of exhaustion
and dehydration while trying to run the almighty
twenty Miles marathon race, some also died as a
result of infectious diseases contacted in the
depot.
Majority of us had infections at different times,
wearing of Boots for almost fourteen hours daily
both under rain and shine led most of us to
develop foot rot or Athletes foot as it is called.
The odor that oozes out from our Boots when
we pull it remains indelible in my memory; the
supply of foot powder given to us could not
help.
Scabies was another infection that was rampant
at the depot. I contacted it because I could wear
an under wear for days without washing it,
though my Khaki uniform was always clean
because physical appearance mattered a lot, you
have to look smart always even though you
could be soaked in a pool of dirty water any
minute, I was always itching, whenever my hands
goes into my trousers pockets, I scratch till It
hurts, I had blisters all over me, the whole of my
back, my buttocks, my crouch, I had sores all
over me. My worse moments were when we
were on parade ground at attention and the
itchy sensation begins, my Gawd! You dare not
move while at attention, and my balls and
buttocks are itching crazy, it is better
experienced than described.
On completion of the five miles marathon race, I
lost the use of my limbs for four days, I was
given a set of Crotches with which I limped and
attended to other activities, about twenty of us
got Crotches after that race, some refused to
let go of their crotches even when it was evident
their legs were okay, some insisted they needed
to go home for alternative medical attention,
while some had their Crotches taken away while
they were asleep at night, naturally they started
using their legs again.
Another incident that took me to the Hospital
was food poisoning. Fifty percent of the recruits
were defecating and vomiting after a meal of
Beans and yam at night. It was an emergency
situation as there were screams from every
quarter of the Depot, it was a very terrible
experience, I never knew a stomach ache that
painful, it was excruciating, and I was defecating
uncontrollably like a tap of water left running.
We were rushed to the Hospital in batches as all
the Staff and Soldiers of the Medical Corps were
summoned to work that night, by morning we
lost five recruits to Food poisoning. The panel of
enquiry set up by the Army to investigate the
incident came up with the fact that the beans we
ate that night was still fresh with the chemical
used to preserve it.
After nine months, I had added five inches to my
height, I was lanky and gaunt, I had learnt how
to smoke cigarettes and Igbo (Marijuana) I was
not addicted to Igbo though and that was
because of the consequences of smoking with an
empty stomach. I never had food in my Locker, I
only depended on food served us at the Canteen
so I only smoked before meals time, the good
thing about Igbo was that it makes the
Mountains in your life become valleys, after
smoking some joints together, we begin to
reason together and justify the hardship in the
depot as a means of toughening us, we began to
plan on how to deal with any bloody Civilian that
messes with us when we get to the real world.
That is why it is common to see Soldiers
soaking Civilians in Gutters or giving them Frog
jump drills whenever they have such opportunity.
The summary of all we learnt at the depot was
to kill. That’s all! Every training was channeled
towards how to kill an enemy either you are
armed or not.
The D day came and we graduated. The Passing
out parade was very colourful and awesome. We
were posted into various units across the
Country. I was drafted into the Signals Corps and
was posted to the 82nd Division with HQ in
Enugu. Sixty three of us were posted to the
82nd Division; we were conveyed by two Army
branded Coastal Buses from Kaduna to Enugu, a
banner with the inscription “Beware! Hungry
Dragons” was tied to the front of the First Bus.
We belonged to the Dragon Division.
Everywhere we stopped en route Enugu, we
wrecked havoc. With ugly bald heads, blood shot
eyes; we grabbed food stuffs from Hawkers and
gnawed without paying for the Items. Even when
we stopped to refill our Gas at a Petrol station,
we ordered the Driver not to pay a dime to the
attendant, we were Government Children!
“Government Pikin” we stopped at Lokoja to eat,
there was a cheap Brothel by the eatery, we
entered the Brothel and took advantage of the
unsuspecting Prostitutes, they were throwing
stones at our Bus and swearing at us as we
zoomed out of Lokoja like Rebels. We drank
cheap hot drinks and smoked all the way to
Enugu. Freedom is a sweet thing to experience, I
was eventually free or so I had thought.
We reported at the divisional HQ for detailing
and debriefing by the colonel G.S. he welcomed
us into the real military world and gave us
orientation on the scope of operations of the
Division. The division covered the whole of
eastern and southern Nigeria including the
middle belt. We were further posted to various
units within the division. I was retained in the
capital City under the command of Colonel
Asemota the Commanding Officer of the Signals
Corps.
All I had in life was in the “Ghana must go” bag
that I carried to the depot, it was returned to
me intact at the end of the training at Kaduna
and that was all I had as I settled into the two
room Apartment given to me in the Barracks. I
was happy to have a roof over my head, a real
house, not the patched mud house I grew up in
at Esa Odo. I had a toilet and a bathroom and a
Kitchen all to myself! Free of Charge! No bills to
pay, it was like a dream, I wished not to wake
from this dream, I pinched myself hard and it
hurt, then I knew it was not a dream, I screamed
out loud then I knelt down and said a prayer to
God, I did not pray throughout my stay at the
depot but on this day, I was sure I had survived.
I thanked God for his protection and I begged
God to forgive all my short comings. I prayed to
God to keep my Mother safe for me, even
though I was sure she was on her knees praying
for me at the same moment, at times when I
had wanted to pray at the depot, I imagined my
Mother was doing same on my behalf so I used
such time for something else.
With the little allowance I had with me, I went to
the mammy Market and purchased some basic
house hold stuffs, especially cooking utensils. I
could not buy a mattress so I made do with my
Military Blanket on the floor. I was waiting for
the payment of our nine months salaries
accumulated while on training. It would be paid
in bulk to us so we can start life with it after
which we would rely only on our monthly
salaries.
After a week of reporting to Enugu, I was
granted one week pass to go home and see my
family, I did not have enough money on me so
my R.S.M lent me the sum of five hundred naira,
and it was a huge amount as at December 1990.
I travelled home to see the only one Person in
my life, my Mother.