Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 4
The Land of no going back
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.
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