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CHRONICLES OF NYSC CAMP - FOOD

I actually left the “alawi” queue to go and collect my lunch when I heard that it was gbegiri, ewedu and amala that we were having. I have not had gbegiri since…. I can remember. It was worth it – I enjoyed the meal. On the food queue I met a guy from Jos who had never tasted gbegiri since he was born an was curious as to its preparation and the whole combination. The lady from Plateau in front of him and I (behind him) took it upon ourselves to describe the preparation of ewedu and gbegiri. You should have seen his face when we told him tht a short broom is used to shred the leaves (yes, a broom. Its better that the modern blender. There’s a noticeable difference - traditional versus modern). We ladies giggled for minutes.

After the meal, we had another HIV/AIDS lecture. I spent it trading tales of what the evil lecturers in Computer Science Department, University of Lagos. I happened to sit beside two of my classmates and another guy (Tos, who later joined our click) from our faculty. It turns out a lecturer I really admire was a bloody molester of girls, and Tos was telling us about it.

“Devil” surprised us all. On Wednesday I was dragged by Tommy to snap pictures with him, after the swearing in. then my Platoon leader refused to release me after the drills, so we ended up meeting with the others at Mammi market. As usual, it was Maggi Kitchen corner for Lola.

Lola has fallen in love with Maggi Kitchen, one of the numerous eateries (or, to be more precise, bukaterias) in the market. They never seem to do anything wrong and frankly I don’t blame her. Their presentation and organization is rivalle only by the Mr. Bigg’s stand. They have music, free coffee/tea (thanks to Milo and Nescafe), and lovely waitresses. Anyway, as far as I was concerned, I put quality and quantity on a higher scale than class when it comes to food outside, so I was not planning to eat there. I ate pounded yam and egusi soup elsewhere (Iya Wasiu Joint) with my platoon leader and Hippy. We finished, then went to call Lola, who was being kept company by Kanny, but the unexpected happened. We met “Devil” in front of them both, having a conversation. Hippy and I beat a hasty retreat. A few minutes later they were able to extricate themselves and meet up with us.

I still cannot believe I agreed to be Treasurer. Looking at my history of financial leadership, I really wonder sometimes if I had not missed my calling.

These days when I get to sit on a bed, I just lie down instead, straight, no questions asked. When people are talking and asking me to undress, I don’t usually have the strength to do so until about two hours later. Tired. Out.

Comments

xi said…
I'm rather adventurous by nature, but there's a limit.

The camp toilets (and I use that word very loosely) were nothing to write home about. As such, I didnt want to eat anything that will make me visit the toilet more than is necessary.

Like I said, I'm adventurous. But my adventure no reach to go chop rubbish food.
Daydah said…
@xi: You are not adventurous if you didn't try any "exotic" food in camp. You are not adventurous if you call all those other-tribe foods rubbish foods.
xi said…
Obviously your camp's cuisine was way different from mine oh.

Even the blind men who scaled Mount Everest would have blanched when faced with a plate of our rice and water. Or yam and water. Or bread and water.

The only reason why I would have eaten that food was if I was contesting for 'running-stomach of the year' award.

And the funny thing was, there were guys who had their food cards full. As in, no meal missing!

There was this day I went to the dining hall, and they were serving yam and water. (the idea was to take the yam and remix it with sardines). And there was this girl in front of me on the queue. Why I noticed her was her phonetics. I just tanda there gently dey wait for my turn, na im I hear one girl blowing pure, unadulterated phonetics, saying "what sorta rubbish is this camp thingy, cant wait to get outta here bla bla bla, phone-phone-phone...".

Na im I ask myself whether Tony Blair pikin dey do nysc for naija? Abi the girl's native name na Chelsea Clinton? Because my sister, if you hear the phonetics eh, you go dey wonder where this one drop from.

Light complexioned girl. Facially, she pass cut-off mark. Blowing phone.

Na im we reach front of queue, and they were dishing out the usual two pieces of strong yam.

And the girl was whispering something to the person who was serving.

The person serving dey shake head vehemently.

The girl dey whisper vigorously.

Line was being held up.

Na im I moved past the girl to arrange myself. And I tuned one ear's antenna towards her side.

And I heard my yankee babe trying to blend her fone with begging... "madam abeg add one more piece na...."

Una see?

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