This story is long overdue.
I finished the NYSC program many years ago. As we know, each corps member is posted to their place of primary assignment (PPA) to serve for one year. I was posted to a school on the Lagos mainland as a mathematics lecturer. I did not mind this, however, I had the offer to come and work in a bank. I preferred to work in a bank than to be a mathematics teacher. This became a dilemma; I had to find a way to get my letter from NYSC to reflect that I was posted to the bank.
I should backtrack to my time in camp to give context. The NYSC camp was fun. I drank alcohol for the first time during NYSC and got drunk: ‘this information adds nothing to the story but hey!’. I made many new friends. For the sake of this write-up, I will focus on a particular friend of mine, Mrs. A. She was older than most of us, very pleasant and we got along well in camp.
The moment NYSC posted me to my PPA, I rushed to the school I was assigned to. This was so I could plead with the headmistress to kindly reject me. This was needed so I could get back to NYSC and inform them that the school rejected me, but I had somewhere to go. She informed me that it wasn’t in her capacity to do so, however, she would get in touch with the school owner. I returned the next day and the feedback was a NO, which left me with no choice other than to work for them. I was sad.
At the time, my fellow corps members and I were discussing our postings on Blackberry Messenger (BBM) that year. As Mrs. A. and I discussed mine, she offered to come with me as my big sis to plead with the school owner. We did and it was still a resounding NO!
I was enlightened by the events that followed. They also helped me get over my naivety. Mrs. A. said she could use her husband’s connections to help me out. I was excited, but the conversation took a strange turn. She told me that the only time her husband touched her sexually was the time she conceived their three children. After much talk back and forth, I realized she wanted a sexual relationship with me before further helping me out. I wasn’t willing to have anything sexual with her, so we both cut ties.
I went to the NYSC secretariat in Surulere to see what I could do. I couldn’t even see any officials. The crowd was overwhelming. I sat on the pavement, defeated by my situation, thinking of what else I could do.
This woman, Mrs. O., walked up to me with her daughter. She said, young man, what is wrong with you? With a heavy shrug, I looked up and told her I was fine. I could see she wasn’t an NYSC official, as she wasn’t with an ID card nor in a uniform, so I answered her nonchalantly. She then raised her voice; I said what is wrong with you? At this point, I had to stand up and explain my predicament. She asked about my parents, and I told her my mum was not in the country at the moment and my dad was at home. She asked me to call him and put it on speaker. She wanted to speak with him.
The conversation looked like this:
Mrs. O.: Sir, my name is Mrs. O, and I live in Surulere. I’m here with your son. He has a slight issue with the NYSC secretariat, and I want to help him out with it.
Dad: Okay?
Mrs. O: Can he spend the night at my house? This is so he can come back to the secretariat very early tomorrow.
Dad: Sure.
I was worried and confused; was this another Mrs. A.?
She handed the phone to me and my dad asked me who she was. I replied that I didn’t really know her. Anyway, my dad’s response was, do what you want.
I followed Mrs. O. to her house. Thinking back as I write this, I am still in shock. When we got to her house, they cleared out the guest room for me. I hardly slept that night.
At about 4:30/5 am the next morning, there was a knock on my door asking me to come out for prayers. Her children, whom I assumed were in the same age group as me, were there and we all prayed together. Surprisingly, she prayed specifically for my issue.
After that, she gave me a diary to give to a man at the NYSC secretariat and told him I was from her. She also gave me money to take a taxi. I went to the secretariat, met with the man, and alas my issue was resolved.
I called Mrs. O., and she actually came down to the secretariat to see me. I thanked her and she gave me an additional five thousand Naira for transport back home.
Not many people know this story.
When I started working, I got robbed and my phone was stolen. I lost my contacts along with Mrs. O’s number, and I did not have her address either. I have searched Facebook with her name several times over the years, but I’ve not found her.
Dear Mrs. O.
Wherever you may be, may the universe be fair to you and your family, and may your kind deeds never be unrewarded.
I pray that everyone that comes into contact with you and your family will be kind to you.
God bless you Ma.
#MEMBA11
