Staring Aimlessly


Oh it’s passing out parade day and it happens to be Valentine’s Day too. Interesting right?

Some male corpers can’t wait to take their female colleagues to choice restaurants and bars in town as soon as they collect their NYSC discharge certificates. The more zealous ones have bought nice well-scented undies which they plan to give the female corpers as ‘valentine gifts’.

As always, the ladies are smarter. Some know they will be taken out by their male colleagues who are willing to ‘spoil’ them silly. Others do not really care, their minds are focused on what the future holds and for the ‘spoiling’ part, who needs poor male corpers on a Valentine’s day when they have got rich and established men-friends who will come take them to choice destinations?

You still wondering if the guys are paid more than the ladies? Fa fa fa fowl! Omo, na the same allawee o but obviously the ladies are more coordinated and organized. They are also smarter and know they will need this last pay (which was double by the way) for transportation and other expenses as job-hunt heads into top gear in the coming weeks.

I and some other guys decide to meet up in a certain zero-star hotel after picking up the certificates that made us wear khaki trousers and shirts at least once every week for a year. On getting to the said hotel which looked more like a motel, the guys begin to discuss about the uncertainties that lie ahead in the coming weeks. Some seem not to understand what lies ahead, so they find solace in discussing which of their female colleagues will come over for the passing out party.

Name of various girls begin to fly from left, right, north and south. This leads me to the realization that one of the ladies I had been admiring from our days in camp was actually shagging my friend, Ikenna all through the service year. This leaves me in shock really. I am not shocked because a corper is shagging another corper, that’s a norm. I am only shocked that she has been having sex despite constantly putting up such demeanor that may make you mistake her for a nun.

My phone rings and it is Junior who is also concluding his service year but far away in Calabar. He brings me back to the harsh reality of life. “Wetin be the plan now wey we don serve finish?” he asks with a tone of sincerity. I honestly tell him how confused I am. “I no know o, Jesus is our iroko,” I respond. Network goes bad and the call ends abruptly.

I return to my seat in the open bar at the hotel. Deep within, I am hoping that all Ikenna has said about shagging Kamsy from the front and the back, how she had him in his mouth and how he flicked her bean are nothing but blatant lies and a mere figment of his imagination. Ikenna is still busy claiming he has booked a room in the rickety hotel where he hopes to ‘taaaa‘ her all night.

Well, I will just sit here staring aimlessly while waiting to see if she walks in or not.

Horse Thing


  1. captivating. i love the casual and lucid form of the write-up. please keep it coming. do add a ‘subscribe’ button. kudos

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