DIARY OF A CORPER — EPISODE 2: SO THIS IS THE WORKFORCE?

If there’s one thing nobody prepares you for in NYSC, it’s the moment reality slaps you.

Hard.

I resumed properly on my second day—earlier than usual, unfortunately. Apparently, my body decided to betray me and take this whole “responsibility” thing seriously.

By 8:45 a.m., I was already seated at my desk, staring at absolutely nothing.

No work.
No instructions.
Just silence… and confusion.

I looked around the office. A few staff members were present, but nobody seemed particularly interested in doing anything. One woman was eating. Another was discussing inter-denominational marriage like it was a national issue.

So this is it?
This is the workforce?

At exactly 10:17 a.m., more people started strolling in like they were attending a wedding reception.

“Good morning,” I greeted one of the women politely.

She nodded, dropped her bag, and turned to me.
“You’re the new corper, right?”

“Yes, ma.”

“Welcome. Hope you are enjoying Lokoja?”

I just smiled. Honestly, the truth is a capital NO, but when I opened my mouth, all I said was:

“It’s okay, ma.”

I’m not even ready to start explaining why I don’t—or should—like this city.

Then a guy walked in. Finally, a change from the women I had been seeing all morning. I was beginning to think this place was for women only.

Well… except for my crush, Femi.

After the way I embarrassed myself yesterday during introductions, I had been hoping never to see him again. Unfortunately, his face was still fresh in my memory.

Then I heard voices at the doorway.

The door opened, and a man walked in.

Wait… I recognize him. He was the one talking to Femi yesterday at the reception.

He greeted the women warmly, and they responded with equal enthusiasm. Then he turned to me.

“I heard we got a new corper.”

Wow. News travels fast. I already hate this “new girl” label.

He stretched out his hand.

“I’m also a corps member. My name is Bassey.”

Finally. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only corper here.

I shook his hand.
“Dewa.”

“Sorry, what tribe is that?”

“I’m Yoruba.”

“Oh wow, you look Igbo.”

I smiled. I actually get that a lot. Even though every time I look in the mirror, I can’t quite see what they mean.

“So what does Dewa mean?”

“It’s actually Adeewa—‘crown of beauty.’ Dewa for short.”

“You have a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

Hmm. This is giving subtle flirting.

The other women must have noticed too, because now they were casually glancing at us while pretending to mind their business.

“So, have you met the director?” he asked.

“Not yet. He wasn’t around yesterday.”

“Oh yeah, he probably went for a meeting. So you haven’t been briefed?”

“Well, other than the fact that corpers are not paid here, no one has told me anything.”

He laughed. “You must have been really disappointed. There’s not much, honestly. He’ll just tell you what’s expected of you. You’re to come in every day except CDS days… and closing time is 4 p.m.”

“What?”

He smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

I forced a smile. “Okay, na.”

But inside my head?

Chaos.

So let me get this straight.

I wake up every morning.
Enter bike.
Face Lokoja sun.
Come and sit here for hours.

Yet the payment is… experience?

Wow.
Beautiful.
Amazing.
Incredible.

As I sat there processing my suffering, I suddenly felt a presence.

I didn’t even need to look up.

“Good morning,” that voice said.

That voice.

I raised my head slowly.

Femi.

Of course.

“Good morning,” I replied, trying to sound normal—like my heart wasn’t doing jump-up.

“You’re settling in well?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Very well.”

Lie.
Complete lie.

He smiled slightly, like he knew.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said.

Get used to what exactly?

Poverty?

Before I could respond, he added:

“By the way… I hope nobody has scared you away yet.”

Too late.

End of Episode 2

To be continued…

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