Ibo Boy Wey Like Yoruba – Episode 2

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I travelled back home d next day in order to pack my bags and get set for take off to NYSC Osun camp. As i glanced through the window of the rickety bus i boarded, i just recalled the stories we were told by some barracks boys dat have finished serving how their NYSC camp experience was; some said it was fun while others said it was their worst experience. Well, as a “sharp barrack boy” that i am, i promised myself that it was going to be fun for me as i planed to take part in the “MR MACHO” contest i was told takes place in every camp. Immediately i stared at my bicets and my broad chest if they had reduced since i haven’t gymed for two days. “if my chest reduce i go use press up bring am out back” i said to myself as i saw a sign on the road which says “WELCOME TO OSUN STATE”
We got to the camp in no time as i walked slowly dragging down my bag. The army men at the gate searched my bag, “which kin bad tin i wan carry, na weed?” i wondered as i immediately noticed the enomous croud of corpers to be..
My call up letter was checked and i was given a foam that was as thin as my mother’s vegetable choping board. I was also given a room and the number to the bunk i was to place the foam on. Room F, bunk number 24 i tried craming this relevant information as i walked in the direction others were walking to complete my clearance process and collect my Nysc khaki. As i passed a car parked on the road side i smiled as i stared at myself in the car side glass and saw my “fine fair face” (FFF). The sun was shining greatly but the red “kangol” cap i was wearing sheltered my “yellow pawpaw” face from the sun. I finished my clearance rather late and as i was walking to my room or rather hall, i heard my name, “Flow! flow eh!! flowey baba oh”. I turn and saw two guys

]It was Ezenna and Obinna, two baggas back then in school. I anchored them saying “Elele ti elele”, our slang we use to greet ourselves in sch back then, we talked as they asked if i just finished my clearance, i told dem i just did and they in turn told they have been in the camp since the previous day; of which i could c bcos they already had their khaki on. They later told me they both stay in hall A as we pathed. I got to my hall at about 6, the hall was noisy as some guys where trying their khaki on, while others where arranging their bags. “omo this my khaki trousers too big oh” someone said, i drew closer to him to see the size. “e be like say e go size me” i said as he offered it to me “take my own, my own small” i offered him mine in turn. The guy i gave my khaki trouser was Ayo, his bunk number was 26, just beside mine.
He hails from Ekiti, he was a good Womanizer, a better alcoholic, and a best weed smoker, like he told me. I introduced myself to every inmate including the guy dat occupies the bunk above me, Lampard was his name, a befitting name as he was exactly the black version of Frank Lampard of Chelsea Fc. I told them my name was “Flow” as a guy named “Shakur” asked me if it was an italian name, i said “me wey never go Togo before, com talk of italy” the whole house laughed. Ayo later said we should both go to mammy market………
I drank “Alomo” dat day to stupor; a drink i never liked but had to drink it bcos Ayo said it was his favorite. As i drank my final bottle of Alomo, i could feel the hot effect of the Alomo down my heart. “make dis drink no burn my heart oh” i said to myself. Ayo told me he had always liked Ibo boys as i told him i also like Yoruba boys bcos they are sociable…

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