From Home To Hostel - CULTURE SHOCK

 

My eight hour foodie journey to NYSC Katsina camp was a delightful introduction to the adventures that awaited me in the North. I sampled the local delicacies while negotiating with the vendors in my broken Hausa. Having stuffed myself silly with a thousand naira worth of Northern treats, I slept like a log for the rest of the journey and my short dreams filled with suya and awara(soya beans cake). Lol. 

Long before I realized, we were at the camp gate and a tap on my shoulder swayed me from the suya and awara that characterized my dreams. I smiled in excitement as I alighted the bus with my box and quickly aimed enthusiastically for the gate only for that enthusiastic excitement to be turned to stress as we navigated the bureaucratic maze of document checks and bag searches which were a necessary evil, after which my elatedness returned as I finally stepped into the place where my NYSC dream would unfold.

As I finally shuffled into my hostel room, I was hit with a wave of reality, I mean, I didn’t expect much but damn! Gone were the comforts of home. My soothing bed at home was replaced by four bunk beds squeezed into a room. The mattresses, if they could even be called such, were as thin as a wafer, but I knew this would be my sanctuary for the next three weeks, so rather than dwell on complaints that will further drain me, I tagged along to protect my mental health. Lol. 

 

My immediate concern was how I'd manage to sleep without falling off the slim bunk bed. But soon, that became the least of my worries when I realized I'd be sharing this space with over 30 people for three weeks. The noise, the queues for the bathroom, the arguments over who left the toilet without flushing- it was a chaotic learning experience with life lessons in patience, tolerance, and understanding. 

As the days went by, I started to settle into my new life in the camp. It was a melting pot of cultures, beliefs, habits, and predilections that I'd never experienced before, but I was determined to make the most of it.

 

I made friends with the most unlikely people, learned to appreciate the sound of laughter echoing through the hallways, and even grew fond of the communal showers, with the water always frigid cold.

Was it just the laughter and the togetherness that made the experience so special? 

Hell No!

The hostel was a personal discovery zone. It was where I honed resilience, learning to bounce back from cold showers, crowded spaces, and constant noise. Adaptability was a skill I developed as I navigated different personalities, cultures, and habits, finding common ground despite our differences. My first experience of one Nigeria. 

Most importantly, the hostel was a crucible of solidarity. The friendships forged in those hallways were forged from shared experiences, laughs, and even hardships.

 

Witnessing the empty bunks of those who couldn't endure the challenges of the camp, hearing the echoes of tearful outbursts and sorrowful murmurs from different corners, (I cried too, Lol) and lending a hand to others in need, was a sobering reminder of the human spirit. 

Despite the struggle, we stood in friendship and support in the midst of adversity. The hostel became more than just a place of physical discomfort but also a community where we found solace, strength, and a shared sense of purpose.

While the hostel was a haven of self-discovery and growth, the NYSC camp experience didn't stop there. The regimented lifestyle of a corps member meant adhering to strict schedules and rules, adding a new dimension to the trials and excitement of the three-week adventure.