By Toheeb Babalola
After hearing inspiring stories from predecessors who had undergone the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in the late 1990s and early 2000s, the joy of wearing a lemon-coloured khaki and white shirt became a dream for me.
Some of these stories, particularly Mr. Moriyanu’s (not his real name), remain stuck in my head. In 2002, Moriyanu was deployed from his hometown in the Southwest to a state in the Southern geopolitical zone. Despite studying Mechanical Engineering, he was assigned to a community primary school as his Place of Primary Assignment (PPA). The most fascinating part of his story was that he never lacked anything—food, money, or fabric—throughout his service year.
“Toheeb, during our time, we got these things for free,”Moriyanu smiled as he recounted his experience. “When we went to the local markets in our khaki uniform, people gave us food and money because they saw us as the messiahs of their community.”
Nearly three decades later, the four cardinal programs of NYSC, which Moriyanu and his contemporaries benefited from, remain in place. This reinforced my belief that I would receive the same treatment.
A Reality Check in Asaba
Fast forward to February, when I began my service year in Asaba, the capital of Delta State—a completely unfamiliar place for me. Everything—the environment, language, and culture—felt foreign. However, with Moriyanu’s story in mind, I remained unconcerned, reassuring myself, “Toheeb, everything will be as easy for you as it was for Moriyanu.”
However, within my first week in Asaba, I quickly realized that roadside food vendors showed no regard for my khaki uniform.
As I settled in, I walked around comparing food prices at different canteens. Both roadside vendors and restaurants charged ₦1,200 for a plate of carbohydrates, which included Apku/Eba, soup, and meat. This was too expensive for me to afford, considering my monthly NYSC allowance.
Surprisingly, the price remained consistent everywhere in Asaba. I thought to myself, “These roadside food vendors and restaurants must be holding regular meetings. How are roadside vendors competing with restaurants? Back in my hometown of Ibadan, a plate of carbohydrates costs as little as ₦500.”
An Unpleasant Encounter with a Food Seller
One evening in the third week of February, after returning from my primary assignment, I was exhausted and starving. Wearing my khaki uniform, I had ₦1,200 on me and found a roadside food vendor near the Directorate of SDGs Offices.
I ordered Ẹba and did not bother asking for the price, assuming it was still ₦1,200.
As I rinsed my hands, I admired the steaming hot ẹba, neatly served on a plate with ẹ̀gúsí soup, biscuit bones, and meat. I devoured the meal as if I had never tasted food before—it went down smoothly in my stomach within 10 minutes.
As I prepared to leave, I handed the vendor ₦1,000 and ₦200 notes. To my surprise, she examined the money and acted as if something was missing. As I stood up, she said in pidgin English, “Ọga corper, your money never complete. Your money na ₦1,500.”
Hearing this, I became angry and started sweating. “When did you change the price? You didn’t inform me earlier,” I asked, frustrated.
She grabbed my jacket and insisted I balance the ₦300 before leaving.
“Ọga corper, you dey craze for head o. Don’t play with me o. Na Asaba you dey o,” she agitatedly warned. Feeling powerless in an unfamiliar environment, I reluctantly transferred ₦300 from my bank’s mobile app to her—to protect NYSC’s reputation and avoid further humiliation.
Beyond this unpleasant experience, I soon realized that whenever I tried to buy other items in the city, vendors would increase their prices upon noticing my khaki uniform. Misconceptions about corps members earning ₦77,000 monthly only made matters worse.
Let’s break it down: If you spend ₦1,500 per meal, three times a day (₦4,500 daily), and multiply that by 30 days, your monthly food expenses alone amount to ₦135,000—far exceeding the ₦33,000 NYSC allowance. Surplus or deficit?
Now, I believe Moriyanu’s story is truly reflected in his name, which means “I received the wonder of God.” His experience cannot be compared to the realities that corps members face today in their new environments.
