I am Adebayo Ademide Esther, a Mass Communication graduate of Caleb University, Lagos. I finished school in August 2025, although my convocation ceremony was held in February 2026.
By August 2026, I was heading to the NYSC Orientation Camp in Kwara State as a member of the 2026 Batch B Stream 2.
Travelling from Lagos to Kwara by road alone was a first for me. I was curious about what the journey would be like, especially because I had never travelled that far by road on my own. My location was turned on via WhatsApp so my parents could track my movement, which I feel is important when travelling by road.
The journey turned out to be much calmer than I expected. I was curious about finally experiencing the camp I had heard so much about.
What I did not expect was how quickly military discipline would become the biggest part of that experience. Growing up with a father in the military, I had never really understood why people were afraid of soldiers. I knew what military life looked like, but I had never experienced the kind of discipline that came with it firsthand.
Before arriving, I had seen corps members on TikTok joking about soldiers coming into the hostels to chase them out of bed. I thought they were exaggerating, but camp quickly proved otherwise.
Meditation started at 5:00am, but soldiers were already moving around the hostels from about 4:30am, making sure everyone was out of their rooms. I often woke up around 3:30am to bathe and get ready.
Being late or breaking certain camp rules could also come with punishment. Soldiers could make corps members squat, do repeated squats or sit on the floor. They seemed to know exactly how uncomfortable that could be, especially when we were dressed in white.
Even getting to the hall late came with its own consequence. By the time you arrived, the available seats could already be taken, leaving you to sit on a flat surface on the floor. It was especially uncomfortable during longer sessions when we had to remain there for a while.
Even on our swearing-in day, we were made to sit on the floor because we were making noise during the ceremony. That day, we were in our khaki, but it was another reminder that camp discipline applied everywhere.
One afternoon on the parade ground, while we stood under the sun for a talk by the Camp Commandant, I started wondering why the heat seemed to be targeting me. I signalled the soldier assigned to my platoon because the sun was hitting the side of my face and my legs so intensely that I could barely concentrate. I complained to him about the heat, but he only listened then I remembered we are supposed to serve “under the sun or in the rain”, but that day, the sun was doing too much.
What made the moment even more memorable was that a guy who would later become my friend noticed and exchanged positions with me. It was such a simple gesture, but I thought it was really sweet.
Looking back, it is funny because the things I once thought people were exaggerating about became normal to me. Beyond the discipline, camp gave me friendships I did not expect.
I became particularly close to two of my roommates, the three of us were almost always together, and one question somehow became part of our daily routine: “What are we eating?” We were all simply trying to adjust to the same environment, and that made friendship come naturally.
Camp also pushed me out of my comfort zone. My platoon leader encouraged me to represent Platoon 1 in the Miss NYSC competition. I had never imagined catwalking in front of hundreds of people, but I did it.
The catwalk itself was not my biggest challenge. After changing from our white-on-white into our 6/7, we catwalked again before the question-and-answer session. I was asked, “What is the name of the principal officer in charge of discipline on camp?”
I knew the answer was Camp Commandant B. E. Ohondu, but I became nervous and mixed up the name. I tried to correct myself, but the judge did not give me the opportunity before moving on.
I eventually came third. I was emotional when the result was announced, especially seeing my platoon members and friends cheering me on. I cried, not because I was unhappy with my position, but because of the support around me and the fact that I had actually pushed myself to do something I never thought I would even though I heard people wanted me to win but I guess the judges felt otherwise.
That experience taught me something about confidence. Sometimes, you do not know you can do something until you put yourself in a position where you have to try.
I also took part in Man O’ War activities with the OBS because I could not do them with my platoon due to the Miss NYSC rehearsals. The experience was actually nice, and it gave me the opportunity to participate in activities with people outside my platoon.
Interestingly, my father knew the Camp Commandant, and I am sure he was at the Miss NYSC programme. I could not help but wonder if he recognised me as the corps member who had just mixed up his name and got the answer wrong.
I was not particularly familiar with him before then. It was only after I became ill that I got to know him better.
When I fell sick, the Camp Commandant, B. E. Ohondu, was one of the people who made sure I was okay. From the clinic to helping me get medication that was unavailable within the camp, he made sure I received the attention I needed.
Eventually, I had to leave. I left camp on Friday, August 21, after 17 days because I had become weak and needed to return home for treatment. Leaving before the end was not how I had planned the experience, but I knew my health had to come first.
I was already back in Lagos when Platoon 1 won the camp carnival. The platoon represented Atilogwu, an Igbo cultural dance, and emerged as the overall winner. I followed the celebration through our platoon group chat.
That victory meant more to me because our platoon had not been winning most of the competitions. Apart from football, the carnival was a major win for us.
Watching everyone celebrate from home reminded me that someone else winning before you does not mean you have been left behind. Your own moment can still come.
Camp taught me that in a very practical way. It taught me unity, because people from different backgrounds had to work together and combine their ideas. It taught me patience, because sometimes your moment comes later than you expect.
And it taught me to be bolder. I went to camp expecting to complete an orientation programme. I left with a better understanding of discipline, friendships I will remember, the confidence to stand before a crowd and experiences I did not see coming.
I complained about camp while I was there, but now that I am home, I find myself missing it. Maybe that is the funny thing about camp: some of the moments you cannot wait to leave behind become the ones you remember most.
Ademide Adebayo
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