On Goodbyes: A Corper’s Guide to Serving your Fatherland

I used to wonder how people could pack to a new location and be okay, I felt like it had to be one of the scariest things to do. But here I was in November 2022, navigating a place where I knew no one and none of my family members had ever thought to venture into, and I was totally fine. A year later, my heart is full of love and laughter, lessons and tears, thanksgiving and gratitude. God told me before beginning my service year that He was bringing me into my own land, all these months later, I say boldly, You are a Man of your word and I worship you forever. Lessons from a Calabar Corper:

• Calabar taxi men are horrible drivers and maybe even more horrible businessmen: I remember being so flabbergasted the first couple of weeks with the transport system. Taxi/bus drivers would see you standing on the road and still be moving at full speed while still expecting you to flag them down. I mean, aren’t you supposed to slow down when you see potential customers? But hey, they seem to be doing just fine. I won’t miss that part of my experience but I really grew fond of the popular mini buses (I often referred to them as bread buses because they look like the kind of bus a bakery could use to transport bread hehe).

• Did someone say Bole: /Bole:/ noun. Refers to roasted plantain, usually roasted as a whole. In summary, I ate more bole this service year than in my entire life combined. Sidenote: the bole sauce over here is legendary.

• 404 is not a car: In case you ever see a sign that says “404 is ready”, please know they do not mean the infamous Peugeot 404, they mean dog meat. Yes, dog meat is a thing here.

• Rain, rain, could you please go away? : Rain and Calabar have a really passionate relationship and are a bit too dependent if you ask me. I mean, it felt like if rain did not fall in a day, Calabar would explode. Rain fell on me so much that a friend of mine jokingly started calling me a water bender. Despite this, I still didn’t purchase an umbrella, dramatic, I know!

• Everywhere is far from Everywhere: This bonus point applies to the entire Cross River State. Lying at the edge of the nation, Cross River is a border state and my first major outing took me as close as the Cameroonian border. I would eventually come to discover that travelling from one edge to another was no joke and could sometimes even be farther than travelling to a different state.

I started this year by asking “How do I pack for an entire year?” and now I find myself asking “How do I pack up an entire year of my life?” I wish I was just talking about the clothes and shoes but it’s much more than that, it’s the relationships, memories, every laugh and every tear. How does one pack it all up? It’s impossible to write out what this service year has been like but all I can say is that it has been full and eventful.

The thing about living in a house full of corpers is that no one stays forever, no matter how long they stay, eventually, you have to say a thousand and one goodbyes and even as many hellos. You have to be content with the fact that things change, nothing remains the same and each leader with their own way of doing things.

And the thing is, no one can actually lay claim to the ownership of the house. When new corp members arrive, it always feels like you are the real family member and the rest are just strangers but soon enough, those strangers become intricate members of the house and it’s your turn to say goodbye.

Just like it’s now my turn to say goodbye. I’ve stared at the walls, the sky and faces, willing my mind to preserve these memories, to let me carry them forever. But I know it’s inevitable that the vibrancy of the memories will soon begin to wane even though their impact has been seared into my soul forever.

It’s been the best of days, full of privileges and God’s mercy and I bow my knees in thanksgiving for the greatest of people. People who saw me, respected me and chose me. I wish I could hold on forever but I’ve learnt that we must be willing and ready to say goodbye so we can move into greater things. Saying goodbye doesn’t diminish the importance of a season, it is simply acknowledging the fleeting nature of life and serves as a reminder to make the most out of every day. I believe I was able to do just that.

As I prepare to say my final goodbye to such a defining season, I hear an echo in my spirit,” This isn’t actually goodbye, more like see you later.”

Photo credit: Bola the Writer