Beyond Khaki: Three Years of Unscripted Existence After NYSC

By: Corper Philosopher  ( A former Corps member who swapped khaki for a keyboard, documenting the chaos of post-service survival  )

   

                                                                     

The khaki. Stiff, slightly scratchy, imbued with a strange mix of enforced discipline and nascent national pride. For a year, it was my skin. A uniform identity from my place of primary assignment to weekly CDS and the monthly clearance, I was popularly called Corper Philosopher, an alias added to my name at the orientation camp). The service year offered structure, a defined role, clear (if sometimes baffling) objectives, and the comforting illusion of trajectory. Passing out parade felt like a graduation into real adulthood, the khaki shed like a chrysalis, revealing... what? Three years later, standing amidst the scattered debris of applications, unanswered emails, fleeting gigs, and the gnawing silence that followed my last blog post, the answer is stark: an unscripted existence. A wilderness far more vast and bewildering than any NYSC posting.

This isn't just my story. It’s the collective sigh of a generation emerging from lecture halls brimming with theory into a labour market saturated with despair. We traded lecture notes for LinkedIn Premium subscriptions, group projects for gruelling group interviews that often felt like elaborate charades, and the comforting rhythm of semesters for the terrifying open-endedness of "What next?"

The Mirage and the Marketplace:

The first shock wasn't the rejection; it was the architecture of rejection. We were sold a narrative: Get a degree, serve your nation, land a job. The reality? The Nigerian job market isn't a meritocracy; it's a bazaar. Jobs, particularly the coveted ones in oil & gas, banking, telecoms, and even government agencies, are often commodities traded on a thriving black market. The advertised vacancy? Frequently just a legal fig leaf, a box ticked to fulfill corporate governance requirements or appease international partners.

(i) The ghost vacancy phenomenon: How many times have you meticulously tailored your CV, crafted a compelling cover letter, navigated cumbersome application portals, only for the position to vanish into thin air? Or worse, hear through the grapevine that the role was "filled" months before the advert even went live? A 2022 report by Jobberman Nigeria suggested that nearly 60% of job seekers believe most advertised roles are already filled internally or via connections. This isn't paranoia; it's the lived experience of thousands. Sending out hundreds of applications feels less like job hunting and more like participating in a digital lottery where the winning tickets are pre-distributed.

(ii) The "connection currency": "Do you know anyone?" This isn't casual networking advice; it's the fundamental currency of the Nigerian job market. Your skills, qualifications, and passion are often secondary to the weight of the name you can drop or the phone call you can solicit. The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) Q3 2023 report placed the national unemployment rate at 5.0% for Q3 2023, and the underemployment rate at 12.3%. For youth (15-34 years), the figures are invariably higher. These aren't just numbers; they are millions of graduates discovering that their degrees are insufficient collateral in an economy where "who you know" trumps "what you know." The psychological toll is immense. Each unanswered application isn't just a "no"; it's a whisper: "Your network is your net worth, and yours is bankrupt."

(iii)The skill gap chasm: Our universities, polytechnics, and colleges, bless their hearts, often operate in a time capsule. The curriculum frequently lags years, sometimes decades, behind the dynamic demands of the modern workplace. We graduated proficient in theoretical frameworks but often woefully deficient in practical, marketable skills: advanced digital literacy (beyond basic MS Office), critical data analysis, sophisticated project management, specialized technical skills relevant to emerging industries (AI, renewable energy tech, advanced fintech), and crucially, entrepreneurial agility. A British Council survey highlighted that over 50% of Nigerian graduates lack the core employability skills demanded by businesses. We were prepared for white-collar roles that are either vanishingly scarce or require skills we weren't taught. The "white-collar psyche" becomes our undoing – a deep-seated belief that our degree entitles us to a specific type of office job, blinding us to alternative, often more viable, paths.

The Three-Year Descent (and Occasional Ascent):

My own three years? A kaleidoscope of frustration, forced adaptation, and fleeting glimmers of hope.

(i) Year 1: The optimistic siege: Fresh out of khaki, CV polished, NYSC discharge certificate proudly scanned. I attacked job boards with military precision. Fifty applications. A hundred. Two hundred. The silence was deafening. The few interviews obtained often felt surreal. Panelists glancing distractedly, asking generic questions seemingly unrelated to the role, or worse, subtly probing my "connections." The realization dawned slowly, painfully: my meticulously crafted applications were disappearing into a black hole, while positions were being filled via WhatsApp groups and "man-know-man." The savings from NYSC allowance dwindled. The initial optimism curdled into a low-grade anxiety.

(ii)Year 2: The hustle & the hollowing: Optimism gave way to pragmatism, tinged with desperation. "White-collar or bust" began to feel like a death sentence. I embraced the "side hustle" culture – a euphemism for economic survival. Freelance writing gigs paid peanuts and arrived erratically. Tutoring secondary school students felt like a regression. Helping a relative manage their small business offered temporary relief but no career path. Each gig was a lifeline, but also a reminder of the gulf between my qualifications and my reality. The underemployment stung. Watching peers "JAPA" (emigrate) was a constant, painful counterpoint. The social media highlight reels of those who "made it" (often via the very connections I lacked) became psychological landmines. The "Corper Philosopher" identity felt like a relic, a joke. The blog? Silence felt less shameful than writing from a place of perceived failure. Depression wasn't a clinical diagnosis; it was the ambient temperature.

(iii) Year 3: Forced reflection & fractured hope: The sustained pressure forces a reckoning. You either break or bend into a new shape. The constant rejection forces introspection: Who am I beyond the degree? What value can I truly create? What does "success" mean in this broken system? This isn't idle philosophy; it's survival. I started looking beyond the traditional job boards. I invested (painfully, from scarce resources) in online courses – digital marketing analytics, content strategy – skills actually demanded. I began exploring collaborative ventures with other stranded graduates. The turning point wasn't landing a dream job; it was shifting my internal metric of value away from external validation (a job title) and towards tangible skill acquisition and value creation. A small, consistent freelance client emerged, valuing output over pedigree. It wasn't glamorous, but it was real. The philosopher in me awoke not to pontificate, but to understand the system and my place within it.

Beyond the Abyss: Charting a New Script:

Saying "the system is broken" is a truism. The real question is: How do we navigate, survive, and perhaps even thrive within and despite it? Solutions aren't silver bullets, but pathways forged in the reality of our context. I have learnt a few gems from experts and sheer experience :

Step 1  Radical skill acquisition & mindset shift (Individual):

1. • The need to abandon the white-collar altar: This is the hardest, most crucial step. Your degree is a foundation, not a cage. Define your value by your skills and your ability to solve problems, not by the plaque on an office door.

   • The need to become a perpetual learner: Leverage affordable online platforms (Coursera, Udemy, ALX, even YouTube tutorials). Focus ruthlessly on in-demand, practical skills: coding (Python, JavaScript), data analysis (Excel, SQL, Power BI), digital marketing (SEO, SEM, Social Media Analytics), advanced graphic design, project management (Agile, Scrum), specialized technical skills (solar installation, agritech applications). Certify your competence.

   • The need to embrace the hybrid identity: Be a teacher and a social media manager. Be a biologist and a data analyst for agricultural projects. Be an engineer and a technical writer. Your value is multifaceted.

2. Step 2:  Building alternative economies (Collective):

   • Graduate cooperatives & collaboratives: Pool resources, skills, and networks. Instead of competing for scarce jobs, create value together. Start small service-based businesses (digital marketing agency run by graduates, specialized research teams, community tech support hubs). Leverage each other's strengths. The "connection" you need might be sitting beside you, equally stranded.

   • Formalize the hustle: Turn side gigs into registered micro-businesses. Understand basic bookkeeping, branding, and customer acquisition. Platforms like Fiverr, Upwork, and local equivalents (e.g., OgaJobs in Nigeria) are starting points, not endpoints. Build your own client base.

   • Demand transparency & meritocracy (System): While systemic change is slow, pressure matters. Support and amplify NGOs and initiatives fighting job racketeering and advocating for fair hiring practices. Use FOIA (Freedom of Information Act) requests to probe public sector recruitment. Name and shame companies with proven ghost vacancy practices via social media (responsibly, with evidence).

3. Step 3: Institutional Reform (Long-Term):

   • Curriculum review: Tertiary institutions MUST urgently overhaul curricula in close collaboration with industry. Integrate mandatory practical skills modules, internships with teeth, and entrepreneurship incubation programs. Theory must serve practice.

   • Government as enabler, not just employer: Focus on creating a conducive environment for SMEs and startups (reliable power, access to affordable credit, reduced bureaucratic hurdles). Most new jobs are created by SMEs, not massive government recruitments or giant corporations. Support massive vocational training initiatives aligned with market needs (renewable energy tech, sustainable agriculture, creative industries).

   • Invest in critical infrastructure: Reliable power and efficient transport are not luxuries; they are fundamental enablers of economic activity and job creation across all sectors, formal and informal.

Conclusion

Three years beyond the khaki. The uniform promised a path; reality offered a wilderness. We navigated markets where jobs are traded like contraband, battled the ghostly spectres of advertised vacancies, and grappled with the harsh truth that our degrees were often ill-fitting keys to locked doors. The white-collar dream, for many, became a debilitating mirage.

This unscripted existence is brutal, demoralizing, and unjust. Yet, within this crucible, a different kind of strength is forged. It’s the strength born of necessity  the relentless pursuit of relevant skills, the courage to abandon outdated scripts, the resilience to build something from the ground up when no door opens, and the solidarity to link arms with fellow travellers in the wilderness.

The khaki is gone. What remains is not the uniformed corper, but the scarred, adaptable, and increasingly resourceful survivor. The philosopher in me no longer seeks just to understand the world abstractly, but to navigate its harsh realities with clear eyes and practical hands. The path forward isn't paved by the system; it's hacked through the undergrowth by those refused the main road. We are learning to write our own scripts, one acquired skill, one collaborative effort, one defiant act of self-valuation at a time.

The labour continues, but now we labour not just for a job, but for our own definition of worth and impact. The wilderness is vast, but it no longer feels quite so desolate when you start recognizing the paths others like you are carving. The silence is broken. Let the conversation and the collective building begin anew.