The Soldier: Changing the Narratives – EPISODE 6

By Dr Bassey Emmanuel

The National Stage – He recited a poem called THE FLAG. By midnight, Army Headquarters was calling. By morning, he had orders for Sudan.

That was Pascal’s second time in Abuja, the first being when he went for documentation exercise for the Nigerian Army Sponsorship into civil institution, which he was enjoying. He used the opportunity of second coming to appreciate the city of Abuja and wondered why some Nigerians cannot be proud of what they have? With the kind of visitors, I am seeing in this hotel they lodged us, this competition will not be an easy one. Pascal thought to himself.

The National Competition was held at the International Conference Centre, Abuja. The hall was decorated by top Abuja interior decorators and designers. By 9 AM it was filled — professors, members of the academia, captains of industries, military and police officers, media practitioners from every major TV station, and politicians. The Minister of Education was the Special Guest of Honour. He gave the keynote address and declared the ceremony open.

Pascal sat at the back of the hall in his army uniform. He had argued with UNN authorities, insisting on presenting in full military regalia. The organisers agreed — they saw it as an honour and a plus to the event. A pen in his breast pocket, a small Bible in his hand. Not to pray for victory, but to remind himself of the sanctity of military tenets: discipline, uprightness, trustworthiness, belief in his Creator.

Pascal was the only soldier competing, but not the only one in uniform. The Chief of Army Staff had approved, released, and sponsored 50 soldiers to witness the occasion.

Pascal – the medical student, poet, and soldier who had arrested a man with an AK-47 at a checkpoint 6 years ago, with the Chief of Army Staff’s special promotion through his CO to show for it sat silently. He reviewed the journey in his mind. He smiled when he remembered Sule and his words of encouragement. So far, I have not let Sule down. He remembered the chemist who, out of love, tried to dissuade him from joining the army because of his brilliance. He smiled again. That brilliance is today making the army proud.

The MC’s voice pulled him back. The event had begun.

The MC called name after name. Universities from Lagos, Zaria, Ife, Port Harcourt. Doctors, lawyers, English majors representing their schools. Big grammar and bigger metaphors.

Then: “Last but not the least, representing the University of Nigeria, Nsukka – Corporal Pascal Vincent.”

The hall went quiet.

A soldier? In a poetry competition? What does he have to offer? Waste of time! Some murmured allowed while for some, you could read it on their faces.

Pascal walked to the stage. No paper in his hand. He had refused to write the poem down. “If I die in Sudan or Somalia, will I have paper in my hands?” – he had asked the HOD Linguistics. The HOD had no answer. “Let me die with my words in my head.”

He adjusted the microphone. Cleared his throat. Looked at the panel of judges – professors, poets, one Retired General amongst others.

Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Please, for want of time, kindly permit me to stand on the already existing protocol.

My name is Pascal Vincent. I am here to represent my school, the prestigious University of Nigeria, Nsukka.

I am a medical student. I am a soldier. And today, I am a Poet.

The hall started clapping even before he had begun.

I have for you today a poem titled:

THE FLAG

I

My country, my honour

Nigeria my pride, the Flag our symbol of unity and mien.

I see the flag in the eyes of our warriors. 

And just as water comes after days of thirst, 

So, a mother’s wrapper covers her son 

With unbroken resolve.

II

They say the flag is only cloth and pole. I say the flag is power, law and strength

A thing for anthems, for respect, for delight.

The flag is the strength of a nation at war, 

Because I have carried it in my hands, when my boots are laced, 

Camo at night with rifle in hand

Through mud, through fire, through checkpoints for months  

Then sleep is treason and duty is life.

III

When you ask the flag what colour it is, 

The answer you get is sacrifice indeed.

Not red, not green, not white it will say, but brown

Colour of the earth dug for a grave. 

The black of nights we spent awake 

So, peace could be here 

Is the gold of dawn you bought with your blood.

IV

I have seen men spit on the flag. Some 

Call it a rag. Some call it a lie. Some use it as a mat. Some as toys.

Then I saw those same men run toward the flag

That pride when soldiers come home with victory in sight.

It’s true that when death is loud, even the faithless knows where to call home.

V

So, tell me, you who say soldiers are illiterate

Who holds the flag when the storm is nigh? 

Who stands in silence when the anthem is sung? We. The nameless in camouflage. 

We the doctors with stethoscopes who stitch, 

The loyal who serve, the steady who guard  

Even the poets who bleed in honour of the Flag.

VI

When you see the flag rise at dawn,

Know it was not the wind that lifted it. 

It was the breath of men who refused to fall, 

The oath of boys who challenged the odds.

As the flag rises at dawn, you give a salute. 

As it drops at dusk, you give a salute. 

For this is the duty of man to the Flag.

For a job that expects you to die for the Flag, 

You must obey the voice — so others can live.

For five seconds, the hall was silent. Amazed.

Then the Retired General stood up, clapping.

Then the professors.

Then the students.

Then the whole International Conference Centre, Abuja, was on its feet.

Huuuuuuuu! They roared. Clapping. Shouting. Some shading tears.

Pascal saluted the judges and walked off stage.

He did not wait for the result. He already had himself convinced of success. He left the HOD Linguistics to collect it.

At 11:45 PM that night, Pascal’s phone rang in his Agura Hotel room.

It was his Commanding Officer.

“Pascal, where are you?”

“Sir, Abuja, sir.”

“You won. But that’s not why I am calling. The Chief of Army Staff called me by 10 PM this night. He watched your performance on NTA.”

“When are you completing your education?”

“By August this year, in two months’ time, sir.”

“Good. You are to report to Army Headquarters, Department of Army Training and Operations, by 0800hrs tomorrow.”

Sir, may I know why I am…

The CO interrupted, pack your bags, Corporal. You have been selected for UN Observer Mission in Sudan. You will do your House-Manship over there. This is in compensation for your performance at the Literary competition earlier today.”

You will be leaving in 3 months’ time.

The line went dead before Pascal could say another thing.

Pascal sat on the bed. Looked at his uniform hanging on the door.

The boy who was told “forget about the army, it is for illiterates was now being sent to represent Nigeria before the world. He smiled to himself and opened his small Bible.

Psalm 91:1.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

He closed his eyes.

In 3 months, I will carry the flag again.

To be continued…

– Digital Embassy…