We arrived at the Pandamatenga Force Training establishment in the wee hours, at 01:30 am precisely. I was passed out on arrival.
As the bus approached the gate, we were commanded to put on trainers.
Upon entering the gate, a group of soldiers brandishing guns welcomed us. They were cheering and shouting at the same time, banging on the CTO bus we were in.
I have never been as terrified in my life as when one soldier, a sergeant Ndiwenyu, totting a gun, asked me if I missed my mother. A girl next to me started to sob.
As we disembarked, more soldiers came marching from left, right and centre and started strip-searching us for cigarettes, alcohol and, perhaps, drugs.
Some men among us were caught with 750 ml straights of vodka. The soldiers made them finish the stuff on the spot.
Afterwards, they made us run along with the rest at the square ÔÇô a huge helipad where all the action happened. They made us lug heavy tyres from one end to the other, wear them round our necks, squat back and do frog leaps.
We did push ups and sit ups, and were made to jog, sprint and run all night. By dawn, all the alcohol I had consumed the previous night had burnt out of my system. We must have slept for about 10 minutes on the first night.
During the day, they ordered us to clean, sweep and debush the whole army barracks. When night fell, they made us to run, sprint, and do the knocks up ÔÇô a series of moves where you stand upright with your fists on the ground.
Days merged into a week, and I started to grow accustomed to wheeling huge tyres with smaller ones around my neck every morning. There was even one called the ‘tooth pick’, which we used to carry every day after meals. It was a long gum pole stuffed with huge truck tyres in the middle.
Some among us would collapse and go into fits and commas. ARV patients were forced to take their medications late. And, pitifully, there was a girl who was bed ridden after it was discovered that she had low blood and also suffered from TB.
Pregnant girls were sent home and some among us were denied the right to go for medical examinations before coming to the boot camp.
We signed an indemnity form on behalf of our parents. Even the soldiers didn’t know our medical conditions. My friend, reduced to a wreck and trembling like a leaf, decided he’d had enough. He left the boot camp on the very next bus.
One night, after the weaker ones had left, we were made to stage a funeral for one of the baboons that had died. The primates were staying with us at the camp. Leso la ga tshwene arrived on our way to sleep at exactly 02:00 am. Normally we slept at 02:00 am and woke up at 03:30 am for personal training.
All of a sudden, some junior soldiers came from the junior mess after a night of binge drinking and commandeered us to make proper funeral arrangements for the dead baboon.
And so we chose a priest, sang hymns, prayed and conducted the obligatory body viewing. Pall bearers and speakers at the funeral were chosen from among the crowd.
Girls were forced to weep, lending a surreal atmosphere to the stage-managed funeral for the dead primate. They read messages and placed flowers. All this was done by command from tipsy soldiers just out to have a little laugh.
Married women were forced to do the boogie boogie, a sexual romp dance. Some of us gaped in wonderment at this sight, unpalatable as it was for the sensitive viewers present.
During the funeral, one of the recruits snuck out and went to climb a tree, seeking some respite from the punishing drills. He slept up the tree the whole night. When the soldiers realised there was one missing, they ordered an intensive man hunt.
The drunken soldiers staggered around looking for him, some sobering up as the search ensued. Eventually, the recruit was caught and punished the following morning. The soldiers bundled him into a truck along with a massive tyre, dropped him off in Pandamatenga village and told him to run back.
Imagine wheeling a JCB tyre for 10km alone in a bush teeming with wild lions and elephants. It must have taken that guy 30 minutes to get back.
Two weeks into the camp, I now felt brain washed like a zombie in the army. I started to become good at drilling, which is simply taking commands from a senior soldier. We had to march every day at the square.
One morning, Major Kaboeamodimo arrived at the camp after hearing some news that we were complaining and rebelling. Even some of us were leaking out news to the local media about what was going on at the boot camp.
Since the night of the baboon’s funeral, there was a strike amongst the recruits. At the height of the strike, people didn’t want to fall in ÔÇô a procedure where you had to be at the square every time the whistle blew.
Coming late would result in some form of punishment. If Kaboeamodimo was cold hearted, the worst was to come. Warrant Officer Mpuisang arrived at the camp in a helicopter which landed right on the square. Although he was ranks lower than Mpuisang, he carried an honour stick, a sign of long service. So all the soldiers saluted him with great respect.
He made everybody roll flat on the ground. I remember rolling for about 500 metres on tarred surface at the square.
At each interval, we were made to stand upright to feel the blood rush. The dizziness made me feel like I would pass out any time. Some of us were made to roll in deep mud. Warrant officer Mpuisang was a heartless soldier and everybody can attest to that.
After Mpuisangs’ punishment, everybody stopped complaining about anything. He gave us a strict warning to stop snitching on them as soldiers. A soldier never complains when he is commanded.
I then had it clearly explained to me that some soldiers in the higher ranks make silly decisions and command junior officers. It’s such a shame that many junior soldiers are much more capable than many senior officers out there.
We all know very well that there are girls who literally throw themselves at the soldiers. Some used to sneak out with the soldiers from the camp at night to go and have sex with them.
They would do this mostly for preferential treatment or in return for cigarettes and booze. During the day these girls would act as if they were sick and the soldiers would go with them as if they were going to the clinic. There is one car that was identified as the one which would pick them up during the night.
One girl told me a sad story about how she had just been released from mental hospital after she got mentally disturbed from depression. Her fianc├® dumped her after she had a miscarriage and lost her fallopian tube. As a result of the operation, she could no longer bear children, the reason her man left. She descended into a spate of depression.
Out there, something radical happened to me. I became rude, intolerant and physical. Nobody intimidated me anymore, not even the soldiers. For want of sleep, my eyes were blood shot. I wanted more training and was up for anything.
Everyday there was a 15km run which the recruit privates used to take. My friend Ungwang Boiteto and I were always keen to run with them. Next thing we were like this with the recruits. There was no difference.
Up until graduation day, there were aerobics, song, dance, drama various sports activities. All I wanted to do was the drill because that was the only time we could interact with the soldiers.
Some of them would tell us stories about their encounters with poachers and how they had it during their days in training, which wasn’t any different from ours. Instead theirs lasted five months longer.
Some would go as far as showing us big guns at the shooting range and the artillery section (ground forces). I studied all their ranks and realised that when relaxed they were not such bad people.
Until today I still pay attention to soldiers. I feel just like one of them and can’t wait to meet them for a stop and search again after a night of clubbing.
I feel rehabilitated as I still wake up early in the morning, and do some regular exercising. Boot camp was one of the most unforgettable experiences in my life.
