“Camp is fun!”, they said…..

Yeah, right.

Tell me more, dears.

Here I am, decked in white shorts, white round-necked shirt, white rubber shoes with white socks that have three green stripes around them, and an olive green face cap. I’m sitting in this crowded and humid hall, waiting alongside people who have donned the same outfit as myself for the next orientation or training, or whatever this event is scheduled to be. My phone’s battery is at 20%. My back, arms and legs hurt. But somehow this is a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience and “so fun” and something people actually look forward to.


I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. But apparently this is compulsory – I know it’s not mandatory per say, but it kinda is – and I still have over a week left of this headache-inducing routine. So I have turned to my next-best thing: writing. I love how much solace writing gives me, how it helps me articulate my thoughts, and calculate my decisions. I might not write as much – rather, share as much publicly – as I used to, but it’s a part of me that I never want to rot away.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but right now I already feel much better emotionally, despite the fact that I’m practically sandwiched on a bench of people. I care less about the conversations going on and how the whole situation upsets me, and my mind is focused on finishing this, whatever this is.

This is also very random, but now I understand a statement that a character in the movie adaptation of The Great Gatsby said: “I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy”. When you’re in an event where you don’t know majority of the people there, you tend to have a lot of time to yourself and go unnoticed if you’re not actively socialising or being approached by someone. This is a good and bad thing.

I miss my daily comforts. I know this may make me sound like a brat, but it is what it is. I miss my personal space. The only things that make here a little more bearable is the sport I get to play (volleyball) and my room – or should I say, cubicle – mates whose light-heartdd jokes make me laugh. The rest of it is a headache. However, I have begun this. And I have ride with it till the end & finished what I started.


Okay, I think I’ done now. Time to strain my ears listening to this lecture that goes on for what seems like ages. How exhilarating.

You can feel my excitement radiating through your screen.

(If you made it to this point, I’m happy you did and surprised I had your attention for this long).

By Ada & Her Tune.

Ada&HerTune is here for you!
If you are in search of a safe space to read honest and authentic life stories, learn a couple of life lessons along the way and maybe share yours, then my blog is definitely for you.
I don't profess to be perfect, but I am always open to progress, and to share my life's journey with other progressing humans like yourself.
Fun fact: the name of my blog was coined from an incorrect pronunciation of my names and, looking back now, there couldn't have been a better option when I begun this blog in 2018. This blog is me, it is my gift to you. I hope you receive it warmly with open arms.
Join me as I navigate life as a twenty-something Nigerian female medical doctor (with a couple side view) one interesting tale at a time.
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