Necessary Evil
The military community is a social environment that maintains a viable symbiotic relationship with the surrounding communities around it which has thus, paved a way for the presence and services of civilians that provide different kinds of support services. These are menial and domestic roles including but not limited to- artisans, technicians, labourers and in some cases customers that patronise the different businesses that most non- serving spouses own and operate. For example, the women and girls who hawk perishables and particularly that woman with a funny voice that hawk’s bread in the mornings. I've tried for years to hear whatever it is she says as she advertises, but unfortunately, I am still unable to comprehend her exact words. There’s also an in-house mechanism; where young adult children of soldiers in a bid to be responsible, render services including: car washing, shining boots, clearing bushes around our surroundings for a token, in some cases fetch water and run other simple errands. This group is generally referred to as ‘barrack boys’, as they are mostly males. They know the nooks and crannies of the barracks as well as who is old and or new in the community. In all fairness, the barrack boys and or the boys from the neighbouring communities bothering the military communities, who render commendable service are mostly your go to persons for almost everything within the military community. Whether you are entirely new in the military community or posted from another unit, the artisans to really watch out for are the civilians and barrack boys who put themselves out as possessing such skills as plumbing, electrical installations, carpentry, general repairs to avoid accidents and regrets. My experience with artisans has been a hilariously annoying one; even after conducting some level of due diligence, I end up having a story to tell. In no particular order, my bad experience with artisans spans from a time I needed to tile the bathroom in my first military house and engaged the services of a certain ‘barrack boy’ for the work. He broke all the new tiles I had bought and fixed them as broken tiles in a spectacularly awful fashion. Upon returning home to supervise the work, I was greeted by a sight I didn’t know human beings were capable of creating. The floor of the bathroom looked like a poodle filled with broken tiles. Another fellow kept topping gas to my...
