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‘A time like this is for old guards like us to get together and reel off dying memories of those good old days – the good old days at school, I mean.’ That was grandpa speaking whilst me as well as father and mother sat listening raptly to his chronicle of experiences.
Now gazing pensively into the distance, he continued: ‘Years have gone by, taking with them, good souls. Many of my school friends whose company I would have otherwise been enjoying are now safe in the world beyond – men like Doctor Oduwole Patson-Thompson, my best friend, always so compassionate and hilarious, but dutiful when it comes to work. Oh life! Fades just like a passing breath.’ Grandpa declines his head and relapses into another spell of reflections. Raising it up once more he turned towards me, saying, ‘We have done our part. We are now handing over to you, for you to play your own part.’ He took a deep look at father and turning to me and directing my attention to him said, ‘You see your father?” He took one long puff at his pipe and in a second his face is blurred by a thick haze of white smoke, as he continues reminiscing: ‘He has been hardworking and conscientious. For singleness of purpose, I couldn’t think of anyone to match him. That is why I think he has risen up the rung so fast. Senior Engineer, National Electricity Corporation. So young boy I will implore you to follow his footsteps closely so that you’ll never go wrong.’
My head remained bowed in humility as I maintained rapt attention to the grey-haired but still strong man. He returned to his usual pensive reflections for a while and then resuming voicing his thoughts, said: “Our own days were very difficult ones. There were no cars. Barefoot, we walked long distances to school, often through stony or untarred roads.’ I opened my eyes in disbelief and in quick reaction, he emphasized – ‘Barefoot, I’m telling you, my boy. You must thank God you are growing up in a world where much advancement has been taken place. You don’t have to go through the trouble we went through now. You won’t appreciate what I’m saying without having gone through the experience yourself.’
Grandpa at this point took a particularly long puff at his pipe and then threw up another cloud of whitening smoke which half covered his furrowed face. Then resuming, he went on to, ‘ I remember once when I had to walk from mid-town to Lumley, barefoot under the hot burning sun. And to add to it all, my head was bare having only the previous day been shaved right down to the skin. I could have worn a cap, but I couldn’t afford one. How I managed through that festering heat was to sometimes rest wherever I saw a tap, wash my face and feet before continuing or sometimes walking through patches of shade cast on the tarmac by tall buildings.’ Now cleaning his pipe and then refilling it, he said much loudly: “Those textbooks that you carry in your bag to school! Who could afford owning more than two or three of them then? If you didn’t listen to what the teacher said in class you’re finished, old boy. Teachers were then the be-all and end-all of everything in the classroom. For they spoke with power and authority whilst we, the helpless pupils, listened in rapt and reverent attention both in adoration and fear of losing the slightest details of what was being passed on to us. But despite all that, our days were still good ones. We did our very best, although competition was very keen. I remember now that a keen rivalry was always maintained between me, Oduwole Patson-Thompson, Gerald Thompson-Smith and Clifford Mac-Lawson. We were always in the 80’s. Only by fractions did we manage to outwit each other. So the first position will always be rotating between the four of us. I remember once when we gave the form teacher the rare opportunity of sharing the first position between me and Patson.’ Then smiling towards father, he said: ‘Football was our favorite game. We played it during the long break as well as after school. We often played against other schools. Most of the other players from other schools were big, strong and rough boys. They never scrupled in resorting to violence in the field of play. So our team composed mainly of slightly built boys didn’t always come off well. I remember once when in spite of all the fouls, our boys managed to beat the other team, how much jubilation there was.
Father kept smiling encouragingly at Grandpa as he continued his chronicle: ‘I was centre forward. Our goalkeeper then was Amadu Sheriff of blessed memory. He was a renowned goalkeeper, with great talents. No ball in my memory passed through those bars. It was as if he tied a charm to them. He thus became popularly known as ‘Amadu the unwinnable’. Another one, because of the power he had in his feet, got dubbed ‘the shooter’ He is still alive. I’ve forgotten his name though and strangely I don’t even know where he now lives.’
‘That’s really unfortunate!’ My mother lamented, ‘How nice it would have been to have had him with us today.’
‘Oh yes, and he’ll make good company as well…’ Father butted in to complement mother’s compliment and then sensing a sound, signaled, ‘I heard the door bell ringing.’
‘I heard it myself.’ Grandpa affirmed. Mother then asked me to go and see who. With grandpa’s critical eyes fixed squarely on me, I ran to the door. As I opened it, a huge and light-skinned man came in.
‘Oh, hello, Lightfoot,’ father heartily hailed him on recognizing him. ‘God! You seem to be getting younger and younger everyday. This woman must have a special hand for you, eh, lucky you.”
‘Oh no. Don’t pull my legs. Come on. This is nothing compared to yours. Seeing those muscles one would think you are still in your teens when you used to wrestle. And besides, your ever-smiling face gives the impression you’ve no problem at all. And how should you with such a beautiful wife always by your side?.’ My mother blushed and then burst into raucous laughter with all the adults there joining in as the new entrant kissed her on the hand. Father then introduced him to us as Dick Lefevre, an old school friend. ‘We were all in the graduating class of 1970.’
‘Pleased to meet you, old boy,’ Grandpa greeted him with a hand outstretched to him. ‘You’ve come in at a good time to share with us greetings and sentiments for a happy anniversary. Take a seat then and feel as much at home as you could.’
‘It is indeed a rare opportunity for us to reunite at such a time as this when we are celebrating our school’s centenary anniversary. I’m sure this should bring much inspiration to our young friend here and spur him to opt for no other school than ours.’ Whilst saying that Dick kept patting me fondly on the nape of my neck and continued, ‘How could he do otherwise? It’s only natural for one to opt for the best which is no other than what we consider so.’
‘Well, as a matter of fact he has already started going there.’
‘What! That’s damn smart of you, my young boy,’ Dick said, giving me a much warmer pat on the back this time. ‘ So you are quietly nurturing a new stock of Kingwaleans here, with the exception of the woman, of course.’
‘Oh she? She did sixth form there, you know.’
‘Well I just have now to doff my hat to you people. You have indeed completed the circle and therefore you are through and through of the noble stock. And indeed you have all due rights to have the greatest part in the celebrations.’
‘Don’t you say it , we are atready well prepared. The house is well -stocked, to start with. So let’s not be bothered about any other thing. Let’s just settle down here and have a rollicking good time. together.’
‘Oh how thoughtful of you people. I’m more than pleased.’ Dick seemed visibly enthused as Daddy went and brought out a tray of drinks which mummy proceeded to serve. After everyone had been served father started reminiscing, ‘I remember years ago when we were still at school’, he stole a mischievous look at granddad and with a beam-lit face, continued, ‘Indeed, those were days. How could they be otherwise with men like Tuboku-Betts and Taylor Davis around? They were never short of jokes to entertain us in class. I remember the incident between Tuboku and Pa Daba. That was when we were in Form 4 towards the end of 1968, I think.’
‘Oh Pa Daba!’ father’s friend exclaimed.’ He was a damn bloody tyrant. So I felt extremely good the day when Tuboku checked him up. I couldn’t remember what exactly he had done. But what I could recall is Pa Daba heaping strings of invectives at him. Then Pa Daba moved up onto his parents and there it became too much for Tuboku to stomach. He could not take it lying down anymore. So he rose up to his full height and gruffly said. ‘Look sir, I’m not going to take that from you, you understand?’ Pa Daba was shocked. He stood for some minutes dumbfounded and unable to utter one more word. Then he summoned his full authority as a teacher and demanded, ‘Who do you think you are talking to like that? Perhaps that’s the way you’ve been used to talking to your father. But I am going to teach you today how to talk to elders if your parents never did. Before Tuboku could realize it Pa Daba had fallen like a wounded hyena on him flogging him wherever he could reach including his face. Tuboku fought hard to repel the strokes. He then seized the cane and ran away with it, swearing and cursing. Pa Daba crestfallen, retired immediately from the now rowdy class. He never recovered from that blow to his ego.’
‘By the way could someone tell me where Tuboku and Taylor are? It reallyhas been quite a long time since I last saw them.’
‘Tuboku is working in the mines in Liberia. Taylor, I heard, is lecturing at a University in the U.S.’
‘Oh that’s so wonderful to hear.’
‘Everyone in that class is proudly holding his own in this highly competitive world. Even Abidor who was always clowning in class and thus becoming the target for the teacher’s constant curse: “You’d never come to any good! You’d never do well! You’d never come out well, you mark well my words.” is now a prosperous businessman in Nigeria. He was always first from the rear of the class, scoring remarkably low marks like 10% and 15% I can never remember any time he ever scored above 20%. But what would infuriate the teachers the most was that he was always preoccupied in taunting the younger, smaller and more brilliant boys who were the ones actively participating in class.’ He paused for a while, took a gulp at his beer and gulping it down, continued: ‘When last did you visit the school Dick? As for me, it has taken years. I’m certain to have many difficulties finding my way around and in even recognizing it.’
‘No doubt! The school is not in the same shape as it was when we were there. It has gone through many changes. Tomorrow we are to attend the prize-giving ceremony. So I hope we’ll meet there.’
As the evening was being spent away, the men who had drunk several glasses of alcohol were getting hilarious and were already pitching varying melodies in songs of praise. It was an all-out excitement which only ebbed as Grandpa and mother were retiring to bed for the night. Somehow I was able to remain lounging around and enjoying the fun. As I saw them gulping more and more of it, I felt tempted to steal up and get a gulp myself. How much I envied them, I must confess.
The centenary celebrations of a great school like ourss is by no means a small affair and when it happens to be of one to which so many great men in the land owe much of their life and career, one could then imagine how significant it could be. I am indeed lucky to have been enrolled at such an auspicious time. So I was filled with much eagerness to participate in every single part of the program.
Although Daddy had bought me a new pair of shoes, I briskly brushed all my shoes effecting from each a brilliant glossy shine. Mother had had me sewn a new suit. This had been pressed the previous day and with my shirt and tie looking very straight, hung on a hanger in the wardrobe.
As the time drew nearer, my anxiety mounted further up to feverish heights. I couldn’t even sleep that night. Imaginations of how grandiose the start of the celebrations would be like kept me awake. The elaborate preparations seen so far gives me much assurance it was going to be a very big and impressive show. What with the President himself slated to attend and open the celebrations. What also with the fire crackers, school bands parade, march past round the city and fun fare as side attractions?
So with great excitement, the next day, I wore my full ceremonial uniform of ‘cream- cream’ with matching straw boater and black shiny shoes. I then eagerly followed father, grandpa and mummy to our cream colored 504 saloon car. Daddy also neatly clad in his cream suit went towards the car, opened the door and sank swiftly into the soft cushioned seat of the driver’s compartment. He opened the other door on his other side and called mummy to come in and take her seat beside him. Then mummy promptly seated, opened the back doors for me and grandpa to get in. All of us now seated, all the doors were shut. Daddy then turned the ignition key. He pressed the accelerator. A hollow and sharp sound came. He turned the key again and pressed the accelerator once more. The same hollow sound was again emitted. He repeated the process but it was the same response. He decided now to allow the engine to cool down for a while. Death-like silence ensued as daddy kept looking silently at the machine as if praying to it to be of help. My excitement was already beginning to subside. I was on edge, praying to God, not to the machine, that we would not get late and that life would be restored to the stubborn engine. Father turned the ignition key once more whilst in my heart I kept fervently praying that it would respond positively, this time. But as he applied the accelerator, the same sound was again heard. ‘What an unfortunate thing to happen at such a time!’ Daddy exclaimed as he was opening the car door. Moving to the front bonnet, he got it opened. He ran his hand through a number of the suspected parts and ran back into the vehicle. He turned the key and applied pressure on the accelerator pedal. The response was resounding but deafening. A full-throated cry blared out from the previously reluctant engine. This restored everyone’s already sagging spirit. He went out again, this time to close the bonnet. Then he hastened back in and quickly settling into the seat, breathed a sigh of relief as the car moved out of the compound into the heavy traffic out. It was a long but refreshing drive passing streams of other cars destined for the same event as shown by their assemblage of the blazing cream colors.
After covering the long expanse of roads and avenues the car slowed down as it was negotiating into the school compound which was already jam-packed with people, cars and policemen. Father was directed to a spot where he parked the car.
We were all waiting for Dad to close the vehicle when mum raised an alarm. Looking at him wide-eyed, she was asking ‘John, what for goodness sake is that on your suit?’ He instantly stopped his action and carefully examined himself. He was struck at the sight of a large black band stretching from the right side of the waistline on his coat covering both the coat and his trousers. ‘Gosh! What ’s this now?’
‘Must be from the engine, when you were working on it, most likely,’ mummy suggested.
‘Well, seems like a decidedly unlucky day indeed. What else could one do now?’
Mummy, daddy and grandpa conferred and then decided that we return home . As for me, my heart sank into my body as we re-entered the car and were negotiating our way out of the crowded but festive air of the school compound.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll see everything on T.V tonight. The President being in attendance, it is surely going to receive full coverage. Just ensure you don’t sleep early’ Grandpa was trying to coax me. But my spirit was now sufficiently killed. As I arrived home, I had perforce to get to bed and slept right away. What for God’s sake is a television recording compared to being there flesh and blood yourself looking and delighting in the things that really bring joy to your heart.
Arthur Edgar Smith was born, grew up and schooled in Freetown, Sierra Leone. Having taught English since 1977 at Prince of Wales School and, Milton Margai College of Education, he is now at Fourah Bay College where he has been lecturing English, Literature, and Creative Writing for the past seven years rising to the rank of Senior Lecturer.
Mr Smith is widely published with his writings appearing in local newspapers as well as in West Africa Magazine, Index on Censorship, Focus on Library and Information Work amongst others .
He was one of 17 international visitors who participated in a seminar on contemporary American Literature sponsored by the U.S.State Department in 2006. His growing thoughts and reflections on this trip which took him to various US sights and sounds could be read at lisnews.org as well as here.
His other publications include: Folktales from Freetown, Langston Hughes: Life and Works Celebrating Black Dignity, and ‘The Struggle of the Book.’
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