About Me

My Village

Alma Mater

Research Diary

I was sent to school because my parents had nobody to take care of me. I still remember my mother carrying me on her back to school. At times I didn't like it, but all the times I ended up in school by one means of seduction or another. It was really exciting becuae I had aunts and uncles in senior classes who could give me puff-puff, sugarcane, and sweets during the break. I really love those days when the Class seven boys and girls used to carry me to their dormitory (the boys and girls in my village used the dormitory when in class 7). Most of these guys had met my mother in primary school. Some where even very close to her own age.

But the usual things little boys like me did on breaks was to play football made from the leaves of cocoyams, run around and make rough plays, wait for class 7 girls and guys to send you to fetch firewood, or even go to the forest and look for palm nuts. Pupils hardly spent breaks in classes for if anything was missing in class he or she was accused and perhaps proven guilty. I remember to have developed a relationship with some senior boys who mocked those who appeared to be very shy and cold. On one occasion, I was sent to go and kick into the wound of one of these boys. I did and I can remember him srceam and run after me. However, I was protectedby the stronger guys who sent me.

Attending RCM Mbindia was not easy for all. It was one of the first schools in the region and people came as far as 7 km. How they got in school in time is still a mystery to me. I trekked to these neighbouring villages not until I was 14-15. These guys and girls always came to shool on time! When I think of the distance, I wonder where they got the time to get back home, eat, help their parents and prepare for another school day. A typical day could be like this to them: get up at 4am, take breakfast, wash, dress up etc. Leave home by 5am. Cross over the hills and valleys, get soaked by the morning dew, perhaps cut a chewing still to brush his teeth as he goes along. Get to or must get to school by 7am and is wet from the waist down. Classes close at 230pm. They start trekking, get back home between 5 and 6pm. I was even more stressful in the sense thst they had to climb the hills back home from school, under the sun. Some of these guys had a reputation of stealing sugarcane on their way back home in order to get some energy. However, they always did so only if they wore uniforms. It was a belief in my area that if a pupil steals with his uniform on, he would not be affected by the spell that was put on the object.

It was never so good for these guys. They were terribly whipped on the days they came late to school. They preferred to stay in the bush and wait for classes to be over than to be caned by teachers whose reputation and unpopularity came from their rough behaviour against pupils. Some of these teachers where stoned or even beaten up by the pupils after they had graduated or dropped from school. A typical strategy for someone who left home but did not get to shool in time was like this: he would wait in the bush, may be gather some grass and sleep on. As soon as he hears the final drum sound for the end of classes, he gets ready. Either he goes ahead first or he stays behind and join the line as the last pupil. They were always in line because of the narrow road. It was bad news to some of them if their parents got to know they didn't attend classes.

By the blessing of God, some of the villages where these guys came from started forming community schools by the mid 1980s. These were subsequently taken up by the government.

By all standard, I think I love my primary school life. I was succeeding in studies and was also loved by friends and teachers. The love the teachers had for me was either as a result of their relationship with my parents or because of my performance in class. In those days and even now, teachers are seen as paying more attention to students who understand what is being taught than the slow learners. Afterall, it makes the job easy for them. This does not mean I was spared from the teachers' occasional caning if I had a wrong answer or came to school late.

The process in primary school rolled on and on. I went through that exciting defunct school-the cleaning of school on the occasion of the visit of the Father from Menji and the choir, the morning assemblies, the fetch for the teachers' firewood, inter school games with all the superstition and allegations of witchcraft surrounding such competitions. In class 7 I lived in the dormitory with my other mates. It was a tradition to choose a position in the dormitory that reflected power-at the corner or near the window. It was also common to choose a friend with whom you would cook and sleep together. So, one bed was for 2 or 3 people. It was always like this at the beginning of the term but by the end, almost all the alliances were broken in search for new ones. Some guys even ended alone by the end of the year. It was very common to hear of theft. It always concerned cooked food, pots, meat and firewood.

The girls' and boys' dormitories were separated by the headmasters' house. Some other teachers lived in the campus, especially, those teachers that came from very far villages. Some came with their family but others only made a family when they arrived. It was strictly forbidden for either sexes to go to each other's dormitories. But some naughty guys did especially if it were visiting the girls in their kitchen for food. The girls usually screamed and would often threaten to tell the headmaster about such breaking of bounds.

God bless all the guys I was in primary school with. Many left without being able to read or write. How they succeeded, I do not know. Some dropped out. Most could not continue because of inadequate finance.Some went to secondary school, some to high school and about 4 have been upto the university. I left RCM Mbindia to Seat of Wisdom College, Fontem(SWC). I did not believe I could one day be a student in that elite school. I always had an abstract conception of SWC. We had been told it was very difficult but however a privilege to study there. Many in my village associated SWC with the whiteman (since most of its teahers were Europeans when it was set up in the late 1960s).