February 1985. After the hullabaloo of settling into a new school, friends coming and going ( I mean the exodus to Federal Government Colleges), getting to grips with nuances, rules, and regulations of the school, we the new students of ACA are settling in. One term behind us, aware of Mr. Klutse's histrionics and the way the cookie crumbles during lunch, we all know our places. With knowing our places, comes knowing what our responsibilities are. Our portions on the field, ensuring that our classes are clean every day based on a rota, our school hours were like clockwork. But cometh the hour, cometh the responsibilities 😀. In our Agricultural science class for that term, we were expected to have our own small farms and expected to plant yams and maize. Please don’t ask me what happens to the produce, because if you do not know, you are either a product of Nigeria's secondary school education system after 1995 or your secondary school in Nigeria was posh or had no land 🤷🏾♂️. Anyway, each student gets a small plot of land to farm in and maintain and the expectation is that the harvest will determine what you get as your assessment aspect of the subject which was 40% of the term’s score. The distribution of the plots was done. A lot of us got our plot in front of the toilet, some closer to the dining room ( later became our JSS exam hall) and some, the plot behind Mrs. Akinrolabu (later became Mrs. Ajibabi’s house) house behind the mortuary of Ondo State Hospital. The land there was fertile( again don’t ask me why! 🙄) and the produce there was usually great. The classes on these plots are guaranteed an “A” in assessment; as long as they can keep on top of the weeds on their plots.
But boys being boys, there were always mischievous. Knowing what will happen to the produce, some of the guys thought they should share out of the products as well as get their grades. So the boys decided to create a space within maize and yam fields snd harvest some of the yams and roast them. Ingenious😁! Whether they did this once or more than once, no one mows. What we know is that they had enjoyed the yam so much that day that the fire created to roast the yams were not properly put out 🙆🏾♂️! The boys went home with a filled belly and a satisfied soul. Little did they know that their escapades were going to result in one of the biggest class action of 1985. I can see eyes popping out saying “it became a case?” No, it did not but it was what was talked about for months afterward. Back to the story...
Once the boys left the fields, the fire 🔥 re-ignited and with dry leaves around, the fire started raging. Right next to the barbed wire fences of the farm was the morgue. As it raged towards the morgue, some people saw it and alerted the hospital, fire brigade (Yes! There was one that functioned then) and the school authorities there were still on the ground. The fire was about to get to the morgue when the firemen put it out and litigations were averted. Phew! It did not end there though.. The next day was a tough day.... Olomo kilo fun omo e, oni a ro...
Parents were brought in. Students were scolded. Zonal Educational officers reviewed the school practices. The next few weeks were tense. For us, it was teasing and akoti times. The culprits were remorse and in a case, one of them left the school for that reason or others never to be determined. Some of us still think that if the fire had raged to the morgue, we may have seen some corpses moving in a Thriller scene from the Michael Jackson songs. I am glad it did not happen
Names were intentionally not used due to the sensitivity of this story. If you know names, mo sinu, mo sikun. Hun hun, inu elede lo n gbe. You know what I mean 😉.
What I learned in those weeks - adventure requires caution and its risk calculated, to get the best outcome. There were more adventures and with resounding success. We learned. Stay tuned, more stories to come....
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