It was a universally accepted myth that prestigious secondary schools like Government Secondary School, Owerri, Government College, Umuahia, College of Immaculate Conception, Enugu, etc were usually populated by exceptionally brilliant students; tailor made to become the arrowheads of both the public and organized private sectors in future. Some pundits never contested that assumption in spite of its glaring ambiguity. Indeed, it was taken forgranted that students that passed through these mythical four walls were licensed to excel in tough certificate examinations. Truly, the egg heads that drew up the blue prints for setting up these elite schools ensured that only the “best and the brightest” were offered admission after passing through rigorous entrance examinations. But idealism would not be etched in stones. There are loopholes in every system, no matter how well conceived by the best brains. We met some students who were “academic overstays” known in Government Secondary School parlance, as “old soldiers.” These students repeated classes due to their poor academic performances. The setback suffered by the aforementioned group of students, naturally demystified the school’s legendary aura of invincibility. But legends and realities had always been poles apart. The school, no doubt, had a built-in stringent academic standard that must be met by all students, and never compromised on merit.
Of course, we knew the school was neither a utopia nor an eldorado, but we didn’t anticipate to encounter ‘struggling students’ at that ’embryonic’ level of intellectual development!
How could a few students, considered to be among the ‘brightest’ ‘struggle’ in a school that had a coterie of the best trained teachers; well stocked library; well equipped laboratories; and a serene environment that was very conducive for academic excellence!
Initially, we were struck by the crudity of the term: “old soldier.” Were the chaps ex service men that fought during the civil war? Not likely; they were relatively young and could not have been conscripted into the army while in their nappies! We never deciphered where that inglorious and cryptic ‘term’ originated from, but we embraced the tradition by referring to repeats as “old soldiers.” The term conjured negative connotations, erroneously casting the ‘old soldiers’ in bad light. Some of the “old soldiers” were, however, benign while some others, obviously, frustrated by their peculiar circumstances, manifested tendencies that would put the skills of psychlogists to test. Some of these “old soldiers” were multi-talented and versatile. One of them, who was ‘supposedly’ in Class 5, when we were nervous novices in Class 1, could play football and cricket, and engage in several rounds, throwing javelin, discus and shotput.
Little did we know that this disreputable bug would bite some of us one day, as the day of reckoning drew closer. In spite of the iron clad discipline in place, some of us tasted the other side of life.
No thanks to hit songs in the eighties by the inimitable Michael Jackson, Lionel Ritchie, Marvin Gaye, Cool and the Gang, Ray Parker Junior etc. Then, “electric dance steps” were in vogue and we savoured them ravenously. Some of us jettisoned our studies and became obsessed with fashion trends. Baggie trousers with turn up and double breasted suits marked out the “big guys.” from the ‘jeew guys.’ Those that traversed extra mile to procure very expensive and rare “winter jackets” labeled “John Player”, were in a class of their own. Not minding that the heat waves in our tropical climate made such jackets unsuitable in our clime, the guys were, none the less, celebrated by their peers.
Unbeknown to some of us, a big price would be paid for such glaring acts of indiscretion.
Suddenly, those that “refused to toe the path of probity” became canonized as “old soldiers” after doing poorly in the Ordinary Level examinations. The deflation of their ego jolted them to reality. To disrope their “selfpride” of that suffocating stigma, they had to resit the examination. Fortunately, most of them excelled, and joined their peers that were already in the universities to savour the ‘quest for knowlege’. It is difficult to suppress the ‘ogssian’ competitive spirit. Never write off an “old soldier.”
The most ‘dreaded’ night in school was the night preceding the end of school term vacation. It was termed “Red Night.” No one could explain how the term was invented. Perhaps, it was as old as the school. It was a night ‘oppressed’ junior students looked forward to with relish; a night senior students were forced to atone for their sins. But it was a double edged night. Any slip in strategy would spell doom for the conspirators. Yet, that prospects of failure had never deterred junior students that were determined to bear their fangs to have a second thought. It must be emphasized that “tit for tat” was never part of the school’s mores. Aggrieved students were always encouraged to follow laid down procedures to seek redress. There were instances of prefects being demoted for their excesses by the school authority. Yet, some junior students of like minds elected to do things their own way through the backdoor by conspiring to ‘ambush’ senior students, considered to be “thorns in their flesh” and exact ‘sweet vengeance.’ The targets were usually fragile looking ones that could be dealt with easily. As a rule, the ‘ambush’ must be executed in a pitch dark atmosphere so that none of the ‘assailants’ would be recognized or identified. The school compound was poorly illuminated then, making the terrain perfect for the plot. We knew our limitations and never tested the will of huge and muscular senior students who would overcome us with ease. In our extremity to exact vengeance on a frail senior student, we forgot one of the unwritten cardinal rules: ‘never ambush a senior student if the night was not pitch dark.’ The smart senior boy recognized the inexperienced liliputs that were bereft of time-tested strategy to execute a clean job without leaving a trail. No adjective could best describe the kind of excruciating disciplinary measures that were imposed on us that terrible night in ‘B’ House. After the stringent penalty for a poorly executed task, we realized how foolhardy we had been, and quickly deleted the nightmarish word: ‘Red Night’ from our lexicon, forever. Our peers made mockery of us, insinuating that we failed because we were not ‘street wise.’ It was even emphasized that ‘hardened’ junior boys from the “most notorious” hostel then, ‘Azikiwe House,’ would have executed the job effortlessly, without leaving a trace of any incriminating evidence. Would it have made sense if we had consulted our peers in ‘down school,’ reputed to be street wise, to help us perfect our plans? Proponents of that queer view glanced over the fact that wide consultations would nip any conspiracy, no matter how water tight, in the bud, as there were juniour students who were willing to betray their peers in order to curry favour from seniour students. We were never swayed by all these views. We had already digested the lesson: never take laws into your hands.
In spite of the fact that the Nigerian economy was booming in the 1980s, and the local currency had a very healthy exchange rate against major foreign currencies, we experienced our own peculiar economic downturn in school known as being struck by the hurricane :”Araabu.” It was a period students in boarding hostels dreaded. It usually manifested a few weeks to the end of the term; when students would be penniless, having exhausted their paltry pocket money on both their needs and wants. That period of economic recession taught us big lessons on the need to embrace the principle of prudent management of resources, as the bug was so pervasive that you could not single out a student to bail you out of the ‘financial crisis.’ If you missed your meal in the refectory, there was nothing to fall back on to serve as cushion. During this period of financial squeeze, listening to the onomatopoic bells for breakfast, lunch and dinner, was the beginning of wisdom. The lessons were so stringent and humbling that those that used to squander their pocket money on clothings and fashion accessories had no one to remind them to restrategize for the rainy days, ahead.
Erasmus Ndulue is a UK based climate activist, novelist, poet and short story writer. He worked in the oil and gas sector, heading the Health, Safety, Environment and Security Department of an Oil Services firm before relocating to UK
