MY WINNESEC OF THE EARLY 2000s

Disce Ut Labores Pro Patria

Sing the glory

Sing the praise

Of your alma matter dear

Ye sons and daughters of Winnesec

Students of the town of ‘sacred deer’

They say high school never ends and the words above from my high school anthem reminds me of that. Echoes of the backbench boys singing those words loudly at the assembly hall makes the memory seem like only yesterday.

What an exciting time those three years were…

Late night trips to town, Sunday afternoon ‘bounds breaking’ to TC to watch premiership matches, early morning rush for water to bath in the open before sunrise and the pure jollity after discovering an unused spot at ‘geygey‘.

Some days I reminisce about the very first day when I stood outside that form one science one class. I’m not sure about what the feeling was but it was something far from excitement, which was rather palpable on the many faces I saw around. Perhaps, my own feeling was one of consternation and dread. I was scared I could not hide forever. I mean I never thought of being there right at that moment. My elder brother had made sure to talk me out of it. He simply didn’t want me to be the one to bear the brunt of his ‘legacy’ there. So when fate placed me at the crossroad, he had refused much to my annoyance to escort me to the school. In retrospect, I think he did the right thing though. His words were firm but had a certain cynicism in the way they came out. “Don’t tell anybody you know me,even when they suspect it, deny it vehemently”, those were his words. Yet I stood in front of the class he had once sat in, fearful that one of those strangers would make me out.

Then on that faithful Tuesday afternoon, I can still remember every detail of it. The enigmatic form two guy who kept pestering me for shito. I assured him I was going to give him the shito but he simply refused to succumb to my shenanigans. He wanted to check everything in that wooden chop-box, he examined closely all the big books. Perhaps he was lost for words. Why would a homobring all those books to school? Then he took that black Nike air max, the one my brother had given me just a couple of months ago. The examination was long and intense. For a moment he forgot about the shito. Then he put on the footwear in a careful manner. It was obvious he wanted to be certain and sure of himself. Then he saw the Chemistry and Biology GAST . Finally he had confirmed his suspicion. He looked at me awkwardly and with that his coarse voice asked me the question in a way that suggested I already know so I don’t expect a no for an answer. “Thermo be your bro eh?”I ignored him and closed my chop-box.

But he was so sure of himself so he refused to leave. “Ei so Domestic en bro come Aggrey house…” He had worn the airmax before. It was perhaps familiar on his feet than even mine. He had carried those books several times to the seniors’ block. In an awry disingenuous voice, he told me my brother had been his friend. I knew it was a lie. He meant my brother had bullied him and he intended to take the revenge on me.

Within a matter of minutes, I had lost myself in that vicious crowd of identical strangers. And for the rest of my stay in Winnesec, I had to live in the shadow of my brother’s identity. Sometimes even expected to live up to his bravado. The personality differences didn’t matter in the Winnesec space. I was also supposed to be stubborn and rebellious just like him. And here I was, expected to be the big brother I didn’t understand. For the rest of my stay on campus, I simply became Thermo, nobody bothering to ask what my name was and what my identity was…

Sometimes I think about the oldest of friends I made there. Some who have left and some still strengthening our bond and some who are new but nevertheless showing the same level of warmth. The craziness of our youth. Of course, the school had become more than an entry on a curriculum vitae, it was now an integral part of our lives, defining our social interaction and circles.And even as years mellow our craziness, the memories of our crazy teen years would be one of those things that become linked to our history forever. Like when I met one of my crazyguys who is now a pastor. I kept laughing through out the service. Not because I thought he was fake but I was wondering if my buddy thought it possible ten years ago, that , he was one day going to stand in the pulpit and preach to young people. Funny how this world flip the pages of our lives…

The diverse nature of the Winnesec community and the cultural shock that came with it always startled me. I had never even heard of the word ‘masturbation’ when I walked into my dormitory the first day.  In all my sexual education classes at Sunday school and basic school, no one ever mentioned the word to me. Then here I was hearing conversations about it. How foolish I might have looked or perhaps sounded to my friends when I asked what it was… Then one Sunday night, I stayed too long in town. I sneaked to the dormitory when everyone was at church service. At first glance, I wasn’t sure of what it was but the image of the fellow in his net stimulating his genitals stayed with me for years. I found it absolutely disgusting and yet a certain curiosity kept drawing me to that image. For days, I never felt like eating at the dorm. Indeed, I never ate in the same bowl with the bloke till we left school. I know that was both stupid and naive on my part. The image has stayed with me to this day. It was such a poor initiation that it scared me from ever experiencing what perhaps would be such a magnificent fleeting surreal experience.

In our current hazy world, I sometimes wish I could take the liberty to be pretty honest about some of my struggles as a young person. Like when those two guys walked up to me that night at the seniors’ block to ask me to join them to smoke. We had been sent to the seniors’ block after preps to arrange the desk for a WASSCE paper the next day. Feeling tired, I sneaked to a corner under one of the staircases at the block to avoid carrying desk from one classroom to another. It was here at this corner that two boys had walked up to me to invite me to smoke marijuana with them. I had never seen marijuana before but they had bought the facade of my hidden identity and thought I was a hardcore.I avoided saying no for that would have meant I was weak,naive and girlish. I admired their bravado but pitied their addiction. Why would they risk everything as juniors to just have a puff ? On the day I decided to satisfy my curiosity and go with them, I even admired them more for their stupid bravado. They had not wondered far into the bush but just lurked around the shrubs behind the resource centre.

They stood on the small rocks, squatting intermittently to disguise their real intentions. I sat watching them curiously, praying silently that the piecewon’t be passed to me. I had never done that before and didn’t want to embarrass myself. They had exchanged it between themselves till it was left with the small part. One of them handed it over to me, I so wish they could move so that I threw the pieceaway. Yet they stood there engrossed in their conversation about Bob Marley. That conversation all marijuana users have in the ghettos, where they discuss the lyrics of Bob’s tracks with a certain pretentious intellectual riguor.  They might have thought I wasted the piecebecause of the quick manner I huffed after every puff. They never invited me again but still thought of me as one of them. And I was content leaving it like that.

Perhaps I should have also taken the invitation of the other guy who invited me to a secret night meeting where he claimed they communicated with spirits using the seven books of Moses. The guy had watched me closely at prep time for days. I had been spending all my time at preps studying strange books like; prophetic voice of Malcolm X, the theology of time by Elijah Mohammadand some other publications on the question of racial identity and black spirituality. This to him was a chance ‘to lead me to the light’. I was so curios and thought about what he said for days. I was scared that would be a step too far for my innocence. I never went for the meeting. Thinking about it today, perhaps I should have been braver. I missed an opportunity in my learning curve at Winnesec.

Then that threatening letter I had penned together with my partner in crime. The boy I had so much in common with. We were both wanderers, curious of our place in the world. Yet fearful to let ourselves open. Admittedly, my buddy has succeeded to a large extent in discovering himself in recent years. I’m still on that journey. That letter had scared the administration to call an emergency meeting. We had threaten mayhem that our small bodies couldn’t have taken. The sage had said ‘the pen was mightier than the sword’. We believed it and exercised it to our giddy delight. Though anonymous, our letter had forced the administration to reach a compromise on the demands we made. I’m wondering the punishment they would have handed to us if they knew the two lanky form two science students had written those words. Perhaps, they would have had sympathy on us, marvel at our folly and given us that dreaded order. “Go home and bring your parents”!Our fate would have been similar to that of the ford boyswho spent days digging pits like labourers from a maximum security prison. Their only deed(misdeed,maybe) was following a passion filled fantasy of their youth.

My Winnesec of the early 2000s was such a beautiful experience for my young wondering mind. I’m sure the experience keeps getting better for all those who keep walking through the gates of the famous school of the ‘royal deer of Simpa’.Don’t worry if the exams and tests keep getting tougher, they have always been.

Disce Ut Labores Pro Patria….