ANOTHER VISIT TO GCB A couple of days back, I posted an update giving an account of my first visit to my alma mater, nine years after graduation. In that post, I gave an illustrative account of the physical condition of the hundred-and-two year old school. I also promised to pay another visit when the students resume from their ebola-induced holiday. I had the opportunity of visiting the school yesterday. Apart from the monumental changes I noticed in my earlier visit, as soon as I stepped into the premises, I observed that the school compound had been cleared of the overgrown grasses that enveloped the surroundings. And thats one thing you cant take away from GCB: Cleanliness. The school is synonymous with discipline and cleanliness. I met some junior students, clad in their uniforms (white shirt and green shorts), cutting the grasses with the infamous langa langa (cutlass), while some senior students (dressed in white shirts and white trousers) supervised. Of course this evoked memories of those days when our palms developed callouses (kanta) out of excessive grass-cutting. I went just in time to meet students from Taraba and Adamawa states arrive in one of Niger States luxurious buses. Gone are the days of the rickety Marcopolo or 1414 buses that convey exchange students to the school. As soon as they alighted, they were asked to go to the school clinic for ebola test. Funny, isnt it? The expression on the students faces, especially the junior ones, reminded me of those tough days when Id start counting down to the next holiday as early as the first day of resumption. 90 days to go, they must have been thinking. As I walked into the Nagwamatse Administrative Block, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of dèja vu upon sighting that coaster school bus, which used to convey us to venues of Inter Schools Debates, Quizes or Sports Competitions. Alas, the bus is now immobile. A challenge to my fellow Bosites. I walked straight into the Vice Principal (I)s office. The occupant of the office, Alhaji Halidu Tsadoji, used to be my House Master, my S.S. 1 English teacher as well as the MSS Patron. He was my schoolfather. In fact, the special care he gave me led others to believe that he is my biological father. Our relationship grew more intimate when I won the 2003/2004 prize for the Best S.S. 1 Student in English Language. I was extremely surprised when, upon seeing me for the first time after 9 years, he not only recognised me but also mentioned my first and surnames correctly. On my way to the Exams Office -- it has now been moved from its former location, opposite the School Shop/Canteen, to the first floor of the admin block -- I met Mr. Asare Kwabena, our Ghanaian teacher of Accounting. The expression on his face when I told him that Ive obtained a B. Sc in Accounting from Bayero University Kano, can be likened to the expression on the face of a football coach, whose player scored a hattrick in a world cup final. I knew you can do it, he said. I muttered some thank you, sir and left. At the Exams office, where I received my WASSCE certificate, I was astonished to see that Malam Jibril, the man who taught us Economics in S.S. 3, is still the Examiner. I also met all the House Masters and Assistant House Masters during our time; Alhaji Halidu of Sudan House; Mr. John Kolo of Etsu Nupe House; Malam Koroka of Zazzau House and (with due respect to Kuta House members) Kwado (Ive gotten his real name) the Kuta House Master. *winks at Ahmed M Suleman (Sulampa), Kuta House Captain and Tyabo, my Headboy* When I was about leaving, I walked past the present Labour Master arguing with a student who claimed that he had cleared the grasses on the portion allocated to him, therefore, he wants the Labour Master to sign his clearance form with which he would be allowed to check his result. It seemed like the Labour Master had discovered that the boy was lying. The mischievous look in his eyes, which is characteristic of boarding students, suggested so. As a punishment, the boys portion was doubled. Boys will be boys, I thought as I left. Here are a group of tiny boys, who didnt see the dust we raised, who were probably in their mothers womb when we were here, yet one thing unites us. And thats the spirit of BOSA! UP BOSA!
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 09:16:49 +0000
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