THE CHRONICLES OF CEMETERY L.A. JSS - A LOCAL GOAT WITH A FOREIGN TONGUE

Lead Author: Gameli Agboada

Guest Author: Efo Kofi Gavor

Chief Editor: Stephen Baidu

Chickens die many times before their deaths; 
The obdurate goat never tastes of death but once. 
Of all the Tongues that I yet have heard, 
It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 
Seeing that French, a foreign but an examinable tongue, 
Will come when it will come.

- Capt. Rtd. Pierre Atokui-Caesar

 

By the saving grace of God, not forgetting the little ‘mass-giraffing’, we were all promoted to class 4; two years away from becoming seniors. You dare not scorn us for not being able to express ourselves well in the queen’s language at the time; we will not take it lightly with you at all. After all, even a great percentage of our seniors could only boast of few phrases:

1. Hey, come here! Pick the rubbish!    
2. I ‘say’ pick the rubbish ‘la’!              
3. I will report you to ‘chicha’.              
4.  ‘Look at his face like a goat’

 

As for some of the teachers, the least said about them, the better:

1. Akporsue and co, where are you ‘gogring?
2. Hey! One, two, three, four, both of you, come here!
3. You this boy, why are you wearing bare-chested?
4. The boy in the blue shirted, where is your cutlass?
5. Do you think me and my wife, we are small boys? Huh?

 

If any of you meet the man who invented the dreaded snail-shell-necklace (Aborborgo chain), please shake his hand for me. For the sake of those who have intentionally or unintentionally defiled themselves with the seed of ‘dadabism’, let me describe the snail-shell-necklace: It is a complicated ugly-looking circularly arranged old and stinky snail shells along a shred of black, red or gray calico. It is only worn by pupils who are caught speaking vernacular. If you happen to be the carrier of this yoke, you can only transfer it onto another person if and only if you catch him or her red-handed speaking vernacular. In short, it was a deterrent measure that was employed by the school authority in order to promote the speaking of English.

 

It was a herculean task for the school authority, trying to ensure that boys and girls in the cemetery communicated only in the foreign tongue. This was what informed the decision to appoint prefects and compound overseers to oversee the tongues of boys. But Charley, boys be haaard!

 “Unless the Lord watches the cemetery, the compound overseer laboureth in vain”

Some boys could even decide to remain silent the whole day because of limited or unavailability of ‘lyrics’. You may even be tempted to believe that some of them were born deaf and dumb.

 

Now, a new term began and a new subject was unveiled. Shiee! From frying pan to fire! It was already rumoured that this subject has two names; French and Français.

It was also rumoured that, in this new tongue, even a common table could either be a man or a woman; if the table is made of ‘odum’ or mahogany, it is masculine but with wawa or plywood, it is feminine.

“Kai! Today be today! Everything na double double”

 

From that day onwards, boys started giving their lives to Christ because this new tongue is rough and tough. It cannot be blamed. It cannot be tamed. It cannot be maimed.

“Father look upon thy children with thine loving kindness.”

 

French became a necessary evil in our lives from class 4 to JSS 3. Sadly enough, I have forgotten most of my French phrases but I have a little reserved for great and special occasions like crossing the border:

• Nous Avon (pronounced, NuZaVor) – meaning, do you have Zavor?
• Comment ça va? – meaning, bring forth the cassava.
• Bonjour – meaning, were you born in June?
• Pourquoi? (pronounced, PurKwa) – meaning, I hail from Pokuase.

 

For those of you who do not know what ‘zavor’ is, it is a heavy and smelly sleeping-cloth which, for fear of drowning, has not seen the face of water in ages. Please note that, zavors are normally not heavy from the manufacturer but they gradually put on weight due to stressful night duties.

 

Lest I forget, let me take this opportunity to salute all the cemetery French teachers who forced the subject down our small throats.

Madame Addo – Maximum respect to you

Monsieur Zigah – I genuflect before you

Madame Kakotsey – I doff my hat to you

 

I know very well if I should tell you that Ernest Gavor and I were the best French students in the cemetery, you will not believe me. But I don’t mind - ‘jealousy go shame!’

Look! Apart from Kpadey Fafa, Akakpo Nicholas, Gemegah Sampson and a few others, who sometimes beat us with only half a mark, we were the underground French scholars.

 

I remember the day Monsieur Zigah called Shabo and Akplor to stand up and converse in French. The sentence given to Shabo was, “Tu as quel âge?” Shabo stood up confidently, turned to Akplor and said, “Akplor! Tu alalash!!!?” In fact! The thickness of the French intoxicated Akplor to the extent that, all he could say was “au revoir”.

 

Along the line, I started losing interest in the subject simply because I thought the teachers were teaching the language far beyond our comprehension. And you dare not complain openly too, otherwise, in the next minute or two, you may see yourself lying face down on the headmaster’s table, with four strong boys holding your limbs; the fear of the Lord will then be introduced into your butt.

After six long years of suffering in the cruel hands this foreign tongue, BECE came knocking……….

Hmm! And this was also the time all the teachers, except the headmaster, assistant headmaster and the Ewe madam, were transferred to other schools; there was no French teacher to take us through any revision. So boys started hunting seriously for ‘Apor’; delegations were sent to all neighbouring dadabie schools to see if they had any idea of how this foreign tongue looked like. ‘mtcheeeuw’, Massa! ‘Nothing Better’; they came back empty-handed.

Jah fire burn all those dadabie boys and girls who kept the ‘apor’ very close to their small chests!!! ‘Ah! Wetin?!!! I bore sef! Small apor wey we all for feel some, dem dey hide am like ibi some Ghana Commercial Bank ATM PIN’

‘Massa! Desperation be what?! At that very moment, even if Sankopee had offered to organize French classes for us, boys would have attended in all humility.

Kai! The paper was tough! The invigilator was strict! The atmosphere was tense!

“Whiles I looketh around, with caution, to behold from whence cometh my help, neighbours nigh me even sweateth more profusely.”

Charley, even the French ‘sharks’ no dey see top. Within 30 minutes, I have finished chewing three pen covers; I rendered my two BiC pens naked and denuded my last Kofa pen.

“Indeed, the devil finds work for the idle teeth”

Looking at the hopeless situation around me, the only thing I could think of was the quick arrival of the final bell; after all, GTV was telecasting ‘Journey to the West’ around that time. But Charley, I can’t afford to get 9 in French; old boy go roast me alive, mommy go deny me food for at least one moon. Eii!…e go hard ooo! So what I for do raidee?

It was then that I really understood the saying…….. “If you become too desperate, even the vulture will sweet-talk you and sell afro hair-pomade to you”. One self-acclaimed French don, seeing how desperate I was, officiously tilted his answer sheet towards me. ‘Chuiaaaa!!!’ Even though I didn’t understand the essay topic, what I saw on the answer sheet looked more Greek to me than French.

As I cogitated over the situation for a while, the only thing that came to my mind was a one of our cemetery morale booster jama songs; “Atsolitsooo! The boys are coming, Atsolitsoo, Heyhey heyhey Atsolitsoo, Heeeey! Atsolitsooo…… …” With a little boosted morale, I started putting something on the paper:

“Je m’akple Gameli Agboada.

Je suis 14 years old.

I am un petit garçon.

Je çome from le Anloga.

Moi food la favori est Akple versus Aborbitadi.

Moi subject la favori est French.

J’aime le football brutál (meaning, I dey love football brutal!).

Ça va très bien merci bokuu ………………..”

 

 

Please don’t laugh at my essay; it was what saved me from grade 9. Hmm! I came out of the exam hall wishing I had taken the subject more seriously.

Friends, always remember that, you will someday be held accountable for every little decision you make today. "Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways, acknowledge him and He will make your path straight." (Prov. 3:5-6)

Caveat: In case you come across any grammatical blunder in this note, be ye not dismayed, for I am still a local goat with a foreign tongue.

 

Have a lovely day. No no no sorry, I mean……Avoir une belle journée.

10^th September 2011

 

Image Source: 

https://www.google.com/searchq=french+is+difficult&rlz=1C1GCEU_enGH1007GH1007&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjx77qzoID5AhVENRoKHfapAWoQ_AUoAXoECAEQAw&biw=1920&bih=880&dpr=1#imgrc=SbbqKkgFLEPG2M Date Accessed: 17/07/22