The Chronicles of Cemetery LA JSS: A Priceless Trophy from an Unexpected Adventure.

I recently came across my beloved Bournvita-branded T-shirt and immediately got inspired to recount the event that led to the trophy. The year was 1999. The atmosphere in the Mawuko Girls' Dining Hall was filled with the sound of bouncing balls and the grunts of determined players. I, a mere spectator, was supposed to be home by midday (after attending a weekend class on Mawuli JSS campus earlier in the day). However, fate it seemed, had other plans. I found myself cheering for my schoolmates who registered for the tournament and therefore could not show up for the morning class: Selase Tsigbeh, Ernest Gavor, Eli Avenyo, Kennedy Nketiah and Francis Tome.

One of the tournament officials, a man with a booming voice and a thick moustache, announced that spectators who are interested in playing could register. “Anyone can join!” he roared, with his voice echoing through the hall. A wave of disbelief washed over me. Me? Play table tennis on a big board? My heart hammered against my ribs. But the lure of the competition and the thrill of the unexpected proved too strong: I hesitantly signed up. And then, the draw. When I looked at the sheet of paper, my eyes widened in disbelief. My opponent was Pythagoras Degboe: one of our school's table tennis champions. Pytha was a good player and had consistently demolished me on those tiny and lopsided school desks that were usually partitioned with two uneven stones and crooked sticks. Panic swelled within me. I had never played on a proper table tennis board, let alone with a professional bat. This was a disaster waiting to happen. “Who sent me koraa?”, I said quietly to myself.

The match began. Pytha, with a cocky grin, served. The ball zoomed at me. I fumbled, and my bat clattered against the table. To my astonishment, the ball bounced off the bat and landed squarely on his side. Pytha was thrown off guard and could not return the ball. I got emboldened and somehow managed to return a few serves. The crowd, initially silent, began to murmur. I was sure the ‘Sanballats’ and the ‘Tobiahs’ among them wondered, “who is this clumsy player who seems to be enjoying some sort of a supernatural favour.”  Pytha, losing his cool, started making unforced errors. And then, to my utter disbelief, I won two sets. A wretched spectator had defeated a school champion.

Excited, I moved on to the next round. My opponent, a well-trained player from Ketu South district, arrived with his own coach, a man with a stern face. That match was a massacre. I was outclassed, outmanoeuvred, and utterly humiliated. The final score? A soul-crushing 20-2 in both sets; I did not even know how I got the 2 points. For the entire period, I was made a ball boy against my will; going up and down, fetching balls that were ‘smashed’ on my side of the table. Despite the crushing defeat, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The accidental participant had won a match and even received a Cadbury's Bournvita-branded T-shirt as a prize. I was the only one from my school who could boast of such a glorious reward.

Lost in the excitement of the tournament, I completely forgot about time. By the time the final match was over and the champions crowned, it was late afternoon. The walk home was a long and agonizing one. I knew the fate that awaited me. My uncle, a man of routine and order, would be furious. As expected, Uncle Peter’s wrath was swift, terrifying and comforting at the same time. After a lengthy lecture on the importance of punctuality and the perils of disobedience, I was ‘grounded’. Tears welled up in my eyes, but then a look at my Bournvita T-shirt gave more than enough consolation. After all was said and done, some valuable life's lessons were learnt.

Ing. Surv. Gameli Kormla Agboada

4th January 2025