I am not so sure if they do it like this these days but, back in my primary school days, Our Day was such a big deal. It was easily the best part of school life at the primary level. Our Day (I don't know how it got to be called so) was the last day of a school term (and often the end of an academic year) and it was a day of fanfare and merry making.
On Our Day, we wore our "Christmas dress" and our nice shoes to school and ate home cooked meals. Unlike these days when kids eat Jollof rice for breakfast and gulp down bottles of Coke and Fanta without any care, in my primary school days, Our Day was among the few occasions and opportunities a child had to relish the sweet taste of a bottle of Coke, Fanta or Sprite. And oh, we savored every drop of it.
But then, it was all not about just one day. We would decorate our classrooms with paper ribbons days or weeks ahead of Our Day. In the absence of glue, we made sticky starch from dough to hold the paper ribbons together. Stubborn kids played with the starch and splashed some on their school uniforms but who cared, those uniforms were probably seeing their last days as new ones were to be expected when the next academic year began. Then came the balloons; in bright colours, shapes and sizes they adorned the classrooms and gave them a more celebratory fervour. But I never liked them; their rubbery scent always got me nauseous and the fear of them exploding into pieces always gave me the jitters.
Our Days always started the day before; you could easily notice that indeed it was going to be a jolly time once again. There was rice, meat, fish and all other ingredients needed for the meal. It is important to mention here that such meals were not eaten on a regular basis at home. No way! One had to deal with the likes of Banku, Akple, Yam, plain Rice & Stew as part of the menu on a normal basis; ain't nobody got time to be fixing Jollof rice and curried rice for children regularly.
I hardly slept on the nights before Our Day not with adrenaline gushing through my veins looking for an exit. And anticipation of what a good day it was going to be. But then as hard as I tried to stay awake into the next day, sleep would always finally come for me and leave me with dreams. The first smell to hit my nostrils in the morning was the sweet aroma of Jollof rice, and chicken as I quickly make a dash into the kitchen to ascertain that my Our Day meal was ready. For most of us, we bought the 'soft drinks' on the morn of the event and boy, were we not glad to dash to the neigbhourhood store to collect our chilled bottle of Coke or Fanta. After a quick bath, we were ready to go for Our Day, as we looked dashing in our dress, and shoes (back in those days, I wore sneakers popularly called Camboos) and our food carefully tucked away in a nice picnic basket.
For most of us children, Our Days were good photo opportunities;I have seen a couple of pictures taken on such occasions and the memories and emotions of good days gone they evoked are priceless. Of important mention here is the fact that the pictures were not instant or taken with digital cameras of today. Neither were they taken using camera phones which have become common place now. Definitely, there were no selfies on Our Day. A group picture of friends or the class were the norm then. Often, these pictures were submitted to the class several weeks later by the photographer.
Our Days were not always fun days. There was often the case of someone dropping priceless chinaware or plate from home and the fear of a reprimand from an aggrieved mother (and I must confess he or she would be getting away lightly if that was all they received for their carelessness). I have always wondered why most parents allowed their children to bring to Our Day, the precious plates and other expensive kitchenware. But then I believe it was equally an occasion to showoff the riches of the home. Many a bowl cover have been misplaced on such a day; never to be found as they drifted into history of the occasion.
The fanfare of the day came to an end with the last school assembly session for the year. Most of whatever the teachers were yelling to our young faces were lost on us as we looked forward to going back to the classrooms to say a final goodbye to our mates. Term reports were given out on Our Day. For those who failed the exams or were repeating the class, whatever joys of the day they brought along quickly dissipated into thin air as the bleak unknown stared them in the faces.
-2014
For Lawrencia Zigah
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