Parents Should Watch their Wards on "No School Days"

It was a Sunday. So no school. We the boys in the Choggu hood had a premeditated agenda to go to Fuo and swim in the Kulbong ni or river. This matter was decided the day before. The idea was hatched by our ace. The group welcomed it with remarkable excitement.

Youngsters as we were, our need to satiate our hunger for adventure by hook or crook was beyond all use. We, therefore, overthrew all forms of advice given to us by our parents and guardians to limit our movement. As a person, my subconscious mind reminded me of the perils of swimming in wild pools without some adult persons standing by as safety guards. But I could simply not be bothered.

It was always a policy, that in the rainy season when the rivers swell up to the lips, we took advantage of the occasion to recreate ourselves. Despite the incalculable dangers that were visibly inherent in the act. We were either possessed by the spirit of adventure or our student's brains were thirsty for the excursion.

There were many conspiracy theories relating to the nightmarish voodoo of unresolved mysteries in the tales of the murky Fuo river. Foolhardy as we were, we took those scary stories with a pinch of salt. A determined heart can move a mountain.

As I was talking, ere the clock struck 9:00 AM, we collated ourselves at an agreed-upon rallying point. Everyone was to come with his pomade and "chop money". The ingredients for the journey was only to be inspected and left with their hosts.

The pomade was to be used after swimming, to mask the whiteness of our skins caused by the extended submerge in the murky matter. As for the money, abi you know dada. We procured our meals with it. Swimming is a vigorous exercise that does not go well with a rumbling gut. So, to enjoy the swim, we needed to keep the fuel that would replenish the lost energy in our muscles. So we bought food.

We set off, passing through Salamba, then Ward K., then through Kalpohin Estates to SSNIT flats-- before we got to the Fuo vicinity. That was our route. As we walked, we kept playing on the way, and this in some magical way, shortened the road. On our way, we chased off stray dogs, attacked defenceless mango trees, and gossiped about nice houses and cars.

At last, we found the river welcoming us to her banks. It was a wide river running across the road betwixt Fuo and Taha. Some twin bridges were constructed over it to ease the movement of traffic on the road. The constant roar of the flowing water as it hit the concrete walls of the bridges was a serious cause for concern. The currents were twisting and boiling with rage.

The reason why we did not turn back was that we were not alone. We met a few dozen boys there, already in the act. Some of them came with empty yellow gallons to assist them to stay afloat. But, no one in our group had the impetus to take a single gallon from home because we did not want our purpose to be discovered.

We joined our colleagues in the water. We were having a great deal of fun. But, then, the river whispered something into our ears whose meaning: we were not able to interpret. As we were there swimming, strange things began to take shape. There was a point in the river we called Bilgini, it was the deepest arena in the water. Those of us who were pure novices in the field of swimming dreaded that spot.

It was the point where the running water was twisting with massive vitality. But we used to taunt that spot by passing over it with the help of empty yellow gallons. Clinging on to the gallons with a fierce embrace, and virtually squeezing the air out of it with the lid corked. The far end of the river was not deep. Not as deep as the water in the bridges' territory. So when you float past the deep portion of the water, you can stand and receive good applause from the onlookers --us.

One boy took his turn to ride the gallon across the water. When the water took him to the damned spot, I mean the deepest point, it kept him there, spinning him and the gallon in a merry-go-round fashion. Soon, the boy became dazed and let go of the gallon. As soon as he lost his grip on the gallon, he was instantly sucked down into the river. Suddenly, he became overcrowded by water. So, he struggled to free himself from the mob of water that was eager to lynch him. He acted like a madman, fighting nothing.

We were lucky enough to have one of the Fuo boys who could swim well. He plunged into the water and swam to the boy's rescue. And the gallon thing was abolished forthwith. However, we did not vacate the place. We were not deterred enough by the unfortunate incident.

Another boy who was feeling cold, sat on the upper wall of the bridge, overlooking the flowing water and enjoying the sunshine, suddenly lost his balance and dropped into the water. He made a loud splash and swam to safety. He was one of the Fuo boys. The master swimmers.

Now, a lot of the children had withdrawn from the water. Some thought they had seen enough and left the place. But we were still there with some Ward K. children. We took our lunch and continued to play in the water.

I went to the river in black khaki trousers. I removed it before I entered the water. Then a thought came to my mind. I decided to go and bring it into the river to wash. I brought it in and started to wash it. After several bouts of lather and rubbings, I rinsed it.

Instead of sending it out to place it on the rocks to dry, I began to play with it in the water. I would place it in the flowing water; allow it to move away, then I would run to catch it. It was such a daring child's play. It got to the extent that I would put it on the water, and also submerge myself for a few seconds. Then I would emerge from the water and go for it as it sailed away.

Luck eluded me on my third or fourth attempt. After the plummet, I rose to see no trousers sailing as usual. A sudden chill started from my head and ran down my spine. It was a feeling that was much colder than the cold Kulbong Kom or river water.

I decided to find it: suo moto. But all my efforts proved futile. I then raised the alarm. So, members gathered around my waist. I told them what had happened. We immediately turned into a search party. Everyone lowered himself and secretly kept squeezing the soft curves of the running water in search of the missing trousers, but to no avail.

We followed the river downstream, browsing through the grasses and dead trees stationed at the banks of the river. The search went on for almost half an hour. But it was a fruitless exercise. The group became sullen, and the expression of melancholy on everyone's face was the true mark of the brotherhood. We moved as a unit, fought as a unit, ate as a unit and grieved as a unit.

Everyone in the group knew that the only way I could go home in my underpants was under the cover of darkness. And the dusk was several hours away. We could not wait till then. I asked whether someone had come to the river in two trousers or shorts.

There was none amongst us. So we contacted the Ward K. boys. Luckily for me, Atsu came in two shorts or knickers. He lent me one and we all vacated the precincts of the river. As a way of the doppler effect, we continued to hear the sound of the roaring waves fade into thin air, as though the lonely river was bidding us goodbye.

In the early evening, I sent Atsu's knickers to him. When I got to Ward K., I was slapped with the breaking news that one boy got drown in the river after our departure. I brought the sad news to the boys in my hood.

We needed to verify the news, so we found another day and visited Fuo Kulbong ni. This time, we did not go there to swim, as swimming was outlawed after the demise of the boy. When we got there, we bumped into the horrible sight of the boy's grave: sprawling unconcernedly by the riverside.

As to how the boy got drowned, I can not tell. Because I was not there when that unfortunate incident happened. We were only thankful to God that none of us swimming there in the morning to afternoon, was destined to be eaten by the water as it snaked down the channel.

I pray that the boy continues to rest in peace. May his parents not seriously affected by his demise. I would like to advise parents and guardians to always have two eyes on their wards on "No School Days".

Mutaka Adam