THE GREAT ESCAPE FROM KALOMO HIGH SCHOOL: THE GRAVEYARD FIASCO THAT ENDED IN TEARS

By Bennie Mundando

EVERY pupil has fantasized skipping school at least once. The allure of freedom, adventure, and a break from the daily grind can be irresistible and it was donkey years back that my friends and I decided to turn that fantasy into reality, one fateful day.

To the initiated, Kalomo Secondary School is one of the oldest schools in Southern Province and a number of famous people have walked its corridors. I hear the current Republican President is one of them but that was moons back, probably when my generation was still in diapers.

There is nothing more fatiguing than having to be in school seven days a week. The school routine at one point just gets you zonked, especially if you are in a boarding school like I was; that is the time when the demons in you can’t just let you rest in peace. No matter how good a pupil you can be, there is only one day when the temptation for freedom overwhelms you such that you cannot resist indulging in mischief.

That was us; Milton, Rudo and I. It is not that we were bad boys, no. It was just that most of the time, we never differed on decisions regardless of how bad some of these were.

It all started with a casual conversation during lunch. We were all from Red Hostel and as we sat one Thursday afternoon to have our lunch, our usual complaints about the load of school work, food and the general atmosphere on campus dominated our discussion and this turned into a brainstorming session about how to skip school without getting caught.

We knew we had to be strategic; this wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. We had never done it and so, we needed to be careful. Of course we had heard stories of how some pupils attempted to go out of bounds and ended up being caught and whipped like common thieves or being sent home to call their parents by school management but the idea of being kept in one place like broiler chickens for the whole term just weighed us down.

School activities those days started as early as 04:30 for us who were in boarding. We used to have dorm upkeep which included cleaning inside and outside our hostels as well as ablution blocks after which we would bath and then went for breakfast. Breakfast ended at 06:30 hours and by 07:00, we were supposed to be in class.

We used to have a break at 10:00 and had our lunch at 13:00. We resumed our lessons at 14:00 save for Wednesdays and Fridays when we used to have sports after 16:30, we used to have preventive maintenance the rest of the days until 17:00 when we would go for supper. 18:00 sharp, we were supposed to be in class until 21:00 for prep. 

It is because of this rigorous school time table that we decided the next day, Friday, we would not only abscond from class, but go out of bounds until evening. Friday was an ideal day for dodging because there were no weekly tests as pupils were preparing for inter-house competitions and so, we thought to our stupidity selves that no one would suspect we were missing from school.

The other problem we had was where we would be the whole day without being caught. Going into town was out of question because then, Kalomo was just a casket of a town where, if you stood at one central point, you would view the entire town and this is the reason most of the pupils who tried to dodge were easily cornered because there was literally nowhere to go.

Those days, everyone knew everyone in Kalomo and for me who had been in Kalomo town for a long time, there was no hiding place. As a matter of fact, one of my friends was not only caught but was detained in police custody after he sneaked out of the thick darkness of the rainy season to go to the only bakery which was open at that time to buy some buns while prep was going on.

There, he met a police officer who recognised him and decided to detain him in police cells until the following morning for shishita and even told his parents that he had decided to throw him in the police cells to protect him from dangers that came with patronising the night at that tender age. That is how much everyone knew everyone in Kalomo.

For us, the best destination was the nearby graveyard which was not very far from the school. Because of its serenity, most pupils during my time patronised this place and so, we thought this would be a safe haven to hide.

The following day after breakfast, we escaped through the western gate of our dormitories through a place we used to call “do one”. “Do one” was the open space behind our dormitories where pupils used to answer the call of nature, especially at night due to the fact that most of our toilets were not in good condition. So, Do One became a go-to place of choice. The stench that was coming from that place could kill a rabbit as it was simply unbearable but we continued patronising the place, regardless.

We hobbled through the football pitch, diverted into a small path that led to a place called Mc Raymond and then crossed into the fields adjacent to the school and disappeared into the thicket towards the graveyard like Sangomas on the loose.

We carried buns and some sachets of sweet aid. Oh! The Millennials won’t know this! We knew our mischief would last the whole day so lunch and probably supper would be out of the question. We needed food on our pilgrimage to the land of the dead.

With our hearts racing from the thrill of our escape, we hopped onto the grass like spoiled brats, playing silly games. We actually spent the morning lounging on the grass, enjoying the freedom of not being in a classroom. We shared stories and laughed like fools, knowing very well we were safe around the graveyard but trouble was on the horizon.

Before long, our presence at the graveyard precipitated by the noise we were making attracted one of the passers-by who decided to stalk us to see what we were doing. Despite being a quiet place, the graveyard attracted people with criminal minds. Most of the livestock stolen from farms around Kalomo town were slaughtered there by rattlers who knew that the chances of being caught were slim. The carcasses were then easily transported from the graveyard to the few butcheries in town that time.

Unfortunately, the man recognised us. He used to live not far from the school and so, he knew most of our teachers. We tried to run away but he warned that he would axe all of us to death if we ever tried to move an inch. In an arms-forward-straight fashion, he made us march to school in a single file. He took us back to school and handed us to one of the most feared teachers of our time- Mr. Moyo and explained to him where he found us.

We knew we were finished. Mr. Moyo was not the man to play with. He knew how to deal with stubborn pupils. We were terribly canned before we were given another punishment. He actually told us he would not waste his time forcing us to dig our heights because according to him, we had no heights to talk about as we were only “centimetres” tall. He called us malnutritioned dwarf Mbuti pygmies of the Ituri Forest.

We were ordered to slash the grass for one week but we only worked that weekend and were forgiven of our “sins” and we were told to go and sin no more.

Looking back, that day was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my High School life. It taught me the value of friendship, spontaneity, and the importance of having a little fun amidst the stresses of school. While I wouldn’t recommend skipping school, that one day of adventure will always hold a special place in my memory. After all, it’s not just about the lessons learned in the classroom; sometimes, the best lessons come from the adventures we take outside of it.