The Death of A Chicken

It was sometime in June or July 1968, our School Certificate year, and we were busy preparing for that most important first external examination which one and all approached with determination. Back then by tradition, GCI WAEC candidates studied hard without being prompted. I recall that a particular Carr House classmate who is now a medical doctor and a participant in the story that is about to unfold, refused to take a shower for the duration of our WASCE papers. I am not mentioning names. Such was the nature of the seriousness attached to the exams, and it is the setting for this incident that led to the suspension of about five Carr House boys (yes, Carr House! usually noted for more gentlemanly behaviour than their Grier House counterparts) three months to writing WASCE.

I believe it was after normal prep period, which was usually over by 9.00pm. The Upper Six prefects who should have been actively policing “lights out” were themselves preparing for HSC exams. I cannot now recall if acting Lower Six prefects had been appointed. If they had been, they knew better than to try to disturb Form Fives in the prep room. So the prep room which should have been empty at that time was still quite busy mostly with WAEC candidates. HSC candidates tended more to read in their rooms.

If you are following closely, it would be clear so far that these were a bunch of serious-minded mostly 16/17 year-olds (that mostly is loaded!), minding their business, doing what their parents/guardians sent them to school to do - study. Think about the serene atmosphere, and then think how strange it must have sounded to book-weary students to suddenly hear a cock crow at that time of the night. What kind of cock should still be about at almost 10.00pm, crowing all over the place? And what was it doing around the house grounds at that time when it should have gone to its owner’s home to roost? Surely, this was more than enough provocation. That cock or hen definitely had to be exorcised from whatever evil spirit had taken possession of it. This was how those innocent Carr House boys were called to the service of mankind in valiant defense of their house grounds and the honour of The Vigilia (Carr House patron saint) against intruding possessed-poultry.

To be sure, it was some relief to have an excuse to get away for a while from quadratic equations and dy/dx, yet no one can seriously say that the fate that eventually befell the chicken was premeditated. The boys certainly were not out chicken hunting. Rather, what ensued was a spontaneous reaction driven by selfless motives as already implied. There are some enemies of progress who claim that even at this stage of the proceedings, some of the boys involved had actually started salivating in anticipation, and that instead of joining in the counter-attack against enemy occupation, they were already assembling implements for transforming the enemy for consumption. On the other hand, more charitable observers have noted that these WAEC candidates were only trying to seize a Biology practicals’ opportunity, pursuant to the exams at hand. Obviously, to be able to identify every chicken part down to the last juicy bone would have been beneficial.

So, the chicken crowed, and we rose. It was towards that side of the prep room leading to the games field. We had it surrounded in no time. It could not go further out on account of a thicket. As we rushed to grab it, it somehow managed to slip through and then headed towards the area between the box room and Block 2 toilets. We went after it with gusto and encircled it again. It tried to slip through a second time, but now, one of us who was a famous defender in the school 1st eleven, and whose uncle was a notable Maths teacher in the school, adroitly applied his soccer tactics and brought the enemy down with a sliding tackle. There was great applause and cheering all around. We had netted the enemy! Now there was only one thing. All this commotion happened right under the very nose of our sitting Head of House, an Upper Sixth form prefect, whose “official residence” was directly on top of the box room. Yes, Heads of Houses had their own separate rooms.

As in most schools then, the relationship between Form Five FINALISTS and HSC FINALISTS was usually not cordial. Note the emphasis on finalists. For whatever reason the relationship with our Head of House at that time, was particularly frosty.

So it turned out that it was not only the chicken that crowed that night! People about to be roasted should not first rub themselves with oil.
The matter first got to the attention of the House Master, whose chicken, it turned out, was just terminally exorcised. It was this same House Master boys had nick-named “My Mango” because he tried to forbid boys from plucking “his” mangoes from a tree near his house, which he met there when he became House Master. If he had felt that way about the mangoes, you can imagine his fury upon learning what had happened to his chicken. Of course he could have ended the matter by applying the usual appropriate sanctions, but more things were working against the boys in this saga. I told you the chicken was possessed.

It was around this same time that there had been some rumpus in the school over the transfer of the popular School Principal, Mr. D.J. Bullock to “Compro”, and the resumption of his replacement, the amiable Chief J.B.O. Ojo, an old-boy himself. Far from being a protest against Chief Ojo, this was more about not wanting to let go of the good rapport students had with DJ. In any case, school administration was undergoing this mildly turbulent transition, in which the authority of the in-coming School Principal had to be quickly and firmly established. It is no surprise that the matter quickly got to him, and he just as quickly decided what to do with the offenders. Suspension!

Now, was this the first time chicken would be terminally exorcised in GCI? Definitely not. As a matter of fact, the case of a Swanston House boy who was a year our junior comes readily to mind. He it was that had to explain how two of his own House Master’s chickens found their way into his saucepan. The poor boy gave out that he was just quietly plucking mangoes when two of them fell and killed the chickens instantly. So he also quietly went ahead and did the right thing by the dead poultry He was not suspended. I even doubt that DJ got to hear about it. And if he had, it would have been handled with a severely intoned “bend over my boy” followed by six of the best! But that was not to be for the current exorcists.

Who are you going to tell at home that you got suspended from a whole GCI for killing chicken? There simply was no way to frame the story to make this acceptable at home. Even the bit about not being directly involved in the killing, but only being around when it was being steamed did not fly. “Se adie ni oje ri ni?” was a constant remark with which one was badgered by uncles, aunties and other concerned family members. To make matters worse, where we lived with my aunt at the time, she had a thriving poultry business going, and it was hard not to feel guilty passing by their cages after all the “talking-to” received from left, right and center. I soon became an expert at dodging visitors to the house, so as to avoid the “Kini iwo nse n’ile?” query when it was obvious I was not ill. And meal times too. You better not show too much you are enjoying the meal, otherwise it will be “Nkan ti a ri e si na ni yen!”

Being on suspension can be torture, but it had one good side effect. Because it was close to WASCE, the guilt of the suspension made one study harder, I guess in the effort to impress those terribly disappointed by how you were on your way to turning out to be a failure in life!

I suppose it will be appropriate to end with these lines to be sung to the tune of a “poultry” song that is popular at GGI sing-songs. The dramatis personae should fill in their names as appropriate.

Who killed House Master’s chicken?
“I”, said …….. (Fill in your name, e.g. Niyi Badmus)..... “because I am baaad, I killed House Master’s chicken.”

Who’ll pluck the feathers?
“I”, said ……… (Fill in your name, e.g. Yemisi Harrison)..... “because I am fast, I’ll pluck the feathers.”

Who’ll boil the meat?
“I”, said ……….. (Fill in your name, e.g. Kehinde Adeniyi)..... “because I own the boiling ring, I’ll boil the meat.”

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