Remembering My Independence Day Celebrations as a child.

Those were my days as Aunty-Pikin (The title for those whose mothers teach in the same school) pupil at St. Andrew's State Schools 1 and 5. My school was the most populated and famous Aje-Kpako congregation, followed by Amigbo and Sangana, so ordinarily the extravagance of shiny uniform, sparkling white stockings and cherographed March-Past was not our business. The few times we were forced to attend, we meritoriously came last in the results. Our contingent were always concerned with watching the dramatic Police Children School and Army Children School, than march to win laurels.

The above is not to say that we were completely useless on those days, no we were not. We had our areas of strenght: fighting Okio, the notorious security man was one such area. Being a national holiday, Okio would attempt to lock the rest of us out, but we would always find our way in, either through Emenike street or through the police station if the gate seemed impregnable. There was nothing stopping a group of determined Aje-Kpakos from their football matches within the six schools in the premises and against their dear wives, Amigbo and Sangana. There was nothing stopping them from their back-flips (Gymnastics), Jumping from the storey building, bicycle rides, boxing, ruber-ring, When-do-you-marry, cards and canter series. In these fields, we were undisputed champions, even though we were sometimes bullied into submission by the Deaf and Dumb contingent whom we feared like the power to make and take life was in their hands.

We would play and play and play. We would dance, under the rain and in the sun until the sun waved us goodbye. It was a day of freedom from English, Maths and General Paper; a day of freedom from the whips of our teachers, not neccessarily a day of reflection on the country. Majority of those in St. Andrew had no business reflecting on the country, we instead fantasized on being heroes like Adaka Boro, Mary Slessor, Nnamdi Azikiwe, Chike Obi and our teachers. We also fantasized on becoming the next Sam Okparaji, Philip Osondu and Peter(Keeper) Rufai.

On days I could not steal my way out to be with the other apostles, I was against my wish forced to have an early morning bathe, watch some Independence day programmes on our neighbours sliding-doors black and white television (those were the only occassions TV opened before 4pm). A breakfast of yam peppersoup and sometimes a shared bottle of coke with my mother.
On that bottle of 30cl coke, I always knew my share before it was opened. The boundary between my mother and I was the first ring from the bottom of the bottle.

Later in the afternoon, I would listen to stories of the good old days from adults, uninterestedly while waiting for 4pm to sneak to Oromineke football field, or Egede field (Now CPM) as the case may be, to play football.

The Independence day for a St. Andrew pupil was more of a day of leisure and rest, than the combustion of national significance.

Share your Independence day memories with us.

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