In the early seventies, I lived with my brother in Ekombe Bonji some seven miles down Mbonge Road from PSS today PHS Kumba. Each time we drove past the old school, I would look almost lustfully at the big metal signboard and luscious green lawns which advertized the school. I told my brother and just about any one who cared to listen that it was my dream to attend PSS someday. That dream came true in 1973 and the next five years at that school literally formed the foundation for the rest of my life. By all accounts, I came from a stable home.  I now also know I had unparalleled parental upbringing. Still, the school made such an indelible contribution to my life that to this day I find myself having to reference my days at the school as I live my life out. I suspect the same would be true of many who spent even a year in that place especially back then.

The Physical environment: As a child who mostly grew up in a small village, the green lawn, spacious classrooms, connecting and roofed corridors, flushing toilets, dorms, showers, an imposing Assembly Hall, Amphitheater, Tennis Court, all impressed me to no end. Dirt poor as some of us were, even the blue and white or charcoal grey uniforms were a source of boundless pride. I made sure to mention it to my dad when I wrote my first letter telling him about the place. When my brother visited, I proudly posed for pictures in my uniform.

Academics: If some of our teachers were lazy, you did not know it. Many it seemed made a genuine effort to educate us. In turn, many of us it seemed made an effort to get an education and look forward to High School and beyond. Indeed many students there at the times kept regular contact with colleges in the United States (Motown), even as their parents would hardly afford to pay their fees in PSS. But you just knew that we, in many ways were encouraged and motivated to be ambitious about the future. In fact one friend there talked often about becoming Prime Minister some day. Incredibly, today he may not be that far from that dream as he slowly inches his way forward in the Cameroon government. We were, I thought a mostly anonymous bunch academically but we had a few standouts who it seemed would go on to be unstoppable some how. Having now seen how Math and the sciences are introduced to kids in the West, I think our curriculum could use some improvements, but heck, we were always encouraged to strive. Also the fact that kids who came from “cities” were better prepared academically than those from “the hinterlands” for secondary school did not fail to be self evident in graded performance, at least in the first three years especially.

Violence:  The streets of Cameroon were full of tough guys. Most of them were illiterate thugs but it seemed that most guys who came to PSS back then came with this idea that they had to be street tough. If you looked big and or tough, you were a “ngumfull”. If you appeared to be weak and timid, you were a “ngumless”. The ngumfulls hammered the ngumless sometimes mercilessly all the time, and no one cared or dared to report! It did not help that some teachers actually also meted out their own versions of corporal punishment, sometimes quite severely.

Hind site 20/20, I now wonder how it was that a kid was not killed in that place. Forget the regular fisticuffs that were common place, there was accepted and organized violence like “bowing”. This was a wild and dangerous prank whereby one student would viciously strike a victim while they slept. The perpetrator would then disappear living the victim dazed, disoriented and very angry. Needles to say, this had the ripple effect of producing revenge and even more fights later.

There was “Cut Tail”. This was an annual and ugly ritual in which Class Two students would visit severe beatings upon Class One students at appointed date. No matter how small the person meting out the punishment was, the Class ones were not supposed to resist or fight back. You just took the whipping and waited your turn at revenge the next year. Some students would actually run off into the woods on those days to avoid the whipping. For those who did, stringent Kangaroo court appearances awaited them, especially if their parents were thought to be of some means. I am proud to say my class somehow ended that practice once and for good, and not out of nobility it seems. It appears that too many of our class were bigger than the Class Twos.  We intimidated them, I think. They did not beat us, and we did not beat our Class Ones when it would have been our turn. That concluded the barbaric practice to this date I hope.

Fistfights were still far too common place over girls, rumor, and just plain ol’ ignorance. Of violence and or the potential thereof, a few names in that era come to mind: “Big Mop” Sone (you did not call him that to his face, “Soul” Attiah, Diange, Masama, “Zambo Fische De mama” Ejedepang Koge (beat up even his own class mates) Oroh, (years later, he still gave me the chills when last I met him in Houston TX), “Shaka Zulu” Obase, Luma Podo, Ngalle. You just hated for these guys to even cross your path. It would be “boing” on the head and for no apparent reason.

I was myself the victim of a vicious tag team sneak attack at the hands of my own classmates, Sammy “Profsam” Sumelong and “Nkundem” Abongwa George Shu.  I almost lost an eye for refusing to give up a privileged spot on a Friday night as we sat watching girls. I ran to my “big” and Raflaub House Captain, Soul Attiah. Once he saw the blood and swollen face, he flew into a rage and promptly summoned the two miscreants. They were lucky to have not been decapitated. He meted out severe punishment choosing not to refer the case to the Sanhedrin. He beat them severely, then made them bring a bucket of water, soaked them thoroughly, made them go outside and role in the grass, then made them seat wrapped in a blanket. They were not allowed to scratch them selves or move a muscle even as the heat caused them to itch badly. One scratch or slight movement equaled one sound slap across the face. This exercise was repeated for a long time over and over that night. The next day, they were riddled with whelps and I sat nursing my face. Also, in class two, I was chosen to play the drum which woke up the whole school early each day. Some how though, this offended Obase “Shaka Zulu” very much. More than once he put me in a tight and suffocating choke hold for daring to wake him up that early! My God! Don’t ask me now how come the school authorities never heard these stories of outright torture and bedlam.

Agent Provocateurs:  There was a genre of students at that school who specialized in ridiculing others and some how consistently got away with it even from the ngumfuls and none of them were really big boys in any way. They could belittle you and give you a name for just about anything. If they especially thought you looked dumb, ate too much, “Charge Pot”, ignorant, or just a “villagois” unfamiliar with ‘modern life’, then you were ridiculed as hailing either from “Bachuo Ntai”, “ Eshimbi”, “Ngombo Nku” or “Polar”. Not sure if they knew where these places where but they just knew to curse folks with them. And if you seemed bothered by the name calling, then of course they would rattle your cage, laugh at you again and again each time you would show up some place. Not very kind at all as some of the ugly nick names they gave stuck with their victims to this day. Mbwagbaw “Pettit Blanc, Bob Willie and Chuckuemeka were the leading perpetrators there in my time.

The Sanhedrin: This was a student judicial system separate and apart from the school administration.  I am not entirely sure now if it was not set up to swindle gullible and impressionable kids, promote violence, and simply strong arm the ngumless. In this process, you could be fined certain cups of garri, a variety of canned food, even money. For the worst of the worst, there was a real “Gass Chamber”. A locker was illegally retrofitted to make room for an upper chamber were the condemned would be held while a real fire with noxious fumes was made under him, almost suffocating the poor thing. I am glad no one introduced these Little Hitlers to waterboarding. My word already! Many swear to this day that the school administration knew about these things but chose to look the other way to help students build character on their own and enhance discipline. It was too wild.

The Occult: For a Christian School, we sure took to the devil quite too easily! Stories of witch craft practices, apparitions, “Kosh Kosh”, and consultations with “Mungang” people abounded. In one particularly brazen incident, students collected money amongst themselves, requested the best Mungang man from Bakossiland, (Nkumbes) or so they thought, and had him come and live in the dorm. He was given a bed, fed lavishly, chauffeured around and paid cash money to make mungang so we could beat NHS in a soccer game. Well, this whole fraud seems to have backfired.  It turns out the man himself also worked his mungang for our opponents. It also turns out the captain of the NHS team was also his nephew. They also paid him to work the mungang for them and even paid a bigger sum, even as we housed and treated him to all manner of privileges. In trying to persuade his handlers at PSS to pay more, he made a statement which is now indelibly scribbled and for ever etched on the School’s wall of shame: ”Nkumbe them, they want to champion the whole affair”. Only after the game was over and his whole scheme unfolded, did we fully understand what he meant. He was cunningly implying that “Nkumbe” captain of our enemies, and his nephew, were paying him more, and if we did not want him to throw the game to our nemesis, we should up the anti on payments to him as the other team was already paying more than we were! We lost and “Nkumbes” (as he came to be called) vanished into thin air taking our money and that of our opponents with him. When last any one saw him, it was fifteen minutes to the end of the game and our hopes hung in the balance as were down two um. He asked to be driven down some nearby bushes so he could go in there and strengthen the mungang. He disappeared into the bushes and has never resurfaced. Mungang my foot!  We were robbed blind! We lost the game and our money!

Nick names and Name Calling: In those years at the old school, you were called names or given nick names, due to your looks, (good or bad), your known exploits, known relatives, or simple demeanor. Name calling was the source of many a serious fight! In one particular case the father of one girl had to come on campus and make open threats if his little girls continued to come home crying, tormented by bad name calling.  But in most cases, people took their nick names with pride or nonchalance and since I love nick names to this day, here are a few I remember: Nkumdem, Shaka Zulu, Papa Esomba, Perper Joe/nkongenebong, Law law, Bienne, Beans, Cold Beans, Water Beans, Soul, Soul Millionaire, Sous Chef, Chisels, Man Mountain, Horrible, Ian Scoar, Jaguar/Wadaga, Crow, Amicable, Grasso, K-foot, Profsam, Redskin Joe, Fallanges, Petit Blanc, Ebangah, Choubby Checker, Sass Mop, Wang P., Wang Yu, Jean Koffi, Addindum, Elzevir Block, Bond/007, Tchoui Tchoui, Zaire, Coupe Les Feuilles, David Shang, Diable, Inspecteur, Mobali, Willie Le Pape, The Guy, The wretch, Shawo/Dog, Past Tense, Patron, Present Tense, Bob Willie, Garri Loop, Kenny Pour L’enfer, Jewman, Jean Kaporinga, Fadjo, Ngono Ah, Jim Brown/Black Executioner, Orututu/Mota Kori, Efka.  And since you may be reading this before dinner, I don’t want to explain why the Mengot House toilet was called “Direct Contact”.

Socials: These were rare party evenings during which for once it seemed the school administration tried to encourage or at least tolerate dating of sorts or at least the orderly co-mingling of the sexes. For some, preparation or “markiage” would start a good two weeks in advance, so you looked your best on Party day. But at an age were most anything in a skirt looked good, it produced some awkward moments. Too shy to approach girls, most boys and girls too, just danced with themselves all the time. Now when it came to “slow” then the awkwardness was even more pronounced. Often though, once a girl even favored you with a dance that would trigger all kinds of stories about boyfriend/girlfriend talk. Those who had real girl friends as opposed to imagined ones were glad to tell of their exploits, especially the older boys.
Those stories (since we did not have copies of Play Boy) were the impetus that drove many younger boys into the arms of prostitutes (nkanes) in Kumba Town and in a few known cases, a rude introduction to venereal deceases.  A few “bad girls” at the school dated teachers and or other known “big men” in Kumba. But those were rare and daring.  Once in a while some poor girl came up pregnant and all hell was raised in an effort to find and punish the responsible party. In most cases, that pregnancy meant the end to educational pursuits for the expectant mother. As for the guys who had “girl smalls” some of the stories now looking back were quite wild, and if true, some of the guys would be doing time under, not inside Kondengueh prison with keys thrown away. All in all though, we turned out better rounded socially it seems, than far too many kids who went to even wilder schools.

Cleanliness: Cleanliness, Pa Jackai said often, is next to Godliness. Students were encouraged to take to clean habits. Uniforms, dorms and lawns were inspected through a vigorous scheme of carefully orchestrated cleaning regiment. Daily and weekly assignments were given and the Principal, Dorm Captains and Sanitation Prefect took a tour of the dorms on Saturdays dutifully inspecting the place and making a calibrated record, while students neatly dressed, stood at attention. Results of the cleanliness and orderliness competition were then announced in an elaborate way. These things were not done in vain. They definitely helped us build character. The school as a matter of policy stood inextricably opposed to sloth and slovenly conduct. That there are KUPEXSANS today who would be caught slovenly dressed just amazes me.

Seminal Characters: In those formative years, one encountered many a seminal teacher and other workers at the school. Names like Cook John come to mind, “Lepi”, the legendary Principal “Bond” Abel Sumbele, his VP “Man Mountain, Pa” Jackai, Mr. Nso, Petti Pereau, “Fearless Fang” Nditah Ngoh, Maxebong, “Makandum” Mr. Etuge, “John Satan Tear Tossor JS TT BB MM” Mr. Metuge, “Ma”Nsong, and the youthful promise of a Mr. Dioh. Some how we were more than well served to have met these people. Even if one did not have direct contact with each of these people and the stories that made news back then on campus, your life was shaped by them. Me I would gladly have been spared the violence, but taken together, it is an experience I would not have missed for the world.

As noted here lately, we have lost a few KUPEXSANS. For me, I have to just believe that there is a special place that KUPEXSANS go when they depart this place. We are destined to meet up again. The likes of “Jaguar” Mandengue, “Nimba Mesame” Ejome Rebecca, Paul “Pet” Tabe, Njemo Sylvie, “JS TT BB MM Mr. Metuge, Bau Ohka, “Mweh” Hene Godfrey, Cook John, Nditar Ngoh, and countless others I do not now remember offhand are certainly gone but not forgotten. Our lives are the better having met them.

For those who are so inclined and able to contribute anything, the call has gone out for a Library being built at the old school now. If you can contribute a penny, let me use this opportunity to remind and encourage you to do so. PSS will always be a place worth giving back to. She sure gave us her all.
Joel Kalle/Class of 77