Reminiscing on the anniversary of my birthday

Today, Wednesday, is the day I normally write my column for the newspaper. It happens also to be my birthday, a day I had hoped to spend relaxing. Writing my article became an occasion to reminisce a bit. As I reflect on my journey two matters influenced the path I have taken. First, my mother Dorothy ‘Olga’ Quow and my extended family, the children of Estelle Lampkin and Benjamin Quow. The second was having been born in Barrouallie, the park, sea and school within a short distance of my home. As a primary school student and during my junior years at the Grammar School, Saturdays were spent at the park playing cricket or football, depending on the ‘season’, then it was on to the beach continuing the games and then ending it with a sea bath.

In my early years my mother ran a pre-school, which a significant number of students attended. When I first went to primary school, I was sent to the senior school which housed classes from one to six. Standard six, as far as I remember, was for students who had passed the primary school leaving examination and were being trained to be supernumerary teachers. After a few days in class one the teacher claimed that my handwriting was atrocious and arranged for me to spend some time in stage three. I cannot remember how long I stayed but I was allowed to skip standard one and go on to standard two. On my first day at primary school, I walked up the hill where the senior primary school was located with Frankie McIntosh. Frankie had attended my mother’s pre-school. His father, Tom, was the Revenue officer in Barrouallie and was a good friend of my family. Having mentioned Tom McIntosh, I believe, he introduced football to Barrouallie. It is something I need to research. I remember seeing him on the field playing. I should mention too that Barrouallie at that time was the only place outside of Kingstown that played football. It was later introduced to Layou and then to Mespo, and I believe I had something to do with it, having taken teams from Barrouallie to play in Layou and Mespo while I was at the Grammar School.

One of my teachers in Barrouallie, in fact my standard 5 teacher was Olson Peters, ‘Caribbean Pete’. For a long time, I held a grudge against Pete. I had passed entrance to attend the Grammar School and he convinced my mother to let me stay back to write the scholarship examination. I secretly cursed him. I don’t know how I did it because curse words were not part of my vocabulary. After all, my grandfather was a Methodist local preacher. The superintendent minister, from Kingstown, usually had a meal at us before returning, so I know what was expected of me. My grudge against Pete was short lived. He had probably given good advice.

As things turned out that was the end of my sojourn at the Barrouallie Primary School. I had passed the entrance and primary school leaving certificate examinations. My next move was totally unexpected. An uncle, with my mother’s permission, had arranged for me to spend the year with his friend Alphonso Dennie, who like Caspar Marshall had built a reputation for having his students win government scholarships to the Grammar School and Girls High School. So, I next headed to the Gomea Methodist School where Dennie was the headmaster. Dennie was a cricket lover, even kept cricket gear. He was a political disciple of Ebenezer Joshua and took me every Wednesday night to the Kingstown Market Square to listen to the performances of E.T Joshua as he lambasted the colonials. Alphonso was perhaps the best teacher I had come across. Austin Clarke in his book GROWING UP STUPID UNDER THE UNION JACK had referred to any black boy who excelled in any subject as a fool so one became a mathematics or a science fool and so on. Under Dennie I became an Arithmetic and English fool. In those days what you did for English and Arithmetic in the last year of primary school was the same thing you did for GCE. I enjoyed Saturday afternoons when we went swimming in the river, Gomea having some deep holes that facilitated swimming. On Saturdays it was back to Barrouallie but not before a trip to ‘matinee’ at Robertson’s cinema.

My life at the Boys Grammar School will be the topic for another article. After graduating I taught two years at the school, before going to Canada for further studies. I was the recipient of two scholarships, one to UWI, Barbados and the other to Canada courtesy CIDA scholarships. I had to decide and opted for Canada since I felt that the experience of being in Canada would be an education by itself. Several other students had gone to Canada previously on these scholarships. At the University of Western Ontario, London, Canada I met FI Jack and Tim Daisy who had preceded me. Others like Clem Ballah went to different universities. Several fields were covered, including surveying which Bassy and others had taken up, although not in my year. The scholarships were excellent with free medical services and stipends that adequately covered our needs. There were people assigned to us who attended to any issues we had. My encounter with winter was not a pleasant one but is a story for another time.

Dr Adrian Fraser is a social commentator and historian