For us who visited town only once in a while, sent by our very strict parents, our mission was clear. Walk as fast as our legs could carry us, head straight to the shop, market, posho mill, butchery or petrol station, purchase the supplies we needed and head home immediately, walking as fast as our legs could carry us. That was the definition of a good errand runner. Those of us who lingered a few minutes longer were removed from the list of errand runners, meaning we never got to visit town, ever. We could not allow that to happen because that was our only outing, other than church which was nowhere near town.
With that threat hanging front and center in our minds, imagine the horror of reaching town one day, only to find closed shops and Chief Apollo directing every moving soul towards AC Primary School grounds. There was no escaping and there was no returning home without the needed supplies that took you to town in the first place. We were taught to follow directions from adults in authority, therefore, we could not defy Chief Apollo. We obliged the Chief’s order but we were the kids at such meetings who sat at a corner and hang our heads in frustration. Thank goodness there were no television crews covering such events otherwise we would have appeared on television looking like we were waiting for our execution.
Of course we were met with hostility when we returned home, but our reason was valid this time, so we were forgiven, but reminded it was our responsibility to keep up with such calendar events in future to avoid a repeat of what just happened, wasting precious time in town, a place we did not belong. You would be forgiven to think we did not belong in the same country with our mother observing the same National holidays. How come she did not know it was a National Day and shops would be closed, yet she expected us to have that information? We had such questions swirling through our heads but who would dare ask her that? Maybe Chief Apollo, then they could duke it out.
