Last night I dreamt I went down to Africa again. Skimming down gorgeous hills of green, carpets of teeming forests, the pure air filled with the scent of nature, the sounds of the animals, the cries of the Mau Mau, the beat of forgotten drums.

The Sandpipers sang it best -

"A man never forgets the land where he was born......."

Is it really five decades? My school shimmers into my dream, as I sit on the peak of the hillock that separates the upper school, gazing at the lovely laterite form of the primary school, carved after North American elementary schools, rather than the pallid English primary schools. Here I spent some of the best years of my life, gallivanting to glory....

Gazing distantly down to the school gate like the Marquis de Pombal, up the purple ribbon of tarmac sweeps a lonely little car at the unearthly hour of 7:45 am. Out steps the firm figure of a determined young lady, in thick white skirt, pert rear swaying saucily! It was January 1968 in the year of Our Lord, and that was my first glimpse of the unforgettable Laura Estelita, with whom I was to spend six torrid months together!

"What are you gawking at?" she snaps, "Get down at once!"

Like Edith Piaf, the voice is at once gorgeously sultry.

I had had a relatively quiet childhood.....and then, catastrophe! For a decade between the ages of twelve and twenty-two, I went completely haywire. I turned enfant terrible at school and university, getting involved in endless scrapes, jinks, trouble, one crisis after another, my timeline dotted with expulsions and suspensions!

After the KPE public exam, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls, I led a band of hooligans to puncture Headmaster Sandy Tavares red Volkswagen Beetle! When there was a sudden silence, I looked up to see my buddies fleeing and the HM standing behind me, watching me let the air out of his final tyre! His usual caning followed, but worse was to come! Even though I ranked in the top ten KPE results, I was blanket refused admission to the Dr. Ribeiro upper school.

My father though - a medic, and ranked in the Ministry of Health - powered his way to getting me admission in the secondary school. However, true to form, my first year in Form One was so bad that Headmaster Robert Fernandes expelled me midway from Dr. Ribeiro's, despite topping the class. His wonderful year-end report is pictured below!

"Dr. Ribeiro's does not need spoilt smart-alecs!" he roared.

Robert hadn't reckoned with my father though, who stopped the expulsion through the Education Dept. Unyielding and furious, Robert Fernandes got me transferred to St. George's, Lavington, closer to where we lived! My father would have none of this, and overrode this transfer too. Insane with anger, Robert got me moved from Form 1A to Form 1B, a minor demotion.

"Haha!" I rejoiced secretly, "I have far more friends in 1B than 1A!"

And thus I fell into the hands of the inestimable Laura Estelita, or 'Plastic Bottom' as she was so affectionately called by the legions of pubescent lads who studied her retreating figure with salivation!

Laura was our class-teacher, which meant she and I saw more of each other than we would have probably liked. She ruled the class with an iron hand and that grave, honeyed voice - and when she discovered I was one the one pea-shooting and hurling spit-balls from the back of the class, she gave me five hundred lines to write, and promptly moved me to the desk right in front of her!

"I've got my eye on you now!" she growled, as I blithely hummed a Kikuyu circumcision song.

It soon dawned on Ms. Estelita that five hundred lines was mere child's play for this incorrigible die-hard. Missing half the time from class (playing footie on the primary grounds with other years), when I wasn't playing truant, I was causing quiet mayhem in her class - and Mr. Torcato's, Mr. Nunes', Mr. Britto's, Mr. Carrasco's, Ms. Violet's, Mme. Necludoff's, Ms. Vivian's, Ms. Khalsi's, etc., you name it - they all complained to Laura!

And thus began a battle between two unyielding characters - for the simple reason she saw promise hidden somewhere in that grinning rebel seated in front of her. But then, she saw promise in all her charges, and gently prodded them to keep trying even when the going got tough. Laura taught us English and a smattering of the arts. Her voice got gravelly when she thought you weren't trying. She praised my early work, and read out some of it to the class. But if I got overly lush or sentimental, she shot it down like the lame duck it was!

"This is garbage!" she was merciless. "You're just going to waste!"

Brilliant pun!

She though, did not enjoy the little pail of water I had placed over the door for her entry. After she dried her hair out in the staff room, it took very little to find out the culprit, and I was marched off to the Horrible Headmaster! That wonderful specimen had a closet full of wicked canes of all shapes and sizes, with which I became very closely acquainted. Since he caned at least a couple of boys on a daily basis, it was my belief we represented his daily workout, much like Goodlife Fitness. He literally chuckled and licked his lips every time he opened his door and saw me standing there, held by the scruff of my neck by either Ms. Estelita, or the class monitor Boaz Odhiambo.

"You hit rock bottom, I hit your bottom!" he cackled, as he flogged.

But back to the sultry Laura. Besides English, and Civics and Literature, she also schooled us in drama. Schoolboys do not need to be taught acting - it is part of our genetic make-up, growing up! That summer she planned on our class putting up a scene from Shakespeare. Given the turbulent nature of our class and teacher, I thought the choice of "The Tempest" quite apt.

I came to class late for auditions that first period, gritting my teeth after another birching from the Horrible HM - I had kicked the waste-basket round the class the previous day-end, and Laura Estelita had not been pleased to enter a dirtied class first thing in the morning!

"Aha!" she gurgled sardonically, "Our star is back! Will you play Caliban?"

"Certainly not!" I glared vengefully, "I can't act to save my life!"

"Don't lie to me!" she roared back, " I saw you two years ago in the Wizard of Oz!"

Unfortunately that was true. If you can lay your hands on a copy of our DRGS school magazine of 1966, you will see a picture of our final primary year production of the "Wizard of Oz", starring Melvin George as Dorothy, Joseph Ramtu as The Tin Man, Albert Mascarenhas as The Cowardly Lion, and yours truly as the ubiquitous Wizard of Oz.

"You, sir wizard", said Laura trenchantly, "are perfect for Caliban - himself a child of a wizard and a witch!"

"Funny, haha!" I almost burst out sarcastically, but thought better of it.