FEDERAL GOVERNMENT COLLEGE WARRI
Class of '82
welcomes you
The Nicknames of FGC Warri
& Opinion Please? Quinine!!! - Valentine Utulu
THE NICKNAMES OF FGC WARRI
The nicknames of FGC Warri were legendary. The origins of some of them were sometimes obscure but the one thing you were sure of was that once you were identified with a nickname, it stuck like a limpet on you for life.
My nickname, Utulu Vee, came about thus: when in Form 3E, one Saturday afternoon, I rolled some papers into a ball and began to kick it about the empty class, running a football commentary to myself, “Utulu V. with the ball, Utulu V. beats one, he beats two….” The late Samuel Izuora overheard me and shouted “Utulu Vee!” and the rest, as they say, is history. Even today, my wife sometimes calls me Utulu Vee and I know it’s only a matter of time before my kids follow suit.
The art of the nickname is an arcane one and to coin one that fits just right is an inspired phenomenon. There were nicknames like Geebones (Gelekukuma Bassey) Mark of Danger! (Yakubu Ballah) Apache, (Christopher Amaeshi) Champion (Idoreyin Essien) Lawando Jet, (Mohammed Lawal), Pocket (Clement Edosonwa) and Doctor Crime (the late Friday Omogberale).
In my gang in lower and upper six, Tobi Fayemiwo was the astute politician, and as his name was also his campaign name, he did not need a nickname. We just called him Tobai! He was the thinker in our midst, the strategist. He always spoke slowly, but his brain moved faster than the rest of us put together.
The other members of my gang had their nicknames as well. Gabriel Edgal was Gabby Mentos, the cunning and deliberate achiever. Ayuli Jemide was Aljay. He was and still is the smooth operator. As soon as he set foot on FGC Warri in our lower six, he blended in so fast you would not believe he had not been in FGC Warri all his life. Deji Akindele, the School Captain, was Baba Akins and he was our Godfather. He covered us and in the eyes of the world we could do no wrong. A great friend and a forthright man with a lovely sense of humour. As for me, I was the poet and speech writer of the group, the scatter brain and the clown.
All the teachers had nick names and they were not designed to be complimentary. Mr. Onyeadiri, an Igbo man, used to teach economics. He was a very trendy, happy man who liked to wear the latest in fashion. One day, while teaching us the principles of demand and supply, he decided to give us a personal example in order to drive home the point. He said: “When Crazy Horse jeans came out, I went and bought myself two pays” (pairs). Of course, thereafter, we started calling him Crazy Horse.
Charles Onyekachi detested the nickname forced upon him, Angulu, which in Hausa meant “vulture”. He fought many people all over the school for calling him that name and I personally only called him Angulu when he couldn’t see me or catch me. Idi Ibrahim was Charles’s nemesis. He hounded Charles every day, all over the school, calling him Angulu. Then the name grew from just Angulu to “Angulu, Dining Hall vulture”. And Idi Ibrahim would gather junior students and all sorts of jobless urchins together to beat cans and drums all over the school during election campaigns. Chanting, “Angulu! Dining Hall Vulture!” They made Charles’s life a misery. I have never been able to fathom what the grouse was between those two.
Then there were some names that just fit. The late Isaac Ejini looked older than his age because his hair went prematurely gray. So people started calling him Rock of Ages, from there the name got shortened to just “Ages”. I remember when Abiye Koko was running for Vice Secretary of the Student’s Representative Council. His supporters were running up and down beating empty cans and chanting “Beko, Beko, Beko” when Isaac Ejini, who was then School Captain, happened to pass by. Suddenly the chants changed from “Beko, Beko, Beko” to “Ages, Ages, Ages.” Incensed, Ejini told all of them to kneel down on the spot which they did. “Am I older than your fathers?” he asked the crowd and to the man they chorused “Yeees!” Ask a stupid question…
We also used to be very determined pranksters. Chima Eze, my classmate and other partner in crime loved this enterprise. Bangers were banned from the School, but we would always smuggle them in. Towards the end of the term before Christmas, the girls in the school had a miserable time of it because we terrorized them with bangers. I remember once, I went and stood beside Eghoghon Okoh-Esene, as if to chat her up during entertainment one Saturday. As we were talking, I quietly lit a banger and rolled it under her seat. When it went off, Eghoghon almost levitated into outer space.
Then fate smiled upon us and our enterprise in practical jokes was truly blessed when someone brought a very realistic looking skull mask to school and handed it over to yours truly. We were in business. Every night we would dress up a “ghost” all in white and wait till everyone was sleeping, then in the darkness, the ghost would go and stand beside our victim, we would gently wake the victim and the first thing he would see was the ghost staring down at him and in a guttural voice asking for his soul.
Reactions to this particular prank were many and varied. Some people woke up and just froze in terror. Some will wake up and scream and scream. Others will wake up, take one look and just bolt for dear life while we collapsed in laughter. But the most interesting response came from one Dennis. Upon sighting the ghost, Dennis started to beg the apparition. “Please” he said “I beg, I beg, I beg”. Even the ghost couldn’t hold back his laughter. We went later to ask Dennis whether begging a ghost was likely to yield any useful result.
Between Forms 3 and 5, Victor Ubaru was my close friend and a co-rascal. The man just loved to eat. One day I gave myself the nickname of Utulu-Lopez Inc whereupon Victor promptly named himself Ubaru-Lofood Inc. Our favorite pastime was eating eba with geisha (canned mackerel in tomato sauce). The whole thing started small, but as we got better at it, we started making the eba in buckets for size and the geisha in huge bowls. We also began adding spices like pepper and maggi. The water for the eba was boiled with electric coiled heaters.
However, the problem was that our eba and geisha making prowess had now become common knowledge and as soon as Victor and I converged for the venture, a whole lot of salivating, uninvited hangers on would suddenly appear to divide the spoils with us.
At first we devised the tactics of wolfing down the whole food while it was unbearably hot so that the hangers on couldn’t join in. Our fame spread then and it was said that Victor and Utulu “have coolers in their throats”. But never underestimate the determination of some hungry, salivating uninvited guests because just as Victor and I were getting better at wolfing down scalding eba, those guys also decided that it was better for them to eat the eba and end up with a scalded throat and mouth than not eat at all. Things really got desperate.
I remember one night when it all came to a head. Victor and I had made this delicious looking eba in a metal bucket and the geisha was all mashed up and looking inviting in one big bowl, when all of a sudden, the vultures appeared again. This time though we were not prepared to share our food and neither were our guests ready to depart until they had eaten well of the dish they played no part in its preparation. As if on cue, Victor grabbed the bucket of eba and I grabbed the bowl of geisha and we took off, followed by a horde of salivating hangers on shouting at the top of their voices that we should “stop, slow down, its only small we want to eat”.
We refused to heed their cries and made straight for the football field. We ran and ran until we had lost all our pursuers, than we sat down in the quietness of the football field and demolished the mountain of eba and geisha all by ourselves. Henceforth we resolved on the secrecy of our joint venture and if the vultures were to be found in School House, we would prepare the stuff in Pendo, and if they were in Pendo, we would repair to School House.
So Victor and I were growing in confidence in our athletic abilities. We felt that if given the right motivation, we could outrun anyone. On one of those days, for variety, we decided to make a huge bowl of custard and devour it all by ourselves. After the dish was prepared, we added a generous amount of milk and sugar but just before we set upon it, another resolute parasite showed up. He insisted on joining us and from the determined look in his eye, we feared that once we allowed him to taste, he was likely to do us great harm. The guy looked as if he could down the entire bowl in one gulp.
After he pleaded and we refused and he insisted and we refused, he produced his own spoon and attempted to begin the business. Once again, Victor looked at me and I looked at Victor. We knew what had to be done. Victor grabbed the bowl of custard and took off and I followed suit. What we did not know then was that although we were sprinters, this guy was a long distance runner. Each time we put some distance between us, he just kept pursuing us at a steady pace until he closed the distance and then we would run off again. This continued until he wore us out and ran us to the ground. He finally caught up with Victor and snatched the bowl of custard from his lifeless hands.
We now had to face the grim reality that the tables had been turned. We began to chase after him, begging him to give us our custard back or at least allow us to share it with him. He eventually relented and we grudgingly shared the custard with the rogue if only to get our strength back.
Victor and I went away from the custard debacle feeling very sorry for ourselves and shocked to the marrow on how we had been dispossessed of such a substantial portion of the spoils. After that day we kept a very keen lookout for “Isa Custard” as we called him from then on. Whenever he was close by and we were about to put a meal together, we would just adjourn the proceedings to another hostel or a later time.
Now, because of the numerous and indiscriminate things Victor was always eating, especially beans, he used to fart quite often and was well known for it and the farts where rather very smelly. One day though, when we were in Form 4, there was a heated argument between Victor and another classmate, Anthony. In the ensuing argument Anthony challenged Victor that there was just too much hype surrounding Victor as regards his reputation at farting. Anthony claimed he could fart a smellier fart than Victor ever could. Immediately, Victor took up the challenge and the Farting Contest was set for the next day. The rules were determined and the umpires were appointed. Both contestants went away to seriously prepare for the bout.
I do not know how Anthony prepared himself for the contest, but I know Victor went back to the hostel and started eating some dangerous stuff. He mixed lots of milk and cocoa with very little water and swallowed the stuff, mumbling to himself that he will “show” Anthony tomorrow.
On the fateful day, we all looked forward to this contest of the Titans of Farting, although the girls in our class were oblivious of the contest. At some point in between lectures the contest began. First to go was Anthony and he duly released a hideous fart which had us all holding our noses and moving backwards. Then it was Victor’s turn. It was a soundless fart and at first appeared harmless until the stink reached you. I swear, I do not lie, my entire class members, boys and girls, ran out of the class and as if that was not enough, it also caused a stampede in the class next to us whose members did not even know what was going on next door but they sure could smell it. Everybody there ran out also.
By the time the smell eventually passed, the umpires raised up Victor’s arms in triumph and Anthony had to accept defeat like a good sportsman.
OPINION PLEASE? QUININE!!!
Every Saturday was entertainment and on those evenings everyone would gather at the Assembly Hall and music would blare from the powerful loudspeakers. We would dance to the kind of music now known as “Old School”. Then it was not old school, it was the latest. (The Whispers, Skyy, Shallamar, Cameo, The Gap Band, Kool and the Gang etc). These were for normal people.
But there was also a group of eccentric fellows to which I belonged who only liked to dance to rock and roll and heavy metal. They never liked to play our type of music because we were in the minority and the truth be said, we were maniacs.
When they did play our music though, we came into our element. We would jump up and down on the dance floor and shake our heads and limbs like someone having a seizure. We would strum the strings of the imaginary guitars to the tune of the song as we imitated Gene Simmons of Kiss or Led Zeppelin, or Deep Purple or Sting of The Police. O, how we just wanted to be different from the rest.
Then there was Girls Night, when the chicks were allowed to entertain the school. Usually, during entertainment night, it was a boy’s duty to brave it and ask a girl for a dance. This was a hard task indeed because the girls all sat together across the large hall and the boys on the other side. If you wanted to get a dance you had to bravely cross the neutral territory and ask the girl for a dance and woe betide you if she turned you down. I consider myself a relatively brave person but I never dared to cross that neutral territory. Probably that was why I only danced rock and roll.
The theme song for Girl’s Night was usually Kool and the Gang’s “Lady’s Night”:
“Oh yes it's ladies night and the feeling's right
Oh yes it's ladies night, oh what a night, oh what a night!
On disco lights your name will be seen
You can fulfill all your dreams
Party here, party there, everywhere
This is your night, baby, you've got to be there……
Romantic lady, single baby
Sophisticated mama
Come on you disco lady, yeah
Stay with me tonight, mama ,yeah…”
Now, on Girl’s Night the tables were turned and the girls had to ask the boys for a dance. The first girl I ever danced with in my life was during Girl’s Night. There I was (in Form 4, about 14 years old) by this time, sitting all by myself when this senior girl, Eno Nkana, walked up to me and asked me for a dance. When I got over my initial shock and got around to comprehending that a girl was actually asking me to dance, I jumped to my feet with great alacrity and obliged the lady in question, all the time looking around to make sure my classmates saw me in action. That dance would be the subject of many conversations in our hostel thereafter. She probably never said a word to me after that dance for the rest of my days in the school but she did not need to. As far as I was concerned she was the coolest babe in town. But the truth was that she was one of the organizers of that particular Girl’s Night and the music was playing but the dance floor was empty. She had to take desperate measures.
Another part of entertainment on Saturday was the initiation ceremony. Every new student had to go through the initiation ceremony. Many parents protested vehemently to Papa Davies but he insisted that the ceremony was compulsory. Papa knew the essence of the esprit de corps and a sense of belonging such a rite engendered. To the protesting parents, he had one answer: either your ward goes through the rite or you withdraw your ward from the school. Since the school was one of the best in West Africa at the time, no parent ever withdrew their children on account of the initiation ceremony.
Initiation night was one Saturday night during the year and always fully attended. On initiation night, the new entrants were required to stand on stage one after the other, in front of the entire school with microphone in hand, introduce themselves and entertain the audience with a routine of their choice. You could request to dance, in which case, as a boy, you will go and get a female dance partner and a girl will have to ask a guy to dance with her. You could tell a joke, a riddle, juggle a ball. Indeed it was a talent show with a sting in its tail.
The introduction went something like this: “Good evening students of Federal Government College, Warri. My name is James Okoro from a bush school, called St. John’s Primary School, in the forest of Benin. I am a fag, a stinking fag, a bush frog and a Tasmanian devil. I am to be seen and not to be heard. As from this day I promise to discard all my foolish, sheepish and uncultured behaviour and to become a true and responsible Fedgocolian. With your kind permission I beg to entertain you by singing a song.” If you were a senior (that is from Form 3 upwards) you could skip the part about being a stinking fag. When I introduced myself during my own initiation, I could hear loud shouts from the crowd asking me “Are you not a fag? A stinking fag!” since I had skipped the “stinking fag and bush frog” bit because I was in Form 3 by then.
At the end of your routine, the moderator, would take the microphone and ask the audience: OPINION PLEASE???? And the audience will go into a frenzy. Some will scream: “QUININE!!!” While others would say “Go! Go!” Your fate was determined by the majority opinion. If you were asked to go, you would breathe a sigh of relief and make your way from the stage. But if the majority opinion was quinine, then the moderator would ask: “Ordinary, special or super special?” Again the majority decided your fate. And you will then be handed a cup of bitter quinine, which you must consume to the dregs in front of the audience. After that, your initiation was complete, but the stories of the initiation night would be told over and over again forever from every possible perspective.
Preparing the quinine was an art. All over the school we had Dongwonyaro (Neem) trees whose leaves are very bitter and have anti-malarial properties. So, on the day of the initiation, you would usually see the Chairman of the Entertainment Committee and his enthusiastic aides gathering the leaves of the trees, boiling them for their bitter extract and adding a few choice ingredients like dissolved tablets of Panadol for taste. The super special quinine was the bitterest combination and reserved only for those whose attempts at entertaining the crowd were viewed with something close to disgust.
There were many sub plots on initiation night. If a guy tried to be friendly with a new girl and she snubbed him, initiation night was his chance to pay her back. He would gather as many of his vain fellows around him to scream “Quinine!” whatever the girl’s routine would be. If you asked him why, he would say he “just doesn’t like her.” More importantly though, FGC Warri was a family school and if your brother was a prefect he would have many enemies and those enemies would be out to make sure you drank quinine that night.
At my own initiation some folks threatened me thoroughly that I must drink quinine that night because my sister Henrietta, was the immediate past Head Girl or Head of Chicks as we called them. When I eventually mounted the stage, I tried to juggle a football. But there was no football available so they gave me a basketball. Have you ever tried juggling a basketball with your feet? Anyway, they told me to go after a while, and I slunk off gratefully. Maybe they had bigger fish to fry that night.
In my lower six, Patrick was School Captain, and for us law breakers he was our mortal enemy. Many times he had apprehended us breaking school rules and reported us to the authorities. If not for the grace of God we could have been expelled. So you could imagine our glee when we discovered that his brother David was to be initiated. This was our chance. We swore that he must “tank” quinine that night and we gathered ourselves together to wait for the unfortunate fellow.
David must have had an inkling of our intentions for him because the news that Patrick’s brother was to be initiated that night was all over the school. He had come in at the Higher School Certificate level, so he was a senior, not a fag, but we were waiting for him. His initiation was to be the highlight of the night and we waited impatiently for the long line of neophytes to perform and leave the stage. All we wanted was David.
Finally, he came on stage, a slight young man, unsure of himself. Then they gave him the microphone. He introduced himself and the tension was palpable. Even before he started his routine, we were already screaming “QUININE!”.
Then he said, “I would like to entertain you by running a football commentary. The ball is in the center circle. Aloysius Atuegbu with the ball, he passes to Christian Chukwu. Christian Chukwu sends a diagonal pass to Segun Odegbami, Odegbami goes down the touchline……” As he spoke his voice was rising and the crowd was beginning to stand to their feet. Then he continued: “Sugen Odegbami moves mathematically down the touch line, he beats one, he beats two and cuts inside the eighteen yard box, and he takes a shot………… aaaaand it’s a……… GOOOAAAL!!!”.
By this time every single person in that hall was on their feet cheering David and screaming “It’s a GOOOAAAL!!!!”.
When the moderator took the microphone to ask “OPINION PLEASE?” even the malefactors like us shouted “GO!” with great enthusiasm. And that is how David escaped our sinister plans.
For the best laid plans of mice and men, to paraphrase Robert Burns, await alike the disposition of the Almighty.