Strawberries And Slaps On Your Back

Back when Courage the Cowardly Dog was still saving Muriel, this author was enjoying his childhood in Africa. In a tiny town called Francistown, Botswana’s second largest city.

The first half of my life was spent in classrooms that were outside rather than in buildings. Students would be dressed in strict khaki uniforms and a bright blue bucket hat (to shade us from the African heat). It was a rule that bucket hats be removed as a sign of respect when a guest walked by.

The school was called John Mackenzie School and their motto was: “The Best I Can”.

A fun little anecdote I recall from there was a game discovered by my classmates in Standard Six called “Strawberry”. The rules were simple:

Smack the shit outta the person who speaks a word containing the letter ‘S’.

Notice how many times you would’ve got slapped from saying the last two sentences? The only way to avoid getting a bruise was to follow the word with “Strawberry”.

I was (strawberry) rather careful about the words (strawberry) I chose (strawberry) but there were many slip ups (strawberry). Needless to say I still have PTSD from that time.

Although careful, a time this author slipped up was when the principal was passing by the water fountain, in a large quad at the centre of all the classrooms. Without thinking, I remove my big blue bucket hat and greet him with a “Good afternoon, sir”. My friend, waiting patiently behind, lets out a smile as he whacks me hard enough that a fortune teller could do his palm reading on my back.

Like all good things, the game came to an end when one classmate got fed up with it. He told the principal and the game was banned on school grounds immediately (that didn’t stop us). It goes without saying:

snitches get stitches

(strawberry)