From The Publisher
Posted: 14/09/2007 - 11:23 AM
Author: Evan X Hyde
Parents make much of their children and become excited when a child shows special gifts in one area or the other. Special gifts in a child constitute a two-edged sword. Child prodigies often have serious problems with social adjustment, integration and development, precisely because of being singled out, and therefore isolated after a fashion.
When I began Holy Redeemer Boys School in 1952 at the age of 5, I was considered a child with special gifts because I had exceptional reading ability. Since most of the subjects in those days were reading-related, I immediately became singled out as a child who was “too bright” for his age group/class. So I was “skipped,” on more than one occasion. I could never develop one group of friends. I was always meeting older boys and trying to catch up with them in areas other than academics.
Around the age of eight, I experienced an act of treachery from a fellow student which affected my life in an indelible way. As I consider it now, the act of treachery occurred because I was a stranger, relatively speaking.
I remember the classroom well. It was a downstairs classroom in the eastern section of HRBS. Steps on the eastern side of that classroom led to the upstairs classrooms, which were Standards IV, V, and VI.
I was sitting in the front desk on the extreme right row of the classroom with a boy by the name of Roy Campbell. He was relatively tall, and red-skinned. The lady teacher was testing reading ability by having students read from a textbook, then announcing a grade for the class to hear.
Bored and restless, I said to the youth Campbell that the principal, Sister Mary Xavier, had told me that I should inform her of any unsatisfactory teaching and grading process taking place in the class. It was something I’d made up. I suppose I was trying to impress my desk mate with my status. Yes, it was an a—hole statement.
Almost immediately, Campbell said, “A gwine go tell.” I became alarmed. He must have seen my agitation. So he pressed his advantage. “A gwine go tell if yu no do mi homework.”
Amongst students trying to do the right thing, we did not do one another’s homework. This was something which was dishonest, and in those days in British Honduras honesty was a much bigger thing than it is today. My fellow student had forced me into a corner. I had to do his homework, or be exposed to teacher as her enemy.
So, I did Roy Campbell’s homework. It took little time. As soon as I’d finished, he went to the teacher and told her what I had said to him.
At this point, things began to happen in a daze, for me. The teacher became angry and called me out in front of the class. First, she slapped me, and then she sent for Sister Xavier to come downstairs. I was asked by Sister Xavier, in front of my student peers, if she had ever given me any such instruction. I, of course, mumbled no. The upshot of all this was that I was totally humiliated. At the age of eight. Betrayed by a rat fink.
I never saw Roy Campbell after that class. He went to England to live, I was told. I can remember his face even today. The face of a rat fink. I had been a star. He made me a jerk one day in a dark classroom. As you can tell, a lesson stayed with me, a lesson taught by Roy Campbell.
Belize is so small, that lady teacher who slapped me had a younger brother who became my very good friend. Arturo Rosado was the only Hispanic in the UBAD Party executive, and I never found him to be disloyal in any way whatsoever. Arturo ended up working at Amandala for several years as my immediate editorial assistant. Arturo was always there for me.
He moved to Corozal Town when his wife, a nurse, was posted there. We remained very good friends. Arturo, who had worked in the government service as a young man, enjoyed drinking rum. His hangout was the America Club on Pickstock Street – a real roots base.
In Corozal Town, his drinking became worse, and doctors told him to quit. He refused, and ended up passing away about 10 or 15 years ago.
During the many years we were close, I was tempted on several occasions to tell him, just for the record, what his older sister had done to me. I never did. I suppose if an average child had made up the story which I had created that day, it would not have provoked an incident. But I was not an average child. I had special gifts, so I was dangerous, after a fashion.
Roy Campbell, then, was just the first among the rat finks that I’ve met on the road, rat finks being people who will sell you out for their own advantage. Different people have different rides. On my personal road, many of you look at me and say I’m not as friendly as I could be. Agreed. Rat finks will do that to you. I met the first of them when I was only an innocent child. The experience was life-changing. Trust me.
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