Jungle Black board
By GRACE SCOTT LUSAKA
IF there is one thing more desolate than an empty school in holiday time, it is an empty school in term time—a phenomenon that some- times occurs—usually as the result of a persistent epidemic. But it is no epidemic which has closed Munali, Northern Rhodesia's leading secondary school for Africans, in the middle of the Michaelmas term. It has been closed by the Minister for African Education—himself an African—and the reasons given for this drastic action appear on the surface so trivial that the inevitable reaction from the public has been that 'there must be more in it than meets the eye.'
The story, briefly, is that it all started with the World Youth Forum essay competition in which schoolchildren of the Federation were in- vited to submit essays entitled 'The World We Want'—the winner to receive a three months' trip to America and the honour of appearing on the World Youth Forum with delegates from thirty-three other countries. Some weeks ago a fair amount of publicity was given to the six competition finalists, who were taken to Salis- bury, entertained, photographed and generally made much of. Among them were two African schoolboys—one of them, Anion Zulu, an eighteen-year-old Munali pupil. Although the coveted prize was eventually given to a young European schoolgirl from Salisbury, Munali was justly proud of having achieved the distinction of having one of its boys in the top six. A copy was made of his essay and placed in the school library for other boys to read.
Some of them did not like what they read. They took exception to the portion of Zulu's essay in which he had advocated racial partner- ship in the Federation. An outburst of bullying followed, in which Zulu and his friends were subjected to some very schoolboyish 'ragging,' and anonymous notices appeared around the school demanding his dismissal. The Minister was called in, and issued an ultimatum that if the culprit or culprits did not own up within forty-eight hours, he would close the school for an indefinite period. Although the bullying stopped, nobody came forward to confess his guilt and the school was duly closed—its 420 pupils sent home, including nearly one hundred fourth-form boys due to sit their J.unior Cam- bridge examinations in three weeks' time (although these boys are to be allowed to return to the school to sit the exams, they have not been permitted to take home any textbooks, and few, if any of them, will have access to any sort of library in the villages where they live. The few sixth-form boys due to take their Senior Cam- bridge exams have fared better. They are being allowed to remain behind and have the use of the school library, although no lessons can be given them by the staff).
This seemed to be harsh punishment to inflict upon the many for the misdeeds of a few. Was really necessary? At this point it might be a good thing to point out to readers unfamiliar with the African mind that, whereas an enforced holiday would in most cases be greeted with cheers by the average English schoolboy, to an African it is the most drastic punishment that could be administered. He still has all the burn- ing fanatical desire of the underprivileged to acquire knowledge and to better himself, and he has a long way to go before he is so sure of his place in the world that he can afford to indulge in indolence.
Munali consists of a group of attractive one- storey classrooms and laboratories situated in a pleasant stretch of high, open country about five miles outside Lusaka, Northern Rhodesia's capi- tal. European visitors who have sometimes re- marked that they considered the school too good for Africans are often 'squelched' by the infor- mation that the schoolboys built most of it them- selves. It is financed largely by the Northern Rhodesia Government—the boys paying moder- ate fees of £17 to £20 per annum; and it is the only school in the territory that offers Africans education right up to University Entrance level. It is staffed by a European principal, an African headmaster and by both European and African teachers. Its examination results are frequently better than those of many European schools, and its boys are generally regarded as the African leaders of the future. Open days, athletic meet- ings, Shakespearian performances and other forms of entertainment are always well attended by people of all races from the surrounding dis- trict, and over the years it has become an impor- tant part of the Lusaka community. On the whole, Northern Rhodesians are proud of Munali.
As at all boarding schools, the boys are kept occupied for the best part of their waking hours; their extra-curricular activities are either super- vised or approved by the staff and discipline is exercised to ensure the smooth running of the school routine. Nothing has ever happened to lead to the supposition that the relationship between staff and boys is not a happy one. No one would deny, however, that the boys are more politi- cally conscious than the average European schoolboy of the same age. It is a backward African who does not know something about the politics of his own country, especially in these days of awakening Africa; and Munali boys are not backward—they are the intellectual cream of their generation. They may not take an active part in politics--indeed, this would be impossible —but they do hold certain positive political views, and the most positive -one they hold at the moment is their thorough dislike of Federation. In this they are by no means alone; anti- Federation feeling is as universal among Northern Rhodesian Africans as it is among Africans in Nyasaland. That is why Zulu's apparent acceptance of Federation by his approval of the Federal policy of racial partner- ship angered them. In fact, there was more to it than that. He had said something about the Federation ruling itself—which they interpreted as approval of Dominion status. This made Zulu a virtual traitor to his schoolfellows.
It can be argued that a boy bent on winning such a juicy prize would be a fool to write an anti-
Federation essay, and one glance at the saccharine quality of the essay is enough to convince the objective reader that this rain! had not slipped Zulu's mind. It was so lull of sweetness and light, peace, good will and loving partnership that it is difficult to imagine that the boy's tongue was not well and truly in his cheek when he wrote it. But this did riot excuse him in the eyes of his adver- saries. They considered he had 'let the side down' (there may have been a dash of jealousy in their emotions as well, as several of them had written essays for the competition too, but received no trip to Salisbury, nor special mention).
The essay therefore sparked off the train of events which led to the closing of the school. The situation was not without its humour. Evidently with sonic suspicion of what might happen, on the night after the essay had been placed in the library a. fairly tough pal of Zulu's volunteered to swap beds with him with the laudable intention of dealing with anyone who might come along looking for trouble, but he fell asleep sooner than he had intended and later in the night found him- self at the receiving end of a bucket of cold water. Angrily he rushed out of bed and tackled the first two boys he encountered, who, as it hap- pened, were up and about on their lawful occa- sions and who took exception to the attack. The boy's subsequent unpopularity became so hard to bear that within two days he packed his bags and departed for home. Meanwhile Zulu and his supporters were subjected to much bullying— ink was thrown over their books; water and mud on their beds. Anonymous notices began to appear demanding that 'Zulu must go.' The Principal issued a stern warning that if Zulu went, they would all go, which had the effect of check- ing the trouble to some extent. By this time Zulu was most anxious to go himself, but was per- suaded to be brave and stay and see the matter through.
Eventually the boys had either begun to see the folly of their ways or had grown tired of the whole silly business; at any rate it had more or less petered out. But in the meantime the matter had been reported to the Minister for African
Education, Mr. Musumbulwa, a United Federal Party politician who, owing to the peculiar com- plexities of the Northern Rhodesia franchise, was elected earlier this year on an overwhelmingly European vote. He does not command the respect of many of his fellow Africans, most of whom regard any African belonging to the United Federal Party as a 'stooge' or 'Quisling'; never- theless, the Munali boys accorded him a good hearing, accepting his contention that politics should not be indulged in in school and that every boy was entitled to his own views without inter- ference. But when he delivered his ultimatum that the school would be closed within forty- eight hours unless the culprit or culprits could be found, resentment set in. Apart from the fact that three-quarters of the boys had taken no part in the trouble and could not even have identified Zulu, had they been asked, everybody felt there was no hope of finding the culprit if expulsion was bound to be the punishment. So at the end of the two days, after hours of interrogation, the school was closed—eight days after the first appearance of the essay in the library.
It is doubtful if the affair would have blown up to such proportions, or if the Government's action would have been so drastic, but for the fact that 'Federation Day' came in the middle of it all. October 26 was proclaimed a public holiday in the Federation. In Nyasaland, the Territorial Government had insisted the holiday should re- main nameless, but no such tact was deemed necessary by the Northern Rhodesia Govern- ment. 'Federation Day' it was, and 'Federation Day' it should be called. Furthermore, as 'Federation Day' it should be celebrated. Mullah boys did not want to celebrate the day. For one thing it came too near exam times and for another (and this cannot be repeated too often) they do not like Federation. Many of them must have been aware that in the larger centres of the country mass protest meetings were to be held, and the day was to be observed as one of mourn- ing. The Principal was well aware of his boys' antipathy to Federation, but had no option but to carry out government instructions to give them a holiday and deliver them a suitable 'Federation Day' address. Making an address dealing with Federation acceptable to a crowd of intelligent " Africans at this stage of Federal history would tax the ingenuity of any man, and though the Principal dealt tactfully and factually with the subject, giving the boys. a straight historical sur- vey of Federation, it was not well received. A less patient -man than the Principal might have given up half-way through, but he stuck valiantly to his theme and won the grudging admiration of the boys for having survived their unruly be- haviour. In the evening, the boys were shown a government information film of the Kariba hydro-electric project — an entirely Federal achievement. Normally this film would have made a great impression on the boys, but on Federation Day they regarded it as an insult. There were mutterings and bronx cheers from the audience. After ten minutes the show had to be stopped to allow the stall to restore order. The Ulm then continued without further interruptions. As a climax to the unhappy day the Principal made what he afterwards admitted was the tacti- cal error of asking the boys to sing '1 Vow to Thee My Country,' a hymn they usually sing with great gusto an auspicious occasions. It was like asking the Irish to sing 'Rule, Britannia.– The immediate effects *of the closure have been most unfortunate. What should have been a purely domestic affair has become a cause celebre. Not only the schoolboys, but Africans all over the country are convinced the school was closed because the pupils were against Federa- tion. They are certain that Musumbulwa was advised by the United Federal Party to close it; that it is all just another example of the Govern- ment's determination to stamp out African oppo- sition to federation so that the Federation can advance towards Dominion status without set- back : 400 teenage schoolboys have become political martyrs overnight. African Congress is exploiting the situation to the full. It is circulat- ing copies of the essay complete with a footnote to the effect that Munali was closed because some of its boys objected to the author's approval of Federation and Dominion status. African women have been picketing government offices with placards carrying slogans such as: 'Musumbulwa UFP Stooge,' Musumbulwa does not represent Africans,' UFP closed Munali,' although Musumbulwa has emphatically denied he ever 'consulted his fellow UFP Cabinet Ministers. In- evitably, too, some Europeans are saying, 'There you are. Look what happens when you educate 'em, and these are the chaps who think they ought to run their own country.'
When the boys return to Munali in January they will be asked to sign a pledge that they will not indulge in political activities and will respect other boys' views, even if they do not agree with them. These are fair enough rules for any school and with the memory of eight weeks' enforced holiday fresh in their minds most boys, if not all, will readily comply. It can only be hoped in the meantime that there will not be an undue number of Cambridge examination failures, otherwise it will be a long time before the bitterness is for- gotten.
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