A time honoured tradition of the KCOBA in Jamaica is that the head boy and the Principal are both invited to reply to the toast to the School at the Annual Reunion Dinner, which is usually given quite eloquently by a distinguished old boy. No one ever explained why two persons are invited to reply to one toast.
When I was head boy in 1975, the year in which KC celebrated its fiftieth anniversary, the then headmaster, Rev. McNab, called me to his office one day and told me that we were both invited to the KCOBA Dinner and that I had to give a reply to the toast to the school. I asked him why and he replied that it was an apparent tradition of the KCOBA.
At that time I was not aware of that tradition and I felt that this new Principal was probably in the same boat. Fortunately for me, the then President of the KCOBA was on the staff at the time and he gave me a few pointers on what should be included in my reply to the toast. I must have rewritten my speech about fifty times in the weeks before the Dinner and when I felt that it was finally worth the paper it was written on I asked one of my English teachers to critique it, just to make sure that it did not contain any split infinitives or other such sins that would betray their teachings or my supposed knowledge of the English language.
On the night of the dinner, decked out in my black pants, white shirt, purple blazer and KC tie, I nervously arrived at the Pegasus (or was it the Sheraton?) and walked into the cocktail area where I was greeted with, " Here comes the head boy!" by a vigilant old boy. Another old boy, wanting to be civil, came over, slapped me on the shoulder and shouted "Get the head boy a drink." Another wanting to be clever shouted, "Yes, get him a rum and coke or a gin and tonic!" I opted for the rum and coke, minus the rum. As I sipped my coke, someone slapped me on the shoulder and asked, "What's happening at the school these days?"
"We just won the triple at football" I said confidently.
"We know that, but what else is happening?" was the response.
One old boy wanted to know how many players on the team would be returning the following year. I responded that that very much depended on Mr. G.C.E. Cambridge and also on the persuasive skills of Coach George Thompson in September when the exam results came out. I was also itching to tell them that some student critics in my class were already predicting that we would be losing Boys Champs for the first time in fourteen years come April, but I decided not to spoil their collective appetites before the meal.
Eventually, we were called inside and I was led to a table at the very front of the ball room, directly opposite the head-table. I got the feeling that the seating arrangement was a conspiracy to enable the headmaster who was seated in the center of the head-table to keep an eye on me.
Dinner started with the soup and roll and that provided the first real test of my manners. Should I reach for the roll on my left or the one on my right? That was the all important question. I hastily tried to remember what I had read in "Etiquette 101." As I reached for the roll on my left, I realized that the chap on my left had already taken it! I dared not reach for the roll on my right, for surely the Principal was looking straight at me and would notice my obvious lack of table manners. So I had my soup without a roll because the old boy on my left had taken the roll to his right, which rightfully belonged to me and the old boy on my right had taken the roll to his left which rightfully belonged to him.
As I listened to the proceedings, I couldn't help but notice that there were no young old boys in attendance. Where were my friends who had left school for UWI the year before? Did they not qualify as old boys? I came to the conclusion that they were either in some bar in Papine or in a club on Red Hills Road having fun.
A distinguished old boy gave a toast to the school and after the Principal replied, the MC invited me to the podium. I felt for my speech in my pocket but if the truth be told, as I got up to speak I had no idea what I would say, while I was speaking I had no idea what I was saying and when I had finished speaking, I had no idea what I had said. Nevertheless, I got a loud round of applause and some even stood up to give me a standing ovation. I figured that it was the rum and coke in them that caused that as I was convinced that they had not heard a word that I had said. As I sat down, someone slapped me on the back again and said, "Well done Lazarus, you earned your dinner!"
The proceeding finished at around mid-night and as I walked slowly towards the door I felt that I had lived up to the tradition of the KCOBA by giving the standard reply to the toast as was expected of the head boy. As I stood by the front of the hotel, someone slapped me on the back for the nth time and asked, "How is the head boy getting home?" I wanted to reply that my new red Ferrari was in the car park but instead I said, "I'll take a taxi."
"Come, I'll take you home." volunteered the old boy.
We got in his car and on reaching Knutsford Boulevard he asked, "By the way Lazarus, where do you live?" I told him I lived just below KC, off South Camp Road . I noticed the immediate look of relief on his face when he realized that I did not live in Spanish Town or Yallahs for that matter.
The following year when I actually became an old boy, I did not make it to the Dinner. I cannot recall if I spent the night of the Dinner at a bar in Papine or at a club on Red Hills Road . In fact, I did not start to go to the Dinners on a regular basis until the early nineties. By then, based on my age, I could without contradiction be called an old boy.
One Dinner stood out for me in the decade of the nineties and probably for the wrong reasons. At this particular Dinner, at the end of his speech, the head boy said, "Give me a Fortis!" He wanted a full Fortis, the popular cheer. And, he got it from half of the old boys in the room. The ball room echoed with about one hundred fully grown men reciting, "Fortis cadere, are we yes, also cedere non potest, are we in it well I guess, rah rah KC, yes, yes, yes," My good friend, Chester Burgess, Life Member of the KCOBA and our Mr. Protocol, who was seated at the head table, was livid. His face turned pink and then crimson red. Had he not been seated at the head table he possibly would have stormed out of the ball-room. He couldn't escape as he was strategically boxed in between the guest speaker and the Principal.
The following week at the first post-dinner Executive meeting, Chester asked of the executive members, "Does the head boy of Kingston College know the difference between the KCOBA Annual Reunion Dinner held in the ballroom of the Pegasus Hotel and Boys Champs in the grand stand at the National Stadium?" He then offered his own answer, "If he does not, then God help KC."
At that meeting and on Chester 's firm insistence, it was decided that in the future someone should brief the head boy before the Dinner and tell him what was acceptable and what was not. The task fell to me as I was then both a parent and chairman of the Association's School Affairs Committee and was at the school daily. I recall that head boy, Stefan Hemmings, gave a remarkable speech and did not ask for a Fortis. I suspect that his father who had attended many dinners had coached him.
In the new millennium, head boy Adrian Nembhard was simply brilliant. He replied to the toast to the school without once looking at his prepared speech and he showed no hint of nerves. Later, I asked him how he managed that feat and he replied that he had some sort of a photographic memory. I thought to myself that we were not all born equal; while some of us could hardly remember the birthdays of our children, Nembhard could recall all the science, history and mathematics that he had done from first form. His 'A' level results some months later did in fact prove that he had a remarkable photographic memory and he reminded me of this fact when I asked him the secret of his success. "Hard work, discipline, prayers and a photographic memory," was his reply.
Jeffery Foreman was head boy last year and although I was not at the Dinner to hear his speech, I am sure that he acquitted himself well. As valedictorian for his graduating class a few years ago, parents were overheard saying that he sounded like a young Michael Manley and that his delivery was flawless. At the Dinner I am sure that he lived up to the tradition and I am equally sure that he did not ask for a Fortis.
