Dr Pali Lehohla: the last in the list of my primary school teachers has departed

The last in the list of my Primary School Teachers has departed.

Tichere Ramalefane is no more.

He taught me in Standard 5 and they shared this with Mrs Mabusa.

In this list of teachers who taught me, were also both my parents.

My mother had a stint teaching me in Sub-A in 1963.

But being a teacher’s child, part of my responsibility was to join a class from a corner where I would be listening and imitating especially the singing and recitations – it was rather a strange Grade R attended by only one 4 year to 5 year old before I could start teal grades of primary school.

I had half a year stint in her class in 1963 before she took ill and within a year she was gone due to cancer.

The topic of my last teacher at Hermon primary school comes about because of the discussion my elder sister and I had on one of the teachers who did not only not spare the rod and spoil the child but really damaged our legs and hands meting out a grave corporal punishment.

The hands of each would be bruised.

He was also an ardent sportsman, who took the female athletics and netball team for physical training before the class started.

I recall one of the girls from the village across the River from where Hermon Primary School collapsed on one of those morning runs – her name was Esther.

She was left to her own devices but ultimately got to the school before we could start class.

She never collapsed after that episode.

My sister told of a horrid story of Amelia whose one hand was so bruised and formed puss.

Compared to Hlathe, Tichere Ramalefane was a gentleman, who was not rod happy.

He liked music and conducted a school choir.

But his appreciation of notes eluded him most of the time.

One of the days he introduced a song that had a stanza that said “Botere Botere Apitikoloko and that was it.

The students burst out in laughter and Mahloele the nick name we called him by instantly changed and from then on, he was Botere.

He taught us Sesotho and History, but I recall how he demonstrated the size of government money – hand raised to almost the height of an ant hill.

From then I knew that government money is a lot.

His departure marks an end of an era to those who so successfully turned us into who we are today. 

Even Hlathe as we called him, who was my sister’s ogre, never ever spared the rod and was brutal at that had a moment of mercy.

In the midst of the discussion I narrated about Hlathe, an act of mercy that marked Hlathe’s soft side.

Under pressure of difficult choices that could have terminated a prospect for schooling Hlathe so unexpectedly displayed his true side.

Whatever fate would have befallen us is difficult to contemplate as we were prepared to get ourselves to be herd boys on white farms across the border than face the wrath of Hlathe.

Then whistle blowing was transparent and there would be no recriminations against anyone who spotted wrongdoing and reported it.

So, a group of us was spotted in broad day light descending on a pitch orchard.        

Hlathe showed mercy to us when the whip was beckoning knowing who he was.

We decided to throw ourselves into the school orchard one Sunday afternoon.

Motselisi Mokete saw us and wasted no time to be a transparent whistle blower.

Knowing Hlathe, we decided to escape to the Afrikaners farms in Wepener just across the fence from Patisi.

All twenty or so of us went to our homes put on our blankets, picked up our sticks and knobgiris and headed down the meandering Monts'oane River.

Meters away from the border fence is a pool in the river and we decided to have a last parting swim.

After an hour we congregated to proceed with the mission.

As we conversed, Buti Mokholoane and Ntate Samuel were thrown into the discussion with Return and Scott their gallant horses thrown into the equation of the what if recovery of boys from Afrikaner farms.

We decided to abort the mission and face the wrath of Hlathe than be trampled on the heels and snitched on the shoulders by Radio's horse - Mokholoane's nick name, Back to Hlathe in the evening we knocked and all of us congregated in the rondavel for confession and redemption.

Surprise surprise Hlathe was calm and instead of a sure whipping offered instead a health advice against eating raw peaches - diarrhoea.

This was an experience that visited us serially.

This experience including the tape worms one of the boys would pull out "Trump style language" and chase us up with it.

So, we escaped.

Suppose we had proceeded to Olivier's farm.

Give Hlathe a break, he also had a heart.

Dr Pali Lehohla is a Professor of Practice at the University of Johannesburg, a Research Associate at Oxford University, and a distinguished Alumni of the University of Ghana. He is the former Statistician-General of South Africa.

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