Boyhood Pranks

There has to be a chapter in the archives of Sociology to explain why the Pereira boys in Zanzibar spent their entire childhood climbing anything that was more than ten feet high.

For example, my earliest recollection is of the Church grounds which were our constant playground. If a search party were to look out for us, they would, in all likelihood have to scan the tall fences around the front of the church where we were comfortably perched and where we somehow felt invulnerable. 

At other times, the Langi-langi tree in the boys’ side of the playground became our haunt. It was here that we exchanged gossip about the girls we knew and exchanged views about the opposite sex that had little to do with reality.    The sweet smelling Langi-langi flowers were certainly an attraction and many sober moments were spent thinking of inventive ways to turn these perfumes into marketable products.  We initially put the blossoms into bottles and topped them with water hoping that mysteriously this process would translate itself into perfume that might rival Channel.  The result was disastrous as you can well imagine, thanks to St. Joseph’s Convent School omission of Science subjects in the School’s curriculum.

Many hours were also spent on the stone fence that separated the boys’ playground from the fenced-in garden on the other side.  Perhaps there was a utilitarian reason for this fence.  It gave us a good view of the large and juicy red tomatoes planted by the priests.  The next best thing to eating them (which for all purposes became forbidden fruit) was to look at them and fantasize.  It was also a place to develop self control and restraint.  Unfortunately, there were times when the Pereira boys succumbed to the temptation and like snakes, crawled on their stomachs under the chicken wire fence to get at the waiting tomatoes. The Pereira boys took Confession seriously and made it a point to confess their misdeed to the priest without mentioning tomatoes.  That would be a dead give away.   The purpose of amendment, which was a necessary component for forgiveness was tenuous at best.

Four swings were placed where the Mission boys boarded.  Here again, the Pereira boys made sure that they swung high enough to be able to grab Kungus growing at least twenty feet up in the tree. My brother Eustace then came up with the idea (after all the Kunguss were picked) that he would attempt a feat that even Evil Kenivel would shy away from.  He was going to swing a little higher than the roof of the Mission boys’ Boarding House and would attempt to land on the corrugated roof by jumping off the swing at a height of roughly thirty feet.  The roof itself was some twenty feet high and everybody thought that Eustace was either a dare devil or slightly touched if he expected to come out alive from that attempt. 

In a circus the drums would roll to draw attention to such a feat, but there was no background sounds except a forboding silence of the small crowd that had gathered to seemingly pick up the pieces.  Eustace started his swing slowly at first, and as he gained height, the swing started to move faster.  Higher and higher he went.  Everybody was in suspense and the built-up tension became palpable.  Suddenly, Eustace was seen flying off his swing, and landing hard on all fours, like a cat, on the roof.  The Mission boys came rushing out of their boarding house thinking that the roof was collapsing only to see a smiling Eustace taking several bows as though he was performing in Circus Soleil.  The Mission boys were not impressed, however, and ordered Eustace down or else they would pelt him with rocks.

Our final description of “heightophobia” (my word for the condition) was our attempt to climb the Church steeple from the inside of course.  This meant climbing cast iron steps that went perpendicularly up to where the huge Church bells were installed.  These steps must have been about twenty to thirty feet high but it posed no threat to any of us.  We finally reached the bells but due to an error in judgement, one of the bells suddenly rang, and we were forced to scurry down all the way in record time for fear of being detected by one of the priests.  There was some eyebrow-raising about the bell sounding when everybody in the neighbourhood was having a siesta, but otherwise the Pereira boys felt a sense of achievement.

Some people have told us that these “pranks” (we called them feats) were typical of “real” boys growing up. However, we saw no evidence of our friends ever attempting anything that the Pereira boys did.  This was in part because parents had already branded the Pereira boys as “bad” boys and had seriously warned their children that they should steer clear of their influence. Most did!.....and good for them too!!!

I guess that we were a little more than real boys.

Moronic......naaaaa!