Interco 1 - Augusco Goes Gay with Moga

This story has put together interco experiences from several years of witnessing the event in Cape Coast. it is not one specific year

Nobody missed Interco. It was one of the most fiercely contested athletics championships in the whole country, thanks mainly to the bitter rivalry that existed between the three boys’ schools in Cape Coast. The schools spared no effort in their fervent desire to win. Scholarships were awarded promising athletes all over the country and before the competition, spies would be sent to opposing schools to assess the strength of the opposition. Adisadel College had won the previous year’s competition and looked very much like repeating the victory that year, if only their star athlete Izzo, would have recovered from the hamstring injury he had sustained in a trial competition before Interco. Rumours abound that he would not be competing and the rest of us were ecstatic.

The week leading up to Interco was always strange. There would be a relaxed atmosphere on campus with students unwilling to learn and teachers not too keen to teach either. Teachers like Mr Otwe who had been old students would come to class but spend the time telling stories of great Augusco athletes in times long gone. The likes of George Daniels, who had gone on to break national records, would get a mention. But more often than not, we stood on corridors discussing our team and their preparation. This week would be for the likes of Zaitoto, our star sprinter, who would have been the best in Cape Coast had it not been for the devil Izzo. Thank God Izzo was injured this year.

In the afternoons, the whole school would gather on the school pitch just to watch the boys being taken through their paces by Mr Bentum. They would practice baton-changing ad-nauseum because the 4x100 was a race Augusco had to win by right. In the evenings, we would attend singing sessions to practice the songs for the day. This was compulsory only for the juniors but many seniors voluntarily attended. Then on Friday, the first day of the games, the headmaster would speak to the whole school in the morning.

At first, there would be the usual cautioning about dressing appropriately and putting up behaviour befitting of students of St Augustine's College. And then he would begin;

“Today is the day” there would be little giggles of anticipation from the students. They loved the headmaster’s speeches, when he was in the right mood.

“Today is the day when men shall be separated from boys. When the flame of Augusco will once again burn brightest and show the rest, that along the West Coast of Africa and perhaps far beyond, no school even comes close.

“And our boys have trained hard for today. We have all seen them as they run along the beeches and over the hills of Augusco. They tell me they are ready!

“Zaitoto says he is ready!” wild cheers from the students

“Agbota Tetteh is ready” wild cheers. His nickname was Mogadishu, affectionately shortened to Moga. He was our 1500m runner. He was new to St Augustine’s, having come to sixth form from another school

“Amuakwa is ready” to which the students would respond “Oshoo! Oshoo! Oshoo!” for that was the nickname of our burly shot putter. He would often be somewhere at the back flexing his muscles for effect amidst laughter all around. Such was the spirit of the times.

“They have promised to run as hard as they can, jump as high as they can, throw as far as they can, and with God on our side and “Omnia Vincit Labor” our motto, victory will be ours.”

There would be wild cheers as the students burst into the school anthem, whipping up spirits over the horizons.

The competition that year was to be held at the Mfantsipim School. Whatever classes we managed to have would end at 11.30 am to enable us all get to Mfantsipim in time for the 2.00pm start. When one entered Mfantsipim School, one was instantly met by a huge edifice that was the Balmer-Acquah House. The road coursed underneath the Balmer- Acquah House and rose up the Kwabotwe Hill. The administrative building, assembly hall and huge classroom blocks sat atop the hill. Beyond the hill and if one took the footpath to the left, one walked under a canopy of huge trees in an artificial forest for about 100 yards and then out of the blue, one found oneself at the edge of a long cliff, with the Kwabotwe pitch sprawled in the valley below. The spectator stands extended from your feet, to the right and down all the way to the edge of the pitch. On Interco days, it was a sight to behold; a sunlit colourful bowl of thousands of students cheering for their schools.

“Choooooobuei!” Augusco would begin.

“Yeei!!” The response in unison of a thousand or so students

“Cho, cho, cho, cho, cho, chooooooooooobuei!!”

“Yeeeei!”

“Azigizagazigizaga”

“Zim zim zim!”

“Azigizagazigizaga”

“Zim zim zim!”

“Zigizagazigizagazigizaga!”

“Zim zim zim!”

Mainly meaningless sounds supposed to instill awe in the opponent

“Augustine’s College We are the happy people When it comes to athletics……”

The singing would commence in earnest as tension reached fever pitch in anticipation of the first race of the day, the boys’ hundred meters.

“Izzo is out” I heard one senior say

“Sent to hospital this morning” another said

Our anxiety was understandable. Izzo did the 100m, 200m, 400m and both relays and the damage this caused the other schools could often not be repaired. If Izzo was unwell, then there was hope for us.

“Competitors for the boys 100m heats, please report at the registration desks” the announcement finally came.

Each school was represented by two athletes in each race. We could see Zaitoto and Adamu limbering up. We craned our necks to see who was representing Adisadel. There was only one boy there in the stripped black and white of Adisadel. Would he wouldn’t he? Was he in the stadium at all? No one had seen him. Then suddenly, there was a loud cheer from the Adisco boys as the great man appeared from one corner of the field and jogged enthusiastically towards his fans with no hint of an injury. Bloody Santa Clausians, it had all been a hoax.

“Everybody loves Izzo

“Everybody loves Izzo

“Izzo” – clap, clap clap

“Izzo” – clap clap clap

“Everybody loves Izzo”

The Adisadel boys sang as Izzo danced in front of them, one finger raised, a broad confident smile on his face. Even his opponents admitted he was a graceful performer. Of course he won his heat and so did Zaitoto. The final was much later on on the same day.

“On your marks, Get set Go!!!” The gun fired.

False start! The culprit, Zaitoto, in the green and white of St Augustine’s.

“Zai toto toto toto toto Zai…..”

The St Augustine’s boys sang in unison. There was a smile and a wave of acknowledgement from Zaitoto. He must have been nervous. If Izzo had one weakness, it was his start in the 100m and everybody had hammered that home to Zaitoto.

“Get a good start Zai and you have a chance. He is not unbeatable”

Izzo was not going to be outdone. He got up from the marks, jogged a few meters down the track, lifted his trademark finger, a smile on his face;

“Everybody loves Izzo clap, clap clap!”

“Get set! Go! False start! The guilty man, Zaitoto. Off you go! Zaitoto, disqualified! No way! We lounged forward unto the tracks. Our prefects and Mr Bentum the sports master struggled briefly to restore calm. Soon peace was restored. It had not been that difficult to be fair. Zaitoto had clearly made two false starts, but it was important in such situations to put the fear of God into the officials. Nobody took Augusco for granted.

Izzo of course won the 100m eventually. Later, he had won the 200m as well. St Augustine’s were floundering. The singing had subsided. People sat in the sun, hands on their chins, admiring Adisadel College. The 1500m had been announced but nobody really had high hopes for Moga. He came with a good reputation but had so far not done a single good time in Augusco. He talked a good race but always seemed to have one excuse or another. But on this day, he looked fit and ready for battle and then he proceeded to do something that touched everybody and forever established his legendary status. In difficult times, inspiration often comes from unexpected sources. For, just before the race started, Moga had run over angrily to the perimeter of the field, looked up at the St Augustine’s boys and shouted;

“My people, why are you so quiet? Why are you so quiet?! 1,2,3!!”

And Augusco found its voice again “Moooooga!

“4,5,6!” he yelled, sweat dripping off his face “Moooooga. Moooooga, Moooooga!!

The cheers and singing continued as he made his way to the starting line. It had been a good show by Moga that had briefly lifted the spirits of the fans but in truth, no one believed he had any chance against those chaps from Mfantsipim and nothing Moga did in the first few rounds gave anybody reason to believe otherwise. He was at the back of the pack. There you go. Augusco had seen it all before-people who could talk more than they could run. But as the race went on he made his way gradually forward placing himself strategically in the middle of the pack. There was the odd burst of “Moga” as he occasionally dashed forward, but reality would set in as the favourites increased the gap. The game of cat and mouse went on till two rounds to go when to everyone’s surprise Moga had positioned himself strategically behind the two chaps from Mfantsipim.

Augusco found our voice again “1,2,3, Mooooga! “4,5,6 Moooooga!

He was going to be third or fourth which would have been pretty good for us with Adisadel struggling. Nobody had dared anticipate what was going to happen next. For with 300m to go, out of the blue, Moga had stepped forward, running like mad, determination etched on his face, a trail of dust behind him. Had he gone too quickly? Would he be caught? The others were coming back with a vengeance! 150m to go. They were catching up. 80m and 50m and 30m. We doubted till he finally crossed the finishing line arms held aloft, with the Mfantsipim boy right behind him. And then followed a near frenzy as he kept running on straight to the Augusco fans, completely out of breath and gesturing;

“What did I tell you?! What did I tell you?! 1,2,3!

And a grateful school responded;

“Mooooooooooooooooga!”