The flogging that never was
THE OPPOSITE OF 'GO'
Back in Primary 3, our English teacher introduced us to Words and Opposites for the first time.
The next day, when he returned for another lesson, he asked, “Yesterday, I taught you Words and Opposites. Now, what is the opposite of ‘GO’?”
Silence. Not a single hand went up.
His face darkened with anger. He took out his cane. My heart pounded—I knew what was coming. Whenever we failed to answer his questions, we were all caned. And I had just recovered from malaria.
I didn’t know the answer, but fear took control. I raised my hand, hoping he might spare me—or even all of us—just for making an effort.
All eyes turned to me, their silent prayers begging me to save them from the impending flogging.
The teacher pointed a stern finger at me.
“So, it was only him that I taught yesterday? The rest of you are dunces!" He turned to me. "Come out.”
I hesitated, my shirt collar already damp with sweat. Slowly, I stepped forward.
"Before you answer," he said, handing me the cane, "give each of these dullards two strokes."
Two strokes each—for 85 pupils?!
Excitement surged through me. I grabbed the cane with glee. Whack! Whack!
Those who had wronged me before—harder strokes.
Those who had refused to share their bananas and groundnuts—venomous flogging!
Watching them writhe in pain was oddly… amusing.
By the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat—not from fear anymore, but from exhilaration.
Grinning, I surveyed my handiwork—classmates wailing, squirming in agony. A thought crossed my mind: Maybe the teacher should just assign me the job of caning them every day. Or at least let me go for round two!
Then, the teacher bellowed, snapping me out of my fantasy.
"Quiet! Listen to the brilliant boy! Now, tell them—the opposite of 'GO'!"
That was when I realized… I had courted disaster.
By flogging them for also not knowing the answer, I had stirred a hornet’s nest.
But it was too late to back out.
Forcing confidence into my shaky voice, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"The opposite of GO is… DON'T GO."
Silence.
Then, an explosion.
“WHHHHHAAATTTT?!” The teacher’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Is that what I taught you yesterday? Class! Take the cane! Each of you—two strokes each!"
I didn’t need a calculator to know that 85 × 2 = 170 vicious strokes—from already aggrieved students.
I ran.
To this day, I have no idea how I escaped.
Did I leap out of a window? Sprint out the door? Fly like a bird?
All I remember is that, unlike Johnny Walker, I kept running.
And yet, one question still haunts me:
How on earth is ‘DON’T GO’ not the opposite of ‘GO’?!
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