St Johns Ravenscourt School - Eagle Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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The day broke early, with the heavy morning mist still over the trees surrounding our camp. The bull baboon was letting the whole jungle know that he was waking up. Over at the water hole, just a few hundred yards from our camp the mighty elephant was trumpet¬ ing his delight at being the firstto drink. Some animals in the African bush enjoy the mornings but in the case of Mama Impala and her yearlings every morning is a threat for the big cats are hungry and either she or her yearlings would make a fine meal. Well, enough of this, I have my own breakfast to get as today we are hunting the swift and the sly Grevy’s Zebra! Ken quickly wakes up to the sweet aroma of the cooking Impala steaks and coffee. As he has a cup of coffee he is busily preparing our rifles for as one fault could mean a wounded animal or worse our life ... for when hunting the Grevy’s Zebra you have to hunt in dangerous lion and buffalo country. No words are ex¬ changed as we both go on about our preliminary tasks ... we both hope that today will be the kill, the sky looks as though it will hold the cloud around Mount Kilimanjaro if it does, we should be lucky, if not, we will have a lot of walking and hunting to do. The land-rover loaded; every thing that is breakable tied down; rifles in the gun receivers; breeches open; we’re ready. Entering the jungle trail, it is as though night has fallen once again for the dense overgrowth does not allow the sunlight entrance to the floor of the jungle. However this is where the zebra will sleep and this is where he will feed. Just as our eyes are used to the twilight atmosphere we break into a dazzling sun¬ light and we are on the edge of the plains of Kiliman¬ jaro. We leave the land-rover here to go and look for lays which is a bed of crushed grass where the Grevy’s zebra sleeps; or even some clue as to where they are hiding. The clouds hang around the mighty Kilimanjaro’s shoulders causing a shade right around the base. Fol¬ lowing the trees with his binoculars Ken finds our herd. Peacefully grazing on the slopes of the mountain. For four days they have eluded our sights but today they won’t! It will be rough going where they are so we will leave the land-rover and walk in. Ken and I are back in silence sensing each other’s movement, watching the wind, watching our step. Our biggest problem in the grass is the Black Mamba, Kenya’s most deadly snake. Ken motions me down as the stag is looking around. We are now about two hundred yards away and half a mile from the land-rover. Ken picks his mark and I have mine. Now the hunt really starts for there are two females with colts; this will be a one shot chance on the run. We adjust our scopes and set a range of about one hundred yards; we load our magazines alternating soft point and solid tipped shells. The clicks of the magazines start the herd grazing wider. Finally the break is made the shots are fired and our four days of hunt¬ ing are over for our zebra. We skin and slat the hides and after six hours we are turning into our camp tired, sunburned and hungry but proud and satisfied that we have got our zebra. We sit around our campfire laughing and joking planning our hunt for tomorrow. Fianlly going to bed after the Vervet monkeys chatter away at us, as though they are trying to tell us we are too noisy. Douglas Nesbitt VI 88

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The world seemed a conflicting quagmire Of mixed emotions; Black was not back, nor was white white, But all feelings were veneered, and gave the world Tints of grey. Emotions of love and hate then came, Dressed in cloth of black and white, Which is which. Indefinable, yet infinite, Definite, yet intangible, But ever present and omnipotent, Ruling all under an obscure power Which controls the rulers of the land of transition. A vision of justice came to me, In a perfect symphony, Exhibiting the perfect harmony en masse Because the solos were flawless within themselves. All the solos were moulded Into a sound which fit. The fire was beginning to flicker When I caught a glimpse of truth; But only a glimpse, mind you, Because truth goes not hand in hand With emotion or justice, For the truth is undefined. The glimpse I saw, on that heavenly night, Was one of angels floating in fire, But the vision soon left me; It was above earthly ideals. The fire died slowly, And brought me away from these Heavenly thoughts, And back into alleged reality. The death of the fire Ended my sympotic flight, And made me gaze at the world Which we think real, But which is, in fact, A world of dreams and ideals. — Sandy ShandroVI ' ijk State, CkMmhf Sometimes as I look out my window, Staring into the cold whiteness which surrounds the night, I hear the wind hovering above, Seemingly endlessly swirling the snow into semi¬ madness. And I wonder what the wind will do After it has finished its work here tonight. Will it stay for a while And start again on tomorrow’s eve? Or will it move to some other inhabited isle, And make confusion rule in nature for a night or so, Whether the rebels be snow, sand, or sea. But how does he know when his labours are done? When the ship is sunk and the crew tossed? When the land is barren and the field lost? When the sand is the surface and the dwellings are no more? Or when the snow blankets the ground and man stirreth not? Is he guided by some mysterious light that maybe I have missed? So I look again and search the scene before me. And Behold! There to the north shines a faint glow Of some distant star which man has forgot, Which all this time has had in its plot, To undo all that man has done. And so be it with the existence of man. Where is his star, no matter how blurred, To guide him on his journey through life, And tell him when to stop and when to move on? Yet ’tis true: man had his light many years ago, But he himself put it out. And its reflection has grown very dim; Soon there will be darkness again. Who will help man then? — Charles Andison VI 87

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The scene is aboard a ship during ' the war’. Stage right lies the prisoner bound with heavy rope and twine. Middlestage facing the prisoner is the Captain. SKIPPER: Coward! You would’ve knifed that sailor in the back if I hadn’t stopped you. Whatsa matter? Lose your honour? Want to commit hara-kiri? (The Skipper holds a revolver at his neck. The Prisoner winces and swallows.) I’ll be damned if you’re going to get to P.O.W. camp alive anyway. (Enter Seaman.) FIRST SEAMAN: Skipper, you’re wanted up top. SKIPPER: Keep you’re eye on him. If he makes a move (the Skipper smiles) kill him. (The Skipper leaves. The First Seaman is silent, watching the Prisoner, gun in hand. Finally the tight silence is broken.) FIRST SEAMAN: What’s your name? (a blank stare) Your name? . . . Name. (Enter Sec¬ ond Seaman.) Hey? Chip (glancingat the Prisoner.) what are some com¬ mon Japanese names? SECOND SEAMAN: I’ve only known one, that was be¬ fore the war, the name was Kim. (The Prisoner looks up.) FIRST SEAMAN: Kim? Is that you’re name? (The Prisoner nods.) SECOND SEAMAN: Well what do ya know. I was right. If only we could talk to him. (To Prisoner) Are you thirsty? FIRST SEAMAN: I’ll get him something. (Goes to locker and returns with bottle) He can’t drink tied up. Undo his ropes. (Second seaman unties him) (Enter Skipper) SKIPPER: Well, what are we doing here? Directly dis¬ obeying my command, eh? Well then, if you’re so friendly with him you can be his executioners. FIRST SEAMAN: Skipper ... ) Simultaneously SECOND SEAMAN: You couldn’t. . .) SKIPPER: Either you do as I say or . . . Disobeying a command is mutiny. That’s enough. SKIPPER: He was escaping, is that enough? SECOND SEAMAN: But . . . SKIPPER: That’s enough. (He leaves) (The Prisoner is tied up) SECOND SEAMAN: I won’t do it. FIRST SEAMAN: Then swing. We’ve got to. SECOND SEAMAN: Could you do it. FIRST SEAMAN: We both will. SECOND SEAMAN: Okay, (to the Prisoner feebly) I hate you. (louder) I hateyou! Oh, I can’t do it and I won’t be able to till I’m drunk enough that my shame and conscience will let me. Let’s go. (They leave. The pris¬ oner looks around, struggles and finally unties the rope. He slinks off stage. Curtain Closes.) (Curtain Rises. The setting is a different part of the ship, prob¬ ably the store room. The prisoner is hiding behind a carton, knife in hand. The Skipper looks through the cartons.) SKIPPER: When I find you I’m gonna kill you and then have those two courtmartialled for set¬ ting you free. They aren’t fit for the Navy. (Skipper comes upon the Prisoner.) So here you are! (He holds the revolver out at the Prisoner. The Prisoner knocks it from his hand and with his knife forces the Skipper against the wall stage left. ThePrisonerholds the knife up. It wavers.) PRISONER: (Screams in Japanese.) (A gun fires from entrance at stage right. The Prisoner’s back arches and he falls dead. Second Seaman enters with the gun in his hand. The First Seaman is behind him.) SKIPPER: That heathen savage would have butchered me. You heard the scream. You saved my life. You’re repreived. FIRST SEAMAN: From you? Don’t you understand? Living is no repreive, not from myself. SKIPPER: What are ya talking about? FIRST SEAMAN: Kim said, I can’t kill him! I can’t kill him! FIRST SEAMAN: But what did he do? CURTAIN 89