Lunchtime in an african schoolyard

I could hear the kids.

Yelling.

Screaming.

Was it the joy of the playground or something more.

The teaching staff moved to the window.

I realised that the shouts in Twi had obviously caught their attention about something specific.

I leaned out the window next to one of the teachers, my eyes scanning the kids, trying to work out what was causing the ruckus.

And then I saw it.

Stretched up tall.

Head flat.

Striking.

A cobra.

I stared in disbelief.

Part at the snake itself, part at the crowd so close to it.

The kids were throwing things at it.

Stones, sticks, whatever they could find right by them in the playground.

The fear and excitement made the air crackle, as if it to was alive.

As I realised what was going on, a couple of the teachers ran from the room with a shovel. 

They yelled to the kids.

“Get back, get back”

First in English, then I can only guess something similar in Twi.

Thud.

Thud.

The threat was over.

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter.

That kind of laugh that signals how scared they were just moments prior.

Within minutes the playground and staff room returned to normal. 

A quick chat and the drama was over.

I asked one of the teachers, “does that happen often?”

He replied, “yes, actually, they live in that field just over there.”

And I watched in horror as he pointed to the field I walked through every day to get to school.

In 2003 I spent 4 months living and working in Ghana, West Africa.

I was 18 years old at the time.