One of the earliest and most unforgettable experiences of life in Mfantsipim School was Homos Night. Homos Night was the traditional initiation for greenhorns into the Kwabotwe family.
One thing became clear very quickly: status outside the school meant absolutely nothing.
It did not matter whether you were the son of the high and mighty in society or the son of a night watchman. Once you entered Mfantsipim, you were simply another boy. We were all treated the same. The system had a way of leveling everyone, reminding us that within those walls we were equals—united by the same rules, the same discipline, and the same journey.
Before the night itself, we were made to write what was jokingly called the Homos Exams.
One of the questions required us to write a letter to the head girl of Wesley Girls’ High School, requesting for a girlfriend.
For nervous Form One boys who had just arrived at school, the question itself was both hilarious and awkward.
But the real drama came afterward.
Unknown to us, some seniors had planted “foreign materials” in a few desks—dried leaves and pieces of paper with inscriptions, meant to look like cheating notes. The boys whose desks contained them were immediately accused of cheating, and they were going to be sent home.
We were told others had also failed the Homos exams and were being sent home immediately.
The message was simple and clear: cheating and banned materials were strictly prohibited in the school.
Among the boys allegedly caught were Joseph Oliver-Commey (Ataa Fish), David Hamilton (Apochonchon), and Boakye Danquah (Asway). Together with a few others, they were bundled into the school’s famous bone-shaker and driven off toward Tantri.
There was wailing. There was panic. For us new boys watching, it looked terrifyingly real.
Looking back now, it was clearly part of the elaborate theatrics designed to impress discipline upon us.
Before Homos Night itself, we had gone through three continuous days of rehearsals. Prefect Precious Allotey patiently taught us the songs we would perform.
One of them went:
“We are the greenhorns of a great institution,
And we submit ourselves to the rules of the school.
We are here! We are here!
We are here! We are here!
To make Mfantsipim great.”
The lyrics captured exactly what the school expected of us.
When the night finally arrived, the dress code was deliberately ridiculous.
Each greenhorn had to appear in the funniest outfit he could assemble.
I wore pyjamas with one leg rolled up to the knee, a sponge tied around my neck, and a ball of kenkey smeared in my hair. Looking back, the entire spectacle was hilarious and slightly humiliating—but that was the point. It broke the tension and brought us together.
One of the important rites of passage that night involved the Head Boy, Derrick Larbi.
In a symbolic “baptism,” he dipped neem tree leaves in water and splashed the water over our faces and heads. It felt like a strange ritual at the time, but it was clearly meant to mark our formal entry into the life of the school.
Then came one of the funniest moments of the night.
S. K. Gyam was asked to pronounce 8,888 in Nzema. What came out sounded like:
Apenle mɔtwɛ, ɛya mɔtwɛ, Abula twɛ ɔne mɔtwɛ.
The hall erupted in uncontrollable laughter.
From that night onward, Gyam earned the nickname “Amortwe.”
Remarkably, the name has stayed with him to this very day.
Another unforgettable moment was the pillow fight between Fiifi Banson and David Hamilton.
Both were chubby and looked like “dadabies.” Hamilton truly was one. Fiifi, however, was the complete opposite—a hard Awudome Estate boy.
What was meant to be a playful contest quickly turned into a mismatch. Fiifi beat the hell out of Hamilton, and the crowd roared with laughter.
But the entertainment peaked on the dance floor.
Nana Osei-Tutu absolutely stole the show with his brilliant Michael Jackson-style moves, imitating the King of Pop so convincingly that the hall went wild.
Not to be outdone, Ewusi Brookman stepped in and countered with his energetic Agbojos dance moves, bringing a strong local flavor to the contest. The friendly rivalry had everyone cheering.
By the end of the night, something had changed.
We were no longer strangers who had just arrived from different homes and backgrounds. We had laughed together, performed together, and shared an experience that bonded us as members of the same class.
Homos Night was more than entertainment. It was a rite of passage.
And as Mfantsipim celebrates 150 years, memories like these remind us of the values the school has always stood for—discipline, humility, equality, resilience, and brotherhood.
Values that shaped generations before us. And values that will continue to guide Kwabotwe into the next 150 years of excellence.
- Read also
- Mfantsipim School @ 150 and Creech’s Mfantsipim Diaries: My First Shock
- Mfantsipim School @ 150 and Creech’s Mfantsipim Diaries: My second shock
- Mfantsipim School @ 150 and Creech’s Mfantsipim Diaries: Shock Number Three
- Creech’s Mfantsipim Diaries. My final shock
The writer is Philip Creech-Jones of MOBA 1992 (Mfantsipim Old Boys Association).
