Keeping Order

Footing up for the cafe this morning perhaps 2 doz. mid-teen boys proceeding along in the opposite direction in a long line of pairs on the outer path, green long-sleeved tees & caps many of them. Toward the rear the elder, early 30s, blew a whistle and called a command, which halted the line. More commands followed before the boys set off again in slightly better order, swinging arms more rhythmically and keeping in-step. The narrow path had them bunched closely abreast. Dull, blank faces; some cloud cover was in their favour. Yes, sekola, the button-holed lady under the veranda agreed. Or in her pronunciation, skola. (Otherwise they might possibly have been delinquents from a reformatory.) Fifty metres on there was more charm in a group of early primary girls in their other kind of uniform, full-length tunics in white with orange trim, sitting on the inner path around the teacher on the bench. With the former general, former head of Special Forces, accused war criminal banned from entry into a number of countries, in the Presidential saddle now after numerous attempts and one large organised protest at the last failure (very much ala Trumpet), you had to worry.