(Photo by John Davis - June 2002)
Webmaster welcomes recollections from those who remember their visits to the "San"
E-mail of 8th March 2007 from Jim Storrar (Intermediate/Hawke, 1961-65):
I noticed that the word "Grog" doesn't appear in your Kenya SchoolSpeak. Whatever else it might mean in the
outside world, it had it's own connotation as far as Prinso was concerned.
Grog was a fairly unpleasant linctus that was served up to malingerers visiting the "San". It was administered in
a little shot glass by Matron or one of her unsympathetic and cynical helpers. The medicament came in two colours, ...
Brown , which tasted of Victory "V"s dissolved in white spirit and was a cure-all for all ailments that could be
categorized as Flu.
The second potion was White, .. It tasted of chalky disinfectant and was the primary cure for all alimentary complaints.
These panaceas were kept in two huge flagons on a shelf in the dispensary which you could view with some trepidation
as you sucked on the thermometer while you tried to figure out how to get your temperature to "go off the clock."
It was necessary to endure the consumption of either of these foul potions, as part of a wider strategy to acquire a
small slip of paper with matron's signature that enabled the bearer to be late for or avoid Flag Parade, Chapel,
Detention or some other irksome activity or even Games. However the end game was to put on an acting performance that
would hopefully get you a berth in the "San" without preventing you from missing an exeat.
The "San" was a marvellous institution. It was a quite sequestered building, all set about with Poinsettias ,
Frangipanis, Grevillea and Jacaranda trees. A respite from trades, rabble calls, fagging, satis cards, working party
and Latin. A patient could slowly recover from a terminal illness, moping about in a nicely decorated ward with
cool breezes blowing in from the veranda and access to an eclectic selection of reading matter and of course,
better food. Needless to say, engineering a stay in the "San" was well nigh impossible, unless of course you were
ill, an uncommon state of affairs for most Kenya boys.
Yours aye, Jim Storrar.