My home, a place called Ruwa; my family, five very different siblings—all with their own take of life. A typical day, I was 5 years old at the time, was unlike any day the average Zimbabwean child would go through. I was a farm girl, and I embraced that to a level that I only realized once I was older. My hair was cut short and I abhorred wearing dresses or anything that made me look too feminine. I loved the farm because of the open spaces and the numerous adventures I would go on. I recall having toys but yet I was never really interested in playing with them. Most of my time was spent playing with the farm workers’ children.
Perhaps to some level I understood that they could not afford those luxuries I was showered with, that made me ignore the toys and be a little more creative with stuff we found outside.
Instead of the toy trucks or the barbies and Kens; we made our own homemade toys. Who would have thought that 5 year olds could make their own bouncy balls out of burnt plastic? Skillfully I would steal the matches from the kitchen and we would melt down plastic from the trash and make little bouncy balls that we would then use to play hand tennis.
Perhaps to some level I understood that they could not afford those luxuries I was showered with, that made me ignore the toys and be a little more creative with stuff we found outside.
Instead of the toy trucks or the barbies and Kens; we made our own homemade toys. Who would have thought that 5 year olds could make their own bouncy balls out of burnt plastic? Skillfully I would steal the matches from the kitchen and we would melt down plastic from the trash and make little bouncy balls that we would then use to play hand tennis.
We didn’t use electronic racing cars with the fancy remotes, we had a different idea. The road to my house was neglected by the council so a flat tire was not a rarity, especially with the huge potholes that an entire rabbit could probably have fit undetected. So once these tires were worn out we would take them and remove the hub caps. The long drive way from the gate to the house served as the course of our competitions. The objective was to roll the tire all the way to the finish line the fastest using only your hands. I remember the amount of fun it was and it served as a great form of exercise. Mmmm maybe that’s where my athletic ability took root?
The moral of the story here is that the pressure of the media today has made it seem as though children need all these fancy things being advertised when in fact it takes away the child’s imagination and ability to have fun for the sake of fun.
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