Everyone needs space to breathe.
Everyone needs something to run away to, to simply restore.
Everyone needs something to return from, renewed, centred and ready to roll.
A playing field is that breathing ground to anyone who has felt their lungs fire up mid-game, mid-run or mid-any-workout.
Over the past few days, I have seen a village claim their right to breathe, in their demand, confident efforts and passion for a playground.
They have battled the unavailability of modern machinery by manually felling, clearing and decluttering a ground.
They have battled dust storms, the scorching Sun and erratic winds by staying put and playing their part in restoring mud, soil and sand where there were craters.
When a tractor finally came, I have seen fathers whose daughters will play on this ground, fit shovels at its front and heavy metal at its rear to smoothen the ground soon to be beneath their girls’ feet.
A ground was cleared, levelled and flattened.
A playground now stood where ruin once did.
A village moved a mountain for more air.
The sight of children playing in an area built just for them, by those who love and care for them, is a painstakingly wrapped gift filled with cackles and chuckles and bruises and band-aids and fights fast diffused and fellowship and friendships and team spirit.
The sight of tender but tough and slender but solid girls bringing their best game to a field is a wonder.
The sight of feet bouncing off the ground is a small but soothing miracle that everyone should witness – an act I wish everyone could experience the magic of.
The usage of a playground is quite truly a tiny celebration of just how large and real a role the earth plays in helping us feel rooted and yet, lofty.
When those girls ran nimbly onto that ground today, a breath was taken in.
A whole village exhaled when their laughter mingled with the wind, making its way to what we hope is another breathing space in-the-making not so far away,
Where a village fights for its children to simply play.
And in that quest, discovers its breath.
(This piece belongs to a series titled, “The Rural Dispatch”, on the network.)
DISCLAIMER: The content on this website is merely an opinion and not intended to malign any religion, ethnic group, organisation, company or individual. Nothing contained herein shall to any extent substitute for the independent investigations and sound judgment of the reader. While we have made every attempt to ensure the accuracy and completeness of the content contained herein, no warranty or guarantee, express or implied, is given with respect to the same. The SHOUT! Network is neither liable nor responsible to any person or entity for any errors or omissions, or for any offense caused from such content.
In addition to the above, thoughts and opinions change from time to time… we consider this a necessary consequence of having an open mind. This website is intended to provide a semi-permanent point in time snapshot and manifestation of the various topics running around our brains, and as such any thoughts and opinions expressed within out-of-date posts may not be the same, or even similar, to those we may hold today.
Feel free to challenge us, disagree with us, or tell us we’re completely nuts in the comments section of each piece. The SHOUT! Network reserves the right to delete any comment for any reason whatsoever (abusive, profane, rude, or anonymous comments) – but do SHOUT! with us, if you will.
