Play

Yesterday as I walked to the orphanage, I came upon 5 of the kids sitting in the maize field.  When I came closer and sat down with them, I noticed they had various red plates, tiny empty plastic bottles, empty milk cartons, and a few knives. The oldest of the gang, Milliam, was carefully stirring a concoction of dirt, mud, and maize stalks as the rest watched. They were preparing nshima. This was a time of play. 

After they noticed my presence, they abandoned their nshima and tackled me down in the dirt with joyful squeals. After we emerged out of the powder, Emmanuel, Nchimunya, and Mainza fought to sit on my lap.  Genesis came from behind and hung from my neck, nearly choking me. 

We pretended that dirt clumps were chicken, cabbage, or soya and that battered containers still held milk.  

Nchimunya carefully shoveled grainy dirt into the teeny bottle with an old knife, and Mainza threw chunks of mud into the air.

Salomy's mud-splattered face giggled as she tried on my oversized shoes and Sanford made silly faces like I've never seen before as he threw my brown jacket high into the air. 

Genesis walked a few yards to the hole in the ground which housed a half dozen month-old puppies, and brought the smallest one back to play. She roughly carried it, either squeezing too tight, grasping it by the neck, or swinging it. When I had her put it down and showed her how to gently pet it, she tried to make it walk by forcefully pulling one leg in front of the other. 

Emmanuel buried his snotty, dusty face into my chest and Nchimunya was fascinated by my little shirt pocket. 

Mainza and Emmanuel clunked heads a few times as Genesis charged us at least twice, attempting to steal a spot on my lap. 

It was a time of play, a break from the everyday, a taste of freedom.