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Mar 2022
As a child we were not well to do,
But happy,
For little was enough.
There were no gyms or parks to play,
The alleys around our house were our playground.
For football we had old newspapers and plastic bags tightly tied with threads into a ball,
The goal being two stones laid some distance apart on the road,
For cricket one of us would cut a piece of wood into a bat,
And buy a tennis ball,
Everybody who wanted to play would dole out some cents for it,
The stumps were marked on the wall of a neighbour's house.
Our seesaw was a long plank of wood over a big water drum,
Four of us would sit on each side and have fun.
One of our uncle had no children and he would take us on picnics on the beach,
He worked in a bakery and he would bring crumbs from cakes,
They tasted the best after swimming, playing and jesting with each other.
The bicycle or car tire game I loved the best,
It was challenging,
You had to roll and balance the tire with a stick round the neighbourhood,
The one who completed the round without the tire falling got a mint sweet.
We also played hide and seek, seven stones and marbles in the same alley,
During berries, mangoes or cashewnuts seasons we would climb trees or pick the fruits with a long stick.
Girls and boys played together after school and during weekends.
There was no tension of tuition or homework,
In the morning we had English classes with maths science and other subjects,
In the afternoon we had Arabic subjects.
My siblings and I read a lot,
But our parents could not afford to buy us books,
So we borrow books from the library and friends and exchange them with others till the due date.
Life was happy,
There was never yours or mine,
Everyone shared what he had,
And everyone was welcomed in each other's house.
17/3/2022
Written by
Salmabanu Hatim  72/F/Tanzania
(72/F/Tanzania)   
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