Teaching to Play

While in Kenya, we visited our schools, and when we did, we saw such joy and happiness. Children playing--and other than the dirt playground, school rooms without glass in the windows, and village children watching longingly from the distance, we could have been somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin in a middle class graded school.




The common denominator is that kids are kids--and when given the opportunity for nourishment, protection and love, kids play and laugh the same everywhere in the world.

A light bulb moment for me was realizing that not all kids play. Children who are worried about where their next meal is coming from do not play.

Children who are worried about the physical health--life and death needs--of their parents do not play.

Children who have adult responsibilities, like 'mothering' siblings, searching for food and carrying water for miles do not have time to play.

In our schools, I saw children playing. In the villages, I did not see children playing.

One of my prayers at Bomani and Vipingo during the celebration days was that when the adults watched us visitors running, chasing, tickling, laughing with their children that they too would realize that playing with their kids shows them that they are loved.



I can't condemn Kenyan adults for not playing with their kids--you see, they were never played with, either. How are they supposed to know if they never experienced?

Occasionally, while playing a game of Duck, Duck, Goose or a modified game of Red Light-Green Light, called Stop and Go--I would look over at the adults as they watched the strange white people laughing while Kenyan children climbed and clamored to hold on to a leg or hand, or climb on the back just for the opportunity to be hugged or tickled. As they watched, I witnessed a glimmer of a sparkle in their eyes, and an occasional smile.

I pray that a light bulb went off in their minds--and the idea that playing with their children is a very good thing, for both the child and the adult, alike. While listening to a child laugh, it seems to lighten the load--if not just temporarily.

For me, there is just something about a child laughing that equals hope--and when we hope, we are closer to God.