A couple of days ago I was walking through the primary school playground at lunchtime, when suddenly I found myself in the midst of a group of young children playing tag. The scene is still clear in my mind. The vibrant colours of the children’s t-shirts and scarves are imprinted upon my mind – yet nothing shone brighter than the smiles on their faces; they were laughing as they chased each other around in a whirlwind of flailing legs and arms, ducking and dodging to avoid the dreaded victory cry of “Tip! Gotcha!”
I found myself smiling, caught up in the delight of their game.
What had seemed to unfold in an endless eternity passed in a matter of seconds, and for a few moments, I stood watching as their game drifted away across the playground. Walking on, I once again became aware of the world around me; yet I now took note of my surroundings with a renewed sense of attentiveness – everywhere I looked, there was life, laughter, and joy. Children skipping, playing basketball, soccer, clapping games, tag, tip, — the playground was alive with eager calls and cries and the busy activity of children at play.
At the time it made me smile, yet I thought no more of it – they were just kids being kids, enjoying life and having fun. As I trudged off up the hill, back to the high school grounds, I mused that once upon a time, I had been one of those lively children running in the playground. Until, that is, I entered high school, and fell into the inescapable trap of tradition, joining the ranks of the immovable sloths…
It wasn’t until later that night, as I sat down to work on my project, sifting through a 17 page report on children in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), that the scene of their play once again arose in my mind.
As I read about the desolate situation of these children in the DRC, and the horrors of the issues they are living and dealing with – poverty, war, instability, labour, sexual exploitation, and forced recruitment into armed groups – my mind wandered back to the children in the playground. I jumped from image to image in my mind, flicking between what I was reading, and what I had encountered earlier that day. It was a stark contrast, and the comparison is one that I wish I did not need to make. For, in all the differences, in the hardship, the innocence, there is one heart. There is one truth: children love to play. They have a right to play.
It is this right that I stand for, and which I will stand against the violation of. I didn’t think twice about the children playing, and I shouldn’t need to. I shouldn’t have to think, as an after thought, how lucky those children are to be able to play in such carefree innocence. It should not be a privilege – because it is a right.
A playful salute from a 17 year old boy at the rehabilitation centre in Uvira, South Kivu, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) which the concert is funding. The program has given him hope for the future, and the chance to start afresh.
This is what my project is about. It is about giving children, who have suffered grave hardships, the chance to be children again. A chance to go to school, to learn, to grow, to play – a chance to run around in a whirlwind of flailing legs and arms, ducking and dodging to avoid the dreaded victory cry of “Tip! Gotcha!”
“There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. There is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they can grow up in peace.” – Kofi Annan
No Comments Yet
No comments yet.
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
