Who amongst us remember competitive kite-flying in the skies above our towns or the intricate art of ‘lastic played mainly in the school ground? What about the rules for games of marbles, seen now from this distance to be more intricately ordered than Game of Thrones.
Although I have to say are not quite as brutal. The ‘lastic games involving begging for about three miles of pantie elastic, which was not something you could pull out of your underwear and then re-thread before school next day.
The elastic had to be long and strong enough for small girls to negotiate with intricate leaps. ‘Lastic survived through to my daughters’ generation, and was apparently big time in the playground.
They had ‘English style’, ‘Chinese style’, and everything in between apparently, it was all Greek to me, a blur of tiny limbs jumping about at all angles in some pre-agreed choreography. It was a serious business to them though, and they would practice for hours with neighbours or with the aid of two suitable chairs on the verandah – all to get into that more coveted game run by the taller, lither girls in the corner of the netball court.
Needless to say my ‘lastic leapers were neither tall nor lithe, but they were terribly, terribly determined. Then there are games of hopscotch that are responsible for scarred and malformed knees that were not designed for cute minidresses or shorts.
There were games involving sticks that we were warned would remove eyes and break arms, which never seemed to happen. Then there were the games with balls or stones (it was the lean post-war years, we made do) and angry people who blamed children for broken windows.
Those who do remember all these games are possibly not of an age to do any such things these days. (Except my friend Bodge who is currently bopping around Suva in a head to almost knee outfit in stretchy, bright sunflower yellow.
She continues to ride a bicycle when she returns home to work in London as a gardener.) I also have a friend who travels off the beaten tracks of the world on transport ranging from a folding bicycle to the back of a motorbike.
When she walks it seems a more dangerous option, putting her at risk of elephants (one of which once ate her bath soap) and other curious animals in the bathroom. She has confronted, with extreme caution, wild boar tracks and deadly snakes.
So I’m sure she could still hopscotch with the best of ’em. Those who couldn’t the last time it was attempted were my otherwise robust elder daughter and her stand-up paddleboarding beloved.
After COVID-19 laid them both low during the Delta wave in Fiji, they were recovering well and decided to try a little hopscotch to keep the kids entertained. After hopping along to square number three they decided it was time for a lie down.
Very wise. They’re much safer paddling about on the reef anyway, better for the knees. Mind you, until recent times it was riskier to have opinions about democracy and freedom of speech than to fly kites with string specially rolled in broken glass (which is how my mother-inlaw, the beloved and much missed Aaji, would prepare her sons for kite war in the old 9 Miles neighbourhood).
However we are now free speeching all over the place, and being encouraged to get over the past and move on, an excellent attitude in general, but it all takes a bit of getting used to. I am greatly pleased to see the Fiji Times reporting that an apparent current lower violence rate against women may be linked with political development and change of government. Good oh. It’s amazing what a bit of change will do – just think how it feels to put on that spiffy new frock.
But I wonder if we can persuade the former power-mongers that it is really time to let go of all these games, forget about the lure of shiny toys and focus on what’s important. Some seem to have let go to the point of moving overseas, well, for a time anyway.
What we seek, of course, is a core of trustworthy, honest people to power the country and steer it on the paths that are best for all – particularly for those who have the least, and are in most need of support and services.
We certainly don’t need persons who regard government as a playstation controller for a game of ‘create a country’ for themselves – or, to use an analogy that sits a little easier with us oldies – on a gameboard of easy wins for them, and not a thought for all the decimated pawns just trying to follow the rules.
Watch the ‘game’ carefully, voters, and stand up for those who deal honestly and try to provide the services they promised as wannabe politicians.
Otherwise give up the game of promising much and providing as little as you can get away with, or much as the more powerful will let out of their hands. Citizens are fed up with such subterfuge. I’m well looked after this week, however. Some kindly grandchild has supplied me with a favourite superhero.
He sits on my handy, somewhat dilapidated dictionary complete with pointed-ear mask, frighteningly tough plastic muscles and swishy cape. So don’t mess with me, my man – I’ve got powerful friends (mostly not politicians).
