I don’t know exactly how familiar is this game for all the generations of parents, nor am I aware of its international equivalent, but I played it in my childhood. It seems to have found its place in the present generation’s outdoor activities as well.  It happens for us to visit, often, the little park near a school (apparently well received one at social level). During one of these visits Sara had a small demonstration of the game.

It was probably during the “Another school” program, judging from the teacher’s outfits and also from the absence of the uniforms. Some classes rushed to the playground and divided themselves into small groups and soon the children were at play.

A group of boys has become suddenly interested in dismantling the playground installations and because there were no tools available, they used whatever came to hands. Therefore, a bench gave up gladly some of its planks to the handspike game. The handspike was dug through the playground’s elements installed in such a way that their deconstruction should be done with bangs and victory bawls.

Towards the middle of the area, a group of boys and girls were playing “country, country we want soldiers”. But not anyhow, because there was a mixed group and the boys were trapped in their “small manhood”…..i.e., they possessed a kind of a shelf to illustrate the strength their still young bodies were capable of.  And the game was full of giggles (from the boys) and fear from the girls, because they were simply swept away by the force of the weight of the bodies launched with speed through their frail arms. There were falls and wallows, with bruises and musses, with tears and attempts to negotiate the game’s dynamics with the boys.

Further, the group of boys self-empowered with dismantling the park, began an historical action. They were imagining that they were reliving our historic past and were flapping friendly with the planks or any other useful element that were not fixed on something.

The warm childhood atmosphere was in full swing, convincing some local mothers and their children to release the area in a hurry. All this time, Sara was exploring the swing and was watching from time to time the girls’ group landfalls. All it was relatively calm, until an “ascendant” filled with faith has entered, armed and exploring the maximum limits of his vocal cords, into Sara’s intimate space, waking up inside myself, all the possible instincts….therefore, I decided that it was the time to put an End.

The teachers’ group was easily to be seen following the dense cloud of reek that was surrounding the area. My speech reviewed the destruction, but also the danger, depicting girls’ forced landfalls, but also our hotspur ancestors’ fighting roars. I have been listened with kindness and positive head bends, they have reviewed fast all the prejudices about gender differences, only to return to recreating the dense cloud that was given the atmosphere a certain flair.

But, one of the teachers has seen the phone and some pictures taken. Suddenly the discussion has become more interested by my presence, only to drop the line “he may be some journalist or something”. So, they decided that childhood and its “dolce far niente” has ended….they sounded the alarm and have crowded back into the classrooms.   Following them, the cloud was slowly dimming, almost equipped with a poetic air

I stayed to gather bags emptied of chemicals with apparent nutritional value, trying to explain my intervention to Sara. Sara, from the height of the 2 years and 3 months, was gladly explaining: – The girls slap….slap … and ere sad (and were sad), and the boys … … wow….and wow…and slap. Daddy, yes tha’ wa’ a game? (Was a game)

(Sara is 2 years and 5 months)