Children here.....it's real talent!

As I gazed at the youngsters at Star rays education Center play, dance round and round and sing, my eyes were attracted to a specific group of boys who were modeling cars and driving them around the compound. This struck my memory and pushed it back to my childhood days….the play…nice modeling of our dream houses…careers…lifestyle….cars… “Bring here that soil!” my mother would yell at me with a threatening gesture to belabor me with the cooking stick in her hand. I would remain adamant about remaining with the soil. She would then chase me around in a bid to snatch the mud and throw it away. Oooh…how obstinate a boy I was! I still have a vivid recollection of my behavior at the age of five. How I used to contend resolutely with thick pastes of mud, especially during rainy seasons when I would even sink to knee level on my way to get clay from our stream banks. I would then carry it home shrouded in yam leaves to preserve it for a modeling session that kept my fingers busy for the whole day. It was fun to see my friends and I use our saliva to soften the material and shape it into captivating imitations of vehicle, animals and houses. I had specifically specialized in bringing out miniature versions of vehicles that charmed everyone. I mould cars and used grass stems to attach tires and finally dried them in the sun to harden in readiness for play. We could simulate cars as we raced the toys in our verandah. Another challenge was balancing the heavy earth on stick-supported tires. One had to make several fitful attempts in order to be successful.
Even though I made some structures that resembled the typical appearance of an airplane, I was astonished to find out that they could not fly like the others I used to see in the air. Most of my friends could bring clay and request me to make cars for them. They brought guavas in return for the labor input. What dispirited us was that rain could raze our work to the ground at once but with time, we learnt to hide them under our beds whenever there were signs of rain.
A few years later, I graduated to assemblage of wire vehicles while in upper primary school. I used to pretend to be playing by the roadside but once it started getting dark, I would head for my target, telephone wires. My father would bring me worn out tubes whenever he replaced his bicycle’s. I used to cut them into smaller rubber bands which I used to tie the wires together. Bending the wires creatively, and covering them with carton boxes, I would end up with complete automobile prototypes with long protruding steering wheels and even head lights. My father supplied me with old cells, which I hammered to “restore” their power for a few more days. In two’s or three’s, I tied and wrapped them in a cylindrical hard paper to hold them together. Most of my friends who admired these wire cars would even convince me to exchange some of them for cakes…bread…
My reverie was cut short by a beautiful play by a few girls who formed a circle. One of them led a song in which she could sing

Obule bwanje….
Others answer: Obule!
Mary sinjira……
Others answer: Obule!
Shina mabeka……
Others answer: Obule!

Meaning

My millet….
Others answer: Millet!
Mary stand up…
Others answer: Millet!
Shake your shoulders
Others answer: Millet!

After this, the named girl would stand up and walk with her own unique strut along her own diameter of the circle to the other side where she could take over the singing. Speak of child play….this is a perfect one….do you remember yours? Can you compare it to that of this children at Star rays Education Center?