Months ago, I accidentally bought a huge coil of bright orange rope. I only needed a few meters to make a clothesline, but, because of my poor language skills, I ended up with a thick wheel the size of my head. I remember thinking, “Great. I just spent way too much money on something I shouldn’t even have bought in the first place. What in the world am I supposed to do with all this rope?” I made my clothesline—which didn’t even make a dent in the amount of rope I had purchased. In the process, I managed to transform the perfect coil into a gigantic tangle of catastrophic proportions. For a couple of dedicated hours, I attempted to untangle the knots and rewrap the rope into a neat ball. Then frustration set in and I shoved the disappointingly small ball and the still-massive mess into a cabinet, slammed the door, and forgot about it.
Last week, my host siblings came over after Sunday lunch, like they do every week. We were playing cards as usual when my two host sisters started talking about how they wished they had two long jump ropes to learn Double Dutch. Suddenly, I remembered the rope! We abandoned our card game, fished the tangle out of the cabinet, and got to work. We unknotted, stretched, measured, and cut the rope. Not satisfied with the thin jump ropes, we cut more rope, until only a ball the size of my fist remained of the once-enormous knot. We started braiding, like how the little girls in Tangled braided Rapunzel’s hair. It turned out that plaiting feet upon feet of rope was a very lengthy process, so we gave up on the second jump rope and ran outside with our completed creation. Every day, kids from all over the SALT campus gather in the packed-down dirt parking lot in front of my house and play for hours. Last Sunday was no different. Except that the jump rope brought together all the separate groups of kids and united them into one big group. The jump rope brought out the parents, who watched us play with laughter in their voices and smiles on their faces. I learned Malagasy jump rope games and taught some that I remembered from elementary school recess. We played until the stars came out and everyone got called home for dinner. I went inside feeling elated, sore, and determined not to banish the second jump rope to the cabinet. The first jump rope disappeared during the week, handed around between the neighbor kids and loved to the point that it looks months old now. I finished braiding the second one and waited eagerly for Sunday to arrive. Today’s church service ended early, and one of my host sisters and I rushed to my house to retrieve the new rope. Joined by my host brother and other sister, the four of us jumped and jumped and jumped until lunch was ready. After lunch there was no question about what our afternoon would be dedicated to: we were going to jump rope. We did figure out how to twirl the two ropes for Double Dutch but soon gave up in favor of our favorite games from last week. The jump rope worked its magic again. My host mom came and joined in, followed by my neighbor, whose kids I had played with last week. One of the pastors even made an appearance. Passerby stopped on the road to watch and laugh and smile and cheer alongside us. And when my host sisters went inside for a drink of water, we “grown-ups” stayed out to play. More kids joined us as the afternoon wore on, and even though our original Double Dutch plan was forgotten, two jump ropes turned out to be better than one. A posse of kids too little to jump grabbed the second rope and it found a new purpose as a limbo stick, high jump bar, and more. Nothing could stop us—until we collapsed from exhaustion, that is. Not shoes falling off midjump, change flying out of pockets, community members stopping to chat, feet growing dirtier by the second, nor little kids charging unexpectedly through the rope. I’m not sure where the jump ropes will travel this week, but I am convinced they will bring more joy and fellowship with them. And I already can’t wait for next Sunday. The bright orange rope isn’t so bright anymore. But it’s not sitting in my cupboard either. It’s funny how something so inconvenient can turn into something you wonder how you’ve gone so long without. It’s amazing how something as simple as a jump rope can bring a whole community together. I am so grateful for the day when I bought too much rope.
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May 2018
More MadaCheck out these blogs from my fellow Madagasgals:
Amanda (Toamasina) Amy (Manambaro) Katie (Farafangana) Lauren (Toliara) Megan (Antananarivo) Serena (Vohipeno) |