Last May 2018, I volunteered at an orphanage in Baja California, Mexico. Robin was a fellow volunteer, who insisted she didn’t know how to play. We were there to help renovate a medical clinic, but to our surprise, volunteering for the orphanage also meant spending time with the orphans. I was ecstatic, but Robin was hesitant.
Joy and excitement continued to fill the air as the children ran around with the other volunteers. The almost deafening sounds of screams and laughter reach the nearby middle school as students and teachers constantly poke their heads out the window. Maribel reached out her hand towards Robin. As Robin smiled back at her, puzzlement and curiosity was evident in Maribel’s face. If time did pause, it felt like it paused for a while during that moment. Maribel tilted her face and slowly came closer, with her eyes fixed on Robin. The words play came out of her mouth. Robin, frantically shaking her hands, insisted she didn’t know how to play.
“Play”…
Maribel repeated over and over. I wondered how will this young girl teach my friend how to play? It looked silly, but in that moment, what did it mean for us to engage in play?
Maribel picked up a ball nearby and gave it to Robin. The two mainly communicated through smiles and nods. These orphans were used to visitors coming over the past years, but I wonder if she ever came across someone like Robin before…
With a weak toss, Robin stepped back a little and shrugged. Facial displays of dissatisfaction showed. A small sigh was let out, and I could feel my heart starting to pound a little louder. Maribel took the ball and looked at it in her hand. She weighed it with an up and down motion, before dropping it to the ground. She ran somewhere else and came back with a frisbee. But before tossing the frisbee, Maribel made sure to explain how to throw it. With one leg put back, smiles and nods were again exchanged between the two instead of words. Robin caught the frisbee on the first throw, and she made sure to follow Maribel’s instructions during her turn. Oh how wonderful it was to see them play!
The homestay parents from Casas uno a diez began to call the children. I look up to see the orange and golden skies being quickly engulfed by darkness and twinkling lights. A soft wind blew a chilly breeze as stillness replaced the once so busy environment. After saying our goodbyes, on the way back home we wondered: How was it that this child taught her how to play? Robin always shared how she grew up with books and equations her whole life. She was never surrounded by so many children before, too.
Now back in Vancouver, I think about the children I take care of, and the rules and expectations during “play” that I sometimes come up with. Maribel’s puzzlement with Robin’s “lack of play” in the beginning continues to resonate with me. This lived experience (an encounter between a child who wanted to play and someone who did not know how to) was not just for Robin. When I think about it, their play consisted of nods, smiles, tosses, and more smiles. It made me look back at the simplicity of play, the sense of fulfilment after play and engaging in play, especially with “experts in the field of play” (children).
After looking back and reflecting, I too would like to be taught how to play. Initially, I thought it was silly, but now I dream of myself being in Robin’s shoes that day… to get to experience how wonderful it would be to be taught by a child how to play…
