Tic-tac-toe

The shuffling of brightly coloured rain jackets and the sloshing of wet shoes slowly disappears. I zone out for what seems like hours. Huge boulders of stone, wrapped in the roots of an overpowering and untouchable tree, form the entrance to a secret hideout. The meeting of man and nature results in the most bizarre conflict of emotions. Do they live in peace and support one another to survive, or are they fighting a never-ending war? I’m for the tree, then for man, but no matter what, their coexistence makes this place magical. “1,2, 3 . . .” Where is the little voice coming from? The counting continues, this time in a language I don’t understand. Another voice chimes, “10 postcards 1$, lady you buy?” I eventually spot her, a tiny, little sweetness of pink, standing no higher than my knee. A boy in a tattered blue shirt shouts, “Miss, where you from?” “South Africa,” I reply. It’s an answer they don’t seem to understand, but the girl quickly comes up with a plan. “No worry miss,” she shakes her head vigorously, “you buy magnet instead. One magnet, $2.” As I look at the kids in front of me, I’m distracted again - they mirror the conflict of their surrounds. A sadness in their eyes I can’t quite read, yet the enthusiasm tells another story. Just when I feel like a conclusion is made, a beautiful, but heart-wrenching one I’d rather not explore, I almost start crying. The little girl nudges, “Miss no worry we play tic-tac-toe,” and kneels to draw in the sand, oblivious to whether I wish to play or not. The little girl who I thought needed me proved me wrong. I needed her. This little cuteness of knowledge and wisdom is still a child, yet sees the world through knowing eyes. Nothing is black or white and answers are so hard to find, so why try to find problems where there are none? You do what you must, find hope in the little things and nothing is lost if it’s still possible to play a simple game of tic-tac-toe.