Peace, mercy, and blessings of God be upon you all.

By chance, while browsing the vast blue world of the internet, a place filled with both nonsense and treasures, I stopped at the photo of the day. Instantly, with nostalgia and longing, the phrase “Sam Spot” came to my mind. I also remembered one of our friends who used to jokingly add: “Alik Nabout!”

When I clicked on the picture, I was met with another surprise: it showed Italian children playing the very same game decades ago, during a period that perfectly matched our own childhood years.

What is remarkable is that the accompanying article described a shared past among children from both sides of the Mediterranean Sea. With the same sense of nostalgia, the author told his story as if he had lived among us, despite some obvious cultural differences.

Since I do not speak Italian, I turned to the famous “all-knowing sheikh” of our time, the online translator. After receiving a less-than-perfect translation, I reworked the text to make better sense of it. Inspired by the original author, I then reflected on my own childhood memories, which are shared by many readers.

We are the post-independence generation.

We played football in alleys and empty lots, most of us barefoot. In that sense, we were the generation of the barefoot children.

We played traditional games such as “Al-Qam,” “Azarbout,” “Dinifri,” “Tchinika,” “Sam Spot,” and many other popular neighborhood games and card games.

We loved hunting birds and small animals. Some used slingshots, others simple homemade traps. Looking back, some of us probably committed what could be called acts of “mass bird destruction.” May God forgive us!

We spent our days at the Kiss River. Some learned how to swim, others played in the water or tried fishing. We were a generation filled with innocence and simple beliefs.

Hardly a day passed without a quarrel or a fight. Many of us broke a tooth, an arm, or came home with a bloody nose. Yet no one filed complaints, and by the next day everything was forgotten. We were the generation of forgiveness.

Our childhood was all about play: in the streets, at school, and at home before bedtime. We were the generation of fun and joy.

We ate homemade bread and bakery bread on special occasions.

Water was kept cool in traditional clay containers. Refrigerators were found only in a few shops and cafés.

We often shared the same drink from the same container without anyone worrying about germs. Even our sugary drinks were relatively natural, and traditional sweets were among our greatest pleasures. Since we spent the whole day playing outdoors, we easily burned off the extra sugar. We were the generation of simplicity and modesty.

We had no PlayStation, Nintendo, Xbox, Internet, or social media. Yet we had many real friends, not virtual ones. We were the generation of true friendship.

We ate organic food long before the term “organic” even existed: fruits, vegetables, wild plants, and natural products. Obesity was almost unheard of in our small town. Whenever we got sick, we simply said, “It’s just the wind.” We were the generation of patience.

Our neighbors’ homes were like our own homes. Everyone shared what God had provided. In good times and bad, we stood together like brothers. We were the generation of trust and mutual support.

Many of us repeated one or more school years. Parents trusted teachers and rarely blamed them. There were no psychologists or special support programs. Despite successes and failures at school, we grew up happy and content. We were the generation of contentment.

Perhaps the secret of our success was the simplicity of life, mutual love, brotherhood, and good intentions.

 

Written by Abdelhalim

December 2, 2017