And the first time that I watched them do it I thought, Oh, gosh, is this not jumping on a rope? In the evenings the girls at the back of our compound used to gather and sing and swing about that long rope in circles. Clapping and laughing they piled into it one at a time, with flying braids like wings.
I was standing on the edge observing folding my arms. Is it possible to make an attempt? I asked.
They gazed at me and back at one another. One of them snickered. Not everybody is young enough, oh, to jump-rope. Positive?
Why, of course," I answered, as I nodded my head. So difficult, what?
The rope, went round, the song louder. I counted the rhythm and waited till the next opportunity and leaped in.
Whap! The rope swatted my ankle. I waddled out with my pride chattels on the ground like beans. Girls start laughing 😂. it is easy, she thinks, one of them taunted.
I smiled through my teeth but deep inside my heart something broke 💔.
I lay down on my bed that night reliving the scene. I could hear them laughing. My heart was exclaiming, You are not one of them. Making what they make, you cannot do. But there is another voice, not loud, not loud, but clear, that interposed Or that you have resigned yourself too soon.
I rolled over. The voice inside of me said that my mother used to tell me long ago, Nne, life will take you to the test. Certain objects will not be knocked off their hinges in one knock." 🪘
I shut my eyes and said, tomorrow I will have another go.
The following evening I arrived early when no, one was there yet. I pulled an old rope out of my mother's shed. I held the ends shaking. The knotted bit of rope was heavier than it seemed. This I swung once. It wound itself round my legs. I made another effort. It struck my back. I hissed. My sweat roll over my face 💦, there was no one to laugh.
Hour after hour I practised. I stumbled, and fell down and bruised my knees. My palms were burning but something more than the pain was making me walk.
That stroke of good luck came over me when there was one version dominated by my mother, where she said the girls had come at last, and I was hiding the rope. I kept my heart racing as I saw them play another game 💓.
You are not going to do it today? One of them was asked.
My throat went dry. "Yes. I shall see.
There the rope turned. The chorused up 🎶. I took a long breath and jumped.
One. Two. Three. My feet were not touched by the rope every time. Girls (surprised) couldn't clap their hands 👏. My legs acted as though they had been hoping to act during all my life.
By the 7th jump my chest was burning up 🔥, but I persisted. Noon, one, two. The rope then got my toes. I tripped out, and this time there was no one laughing.
"Ha! She is able to jump!" one shouted.
My lips quivered into the smile 😊. My heart Superfluid.
It was not a night of sleeping. I drifted 🌙. I had done battle with a little things big.
The outward appearance of life usually seems so easy. Victories of other people are like smooth glass with the cracks that are covered with something. And behind each clean jump, there are falls and bruises and tears 💭.
And now that I have something fearing to do, the exams or the work or even the heartbreak, I recollect that rope. I tell myself: It might not be as easy as it seems but it is never impossible. ✨ cry
