When did having fun become so expensive?

It is sad that our children may never get a taste of the free, raw, uncomplicated and wholesome fun that we had. PHOTO | FILE| NATION MEDIA GROUP

What you need to know:

  • A few weeks ago, someone told me about a restaurant just outside town which had a playground full of swings, an assortment of slides and a bouncy castle to boot, all free.

  • Since there is little that is free in this city, I eagerly made a beeline for this too-good-to-be-true place, thanking my stars because it was that time of the month when Kenyans like me are dead broke.

After land, the most expensive thing in Kenya is fun.

There was a time when fun was free. If your child wanted to slide, all he had to do was look for a carton or a plastic basin and whiz down a small hill somewhere in the neighbourhood. The more adventurous one would pour water down the “slide” for a more exhilarating ride.

If he wanted to swing, he’d simply walk to the backyard and swing to his heart’s content on an old car tire dangling from a branch on one of the trees in the compound. Nowadays, if your child wants to slide, swing or jump, you have to take him to a mall where you will be charged an arm and a leg for a paltry 30 minutes, or an hour if they are merciful.

You could also go to an entertainment facility where they all seem to have inflatables that your child can jump on, the ones we like to call bouncing castles.

Though most of these facilities don’t charge your child for using the solo bouncing castle, weighed down by hundreds of other kids, since you cannot possibly sit there for two hours eating “air burgers” (that would make you an idler, and hotel owners don’t tolerate idlers), you will be forced to buy a soda, double or triple the amount you would in a supermarket, and maybe a plate of chips for your child, who will most certainly want a soda too.

By the time you’re leaving, you will have used up all the money you had.

ALL FREE?

A few weeks ago, someone told me about a restaurant just outside town which had a playground full of swings, an assortment of slides and a bouncy castle to boot, all free.

Since there is little that is free in this city, I eagerly made a beeline for this too-good-to-be-true place, thanking my stars because it was that time of the month when Kenyans like me are dead broke.

True, the playground was every child’s dream — giant slides, mini slides, swings, climbing bars, a trampoline, a bouncy castle and, to crown it all, giant cartoon characters including Minnie Mouse and Dora The Explorer, who were gladly taking photos with the kids.

Why, oh why, had I not discovered this place earlier? I would have saved myself a fortune. And then I opened the menu that one of the waiters handed me. You will not believe it, but the cheapest meal was 400 bob, and when I say meal, I mean a fistful of sorry-looking chips. The small soda was Sh250, while a small bottle of water, a miserable 200ml of water that I could gulp in two seconds, cost Sh200.

I went through the menu with mounting dread, dread that intensified when I realised that a proper meal for one would set me back about Sh2,000!

I know that is pocket change to many, but I almost got a heart attack just looking at that impossible menu. To make matters worse, the waiter patiently stood there, looking at me expectantly, more than ready to take my order.

ECSTATIC CHILDREN

I could not bring myself to drag my ecstatic children off this “Disney World”, so I painfully ordered a soda, and assured the disappointed-looking waiter that I would order a meal later. There was no way that playground was free, the parents of all those children running around squealing were paying dearly for that “free” playground.

It is sad that most of our children, and the generation thereafter, will never get a taste of the raw, uncomplicated and wholesome fun we had. To begin with, most of us live in cramped concrete jungles, so there are no mini hills to talk of or backyards to run around in.

Growing up, I remember my father taking us to City Park to play football and feed the monkeys. Then, it was a popular leisure spot for many families, especially on Sunday afternoons and on holidays, where you would spot groups having picnics. The park was free in every sense of the word.

Today, the neglected park is an eyesore, a hiding ground for criminals — a couple of months ago, businesswomen at the neighbouring City Market said that some of them had been attacked in the park while on their way to work.

A few days before that, a mutilated body had been found here. Sigh. Forget good old wholesome fun, we’re stuck with malls. 

 

FEEDBACK

 

I’m always glad to read your intimate, human interest articles in the Sunday Nation. With regard to your article last Sunday, I have watched children happily handling snakes on the Nat Geo Wild channel, after they have watched “queer” adults do the same. I think children only acquire phobias from adults — so where did you acquire your’s from? By the way, are you now better in deciphering maps for directions? Do you mind giving me directions to Muturi’s?

Nicholas

 

I have never come across a snake and I am not willing or wishing to see one. Anyway, I would not trade anything for a serene place, it’s good for your sanity.

Macharia

 

Snakes! I have many snake stories but I’ll tell only two. In 2001, two days after KCPE, I climbed grandmother’s guava tree and settled somewhere up to read the book My Life in Crime.

I read for hours.  At some point I felt thirsty. I raised my head from the book and literally came face to face with a slender green snake. It was skillfully coiled on a twig about a metre away from me. I still wonder how long the snake had been studying me.

Who got there first? But the moment our eyes met I screamed loudly, threw the book in the air and clumsily climbed down yelling along the way. It’s a miracle I was not seriously hurt. Then a fortnight ago, I visited home and went to answer to a call of nature in a bush near the fence.

But little did I know that a green snake was warming itself in the sun, lying on a low branch.  

Omondi