Children play all over the world as my mother and her sisters and their friends once played at Roxaboxen. When the story was translated into Russian, one of my friends in St. Petersburg read it and exclaimed in amazed recognition, "We played that way too!" But the most moving example of a Roxaboxen built elsewhere that has been shared with me was one constructed by two brothers in Ethiopia, over four decades ago. I learned of it in March, 2008, when a kind man about my own age wrote me an email that immediately made him feel like a friend rather than a stranger. He has given permission for me to share his e-mails, and the photos he soon sent, on my website -- letting us see how truly universal this kind of play is! I wonder how the two boys have fared since those years when a friendly foreigner made those beautifully-crafted play rifles for them, so that they could help their father as he guarded the compound from bandits and hyenas. I am glad that Bruce still remembers the boys so many years later, and am grateful that I can share with you the photos he took of the village they had created together with such care.
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Dear Ms. McLerran:
Yesterday I was waiting for my wife at her doctor's office. As I scanned the room for reading material, a book on the children's table caught my eye.
Normally I don't read the children's section, but the name Roxaboxen was intriguing. It sounded German. I soon became enthralled with the story.
As I read, it took me back to 1962 and Ethiopia. I had gone there to build a radio station which is located about 20 miles south of Addis Ababa.
The station had a security guard to keep bandits and hyenas off the compound. He resided in a nice house provided by the station.
He had two boys, Taka and Negat, about 8 and 10 years of age. I got to know them as they came into the transmitter building out of curiosity.
I have some photos if you are interested.
Children in Ethiopia don't know toys as we do. They play with what is available. They may use a recently slaughtered animal's stomach as a soccer ball and kick it about the main street of the village until some hungry stray dog grabs it and takes off. Of course they are all barefooted.
Thank you for bringing back long dormant memories, at the doctor's office. Your website is absolutely delightful.
-- Bruce (Bedford, NH)
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Here are some photos.
I wonder what became of them. Communists took over in 1973 and nationalized the radio station. The call letters ETLF are Ethiopia Lutheran Federation. All the missionaries are gone, but it still operates as a national station.
-- Bruce
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The little lady is the boys' mother.
The boys are pictured with their father. I made toy rifles from packing crate wood and spare tubing so they could help their father guard the compound.
One day they took me across the road to their home to show me something.
It was a small village they had made on the ground from sticks, stones, and discarded radio parts.
