Come Out to Play
- Aaron Dowds
- Aug 13
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 15
Sometimes friendship begins with nothing more complicated than a game.
Every Saturday, Mme Soliette tells us, they have a small activity with the children at The Jesus Home.
There is nothing particularly remarkable about that.
And perhaps that is exactly why these photographs are worth noticing.
Children gather beneath the shade.
Some sit watching.
Some wait.
One pair of hands reaches high into the air.
A game is played.
And for a little while, the only important thing is whatever is happening in that moment.
No one needs to call it community.
No one needs to explain belonging.
They are simply playing.
And perhaps some of the most important things in childhood happen exactly like that.
The friendships we don't remember beginning
Think back to your own childhood and try to remember the moment one of your closest childhood friendships began.
It can be surprisingly difficult.
We probably didn't sit down opposite one another and decide to become friends.
More likely, somebody kicked a football towards us.
Someone asked you to come out on your bike.
Someone invented a game.
Someone simply said:
“Do you want to come out to play?”
And somewhere between the running and laughing, the games and adventures, something else was quietly happening.
We were learning how to be together.
Friendship was growing while nobody was paying attention.
More than filling an afternoon
Perhaps that is one of the quiet gifts of play.
A game gives children something to share.
Their attention isn't fixed upon building a friendship.
It is fixed upon the game.
And around that shared experience, relationships have room to grow.
Children spend time together.
They watch one another.
They join in.
They share an experience that belongs to all of them.
Then the game finishes and another ordinary Saturday continues.
It might not look particularly important.
But childhood is made from thousands of moments exactly like these.
A meal.
A lesson.
A conversation.
A prayer.
A game.
A Saturday afternoon spent together.
We often recognise the significance of these moments only much later.
Because children aren't simply filling time when they play together.
They are quietly building a life together.
An ordinary Saturday
That is why photographs like these from Mme Soliette are worth keeping.
They don't show us a project or a programme.
They give us a small window into childhood.
Children sitting beside one another.
Watching.
Playing.
Growing up together.
There are bigger moments in every child's story, of course.
First days at school.
Birthdays.
Achievements.
Celebrations.
But a childhood cannot be made only from big moments.
It needs ordinary ones too.
Unhurried moments when nothing particularly important seems to be happening.
Except friendship.
Belonging.
Memory.
Life together.
One ordinary moment at a time.
Perhaps that is why these photographs are worth looking at for a little longer.
Because somewhere in the middle of an ordinary Saturday game, something is happening that a photograph can never quite capture.
Children are growing up together.
The game will finish.
The Saturday will pass.
But perhaps that is how some of the best parts of childhood are made.
Not through extraordinary moments.
Just someone beside you.
Something to play.
And time together.
STAY CLOSE TO THE STORY
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From time to time, we’ll share more stories from Mme Soliette and the children — little glimpses of everyday life, moments of hope and news from the Children’s Village.
