Tire Swing over the Snake Pit

I'm taking this blog entry opportunity as a walk down memory lane. I cannot express how many times I'll be in a middle of a conversation with friends, and they start talking about this TV show or cartoon that came out when we were kids. They turn to me and ask if I recall watching that, or try to verify the name of the TV show with me; usually all they get from me is a blank stare and a look of utter confusion before they finally realize, oh yea, "she's a foreigner." This is just a sneak peek of what I did instead of watching the latest cable TV shows. I realize the title is quite odd. Who has a snake pit in their back yard, and why would someone put a tire swing over it? I’ll tell you who- me and my siblings, because we’re that weird.

First of all, to clarify, the snake pit, although it did have its occasional snake appearance, was mostly a small valley area (rather than a pit) with overgrown trees and grass that made for unlimited amount of entertainment, and I honestly cannot count how many memories I have playing down there and exploring as a child.

Second of all, when I say “backyard,” we lived on a compound area until I was sixteen, so our “backyard” was the entire compound (and it was our playground as well). The snake pit wasn’t directly outside our backyard. You had to walk up a hill to another building we called “The Hilton” (no, not Paris Hilton, Hilton) and the snake pit was behind that.

Thirdly, the area that we put the tire swing, although when swinging out you did get an excellent view of the snake pit, had about two levels of terraces before you actually got to the snake pit area.

Now that everything is clarified, I can finally proceed to my childhood story- tire swing over the snake pit. (I was about 8-10 years old at this time.) This tire swing was an endless source of entertainment. At the time, there were only four of us left at home and I was the youngest. We would sit in the middle of the tire swing, on top, or even stand up, swinging out over the snake pit, feeling the thrill of having about a 20 foot drop below us, feeling the air in our face as we swung back and forth (trying not to hit the tree on our return).

One day, it was my turn to take a joy ride on the tire swing over the snake pit. I climbed on top of the swing, locked my feet into the inside of the tire, held onto the rope and allowed my older siblings to push me out over the snake pit with quite force, I might add. I don’t really recall how it happened, nor did I even realize it was happening, but all of the sudden, I realized I wasn’t on the swing anymore, but instead, in a pill of pine-cones and needles about 15 feet down on a lower terrace. Yes, I fell off the tire swing, into the snake pit.

THEN all the sudden I felt something moving underneath me. I looked around and saw and black, 9 foot long snake peeping its head out of the pine-cones and needles. Ok, just kidding, this part didn’t really happen. But everything up to the snake part is true, though. I did really fall off the tire swing into the snake pit. How I happened to avoid rocky terraces, trees, and everything else that could have been potentially dangerous, and instead fallen into a bed of pine-cones and needles that, although a little itchy, cushioned my fall, is nothing short of a miracle.

That’s my childhood. Instead of sitting inside watching the latest cartoon that came out on cable TV, I was in the Middle East, swinging on tire swings over a snake pit. (I don’t view my childhood as being deprived.)