Toys from Africa by Melvin Sharty
As kids growing up in Kenema, in the east of Sierra Leone, we loved drawing, creating models of cars, boats, and jets out of paper. To produce a miniature vehicle, we would spend hours trying to understand exactly how the wheels turn, and then recreate it. We would also use pieces of cardboard and glue to make televisions because our parents could not afford one. We would light an oil lamp inside it to light up the paper screen, providing moving shadows. When we made these toys, our parents would scold us. They would even flog us and tell us to stop bringing scraps from the dustbin into the compound. Now I know that what was unique about these childhood inventions is that we were observant and would pay attention to details.
Between childhood and adulthood, those toys, and the inspiration we got from inventing them faded because no one thought anything of it. Our general science classes in schools focused solely on teaching about inventions from the West, miles away from our environment. Nobody paid attention to what was unique about our toys.
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When I started traveling to the West, I developed a love for visiting museums. So, whenever I travel to a new city for work, school, or vacation, I always make sure to stop by a museum. More than anything else, museums are spaces where I learn, connect, and find inspiration. Now I know that the childhood spirit of wanting to make or create something is still in me.
Recently, I visited the American Museum of Natural History in New York. It was busy with visitors from all around the world having different accents and attires. At the grand entrance, we were greeted by security guards and a sculpture bearing a message about the museum’s mission since its founding in 1869. On the ground floor, I was met with the imposing skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex resting on an elevated platform. It was awe-inspiring to stand before one of the largest creatures to ever roam the Earth, with its massive jaws, fearsome teeth, and tiny arms. I saw parents and their kids playing around it. I too couldn’t resist taking some selfies with the skeleton in the background.
Photo Credit: Melvin Sharty
I then proceeded to the third floor where my inspiration to write this reflection was sparked. Everybody was busy taking pictures or just staring at the magnitude of wonder and creativity in front of them. However, there was one exhibition that didn’t get enough attention, perhaps because it was quite different from all the other exhibitions. I went there immediately.
The exhibition was labelled, “African Ethnography.” To my surprise, it was a collection of toys from Africa made of tins and cans—the same kinds of toys we used to make as kids. “Why are they here?” I wondered. And then, when I read further, I learnt that it was “to show people about the creativity of Africa’s kids.” I giggled. Are these not the same toys we used to make out of scraps as kids? I thought to myself. The exhibits were exact replicas of the toys I had made when I was a kid. Back then, we would use a knife to cut open the milk tin, a stone to flatten it, and with our bare hands, put all parts together to form slippers and various kinds of shapes.
'So silly,” that’s how the adults in our neighborhood would describe us because they didn’t know what our driving force was. They didn’t know that as kids, we were trying to find solutions, we were curious, and wanted to reinvent the world around us.
These toys didn’t inspire our parents, neither were our teachers excited by them, but here they were in one of the world’s most prestigious museums on exhibition for people from all around the world to see. I was amused. As I took some time to see more, I wondered, who gets the benefits out of this? Is it the western world?
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At the age of twelve, a Sierra Leonean boy named Kevin Doe, taught himself engineering by building his own radio station in Freetown. Doe had also built a generator from scrap metals collected from dustbins in his neighborhood.
Jeremiah Thoronka, at fourteen, invented a device that uses kinetic energy from traffic and pedestrian congestion in Freetown to generate clean power.
Photo Credit: Melvin Sharty
Both innovators now live abroad where they are highly recognized and supported. This supports my point that if we cannot invest in our human capital, the West would come to invest in them and take them away. There are hundreds of examples of Jeremiah, Doe, and even me, kids who are out there in Africa, but would never take their inventions forward because people in their community never believed in them. What we considered as mere toys from Africa are all over the western world in museums, universities, offices, schools, and businesses.
I think that as Africans, we don’t often value what we have within our reach. The fact that I was seeing toys taken out African soil exhibited in the United States made me realize the importance of valuing our own ingenuity and creativity. Too often, we look elsewhere for inspiration or innovation, we overlook the treasures that are right in front of us, whether it’s in our communities, our forests, or our backyards. We rebuke our kids from playing or making things or asking questions. We criticize ourselves for trying new ideas. We are satisfied with old ways of thinking and doing.
We must start paying attention to the talents of our children, our youth, and our adults. Only then can we truly tap into the human capital of every person and realize the richness that surrounds us.
Africans- invest, support, and build your toys so the world would buy.
Melvin Sharty is the co-author of "Talking Kapok Tree & Other Short Stories", and author of "A Gift for Failure (a novella). Melvin lives in Harlem, New York where he works for a non-profit. During his free time, he enjoys writing, visiting museums, or playing soccer.
