We all loved our Mal'ab, not only because we enjoyed playing games in it, but because we had understood, from a very tender age, that this was a bit of OUR land, with our very own airs and graces, and that it would always be there, waiting for us to hop and skip and be happy. I ask you, where else would Frank Iny children have gone on Friday and Saturday afternoons to give their one day weekend a purpose? and later on, who else would have provided the restrained young men and women of that time their chance to breathe, to wear the latest Burda fashions, for example, or simply to gossip? But I digress, aren't we supposed to be talking sports here?
Come with me and we will go on a tour of the place, no matter the distance between now and then. One should never look back, I know (generations of migrants will say the same), but still, it is good to talk. The playgound is a presence in my mind and you just have to click once, to download a lot of sentiments. We go in through huge iron doors, nothing greets you but open space... ahead of you is a circular garden with flowers and shrubs. On the right an enormous oval ground, in the forefront a hard area for alternate volleyball / football / badminton team play, while, at the far end, two sandy pitches for javelin / spear throwing. The outside perimeter lent itself ideally for jogging and walking. Continue straight ahead and up 10 steps, there will be a covered verandah with 4 ping pong tables. Hear the echo of the tiny white ball on the marble floor? Does it still resound? (But, who are those strangers chasing it???) Nearby two changing rooms, one for the girls...it doubled for ballet tuition as well- one for the boys; the snack bar was in between- it sold fresh crisps and coca cola. Down the steps again to the the tennis courts: 2 doubles and one singles, with wire fence only so everyone could enjoy watching ... Unfortunately, the singles court had permanent pock marks in the ground. Never mind, you quickly learn the direction the ball will bound then SMASH A HIT. Nearby, two wooden horses for flexing muscles... and there you have it, not exactly your average country club if we are talking posh. But then, efficient use was made of all the facilities; so think a bit like business dot com, think well done!
No matter if it was romantic summer or freezing winter, people lingered on in the weekends, watching the teams play under the stars below a canopy of bulbs. Or (more honestly) maybe the girls watched and the men did the work. There were benches strewn imaginatively all around the Mal'ab so people could indulge in the Iraqi Jews' favourite pastime, which is talk, talk and more talk. Mind you as this invariably leads to laughter and good cheer, I approve of it, I swear. Always, there were people waiting for their turn to play ping pong and tennis so we definitely needed more resources, but nobody sought to buy or build any, maybe we suspected that our stay on those shores was approaching its end... A grand competition was held once a year with prizes given by a Jewish or a sports Personality, and then they added tug of war and sack races for the children. It was all very informal. But all this scenario did nurture a spirit in tune with future challenges. My young cousin sustained frequent injuries to body and limb from a long list of 'worst enemies' at football, and I also remember the referee always blowing on his whistle, can anyone think why?
People of my generation should not miss the Mala'b- no, not at all. Or at least let's convince ourselves that we don't. It was a haunt for our youth, and we are young no longer...can we really squeeze it in together with bridge, dinner parties and satellite t.v.!! never mind the responsibilities!! It was a place to act out games, but our life has proved to be the best of games... and as for the children, they will not miss it either: surely the world and all of its dot coms are pastures aplenty.