Once upon a time, in the vast and breathtaking landscapes of Luckhoff, a small farming town nestled in the heart of the Free State in South Africa, me a young adventurer embarked on a remarkable journey. This was no ordinary expedition; it was a quest fueled by curiosity and a hunger for adventure. My weapon of choice? A slingshot, known locally as a “kettie” or “catty.”

Together with a band of farm boys, we would venture into the wilderness, seeking the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of providing for ourselves. In the icy grip of winter, when the biting cold permeated the air, we would converge in the rustic “skuur,” a sanctuary filled with the aroma of an open flame. There, surrounded by nature’s grandeur, we would skillfully aim their trusty slingshots to bring down birds, whose succulent meat would sizzle on the fire, warming our souls and fueling our adventures.

The slingshots we wielded were not the store-bought contraptions found in cities; they were handcrafted masterpieces, a testament to resourcefulness and ingenuity. We scoured the outdoors, their eyes attuned to the secrets of nature, seeking the perfect forked branches—sturdy, yet manageable—unearthed by time and weather. These treasures, discovered effortlessly beneath our very feet, would serve as the foundation of our weapons.

To construct the slingshots, we repurposed the inner tubes of worn-out tractor tires, each type possessing its own distinct qualities. The coveted red rubber tubes, approximately 2 millimeters thick, were the most sought-after by both adults and children. Carefully, we would slice away a strip of animal skin, cured with salt and deftly softened by rubbing, to fashion the durable pouches. Working with pocket knives, our hands occasionally bearing the proud scars of youthful exuberance, we meticulously bored holes and shaped the bands with precision, relying on sheep shears for the cleanest, sharpest cuts.