Shatong

Shatong: Sticks, Dirt, and Childhood Grit

Shatong was one of the many games we often played as kids, especially on lazy afternoons when the sun dipped just low enough to give us shade. It was simple, no batteries or screens needed—just two sticks and a patch of dirt. One was the mama stick, longer and sturdy, and the other was the baby stick, short and mischievous.

The game began with one player using the mama stick to launch the baby stick out of a small hole in the ground. The goal? To send it flying far enough that the opposing team couldn’t catch it. If they did catch it, that was it—your team lost the turn. But if the baby stick touched the ground, the real fun began.

The launching team would take off running toward the furrow, shouting “Shaaaatooooooong!” at the top of their lungs. It wasn’t just for drama—if you couldn’t reach the furrow in one breath, your team’s score wouldn’t count. The one who launched the stick stayed behind, watching and hoping.

If the runner made it to the furrow without stopping or gasping, the distance from where the baby stick landed to the furrow was measured using the mama stick. And if, during the launch, the baby stick was hit just right—a clean, flying hit—the score would double.

There were no referees. No timers. Just voices, laughter, and maybe the occasional argument over how many stick-lengths to count. But it was ours. A game born of dust and imagination, and one that made us feel like champions.