Hats & Glasses Camp

I am back from camp and am excited to share the adventure with you.  (This one is a little long... my apologies, but there is a lot I want to share.)  For those of you who hadn’t read my last post, we took 25 students from Khayamandi, ages 15-21 on a 3-day camp about 4 hours Northwest of Cape Town on the Atlantic coast.  I helped as one of the leaders/staff.  We were supposed to take 1 big bus for the 30 of us, but the bus broke down so they arrived with two smaller 15 passenger busses.  We crammed everything in and took off for the adventure.  The students were full of life and throughout at least 1/2 of the trip they sang beautiful worship songs in the bus.  I was amazed at how many American songs they knew by heart.  The kids are very loud.  It is part of their culture.  They talk loud, sing loud, laugh loud.  They are full of energy and I could feel the excitement as we drove to the coast.   I don’t think the kids realized we were taking them to the coast, but it was awesome to see their smiles and their excited faces when we finally pulled up and saw the amazing shore line with huge waves crashing over.  Everyone clapped and hooted.  It was awesome.

From the very beginning I was absolutely amazed at the kids spirit, their good sportsmanship and their willingness to engage in our activities without any negotiations or complaints.   The first night we had a true Afrikaans Braii and the kids cooked their own meat outside.  We surprised them before they could eat, by tying one of their arms tightly behind their back and the other arm secured with bamboo out straight so they couldn’t bend their arm.  The purpose of this was to see if they would engage in a team effort to feed each other.  Immediately they were scooping the food for each others plates, pouring each others drinks and laughing the whole time.   I painfully watched all the kids try to feed each other, with ketchup running down their faces or drinks spilling down their shirts.  It was hilarious.  I walked around and ate my food with free hands smiling.

After their dinner, we had a session and then told them to go get some warmer clothes on.  I heard no complaints, only enthused spirits and questioning eyes.  They returned promptly and at 11:30pm the staff split them into their teams, gave them each a couple of 2 x 4’s and some bamboo sticks to carry.  We then walked them 1.5 hours by moonlight only on a cliff trail into the unknown.   They were in good spirits, and again singing more worship songs.  I was one of the sweepers at the back and was quite behind the group as I waited for their bathroom breaks.  After an hour & a half of walking we all stopped and each group was told that we were going to have some prayer time for our safety.  (The kids still didn’t know why they were carrying the wood.)  The kids immediately broke into little groups with their arms around each other and prayed out loud.  As I stood their in the moonlight watching I couldn’t believe how passionate they were about prayer.  I ended up in a group prayer with my team and although most prayed in Xhosa I could understand the meaning and the intensity.  During my prayer some of the kids acknowledged what I was saying with a “Yes Lord” or other comments.  I was a little taken back as I am not used to praying out loud.... nor having anyone really appreciate what I had to say.

After some prayer we explained what was going to happen.  In each team we picked out one person to be blind, one person without arms, one person without legs and one who was mute.  I tied my team up and blind folded them, which left only left 2-3 people without ailments.  Their mission was to get the teammate with no legs back to camp without ever once touching the ground.  We gave them rope and told them that they could build whatever needed to carry their team mate. (Our thoughts were they would build a stretcher.)  Of course the person without arms couldn’t help much, nor could the person without sight - and that person would need to be led all the way back by someone.   My team surprised me with a very quick decision not to build anything.  As I was watching the other teams discuss options my team was way ahead already carrying their 2 x 4’s and bamboo with the girl on one of their backs.  I literally had to run to catch up with them after I realized they were gone.   So for the next 2.5 hours the 2-3 people without ailments took turns carrying the girl or putting the 2x4’s on their shoulders and having the girl sit on top of the wood.  Not ONCE did I hear any of my team complain.  They were hurting and struggling and the blind girl was tripping and every once in a while the girl without arms would say “Sis Katie, can you please push back?”  and I would push back her hoody that was slipping in her eyes.   

I could do nothing but walk with them, watch their pain, and listen to their conversations.  They never once cheated.  The girl never once touched the ground.   I felt my shoulders tense as I was so nervous they were all going to fall on this rocky road.  I somehow felt their pain and felt guilt.  But, they never asked me to help.  I had the only torch (flashlight) and was desperately trying to point light in everyones directions, but the guys were much faster and the blind one was slower so I couldn’t get to everyone.  I thought about my own 19 year old nephew and his American friends and how much they would be complaining or cheating or be in a bad mood about the adventure.  These kids were determined and used amazing team work during each transition of the girl and communicated with one another.  I was so impressed.  I thought about how we couldn’t get away with something like this in America - we would need forms filled out and waivers signed,  medical releases and God forbid someone was to get hurt they probably would try to sue.   There was none of that.   I heard that one of the other teams, the girl fell off the stretcher when it collapsed.  I never heard her complain that night or the next day.   These kids had patience and perseverance like I’ve never seen.   I was astonished and thankful to witness it.

My team arrived back at camp around 3:45a.m.  They were the first team.  Exhausted they fell onto the grass and didn’t say much but we all exchanged huge smiles!  Their reward for getting first place was to get to bed earlier.  We had some coffee, blew our noses and they went to bed.  I realized my roommate was on another team and had my cabin key.  Crap.  I think I got to bed around 4:30a.m or so.   The next morning after breakfast we had a debriefing session about how each one of them felt.  Again, not a single complaint.  I couldn’t believe it.

The 3 days were packed full of sessions, meals and activities.  There were laughter, tears and serious moments.  I was impressed with the kids - they paid attention, they participated, they were on time and they listened to whatever instruction was given to them.  They weren’t out of control like normal American teenagers.  They were disciplined, respectful, encouraging and happy.  When they did have some free time they were dancing, kicking a soccer ball or telling stories.  I spent most of the time in the kitchen preparing meals, cooking, serving and cleaning up.  It was an awesome feeling.  I enjoyed every minute of it.  On the second night I was in charge of the entire dinner for 30 people.  I was frantically in the kitchen with various pots and pans going at once.  I was chopping onions, shredding cheese, stirring that, frying this, boiling, baking...etc, etc.  It was fun - and I don’t even enjoy cooking.  For 3 days I prepared breakfast, lunch, dinner, juice, coffee and snacks.  And when I was done cleaning I would join them in their sessions and it always seemed although I was late, that I was needed at that very moment to give an example or answer a difficult question.  I was the younger staff that could answer the tough ones and relate more to their situations.  I knew God was using me every minute of that trip and I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

During the dating session one of the kids asked what was proper in regards to boundaries and they asked if God was okay with kissing.  To give you a little back-ground info, the Khayamandi culture is to have sex at a very young age.  It is expected and it is the way they think they are loved.  They don’t have the word “like” in their vocabulary.  Only “love”.  So the minute you are dating they tell each other they “love” them and they are engaging in sex.  It is very sad.   The kids at the camp were all believers or seekers.  They realize that God wants a better life for them and that if you read the Bible it states very clearly that God wants us to be pure and not engage in sexual immorality.  They all obviously struggle with this, since it is a very normal part of their culture, (like witchcraft and other ancestor issues.)  So here they are asking ME about purity.  I am far but pure.  I have so many regrets in my own life that I thought to myself “How in the world can I help these kids?”  So I was honest.  I told them that I struggle in some areas as well... that I have learned that I need to set my own boundaries and know my limits.  I answered their kissing question in logical sequence.  I told them that a simple kiss could be innocent and pure with the right intentions but if you weren’t with the right person and didn’t communicate about your boundaries that it could turn evil.  A simple smooch could turn into a passionate kiss.  A passionate kiss could turn into some light touching.  Light touching to heavy touching.  That could lead to clothes coming off, which leads to worse things.  At some point you have no will power and then have regrets.   They all seemed to understand this example and realize how a simple kiss could not be so innocent.   I made some suggestions and I basically told them what I wanted of myself, what I wished I could be.  I told them what I knew God wanted in all of us.   Of course I didn’t dish out all of my issues, but the point was that our God is a forgiving God and still loves us no matter how many times we mess up.  No matter how much we beat ourselves up for our mistakes and think that we don’t deserve his love, He loves us unconditionally.  He picks us up when we fall, brushes the mud off of us and still loves us.   I am not sure if my stories helped them, but from the looks of their expressions, the nods of their heads, the whispers in Xhosa, I think that they understood.   

The main leader Mbongeni gave a perfect illustration to summarize and wrap up the dating session.  He held out an apple and explained that he was a on a very long journey and he had the most precious gift to give his friend at the end of the journey.  He walked around the circle and said “Oh, well you look nice and trusting, maybe I will give you just a small bite of my apple.” and the girl bit a small bite.  Then he went to the next one and said “Oh you are cute, you look hungry, you deserve some apple, just take a small bite.”  and she bit.  He did this with a few more girls and they all took chunks out of his apple, some big, some small.   When he got to the end to the person he was supposed to give this most precious gift to - he had nothing left but a horrible looking apple core, with seeds showing and turning brown.  The gift wasn’t so appealing anymore.  It wasn’t whole.  It was taken.  It was a mess.  The illustration was to point out that we give away our hearts, our confidence, our emotions, our trust, our bodies, our dignity WAY too often and by the time we find the right one for us... our soul mate, the one God had planned for us all along, we might not have any confidence left.  We have nothing left and feel that we have nothing to offer.  We feel ugly - both emotionally and physically.  Mentally we are drained and have nothing to give.   We don’t think we deserve love.  We blindly turn our backs on it and continue down a path of self destruction. 

I thought about my own life.  My own self destruction.  My own illustrated apple.  My apple is so down to the core that in fact, truthfully I am on my second apple.   I am ashamed of my apple.  I am ashamed of my second apple.  I am hoping that my second apple is a super GMO apple and has more life to it.   (That acronym is for all my nerdy friends.)   That session really impacted me.  I needed that session more than I realized and I was thankful to be part of it.  Maybe God will use my mistakes to impact someone.  Maybe just one person.  That would be enough.

But the best part of the camp is yet to be told.  There were 3 Americans who were here for a short-term missions trip to help with the camp.  The older couple were the parents of one of the staff who was on the Swaziland trip and then another lady who was part of their church.  The older couple were my parents age, which somehow made me feel more at home, so I quickly bonded with them and tried to help them as much as I could.  The other lady was maybe in her 40’s (?) I have no idea. She was married, with 2 kids and seemed to have it all together.   But what I quickly realized was the poor thing was so anxiety ridden, a complete control freak and easily agitated.  I felt horrible for her.  I didn’t realize how much only 1 month of “South African time” had affected and changed me.  Nothing is on time in this country.  You might have a detailed agenda with time slots, but trust me... they are not using it.  South African time is always off.  They don’t worry.  They don’t stress.  They might be 2-3 hours off agenda and no one cares.   For the stressed out, neurotic, control freak American going off schedule is a serious problem that inevitably will make someone in a bad mood.  This poor woman was in a constant stressed out stage.  She looked haggard.  None of the meals were on time.  None of the sessions were on time.  None of the activities were on time.  The meals were improvised on many occasions depending on the mood or what we decided to use.   We didn’t care about the menu that they made or the list of items that were supposed to be used at each slot.   Myself, being mainly in the kitchen, was impacted by this stressed out American.  Everything I seemed to do or suggest was wrong.  She knew better.  She corrected.  She needed control of something.   I saw this immediately and let her do her thing even when I secretly disagreed.  I just kindly said “okay.”  and would do it her way.   I felt horrible for her.   Here she was at this beautiful camp with underprivileged amazing children from Khayamandi and she was missing all the Joy.  She was letting every little detail upset her.  She couldn’t relax.  She was like the chick in “Eat, Pray, Love” that went to Italy and didn’t know what to do with herself.  Sadly I thought “Chill Woman”  and jokingly thought how much she needed a glass of wine.  What surprised me most when I said that to myself was that I DIDN’T need a glass of wine.  I never once in the 3 days felt like I needed a drink or a chill pill or something to relax me.  It was an awesome feeling.  

I recognized this only because sadly I saw part of myself in her.   I watched her almost in tears at times upset because we were off schedule and she didn’t know how to handle it.  As I cheerfully hummed around the kitchen happy to be in the exact place I was, she was busy giving orders and correcting everyone else in the kitchen.  She missed all the times when the kids would stand at the doorway smiling at me and say “Sis Katie, may I please have....?”  and she missed the times that I stood there watching them laugh, joke, play around, enjoy their meals and realize how much these kids appreciated every minute of this camp.  Every meal.  Every sunset.  Every word spoken or taught.  Every tear.  Every hug.   She was wrapped up in her stressed out, spoiled American life taking everything way too seriously and turning mole hills into mountains.    At that point I realized how much just one month had changed me.   I was that stressed out American.  I got wrapped up in the tiny details.  I missed all the Joy.  I must have drove all my friends nuts!  In South Africa if one is late to a meeting, the others don’t give them the evil eye or shake their heads or secretly have negative thoughts thinking “I was on time.  Why can’t you be?!”  In South Africa one shows up 15 minutes (or more) late to a meeting and people look up, smile a genuine smile and go back to the meeting.  They don't need to hear an excuse.  They don't talk to that late person afterwards and drill them for their reason of lateness or scold them.  They just accept it and are happy that the person was there with them.  It is such a different life.  I could really get used to this life.

So on the last day when we were finishing our last session, making up the sandwiches and snacks for the bus ride home suddenly a wrench was thrown in.  It was a beautiful day.  Everyone was in high spirits.  We had a final lunch outside on the steps and had some closing remarks.  The leaders were asked to share some closing remarks.  When it came to my turn I started off good and then suddenly out of no where got choked up and couldn’t talk.  I had some of the kids sincerely say “Awww...” and put their arms around me.  I didn’t know where it came from - but what I was trying to get out was that I was there to serve THEM and that I thought I probably ended up getting more out of it then they did.  I cried a bit and then got tough again and told them that although the other Americans were leaving that I was here for another 5 months and opened an invitation for any of them to come talk to me or find me at the learning center if they wanted a friend.   I got a few personal eye contacts of positive nods or “okays”.   But the best part was....after we were done with lunch -  the bus was late.   The Americans were freaking out.  I sat there with Mbgondeni and we talked and talked not even caring that the bus was 2 hours late.  I got to know him.  The neurotic, stressed-out control freak kept coming up interrupting us asking “Has anyone called? What are we going to do?  This is unacceptable!”  I asked Mbgondeni if No No had called the driver and he simply said “I don’t know.”  After about 2.5 hours No No decided to call and it turns out the busses hadn’t even left Stellenbosch yet.   They still had a 4 hour drive to come get us.    The Americans were speechless.   I sat there with my Khayamandi crew and giggled. I kicked around a soccer ball with them.  Not once did I care at all... and that really surprised me. 

So the kids were delighted and wanted to go swimming.  The Americans were upset and demanding that we didn’t let them swim and that they “wouldn’t be responsible for them.”   We were kicked out of our rooms, had no way to shower or clean up.  In the end the kids went swimming.  I was happy for them.  I went down with them to supervise hoping I wouldn’t have to jump into that cold water to get them.   They screamed, they laughed, they rolled in the sand, they jumped into the waves... they enjoyed every second of it.   The Americans stayed stressed out.   The kids had no way to shower or change, but they didn’t care.  They changed out in the open letting it all hang out.  They didn’t complain about the sand in their hair or the lack of facilities.  After a couple hours we got the remaining food back out from the boxes we had packed and threw together some sandwiches for dinner and used the remaining snacks that were meant for the bus ride home.  The kids were fine.  They played Domino’s, some slept on the ground, some played soccer and others just sat and talked.  We all watched the sunset together.   The busses finally arrived at 8:30pm,.....just 7.5 hours late.   We didn’t get back into Stellenbosch till 1:30am.  It was dangerous for the kids at that hour, so the bus driver had to drive through Khayamandi and drop each one off at their shack and find their bags in the trailer.   I had also missed my ride and it was too dangerous for my friend to come in to pick me up, or for me to stand outside waiting.  So I ended up going with the Americans to their hostel.  

At 2am as I finally laid down in bed I smiled thinking about everything.... I knew God was laughing up there as I was stuck sharing the bed of the neurotic, stressed-out, anxiety ridden, control freak who quickly took her sleeping pills and had no words to say to me but “Good Night.”   I laid there staring at the ceiling and then what I think I heard next was her grinding her poor teeth.  I chuckled and put my ear plugs in.   

Are you missing the Joy in everyday life?