Another worldwide camp tradition: "the crazy pic."
C-A-M-P.
Also replaced by !&$#!.
Also known as “the spirit killer” that has descended upon all of us volunteers like a plague. Okay, I’m being dramatic… it hasn’t been that bad.
(But before I let the story fly, we’re going to take explanatory pause: I feel as though I am ratting some conspiracy by relating to you the background of this event as it represents some significant developmental failures on behalf of the both of the entities I work with: The Despacho de la Primera Dama and, consequently, Peace Corps. Yet, I feel that while this specific story reflects as a whole the potential dysfunction of development work, it also may help provide understanding as to why development work is so immensely difficult to achieve and quantify. So… I’m telling you like it is… the good, bad and the ugly…)
First: THE IDEA. Summer camps.
Who doesn’t love’ em? You consume enormous amounts of fruit punch, play games and yell a lot. I remember one camp I went to when I was little, Pine Crest. Every year, we Pinecresters participated in a mud-march called the “Swamp Tramp” in which the counselors would herd us all into one long line and take us through parts of the Mississippi … basically meant wading in chest-deep mud. (I think this activity was later taken out after several kids came too close to water moccasins.) Every year there were hilarious stories. Every year there was camp drama (usually involving some puppy dog love triangle…). Camp = magical.
The Despacho’s idea required every center to host 80 daily participants. 80. 40 really young kids (3-7) in the morning and 40 kids (8-12) in the afternoon. The camp would run two weeks. It’s theme: Water Conservation.
…
Water Conservation … in the Dominican Republic where water “comes” and just is not always there… The reasoning behind all of this remains one huge mystery. Although, one educated guess would probably be that the program received outside funding under the condition that the institution would include such thematic material during its fiscal year. (This would not be the first time the DPD has had to do such things…that’s why I’m banking on this reasoning.. because… otherwise….)
2. THE PLAN. No plan.
Just the theme and a little training in the capital given to some workers who happen to get the email and were able to attend. No schedule. Nada.
I tried some pre-planning with my group to no avail.
We were given bags of t-shirts, boxes of juice, boxes of little cupcakes and art supplies (although the latter was pretty random stuff…). Which meant at least, we wouldn’t have to spend money we don’t have. (The center stopped charging for its services which makes it completely dependent on those in the capital… remember what I said about grants in #1? yeah…)
3. WHAT HAPPENED. Camp happened.
I got on YouTube the night before. I downloaded some of BBC’s Blue Planet episodes off the site along with several water-cycle videos. I searched coloring pages for the young ones…. you know.. like a cartoon fish wearing a gas mask because the river he’s jumping out of is filled of trash… stuff like that.
We played games – lots of them. Some worked. Some didn’t. Everything was like a trail run. We thought of it on the spot, and we did it. Not exactly how things go down back home.
The Despacho told us we were to cancel all other activities except for classes. We cut the time frame in half when we realized the food wouldn’t last two weeks, and we worked with what we had.
There were little complaints about how the camp unfolded except the occasional complaint that we had no idea what we doing (it was kind of a bonding mantra between those running the camp). The kids loved it. Everyone is seemingly used the lack of structure – except the white Peace Corps volunteer… who mostly just helped when she was needed and then took comfort from one of the juice boxes.
Funny sad and oh so true!!!