During the summers here at Camp Maranatha, where I live and work, every week begins with an invasion and ends with a hasty evacuation. The week begins with 200+ campers pouring into the grounds like an occupying force, full of energy and enthusiasm, and the end of the week finds them dragging their belongings through the dust toward an idling bus- a disorganised rabble. It's almost as if the end of the week suprises them when it comes. Counselors and staff shout instructions, encouraging stragglers to hurry up, there is one last flurry of chaotic activity and noise then all is quiet. They have evacuated ahead of the next group. Me and the rest of the staff move through the empty camp like ghosts, like villagers left behind in a bombed out village, and then the rumble and creak of tanks enter from the other side of the town. It's another week. Another invasion.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
ANOTHER WEEK.
During the summers here at Camp Maranatha, where I live and work, every week begins with an invasion and ends with a hasty evacuation. The week begins with 200+ campers pouring into the grounds like an occupying force, full of energy and enthusiasm, and the end of the week finds them dragging their belongings through the dust toward an idling bus- a disorganised rabble. It's almost as if the end of the week suprises them when it comes. Counselors and staff shout instructions, encouraging stragglers to hurry up, there is one last flurry of chaotic activity and noise then all is quiet. They have evacuated ahead of the next group. Me and the rest of the staff move through the empty camp like ghosts, like villagers left behind in a bombed out village, and then the rumble and creak of tanks enter from the other side of the town. It's another week. Another invasion.
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1 comment:
A week at Maranantha is Epic when you're a camper.
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