The Orphan's Camp

The elderly woman diverts her attention for a moment, just a moment, to the beauty of her surroundings.

Her gentle eyes take in the water around her, the delicate ripples which stimulate one another in a sort of domino effect. She remembers playing dominoes as a child. She recalls the delight her toddler self would feel when she would poke that first domino, sending to lot of them falling down.

The thought of fallen dominoes reminds her of a heartwarming scene she had witnessed at the camp, roughly a week ago. Three of the members, girls aged four, five and six, had joined hands and swung around and around until they had felt dizzy. They then collapsed onto the grass, giggling. The woman’s grey eyes twinkle as she remembers the joy which the scene had brought her. It made her heart feel full.

The woman closes her eyes for a moment and listens to the chirpings birds in the inland trees, to the refreshing winds gently pushing along their canoes, and the steadfast movement of the river.

“Are you ok?”

The elderly woman opens her eyes and smiles down at the source of the timid voice, a young four-year-old boy sitting in the canoe alongside her and the other children.

“Yes love, I’m alright.” She pats the boy’s wild locks of hazel hair. He beams up at her.

The elderly woman lifts her gaze from the young boy and watches another canoe, only inches behind their own. The canoe, also filled with a set of young children, is being led by a man around the same age as the elderly woman; he was in his seventies. Her husband.

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“Oh, look!” the young woman says to her husband, pointing a finger at the winding river.

There are two canoes, one led by an elderly woman and the other by an equally elderly man. She spots two canoes, each filled with young children of different races and ethnicities. The children appear to be happy and intrigued by the big friendly river and the mysteries it masks under the deep waters.

“Hmm?’ her husband says absent-mindedly, laying down blissfully on the outstretched picnic blanket. He sits up and his blissful demeanor is opted for one of surprise.

“Huh, I wonder who they are,” he muses, also intrigued. “They’re likely part of some sort of camp.”

“Careful honey!” the young woman suddenly calls out, gently reaching for the arm of her toddler. The carefree boy had innocently been making his way over to the shore of the river, fascinated by the canoeing children.

Together, the young family watch as the two canoes slowly but surely make their way down the massive, twisty turny river.

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As the elderly woman stares down at the chatting young children in her canoe, each one almost swallowed whole but their lifejacket, she feels a familiar pang of sadness. That sadness is caused by a familiar reason.

How sad it is that all of these children are less than six years old, she thinks to herself, listening to the children’s laughter. Actually, most of the children were exactly six years old , though a few were younger.

Orphaned at such a young age.

She herself had been orphaned at the age of sixteen, and at the time she had thought that to be a very young age. She had been devastated when the orphanage had brought over these incredibly young children to participate in their specialized camp. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that she had been able to share fond memories with her parents in her short time with them. A few of the children, the youngest ones, didn't remember their parents at all.

The elderly woman watches them huddle curiously around a young boy and the pretty rocks which he had collected when they had been on shore. The proud young boy is the same child who had asked her earlier if she were alright. The child displays his prized possessions.

“That one is pretty!” says a five-year-old Malaysian girl. The local orphanage sponsored children from all around the world, and particularly dealt with very young children. The girl’s parents had passed away when she was only two years old and she didn’t remember them well.

Shyly, she points to a brilliant red rock in the group and says, “May I touch it?”

The young boy nods and, with a smile, he hands the rock to the excited girl.

“That rock is really pretty!” the elderly woman agrees, admiring the beautiful shade of red. Red is her favourite colour, the colour of love.

“I like that one,” says a six-year old boy, sponsored from Egypt. He points to a simple looking, smooth grey rock. It is similar in shade to the woman’s own eyes.

“You can touch it,” the young boy says, handing it to his Egyptian friend.

“Maybe you will find more cool rocks when we return to shore,” the elderly woman says and the children nod their heads eagerly. The kids thoroughly enjoy being outdoors, to the delight of the elderly couple. The beauty of nature is so often overlooked; the elderly woman had said to her husband.

Suddenly, the elderly woman notices that one child is not part of the huddle around the rocks. A five-year-old girl sits a little further back in the massive canoe. Her eyes are fixed on the river waters, a pair of eyes which had a mature aura about them that made the Indian girl seem far older. Her eyes dart back and forth fascinatedly, as she follows the twisty turny pattern of the massive winding lake.

Sensing the elderly woman’s gaze, the Indian girl turns to face her, fixing that same mature gaze upon her. The woman smiles.

“You like the river?” she asks and the Indian girl nods.

“It’s like a snake,” she says in a low yet crystal clear voice.

The elderly woman chuckles, “It really is.”

“How’s it going you lot?”

Startled, the elderly woman turns to find the second canoe has moved forward so that it is now on the left side of her canoe, opposed to just behind it. Her husband chuckles.

“Scared you? Sorry, didn’t mean to.” With a crinkling smile, he gazes at the children who all peer up at him adoringly. They love him. He has a way with them.

In that same shy voice, the Malaysian girl asks, “Story time?”

The elderly husband beams down at her. “That’s right love. That’s why I canoed over here. Would you all like to hear another story?”

The children nod eagerly and the elderly wife smiles. Her husband is a retired pilot and a very good sailor so he has plenty of old stories to tell. The children soak them up like a sponge.

“Tell us a scary story,” the young boy with the rocks says, looking up cheekily at the massive figure of the husband.

“Oh, but not too scary,” the Malaysian girl shudders and I chuckle.

My husband smiles thoughtfully and says, “I’ve got a scary story for you but it has a happy ending. Would you like to hear it?”

All children nod.

“Alright then.”

As the two canoes steer in a snake-like fashion along the rivers, the husband begins.

“This happened to me when I had just become a pilot. I was really excited. I had wanted to fly a plane since I was…” he smiles at the young Egyptian boy and pats him on the head, “…your age. I loved planes. I wanted to fly them so badly and I finally could. “

The elderly woman smiles to herself. She’s heard this story before.

“I decided to take my best friend for a ride. He actually had no idea that I was becoming a pilot, I wanted it to be a surprise. When I told him I got my license, his face was priceless,” the old man chuckles, remembering his old friend. “I had asked him where he wanted to go and he said anywhere. He just wanted to fly. We decided to fly over Oklahoma. It was only a half an hour flight from here, easy stuff even for a beginner. We hopped in the plane and we were off. “

“Ok…la…homa,” says a three-year-old girl, spelling it out carefully with the same meticulousness of a baker icing a cake.

A sudden droplet of water lands on the nose of the unsuspecting elderly woman, and she looks up at the sky in surprise. Rain? She waits a few moments but no more droplets fall. She turns her attention back to her husband and smiles at the eager looking children. The younger handful of the children couldn’t always really understand her husband’s stories but they loved crowding around him and listening all the same.

“Yes, Oklahoma. I should have known,” the man says cryptically, then goes on. “Anyways, we were really having a good time. The sky looks so beautiful up close like that, and everything down below looked so small. The houses and trees seemed so tiny. 

We were enjoying the view when I noticed something. The skies had grown a little dark, they were grey. Then I saw droplets of water falling from the sky; rain. It was raining-"

“I love rain,” says the four-year-old boy, owner of the prized rock collection. The old man nods and smiles, crow’s feet and dimples coming into display.

“So do I, boy, but I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy it that day. At first, we didn’t care. Just a little bit of rain. No big deal. We kept flying, chatting, joking around. Then, I heard it. The first roar of thunder. That’s when I realized how much darker the skies had grown.”

“A thunderstorm?” says another six-year-old boy, a quiet sort

from South Africa.

“Scary!” shivers the Malaysian girl.

Suddenly, a shower of rain strikes the surprised group and they look up at the sky. It’s raining.

“Uh oh,” says the elderly husband, turning to look at his wife.

“Maybe we should return to shore. The kids will get soaked and we don’t want anyone catching colds.”

“I agree,” she smiles down at the disappointed expressions on a few of the children’s faces. “Don’t worry, we can go rock hunting again, instead.”

The two canoes began to turn around, winding down the river in the opposite direction.

“Um…are you going to tell us your story?” asks the South African. The elder husband’s eyes brighten.

“Yes, sorry! So, it was raining, like it is now. Then, we heard thunder. I remember being afraid but trying to hide it. I was only a beginner pilot, remember. I didn’t want to fly through a storm. That's every beginner pilot's worse nightmare. There was nowhere to land, however, so I had to keep flying.

I remember the thunder had sounded so loud. Fierce like a lion. It was scary. It was getting harder to see, too. The sky was completely dark, as if somebody had painted it black. My hands were shaking a little but I was trying to stay focused.

But then…there was lightning. Big flashes of lightning. Right in front of me. That’s when my friend and I looked at each other in fear. We didn’t want to get struck."

A sudden rumble echoes above the group. The rain is falling down more forcefully. There is another rumble; thunder. It is still a long way back to shore.

The elderly couple exchange a glance. The elderly woman remembers learning something at a young age that most kids her age had known. It’s never a good idea to be in water during a thunderstorm.

Noting the fearful expression on the faces of the drenched children, the husband says calmly, “Don’t worry. We’re heading back to shore.” Suddenly, his eyes light up as a he remembers something. He turns to his wife. “The tarpaulin!” He stops canoeing for a moment and bends down to open a hidden compartment built into the floor of the canoe. A small blue tarpaulin is found, folded up neatly and ready to be used.

“Of course!” said the wife with a laugh. “I forgot about it.” She pulls out tarpaulin from her canoe. “We had packed this just in case. Here children, you can use this to cover your heads so you don’t get wet.”

Their fears forgotten temporarily, the children laugh as they use their little fingers to drape the tarpaulin over the heads.

“I used to make forts with my blanket,” the Egyptian boy smiles.

“Like this.”

Ignoring their own drenched bodies, the elderly woman and husband try to pick up the pace with the canoeing. Thunder roars above them and the children huddle together under the tarpaulin, fear having returned. The husband looks up at the sky, fear on his weather-worn face and he prays silently that lightning won’t strike the water.

Suddenly, the Malaysian girl gasps and points a trembling finger at the clouds.

“Lightning!” she says in a quivering voice.

The husband turns and sees another clash of lightning, fortunately going from cloud to cloud and not cloud to ground.

“Don’t worry,” he says, gently. "It’s just hitting the clouds, not the water.”

It was a tense ten minutes to shore but at last, they gave a cheer of relief as they made it.

“Hurry into the camp!” the elderly woman instructs the children, the moment they reach land. The children don’t need to be told twice and, dropping the tarpaulin, they hurry to the humble, home-like building which resides only metres away.

The couple pull the two canoes far inland and hurry to join the children. As they do, the elderly woman turns back just in time to see another bolt of lightning illuminate the sky. She shudders and hurries inside.

To their surprise, they find the children surrounding a young family, a husband, wife and very young boy. The only worker in the building, their young twenty-five-year-old grandson, comes to greet them.

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“I told them to come inside and take shelter!” says the young man who let the young husband and wife in with their toddler. The young husband and wife are surprised to see the elderly couple and children they had spotted canoeing earlier. The elderly couple smile at the younger one.

“No problem at all, don’t worry!” says the elderly woman kindly, smiling at the young family. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh, I think you should dry off first!” says the young woman with a laugh. The elderly woman glances down at her drenched self and at her husband. She grins, “You’re right.”

“I think you and the children should all dry off,” the grandson says amusedly and, agreeing, the group head off. The grandson is left with the young family.

“Are they orphans?” the young husband asks quietly and the grandson nods sadly.

“Yes, they are. Our camp is paired up with a local orphanage which specifically deals with very young orphans, under the age of six or so. Sad, isn’t it? We try to give them a little bit of fun and companionship in their lives. My grandparents are really amazing and the children love them. It’s wonderful.”

“Those poor children,” the young wife says, suddenly clutching her toddler tightly. The child squeals in surprise but giggles at his mother’s affection.

“Would you look at that,” the young husband suddenly says, pointing outside with a laugh. “The storm has already stopped.”

Sure enough, the dark skies had been replaced with a glorious blue canvas. Sunshine was already beginning to beam down on the earth once again.

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“Why, the storm is gone!” the elderly husband says as the crew returns downstairs to join the grandson and young family.

“Can we look for rocks again?” the Malaysian girl asks, a shy hand clutching her arm.

“Yes, it looks like the storm is gone! Anyways, if it starts to rain again, we can hurry back inside.,’ says the elderly husband. With a smile, he turns to the young family. “Would you like to join us?”

“We would love to,” the young husband returns the smile.

The lot of them head outside and smile up at the glorious sunshine. The world was peaceful once again.

As the adults watch the children laugh and play together, looking for the most unique rocks, the Egyptian boy shyly approaches the elderly husband.

“What happened…in your story?”

The elderly husband beams down at the boy and slings an arm over his shoulder.

“Well son, it was pretty scary. We could hardly see a thing and we were afraid of being struck by lightning. Nowadays, we have great technology and our planes can generally handle being struck. Not in my day, though. But…” the elderly man finishes with a smile. “We survived. We made it. I couldn’t see a thing but I managed to keep the plane flying straight and we didn’t crash into anything. We managed to land. That’s my moral for you, kid. Always be faithful, always have hope and stay positive, no matter what life throws at

you.”

The boy nods, “Thank you.”

With that, he joins his friends. The sunshine beams down on the happy scene.