This is a letter I sent to friends and family after camp in 2000.

Dear friends,

I’m back from camp, and for a change, reasonable healthy.  It was a great time, as always.  I wish to thank you, as do all the children at camp, for your kind and generous support this year.  I had a wonderful time, as did the children.  Their most common complaint was that camp was ending so soon.  Several told me that these were the best two weeks of their lives.  One of the girls, a returnee from last year, told us that, whenever she got blue or depressed, she would find her camp diary form last year, read the entries, and immediately be cheered up.  You are doing a wonderful thing in supporting these children.

This year we had some 350 children, a few more than last year.  As before, the children were split into three groups.  The younger ones, ages 12 to 17, were split among two campuses, Basa Ukraina and Basa Avanthard.  The older kids, those of college age, were once more up on Mahora, a survival camp up on a mountain.

This year, as always, the most of the children arrived, by train, in the middle of the night.   They had travelled long distances, and many of them had been en route for two or more days.  They were tired but excited. There were many happy reunions, as kids from previous years returned and recognized us.   We rounded them up, sorted them out, walked them to their assigned camps, and put them to bed for the night.   The following morning, they received their supplies (shoes, clothing, toiletries,etc.) , showered, and had their medical exams. 

Basa Ukraina is right in the heart of Vorohta, a town of sanitoriums in the Carpathian mountains.  It is the larger of the two bases, and there were over two hundred children from 19 internaty (orphanage-schools) there. 

Basa Avanthard , my camp, is some two kilometers out of town, but only a ten minute walk from the natural spring that supplied all of our drinking water.  It is also the summer home of the Ukrainian National Ski Jump team, although they were on holiday this summer while we were there.  In previous years we had the opportunity to watch them practice  jumping every morning.  We had some 140 children from 14 internaty at our camp.

Basa Mahora was a rough, tough survival sort of camp up in the mountains, run by mountain men Bo and Orchyck.  The kids there were those who had been to camp in previous years and been recognized as having potential, but were too old to return to regular camp.  All were attending some higher institution of learning, many thanks to scholarships provided by HUHTC.  They spent their time on long, multi-day treks through the mountains.

Our younger kids had a more formal program.  Every minute of every day (almost) was scheduled and accounted for.  At 0715 the whistles would blow and we would all rise (well, most of us.....); at 0730 we would gather outside for zbirka––first we had morning calisthenics, then the order of the day would be read, and then we would repeat the Lord’s Prayer and sing the Ukrainian National Anthem (“Ukraine has not Died Yet”).

After that would be a filling, if not necessarily tasty, hot breakfast.  Then the work of the day would begin.  The children would go off to their “maysternyi”--group sessions which could be didactic, interactive, or a combination of both.  This year our sessions included

                                    History (early 20th century Ukrainian)

                                    Floral Arts

                                    Mass Media

                                    Psychology

                                    Spirituality

                                    Health

                                    Social Interaction

                                    Kozak Martial Arts

                                    Singing/Traditions/Folklore

                                    Petrikivsky Painting

                                    Handcrafts

                                    Sports

                                    Mountain Climbing

The first eleven sessions were once weekly during the two weeks.  Sports was twice a week, plus the equipment was available during the kids’ free time and during their small-group sessions in the afternoon.  The kids learned to play baseball, and had a great time riding the bikes around and around and around and around the compound.  ( I am convinced that there are a few of them who spent their entire two weeks doing nothing but riding the bikes.)  Mountain climbing was a once a week, all day long affair.  In the first week, the kids climber Hoverla, the highest mountain in Ukraine.  In the second week, they hiked through the mountains to the Nesamovite Ozero (Haunted/Frenzied Lake), fourteen kilometers each way through breath-taking scenery.  One group got to do both trips in the rain and cold.

My maysternya was health this year (not Easter egg making, like last year), as I was the camp physician and medical director.  I had done the same thing two years ago, so I merely had to recreate all my notes (I had leant them out and they had not been returned) and make posters.  Anna, who taught the same thing at the other Basa, gave me a set of her notes (in Ukrainian!) and some Canadian health posters.  In the end, it turned out surprisingly well. 

The first week, we did a”getting to know each other” activity, and then discussed alcohol and tobacco, and a bit about drugs, subjects about which the kids had a lot of knowledge–– many of them came from alcoholic homes, and all of them had been exposed to smoking.  Most of them had a well-founded fear of alcohol, having seen the worst of what it could do.  They knew a lot about tobacco, too––partly because of the government’s new anti-smoking campaign, and partly because so much of the population smokes.  One of our activities was listing brand names of cigarettes; one of the groups (of young girls) knew thirty seven!!!!!

I then had the kids make, individually or in groups, various health-related posters.  They were allowed to pick the subject of their choice, and had access to markers, crayons and colored pencils.  They loved this, and really got into the planning and execution of the art work.  As and added bonus, I decided to have a competition, with judging and prizes to be awarded the following week.  The posters they created were amazing, with styles ranging from abstract expressionism to highly realistic to allegorical.  Subjects included smoking, alcohol, drugs, AIDS, and various combinations of the above.  Some were so heart-felt, that I knew they sprang from personal tragedy.  One, my personal favorite, looked like Edvard Munch’s The Scream on acid; I hung it in my room for quite a long time.

The second week we broached the subjects of relationships, sexuality and HIV/AIDS (called SNID in Ukrainian).   These are inseparable, and are particularly important to these kids.  Ukraine had the highest growth rate of AIDS of any European nation, and no medical infrastructure to deal with it.  The children knew quite a bit about AIDS and its transmission; their health education has been good.  They also believed quite a few myths (e.g.  transmission of AIDS by mosquitoes) that I did my best to debunk.  We discussed how to avoid AIDS, but also talked about friendship, love, abstinence and sexuality.

Their favorite part, however, was the condom demonstration.  It consisted of me using a cucumber (pickling, not salad) to demonstrate the proper application of a condom, with the assistance of a member of the audience.  But it was more than just application technique.  We discussed the importance of inspecting and of using condoms, and common guy excuses for not using condoms.  It was all done with a sense of humor and was quite the hit.

The kids were kept quite busy even when they weren’t in any of the three maysterni per day.  From three to six each day they had group activities.  They would review what they had learned that day, prepare for the evening program, and get ready for upcoming events (such as the yarmarok/bazaar at the end of camp).  In the evenings we had various evening activities planned (I think that our camp director agrees with the Puritans that “idle hands are the Devil’s workshop”).  There were several discos, a masquerade ball, “vohnyky”, a candidates’ debate night, an election night, and two big vatry.

The first evening, it was “Getting to Know You” night.  The kids gathered in the Sports Hall, and were presented by internat/orphanage.  They introduced themselves, and performed for us.  Some danced, some sang, others performed humorous skits.  A few gave us gifts––local water or melons they had brought with them, or handicrafts that the children had made.  It was all quite nice. 

We had several discos (these were held on nights when there was nothing else planned), a masquerade (for which everyone made masks, and some had more elaborate costumes), and even a business seminar night.  Diana from Kiev got a bunch of Ukrainian business people (the real kind, not the mafiosi) to come and talk the kids, in small sessions, all about real world business.  Everyone expected it to be boring, but it wasn’t––they provided practical information, and tales of their adventures in the business world (in Ukraine,  still a bit like the wild, wild west). 

We had two vohnyky––”little fires.” These were done on a group basis; a group, or sometimes two, would prepare a site, and build a fire for the evening.  Everyone would gather, there would be singing and games.  It was a bonding experience.  Michael, our camp commander, brought his guitar and sang with us.  One night there were marshmallows; the next we had shashlyky.   The days we scheduled the vohnyky attracted rain; we changed the first one and had a nice dry event, but he second was wet.

One afternoon, shortly after the arrival of the tardy American boxes, I broke out my box of sidewalk chalk.  The kids really loved it.  They spent hours drawing up the sidewalks.  Some wrote their names, many drew flowers, at least two drew a HUHTC logo, and several of the boys drew a really huge Chicago Bulls tribute––logo, basketball net, etc.  One group even drew me!  After the drawing was done, all that remained were a handful of tiny chalk stubs not quite big enough to even write with.

Our first Saturday, we had our big  vatra (bonfire), at which all three camps participated.  It was a huge event––the Prime Minister of Ukraine and his wife attended, as well as the local governor, county chairman, and several mayors.  The show was good––dancing, singing, acrobatics, kozak hopak, humorous skits.  One of my fellow campers, Maka, has been involved with summer arts programs in Toronto for years.  She tells me that, even with intense training from all sorts of professionals, the kids there didn’t put on half as good a show as these poor kids from the orphanages.  The entire town turned out for the show and to see the PM.  It was great PR, if nothing else.

The next day, Sunday, we celebrated Malanka.  First we had a traditional Sviat Vechir (“Holy Night”/Christmas Eve) meal in our sports hall, with all the traditional lenten foods.  Vertep had the children sing the songs they had prepared.  Then we all walked, en masse, to Basa Ukraina, some 2.5 kilometers into town.  I walked with a few of the girls from Krivy Rih who had volunteered to bring the huge floral creations that Floristica had made.  These included a large straw star, huge wreaths, and a big cornucopia of flowers. 

At BU, the traditional Malanka/Shchedriy Vechir (“Generous Night”) was acted out, in perhaps a somewhat allegorical fashion.  I missed the talks about this holiday, and we don’t really celebrate it in the States, so I’m not sure what is usually involved.  Our holidays involved the “Malanka” (New Year, in this case a bearded guy in traditional Ukrainian drag) going from house to house, picking the girls who would be lucky enough to marry.  One, played by Mark, our head cook, also in drag, was annually unlucky.  At some point a nurse and a goat also entered the picture.  I questioned my mother about this holiday, and she doesn’t remember any goats being involved; she remembers only fortune-telling, trying to divine what the new year would bring.  I hope to do a bit of research and figure all this out; I hope to have it sorted by my Christmas letter.  (I should add that men in drag is not a traditional Ukrainian form of entertainment, although it does occasionally  play a role in the Ukrainian wedding ceremony.  It is more of a Canadian thing, part of their proud British heritage, in the tradition of Shakespeare, Monty Python, Benny Hill, and Kids in the Hall.) After, the Hutzul band played and everyone danced into the night.

As at last year’s camp, we held elections, this time for camp president.  The campaign was not quite as spirited and cutthroat as last year, partly because there were more female candidates, and partly because I didn’t get actively involved.  Debates were held, which included a history quiz and singing competition; posters and buttons were made.  The vote was carried out in a quite organized fashion, with a proper voting booth and kozak guards.  My candidate lost (she was just too shy for the job), and the women’s vote was split four ways.  In the end Tolik (Anatoly) from Poltava won.  He was a nice, well-mannered boy, and did a very good job of commanding the camp on the following Friday.  It appeared to me that it ran more smoothly that day than it had the previous two weeks!

I hung the health posters up once they had all been turned in (to protect the original ideas of the first few participants) and then, along with Maka, Diana, and Natalie, judged them.  We picked the ones we liked best, narrowed them down to eleven, and created categories:

                Best Use of Color

                Most Artistic

                Best Anti-drug poster

                Best Anti-smoking poster

                Best Anti-Alcohol poster

                Best Anti-substance abuse poster*

                Best Use of Metaphor

                Most Original

                Best Illustration of the Camp Theme “Our Destiny is in Our Hands”*

                Best Concept*

                Best Content(?)

We then chose the best three(*), and awarded the artists knapsacks (the most coveted item at camp, I should hasten to add).  The other got lanyards or art supplies.  We made the awards at zbirka, with quite a bit of fanfare, and with Tolik handing out the prizes.

Our last weekend was a busy one.  On Saturday we had our last zbirka (Saturdays we got to sleep in an hour; Sundays were zbirka-free).  There were more awards, and Mike and Natalie handed out the sporting equipment to the kids by internat.  Then Vertep had an activity––each of the male counsellors had to select one of the female counsellors.  Once each had done so, he was told to lift her in his arms and, holding her, do squats, all the time repeating “My love is as light as a feather”.  This drew the group closer together, giving Diana and me our opportunity for our final act––as soon as the squats were done, we ran along opposite sides of the gathered ring of people, spraying them with bright orange and purple silly string, while Maka shot at the command with a water pistol.     No one had ever seen silly string before, so it was good fun, and a good way to end our final zbirka.

Throughout the day Saturday, all sorts of preparations were made.  Most of the foreign contingent went shopping in the morning to Kosiv, an old market town, which has a fantastic handcrafts market.  Anna, Luba and I, the three Detroit girls, were on a mission––buying things for the annual auction.  We found some really beautiful items, for the auction as well as for ourselves.  Andy from Toronto had come with us,and we got to experience a thrill which very few women experience––watching a man shop and really enjoy it!  We got to visit Kolomya, with its lovely town center and great museum of Hutzul arts, and just drive through the countryside.  It was a good day.

That evening we had our final vatra; it was an audition for the closing concert on Sunday.  There was much singing, dancing and laughter––it is amazing how talented these kids are.  After two weeks, I’ve gotten to know them, and to know some of their hidden talents.

Sunday was incredibly busy.  In the morning the priest came and we celebrated Spass, the blessing of the fruits.  Most of the children had prepared baskets or arrangements of fruit and flowers; there was a service, a sprinkling of holy water, and then the fruits were rapidly devoured.

Next came the Yarmarok or bazaar.  For two weeks the kids had been planning and making items to sell at the bazaar.  Each was given some camp money, based on their behavior and participation in the previous two weeks.  Booths were set up, and the items for sale were displayed.  There were food items––donuts and baked apples––and all sorts of handcrafts.  One particularly enterprising group setup a raffle with stuffed toys as prizes. Then the frenzy of buying began.  Everything was bought up, even items that were only meant to be decorative.  In the end, as in previous bazaars, kids ended up with piles of money and there was nothing left to buy.  In my humble opinion, this does not do much to endear them to the capitalist system.  Something had to be done to get all those camp hrivny out of circulation.

First Mark went and got the three boxes of toys he had sent to camp out of storage, and auctioned them off.  The stuffed animals in particular went for high sums.  Then I went to my storeroom, and got the remaining feminine hygiene products (which are expensive by Ukrainian standards and hard to get), and we sold those.  There were huge lines, and much fighting over the goods, even at 5 hrivny (one dollar) for two pads.  Even the boys were buying them!  In the end, I had thousands of hrivny, and the kids had goods.  As I did two years ago, I threw all the money into the air, as it was now completely worthless.

During the bazaar, a transformer on the electrical pole had blown, with much sparking and noise.  No one was injured, but we lost power completely.  Attempts were made to get it repaired, or to find a generator, but to no avail.  The concert began without microphones.  We once again had to Mychaylo’s car stereo to play music for the dances.  The singing was all a cappella, and the fashion show commentary was not heard at all over its “background” music.   Several skits were cut, and the kozak fighting display was shortened, as we had to finish up and feed the kids before dark,so they would have time to pack before nightfall.

They packed, and it got dark.  We sat around with only flashlights or candles for light, saying goodbyes and crying a lot.  It was sad saying goodbye.  Although I would miss my fellow adults, I knew I would see them again next year, and that we would keep in touch in the mean time.  With the kids it was another matter altogether.  Many would not come back.  Keeping in touch would be problematic; postage was quite expensive, and not always available (the Vorohta post office, for instance, was completely out of air mail postage and envelopes, so I couldn’t even buy any for the kids).  As the night wore on, the faces got longer and longer.  Many of the kids had made new friends, and knew they might never get a chance to see them again.

In the dark I wandered around a passed out the last of my supplies––gumballs and stickers.  I collected the notebooks I had handed out to the groups to write me about themselves, and made sure the last of last year’s photos found their subjects.  It was nice seeing everyone, but sad knowing they would all be leaving soon.

The groups were called; they brought out their stuff, and were taken to the train station an internat at a time.At the station, it was cold.  The train was due around four am, and we stood around waiting for it.  There was lots of hugging and crying.  At last the train arrived, the kids were loaded on, we all cried some more and they left. 

And so camp ended.  I went and got a bit of sleep, then spent the next day packing, taking down the posters for storage, and inventorying the medical goods left for next year.  But you don’t really want to hear about that. 

The aftermath of camp is always sad, and makes me a bit intolerant of how the rest of the world lives.  I realize how spoiled we are here in the States and Canada; its that impetus which makes those of us in the States and Canada work hard all year round to make camp happen, and to send supplies to the orphans, and the same impetus which makes those of us at camp give everything away.  I even gave the kids things I had brought for my Ukrainian family who, although poor, are much better off than these kids.  Many of us went home with only the clothes on our backs, our photos and our memories.

Thanks again for making all of this possible.  The kids, in their letters to you have generally included addresses.  If you want to write to them, please do so; they would love to hear from you.  If you don’t speak Ukrainian, you can try writing in English; all of the schools in Ukraine now teach English, and a teacher or fellow student should be able to help them translate it if you keep it simple.  Or, if I’m in the country, I could translate if for you.  They may or may not be able to write back; postage is expensive, and some kids really can’t afford it, but it’ worth a try.

Well, enough for today.  If you have any questions, please write, phone or e-mail me.

Ciao!

Luba

If that wasn’t long enough for you, you can read the original letter with full footnotes here.