World Camp

The sky here is endless, and the clouds hang as if suspended by twine; immobile. Jesse calls them Simpson clouds, and even in their perfect stunning glory, the moniker fits. The sun rises in rainbows, slowly at first, then pulsing and bleeding into other colors. Like droplets on a painting. Like fire. And as the other colors fade from the sky, the new light illuminates them in the landscape. The turgid soil is the color of burnt sienna crayon, and this crayon has dappled everything. Houses, trees, children, all display the occlusive artwork- the children most prominently of all. Their feet, hands, hair and clothing present the dust, although it isn’t grimy or filthy. It’s elegant. The children are so beautiful they make the dirt attractive. Their smiling faces emit sunbeams, and their laughter and cheering is by far the most beautiful sound in the world. A drunk man told us in the market the other day “Since you guys have such bright faces, you can have everything. We can have nothing.” But he was wrong. The brightest faces of all belong to these children, and in their enthusiasm to interact, to listen, to learn, they could have everything. They should have everything. They deserve it more than anything.

submitted by E. Saul - Youth to Youth Outreach Program