a reply to: Kangaruex4Ewe
This camp is a great idea, but it is very small.
I believe that if some lasting peace is to be found, between ALL the warring tribes of Earth, then this sort of program must be extended, more
nations must involve themselves with it, and thereby extend understanding between peoples.
I honestly and genuinely believe, that only by way of regular folk from these war torn lands, mixing with people from the lands with whom their
nation is oft at loggerheads, can common ground be established, and friendships which make the sort of conflict we see today, utterly impossible. But
I would not limit this sort of activity to children who have lost loved ones to war and terror. I believe it is good for all children, to meet others
of their age group, from all manner of backgrounds.
When I was growing up, in senior school, there were children from various different nations, ethnic, religious, and cultural backgrounds. The
problems at our school (which was a violent and horrific place to be educated) were nothing to do with that, and rather more to do with a poor school
board, lack of discipline and a total lack of care on the part of the head teacher for most of my time there.
The fact, however, that there were kids from all over, Pakistan, Nigeria, Kosovo, Malaysia, and others, meant that I had early exposure to different
cultures than the one which I was bought up in. Also, because our town is sort of a hub for people who have moved down from the north, there were
plenty of kids from other areas in my own country. I found this very beneficial to my development, because hearing their stories of where they grew
up, or where their parents came from, alerted me to the fact that my life was lived without an appropriately complex understanding of the lives of
others (which I had theorised to myself years previously, but the confirmation was helpful in motivating me to change that).
There was a period, when I was at school, when there was much in the news of the conflicts in Kosovo. Shortly after the news started picking up on
that subject, our school received a new student. He had been snatched from his parents as a young lad, and his hands turned to the business of war in
the region. Apparently he had been rescued, by his mother and father no less, a few years later, and they had all left the region with all due haste
and come to Britain as seekers of asylum. He was fourteen or fifteen years of age when I met him, and you could tell he had lived hard.
His biceps were the size of my entire skull, and he was, in general, proportioned in epic scale. At that time I think I was about five foot eight,
five foot nine in height. The top of my head, was about level with the centre of his chest at that time. He got this way, I discovered, by hauling
ammo crates and boxes of grenades around, and generally humping great weights around, on and off trucks, in and out of dug out positions, and
occasionally wielding heavy guns without a mount.
He had been places, and seen things, that occasionally drained the colour from his face, and he would tell me in hushed conversations at break times,
about some of those things. The details are sketchy now, as I have drunk considerable quantities of rum since last we spoke of these things, or indeed
since last I saw him. However, despite all the things he had seen, and indeed done during that dark time, he was as staunch and fine a friend as one
could possibly hope to have. Unfailingly polite until pressed to righteous anger, respectful toward the female members of the student body, helpful to
a fault, and yet terrifyingly efficient when it came to conflict "resolution".
Bloody good egg. He opened my eyes in alot of respects, with regard to my geopolitical awareness.