Camp Alabare Extraordinaire Part 1

Miatta

Story #1

By Karen Stein

 

In America birthdays are a big deal.  Children are always coming up to tell me when their birthday is, how many more days they have to wait, how they are planning to celebrate it in the coming year, and how fun it was in the past.  Adults are forever asking children:  "How old are you?"  And children are always asking each other, "How old are you?"

I never really thought much about this until I met Miatta.  Miatta does not know how old she is because Miatta doesn't know when her birthday is.  It was never recorded.  When that frequent and disturbing question is asked of her, she comes up with a variety of responses such as:  "Don't ask me" or  "I not telling". 

Last summer, I invited Miatta to come to camp.  I told her we would celebrate her birthday at camp.  It would be at the end of the week, on Friday, July 3^rd and she would be 11 years old. 

"No! That's not my birthday," she stated emphatically.

"Miatta, we don't know when your birthday is so we picked July 3^rd to celebrate it."

"I not coming" she retorted.

"You're coming."  I replied.

"It's not my birthday.  I not coming."  This is the conversation that took place on the five-hour drive to camp along with, "I not coming to camp."  Miatta tends to be overly cautious and hesitant when faced with anything unfamiliar or new.  Then Miatta blurts out, "I want to ride a pony."

"Oh", I noted, "maybe someday."

We arrived at camp and Miatta meets the camp staff; young enthusiastic counselors eager to welcome her.  Prior to our arrival, the staff told a group of teens about Miatta and her life without ever having a birthday. Deeply touched by the story, they were moved to take up a collection and ask the local church for donations to give Miatta the birthday party she never had, attempting to make up for ten years of no birthdays. 

It was on the second day of camp when Miatta began telling the staff that she was going to have a birthday party on Friday.  Hmmm, she seemed to have changed her mind.

 The big day began with a mystery trip to the camp next door.  Miatta was given an opportunity to ride a horse, a dream come true, except …… she was afraid.  She was not going to get up on that enormous and terrifying horse, No Way!

"It's okay, Miatta", everyone encouraged, "the horse is gentle."

"My stomach hurts", she moaned as she bent over in pain.  We tried all sorts of encouragement.  Nothing seemed to convince her. 

"All right, I'll get up on the horse I told her.  She knew I was not "physically" adept from spending a week at camp with me, where on one occasion I was holding her hand to help her down the hill, and instead I stumbled, fell and dragged her down with me.  She roared with laughter all the way back to the cabin.  Therefore, if I could ride this horse, then anyone can, was my logic.  I mounted the horse, showed no fear, no "visible" pain, smiled, and invited Miatta to do the same. 

"No!"  She would not budge. 

It was now time for the camp director to try his expertise at motivating reluctant campers.  "Miatta" he offered, "If you get up on that horse, you can have a lollipop from the lollipop tree."  Well, this was an interesting proposal, and while she was thinking about it, he upped the ante to two lollipops.

 She seized the opportunity and replied, "Three". 

"It's a deal". 

Miatta got up on the horse lickety-split.  She smiled radiantly at us and declared, "I not scare."

 That was just the beginning of the long sought after birthday.

Miatta and some of the other kids watched a movie while the camp director drew up a map for them to follow in search of the lollipop tree.  As promised, Miatta selected three lollipops.  She returned to me with her treasure and I invited her to go to the lake for a swim, her favorite activity at camp.  We rode down to the lake in the golf cart.  Upon our arrival we found the entire camp staff, campers, and volunteers all gathered together to greet Miatta with a joyous "Happy Birthday" exultation.  The waterfront area was decorated with balloons, carnival games, and a bounce house that was inflated and ready for eager children to jump into and release the excitement of the day.  Miatta was the first to take a swing at the piñata strung up between the trees. And that's not all.

Later that evening, a talent show, or "fiesta" took place.  Miatta got up and sang a song for the whole camp and when she finished an elaborate birthday cake with lit candles was brought to her.  As she blew out the candles, "Happy Birthday" was sung to Miatta for the first time in her life.  She was then escorted to the table in the back of the hall covered with presents.  There were toys and clothes, and a suitcase so she had a respectable way to carry her belongings from now on. 

Miatta was given the ultimate gift of a birthday celebration or…….was it all of us who received the ultimate gift of giving to Miatta.

  

 

              

Camp Alabare Extraordinaire, Part 2-Scroll below to read Part 1 first

Miatta

Story # 2

By Karen Stein

 

            You may be wondering why Miatta didn't know when her birthday was or how old she is.  I was wondering that too, and here is how I found out.  While at camp, every day we met in small groups to get to know each other better and discuss the theme of the day.  During one of these family sessions, the immigrants shared their stories of coming to America.  They told about difficult journeys, hiding beneath garbage in trucks, and the impoverished conditions from their homeland.  Miatta was not sharing her story. 

After the group was dismissed, Miatta and I got into the golf cart to head down to the lake to go fishing.  And on the way down she blurted out, "That was nothing."

            "What was nothing, Miatta?"  I inquired. 

            "They hiding in garbage trucks.  In Africa people were hungry, real hungry.  People had to eat the grass on the ground, people had to eat……….people.  There was nothing to eat."

            Miatta came from Liberia, a country at war.  People were starving, soldiers were everywhere---shooting, killing.  Miatta (who was about five years old), her older sister (about fifteen years old), and her older brother ran from the soldiers not knowing where the rest of their family was hiding.  Her brother was shot in his feet.  Miatta and her sister hid in the bush, covering their ears from the gunfire and watched as their brother bled to death.  They ran and ran for days until at last they found a place to rest at a refuge camp in the neighboring country of Sierra Leone.  Here they were given food, clothing and a safe place to lay their heads down to sleep at night.

            Before long Miatta's sister married another refugee, who was living in the camp with his three younger brothers.  She gave birth to a girl child, Miriatu.  This was the first person in their family to have their birth date recorded.  Miatta's niece was born on July 7, 2003.  

            Shortly after, Miriatu's father suffered a closed brain injury in a car accident.  There was no medical care available.  So it was, that this newly formed family of seven lived together, away from their war ridden country, in a refugee camp in Sierra Leone for the next five years, along with thousands of other refugees.

            Representatives from Refugee Services in the United States came to visit and offer a chance for a select few to come to America, the land of opportunity.   Countless wanted to go, not many were chosen.  Miatta's family was among those seeking to come to America.  Due to the serious injury of Mariatu's father, they were selected with the aim that he would be able to receive proper medical treatment.  All that was required was for Miatta's big sister to sign an agreement that she would pay back $9,000, the cost of the airfare for her family to come to America.  Not ever learning how to write, she put her X on the dotted line.  In return, they would be given a place to stay for six months, a total monthly stipend of $400 for the family which seemed like a fortune to them, an opportunity for the children to attend school and learn how to read (a highly regarded skill that seemed an impossibility in their present condition), and medical care.

            There were many hoops to jump through before they could depart.  Passports are required to travel to another country. Only Mariatu had documentation of her birth.  To obtain the official papers the others had to get their teeth examined to determine their age.  January 1 of the year they were supposedly born was assigned to them as their date of birth.   After completing all the necessary procedures, they were ready to embark on a journey over the Atlantic Ocean to begin a new life and new set of problems.

            Unbeknownst to them, life in America was not as they envisioned it.  Having limited English speaking skills and being totally illiterate, finding employment in a country where recession and rising unemployment was occurring was not happening.

            Shortly after their arrival, Mariatu's father was admitted to the hospital.  They found no effective treatment for his condition and he was released back to the family.  Subsequently, he became violent and a restraining order was issued to keep him away from his family, for good.

            Although they were given an apartment to live in, they were not given the information that a monthly water bill had to be paid.  After the six-month adjustment period was over, the family was evicted for not paying the bill.  Homeless, hungry, and unemployed, they sought refuge in a shelter.  All the beds were filled, so they slept that night on the living room floor.  In the morning, Miatta wanted their "African" food for breakfast.  Her big sister went back to the old apartment to retrieve the remaining food left behind.  There is a rule at the homeless shelter; Children are never to be left unattended.  In her absence, Protective Services was called; the children were taken away and placed in foster homes.  Miatta's foster mother enrolled her in school where I am a teacher.  It was here where I met Miatta.

  I invited Miatta to come to camp to celebrate her birthday.