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Ants and Owls The joyful freedom of camp

by Kate Holby April 22, 2024

Ants and Owls  The joyful freedom of camp

On our last night of the annual Camp Ajiri held at a large farm in Kenya, we were walking through a field with our 20 scholars, flashlights in hand, looking for owls and chameleons, when everyone started to run and shout "siafu!" Translation: army ants. There were shrieks of pain followed by shrieks of laughter. All around us kids were taking off their pants, jumping up and down, stomping their feet. Regina, our Kenyan colleague, was doubled down on the ground laughing so hard and then grimacing with each bite, tears streaming down her face. Andrew, our 50-year-old guide and owner of the farm, shook off his pants and appeared from behind a bush in his boxers, his pale white legs almost reflective in the moonlight. 
 

This sight of Andrew was enough to send everyone into a fit of laughter. And then they took off running through the field, their shrieks of laughter sent up to the thin crescent moon like offerings to the heavens. They were running and laughing with pure abandonment. These kids, who had been so reticent, so quiet, so serious throughout most of the camp, gave into the moment of silliness. I could feel their joy floating through the dark field. For a moment they weren’t kids whose lives were riding on test scores, they weren’t kids with responsibilities for their younger siblings, they weren’t kids who were worried about where they were going to live. For a moment, sprinting through the field, they were just kids. They kept running—no longer running away from siafu, but rather running toward the feeling of lightness. 

We all stopped at the trees on the edge of the field. They caught their breath and right as their giggling subsided, Andrew shined his flashlight up in a tree. “Look, a barn owl,” he whispered as the wings of a white owl caught the beam of light. Our Ajiri scholars all come from Kisii, Kenya. In Kisii culture owls are an omen of bad luck, a sign of death. But no one felt unlucky standing under the acacia tree, looking up at the white owl. We all felt the spirit of life. As if responding to our exuberance, the owl let out a shriek, and another white owl circled around the tree to join on the branch. Our scholars had all recently read Harry Potter in our small office back in Kisii, and I heard someone whisper, “this is magic.” 
 

Looking up at the star-filled sky, with 20 scholars who had grown and changed so much in the past week, I had to agree. 
 

With ants no longer in our pants,

Kate, Sara, Ann, Regina, and Difna 

 




Kate Holby
Kate Holby

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