Camp in Aktas

All of last week, I was in the village Aktas for a drug-demand reduction sports camp. As you know, I have been working with at-risk boys in Aktas since March as a part of our DDR grant that I wrote last fall. The camp was the culmination of our youth development program, where 50 boys age 5-17 participated in team-building challenges, anti-drug sessions, self-confidence/empowerment activities, sports, and critical thinking games. In the days leading up to the camp I was particularly nervous about how successful I would be in facilitating/leading activities strictly in Russian (this was a 100% local language camp), as well as how the community would react to this kind of camp (nothing like it has ever been done in Aktas).

On the back-end of it all, I can say that the camp exceeded my expectations and the kids absolutely loved the experience. None of them had ever participated in a scavenger hunt (and the police had never seen one, which led to an interesting conversation about WHY 50 kids were running around like chickens with their heads cut off), nor had they done the relay races that are typical for us in America (re: 3 legged race, wheelbarrow race, etc). From the grand opening, where my director and my local counterpart (Jenya) gave speeches to onlookers, all the way to the closing, the kids were excited and willing to work with Americans who speak Russian with mistakes and funny accents. They entertained my questions about mutual cooperation and teamwork, and even demonstrated noticeable progress on that front from the beginning of the week to the end. But more than that, they were attentive during our "serious" sessions and engaged in conversation on topics that are not often discussed in their world.

I could continue tripping all over myself here about how fortunate I am to have worked with them and to have pulled off a project that was both meaningful and fun, but honestly, it is still sinking in just how earth-shattering it really is in some respects. I never thought I'd go to a tiny village in Kazakhstan, work with youth from some of the most desperate situations you could imagine, speak with them in THEIR native language, and arrive every morning to a camp to have 30 of the littlest kids come streaking across the square wearing our over-sized blue tshirts and screaming "Heeeelaryyyyyyyyyyy" until I gave each of them a hug.

Yea. If you asked me what I've been doing in my last few days as a PCV in Kazakhstan, I would tell you without hesitation that I have been living the dream.