THERE IS A BOY WATCHING YOU

The dark wind was howling and pulling at our bodies. I felt the hands of the man on either side of me as a strong presence and support. We were standing firm on the top of a mountain. A circle of men. The wind was doing its best to blow us off the mountain. It was late at night and we were all tired as we shouted our presence to each other.

Yes, I felt.
Yes, this is the way it should be.
I am invigorated and tired.
Yes, we are ready for the boys.

The journey up the mountain at night was a good balance-point for the journey we had taken in the day. At night we had gone up the mountain. In the day we had gone into the dark places in ourselves.
The memories of being alone.
Of being a child that had to survive, take care of a younger sibling, avoid the death by fear or hunger. The memories of the dark things children should never experience.
In order to become a mentor, we went to the place inside ourself where there was no mentor. We looked. We felt as men seldom admit to feeling.
Grief walked with us, and silently alongside, Hope.
As tears and relief flowed through the room on Saturday morning, there were sixteen men, embracing the boy they carried inside.
And there were sixteen boys, relieved at finally gaining the opportunity to just be boys.

And then we played! Lappies introduced us to the obstacle course in the dunes where we climbed and fell and crawled and swung and felt the joy of challenge.

The ocean and the mountain provided us with gifts of manhood, and gifts of boyhood.
This camp was real. It lay the foundation for our return, when we will play again, with sixteen boys inside us, and thirty boys outside us.

This camp was the preparation we regard as necessary to become a mentor. The next camp we will have the boys with us.

We will be ready.

Somewhere on this journey man had said with deep feeling: “Remember, there is a boy watching you.”

This has become our slogan.

“Remember, there is a boy watching you.”