When I was a child, our mother loved to make crafts with us.
She always had great ideas and lots of materials for us to experiment with and explore. The same could be said for our schools in Australia. We always had access to an unimaginable array of materials and gadgets. In fact, I have many fond memories of craft times at school. They were times where I would have big conversations with my little friends. I am convinced that there is something about busy hands that seems to somehow open the heart. In this same way, I believe that by sharing in this kind of activity with us, our mother and our teachers had passed pieces of themselves onto us. Although those times of creativity have always been something that I have enjoyed, it’s probably also true that they are something that I have taken entirely for granted. But, during my time in SE Asia, on the last day of a family summer camp 2024, those precious moments took on a new life for me.
The theme of the camp was ‘be light’, so our mid-morning activity was to create a lamp with the aid of materials provided by the team and whatever else could be found to house a small plastic candle. By this time, I was tired, as was everyone else. I was weary of not being able to communicate well and took a moment to feel sorry for myself in a corner. I glanced across the gloss white tiled floor and caught sight of a teenaged boy. He was sitting on the ground with a blank piece of blue paper in his hand and a stunned expression on his face. Some of his peers were foraging for leaves and sticks in the jungle, others were working enthusiastically with scissors and ribbons, others were folding and contorting coloured papers. The room was a buzz with inspiration and excitement, but this boy didn’t even know where to start. Something compelled me to put an end to my pity party and join him on the mat.
As I approached, I googled some craft ideas on my phone. As I showed him the images, he smiled uncomfortably at me, noticeably overwhelmed by the abundance of options, so I made a selection for him: a simple paper lantern that I had learnt to make at school. We watched a little bit of a tutorial video, because pictures were the only words we had, and got to work. While he worked on his piece of blue paper, I searched the room for supplies.
Something compelled me to put an end to my pity party and join him on the mat.
Using hand gestures and the tutorial, I coached the boy through each step and bit by bit the components of the lamp started coming together. I did a little engineering on the centre cylinder so to make sure that his candle could be visible from inside, while he worked awkwardly, the scissors so foreign to his determined fingers, cutting the columns that would form the outer layer. It was then that a second boy gestured to me with a partially folded piece of red paper. He had been watching from behind his friend, imitating the instructions I gave on his own, but had missed something and needed some help. I of course obliged, wordlessly pointing between the tutorial, the blue lamp and the red paper.
As the two boys worked away at their creations, I noticed a third boy sitting just behind them. His lantern too appeared to have taken inspiration from those that I was helping with, but he was fashioning his own housing for the candle out of plastic and card. Adjacent was another youth who initially had shown little interest in the activity. When I had sat down, he was engrossed in his phone, but now as he observed the achievement of his peers, he too was inspired to have a go. He worked intently, sticking tiny palm fronds and ribbon to his little plastic candle with glue and tape. At this I forced down the urge to get choked up and turned back to the task at hand.
Finally, the components were ready to assemble, so I indicated with my fingers where the boys were to apply glue. The brushes were small, so I showed them how to fashion a piece of scrap paper into a kind of paddle. Carefully we connected the outer facades to the centre cylinders. After attaching handles to the tops, the boys completed the task by placing their little plastic candles inside.
They were proud of what they had achieved, and so was I.
The time was around midday, so the daylight all but drowned out the little lights glowing inside the paper lanterns, but it did nothing to dampen the glow radiating from the boy’s faces. The sense of achievement and satisfaction that beamed from their faces made it hard for me to stifle my own pride. They were proud of what they had achieved, and so was I. This simple paper lantern was something that I had probably made 10 times as child, and I can’t remember that a single one of them brought me as much joy as these two.
The boys said repeatedly in my language, “Thank you Miss,” and I replied each time “you’re welcome” in theirs. Such a simple exchange of gratitude that barely articulated what we wanted to say, had never been so heartfelt. The language barrier meant that this craft session did not open itself to deep conversation, as was my experience in school. But I believe that even through so few words, we had somehow opened our hearts to each other. If I had chosen to sit in self-pity that day, I would have missed the opportunity to share a piece of myself that I hadn’t even considered would be worth anything.
Out in the SE Asian jungle, on the last day of summer camp, with not much left in my tank, and almost entirely without words, I was blessed to pass on what simple things my mother and teachers had invested in me, to someone else.
My prayer is that someday those boys too, will be just as blessed to share themselves.
Shauna participated in an On Track exposure experience in South East Asia.
*All names have been changed.
