Some joys of camping – meeting people
By PG Jonker
One of the things with camping is that you meet interesting people. Admittedly, some of them you might prefer not to meet. Take for example the following experience from yesteryear.
Across the road from us we have a rather interesting family. They consist of the grandparents, the parents, four boys between the ages of 8 and 14 and an uncle of them with a big boep. It would be fair to say that the boys’ social skills are still in the developing phase.
Their first notable attempt to social interaction is to teach a sixteen-year old mentally retarded girl in the camp how to swear. They are very effective teachers and soon their endeavors pay off handsome dividends. Much to their surprise, however the girl’ father, who also happens to be a Reverend, is not as thrilled with the progress that the boys made.
On a later occasion the boys are left to their own devices with the rest of the outfit going on an angling expedition. The boys hang around their tent, being bored. In an endeavor to be sociable they eventually start shouting obscenities to passersby. Eventually one of the campers walks over to reprimand them, unfortunately limited to a verbal reprimand. I thought a more decisive action would have been medically indicated under circumstances.
Not too much later I had to shed my own impartial observance and trundle over to the boys’ site to have a word with the grown-ups after the boys started bullying my 10-year old son. I have to admit in shame that the discussion took place in much more amicable fashion than how I intended it to go. I bumped into the grandma who solemnly undertook to look into the disciplinary matters.
From my vantage point I observe an irate mother visiting the outfit the next day demanding the return of a toy cell phone that went amiss. Four angel faces deny any knowledge, and the mother leaves with the matter unresolved. To my pleasure, however, I observe a security official attending to the outfit the next morning to have a word with the parents. I’m not convinced that the visit bore any fruit, as one of the boys shortly thereafter winds a girl with a hook punch from behind. “Just playing!” he protests, deeply hurt, when taken to task about it.
On another occasion the uncle with the boep is left in charge of the outfit. Following a slight difference of opinion between the boys and the uncle, one of the boys takes a well aimed shot at the uncle first with a shoe, followed by a pebble. Uncle does not take kindly to this. He waddles out of his camping chair and purposefully takes off his belt. By that time, however, all the boys have removed themselves to a safe distance. When the parents eventually arrive, however, some blows with a belt did find its target. I’m pretty much in favour of proper discipline, but even to me it sounded more like assault than discipline.
In a happy turn of events my children’s much older cousin joins our outfit for a few days. Shortly thereafter a misunderstanding ensues between cousin and the boys from the outfit across the road. Cousin quickly establishes himself as reigning alpha male and rearranges the pecking order. Now, at last, the kids on this side of the road can go about their business unescorted.
Under this new reign things improve so dramatically that, when I on occasion make enquiries at the outfit across the street about a missing tennis ball, one of the boys jumps up, run out to the shop just outside the gate of the campsite, and buy me a brand new tennis ball.
Sometimes kids really make it difficult for you to stay angry with them.
PGJ