Come April-May, almost every NGO that works with children, has some sort of a recreational camp planned to mark the end of the academic year and the start of the summer vacation. Those who are not heading for their village after schools close are all agog. At Sahyog, the summer camp has become an annual feature of its Roshan library programme; children gather for 2-3 days to learn, play, express, create, form and strengthen friendships, and feel valued.
The sudden announcement of the lockdown knocked the camp off our calendar. It receded from our minds as we began to respond to the survival challenges that scores of families in the community were facing. Besides, with physical distancing strictly enforced, the question was, how is a camp even feasible? Three weeks into the lockdown, after the first round of relief material had been distributed, it became evident that many aspects of life as we knew it were continuing in distance-mode, online/virtually. Why not the camp as well, proposed my colleague. I wondered if it was a far-fetched idea. Yet, the growing restlessness/listlessness of children was difficult to ignore. The month of Ramzan was about to begin; with very little to do and no one to play with, their days would stretch interminably. For those who had planned on going to their village, there was that added disappointment. These were enough reasons to dismiss my doubts and with the rest of the team endorsing the proposal, we took the plunge: Summer Camp (HE)ART: Art with a Heart.
Camp logistics changed overnight and posed new challenges. With no physical space constraints, enrolment for the camp was not going to be capped; it was going to be thrown open to as many children in the basti as possible, who wished to participate. Most retailers had shut shop; were any stationery shops yet open to source the art material from? Gathering of people was prohibited; how was the art material to be distributed safely in the community? Activities had to be relayed to the children; what kind of phone did they have access to and how would that determine the design of the activities? They would need to be simple also so that the requirements would be easily available to all children in their homes; the typical practice of borrowing from the neighbours was now not an option.
We ran the camp for four weeks in which about 250 children divided into two age groups participated. Although there was no dearth of online activities, particularly story read-alouds, we steered away from them due to families experiencing network problems and having limited mobile data. Instead, we chose a range of activities that were hands-on. Drawing, composing songs, growing a plant, writing letters, concocting stories, paper craft, had the children thinking, excited, and at their creative best. The few photographs of the art work that were sent in, gave us a glimpse of their response to the activities. When asked to draw a Family Tree, trees were rendered imaginatively. For the activity about life before, during, and after the lockdown, several drawings showed that school occupies a very important place in their life; drawn bright and cheerful made it all the more moving. Activities for both age groups, introduced through a set of succinct instructions, were sent out thrice a week as a Hinglish text message—and as an audio message as well for the families that owned smart phones. With the entire family confined to the house and the activity messages being received first by adult family members on their phones, there were some adult participants as well. So much for it being a children’s camp! At the end of four weeks, we couldn’t but help rejoice that the camp in distance-mode had succeeded; the children had spent their time purposefully and pleasurably. But we had also noticed that the rising excitement in the first two weeks began to plateau and by the fourth week a certain monotony had set in. The joy of working (and competing) in groups, monkeying around with friends, and being inspired by talented guests (resource persons) was sorely missing in this version of the camp.
When I look back on this novel experience, I realise that it is easy to get enamoured by digital tools (in this case it was just the basic cell phone) and the ease with which they can bridge distance and enable re-creation of real-life situations. While cell phone accessibility had given the camp its wings, its backbone was people presence. Practicing all the required safety norms, the women running Sahyog Roshan’s home-based libraries and a dedicated group of community volunteers had made a quick round of their neighbourhoods to create lists of names and phone numbers of children who wanted to participate in the camp; collected the art kits from a designated place; home-delivered them to the children; and taken charge of groups of 15-20 children to facilitate the activities and stay in touch with them. The coordination of the camp and keeping the community volunteers motivated was shouldered by the Sahyog staff. A little overwhelmed by the many and quick decisions we had to make, we sought suggestions for activities from friends and colleagues who responded readily. Once the camp was underway, we documented the activities in detail, making it a ready-to-use (-and customise-and-build upon) resource for individuals and organisations working with children.
With physical movement in the basti still restricted, it will be a while before we are able to collect the children’s art work and celebrate it. Yet, if the few photographs and song recordings that we have received so far are any indication, the children’s spirit was far from locked down. Here’s a sneak preview.