The 1001 Flat World Tales

Herena

Honolulu, Hawaii, USA

I bid a farewell to my lost last week of summer vacation as I stormed into the bus, stomping exaggeratedly on each stair. It wasn’t a typical yellow school bus that sealed away my last 7 days of freedom, but a white church van; and the heavy weight on my shoulders was not due to a backpack crammed with textbooks and binders, but a duffle bag packed to the point of bursting with a week’s worth of clothes and my other necessities. If you haven’t figured it out, I’m going to camp. No, not camp, I’m going to a Korean Christian Youth Retreat to “spiritually bond” with about 50 bible thumper spawn ranging from ages 9-17 from my church. The cherry that topped off this ruined week would be that most, if not all the kids there spoke Korean as did the chaperones and pastors while I couldn’t say “hello” (ahn yung ha sa yo) without someone thinking I had said “my sister did it” (un ni [ga] ha suh yo).

The loud screeching of the brakes woke me from my inner unenthusiastic rants on this retreat. To my utter delight, I found we were at the retreat location. Note the sarcasm. I gave one last inward groan before following the rest of the kids to the building. At a glance I already deemed the grounds barely livable, even if it was for just a week. There was a recreation room, while large enough to hold the 50 kids and chaperones, was an open air space, meaning there were no walls to prevent bugs and other paracites from getting ‘in’, it was basically a giant patio with dirty carpeting. Below the recreation room were two bathrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls, containing a total of two sinks, three toilets, and three shower stalls. Mad morning rushes were to be expected. Next to the bathroom was a room for sermons and while this time it was a closed room, it could probably just barely fit us all. Outside in the back were 10 or so small tents set up side by side to form a complicated tent labyrinth of doom. Cabins were available, but not for use as tents were supposed to “bring us closer together”. Maybe literally in the tiny tents, but our ‘spirits’ might be a little cramped in the 6” by 6” enclosure.

I let out an exasperated groan and crumpled to the dingy olive carpeted floor (I guessed it was probably a deep green at some point…) and glared up at the vivacious brightly colored banners badly taped to and barely hanging from the ceiling, reading “The Change” in rainbow colored letters. They had to be kidding. For the first time since getting there I cracked a smile. I almost laughed out loud at the cliché theme. “The Change. Real cute.” A sarcastic voice echoed my thoughts and voiced my silent snickers. I glanced toward the voice and saw a long haired girl, about my age, 13, smirking up at the banners much like I was, but with a confidence and boldness I dared not display.

She caught me staring and turned to me. With a mischievous grin she introduced herself with a simple, “Hey, I’m Nina.” I discovered, like myself, Nina was forced to be here by her parents and was not enjoying the trip so far. Unlike myself, Nina did understand and speak Korean fluently.

“My parents only speak Korean. Gotta know their language if I want to ask for a ride to the mall.”

We spent the next few days of the retreat complaining, whining, and generally, to my chagrin, acting like brats. Complaining about the living conditions and food, which were all Korean soups and stuff, was just for starters. We refused to sing the overly peppy praise songs and instead mouthed them reluctantly. And the sermons? They were ignored entirely. Nina even went as far to doze off in the middle of one, snoring loudly I add. Needless to say, she received quite a few disapproving frowns from the chaperones. We mocked and barely participated in the lame activities. We talked back to chaperones, though that was more Nina than I. But our favorite activity by far was making fun of the “dorks that were actually having fun here”.

The adults there seemed to expect Nina’s sass but were pretty surprised with me. I was surprised myself. Nina’s dauntless air was infectious. She did what she wanted to and when she wanted to, regardless of the amount of lectures or glares she got. She had the guts to speak her mind and express what she thought. I wasn’t exactly joyous about the retreat, but I knew without Nina, I would have probably followed along quietly participating as little as possible, but still following everyone else for the most part, being just a touch irate. Though outwardly stating I didn’t want to be here was a bit demeaning, the language barrier shrouded my guilt. I had a right to do as I pleased seeing as I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying and no one seemed to bother to translate anything for me.

The night that marked the halfway point of the week finally came. “Four more days to go!” Nina chirped cheerily, stretching out on her sleeping bag with a contented sigh.
The three other girls in our tent glared at her and, by association, glared at me as well. It was strange though. They usually criticized our actions, preaching about how we should try to learn something, or at the least, pretend like we were. Tonight, for a change of pace, they seemed to be giving us the silent treatment. Not their irascibility was any less blatant.
“Here’s hoping those days go by quickly. G’night.” I replied, ignoring the glowers of death from our oh-so-amiable tentmates. I swore I could feel their revulsion throughout the night.

The next morning a chaperone pulled us from the food line and asked to speak with us for a minute. From her tone we could tell she was about to lecture us and it looked like it would take much more than a minute. To my misfortune, she spoke English and I couldn’t block her out. Apparently, last night we were supposed to stay silent to ponder about the sermon. Our beloved tentmates had informed her we had spent the night chatting away.

“Blabbermouths…” Nina muttered. It was an understatement to say I was mad. I had already mentioned at the start of this retreat how I couldn’t speak or understand Korean. Exactly how was I supposed to understand instructions or the sermon with them being only in Korean? I kept silent knowing that she wouldn’t understand now if she couldn’t understand then. Arguing, while it would have defiantly made me feel better, would only irritate her, possibly to the point we would get more than a sizable lecture. She went on for another 15 minutes essentially repeating the same things over and over, then threatened to send us home. She sent us to separate tents to decide whether we wanted to “take up a better attitude” or go home.

I sulked in my tent. I never asked to be here; I never wanted to be here. Was it too hard to understand I had no interest in being ‘devoted to God’ or ‘growing closer’ to him? I did have a shred of ‘faith in the Lord’, I kept the possibility God existed in the back of my mind, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend a week in a camp based solely around Christianity, especially during the week that should have been spent relaxing and enjoying a few more homeworkless days before the start of school. It wasn’t even an option to concentrate on taking in anything; I could barely understand bits and pieces of the sermons and shadowed meanings of the activities. Even the environment was a questionable place to be ‘learning about God’. It was a bit hard to be growing closer to the Lord when you couldn’t breathe, much less ‘grow’ when stuffed into tiny tents and rooms.

Besides, in what way did being a Christian merit for me? Not only did I see no upsides, I also had previously experienced and participated in the mockery that were the ‘fanatics’ and the ‘fundies’ (slang for Fundamentalist Christians). Reputations of ‘extreme’ Christians, a.k.a. the bible thumper spawn, as they’d been so benevolently nicknamed, had always been associated with the lower rung of the social ladder. Religion was a heavy topic and to talk about something like that at school was just weird. Their attempts to “spread the good word” were rejected and met with constant bullying. When they walked away from the persecution, comments such as “It’s cutting into their bible-reading” or “Why doesn’t God make us stop?” arose.

I was interrupted by the chaperone as she let Nina and I out for our answers. We both answered that we’d stay and behave, mainly because being sent home early would not rest well with our parents. We did still continue to mock the retreat, but only to each other in low whispers. I pushed my tent ruminations to the back of my mind.

The last night of the retreat was here and it seemed like nothing could quench our happy glows. Unless you counted the creepily dark night that shrouded the retreat grounds. We were lead by the chaperones to the dark recreation room one last time. Coming upon the room I saw it was lit solely by candles. By their soft light I could make out two long rows of chairs facing each other so endlessly long, the last chair seemed to disappear into the shadows. The flames bent and subdued to the wind, distorting the room’s details in wild flickers. Nina and I sat across from each other, I, a little apprehensive at whatever was about to happen in this dark, slightly cultish room.

“Ugh, please. No.” Nina muttered, her voice slightly muffled from her head being under her chair.
Her dark hair flipped up as she sat up straight with an annoyed look on her face. She gave a long weary sigh and gestured for me to look. I bent over and saw under our chairs was a small tub of water along with a towel. I looked back up at her, confused. Fixing me with a slightly cold condescending look she motioned washing her feet. I groaned, partially due to the fact I didn’t understand straight off but more due to the realization we were going to re-enacted the feet washing ritual Jesus had performed for his disciples. Add gross last day activity to my growing list of “Reasons Youth Retreats Should Be Banned.”

The directions were in Korean, but the one of the chaperones, the one that had threatened to send me home, translated foiling my plans to daydream during this bizarre activity. Even without the translation, I knew the story well enough to understand what we were doing. The act showed how close we had become to each other, how we had grown to love, respect, and accept each other to the point that we could wash each others feet to show how much we had bonded. While Nina was fun to hang out with and all, washing her feet seemed a bit extreme. “Just lean over and pretend you’re doing it. It’s dark, no one will notice.” Nina hissed. And this would be why she was fun to hang out with.

After we ‘washed’ each other’s feet the pastor had us stand. The chair arrangements were made so that we formed a giant chain. “Hug the person across from you and move down the chain until you’ve connected with every person in the chain.” The annoying chaperone had reappeared and translated these obvious instructions. I was lingually challenged, not stupid. The pastor was even demonstrating ‘how to hug’. Apparently the chaperones thought we were all idiots.

“I can do it!” The pastor shouted enthusiastically in horribly broken English.
“God is with me!” The kids replied, just as loud.
It was the running call-and-answer thing for this retreat.
“God help me…” Nina replied as always following with the usual smack to the forehead.

The parting ceremony was sappy, fairly pointless, and involved people invading my personal bubble, but it was a bit touching. Even the kids who didn’t particularly like Nina and I still openly embraced us, not showing any sign of reluctance or refusal, even when Nina and I did. It was like all was forgotten, all was forgiven. Some girls started to cry being so moved by the events of the night. It was a bit over the top in my opinion, one of the things the kids at my school would label with the ‘bible thumper spawn’ title, as would I, but at the moment, it was alright. A bit unorthodox, but I could understand this was something that released a lot of emotions and with it, tears.

“Some girls are so emotional.” Nina whispered, and in the process smashing my image of a sappy but acceptably touching moment of emotional display. Her trademark smirk broke across her face and she rolled her eyes expectantly.

Now I wasn’t about to defend the girls. Like I said, it was a little weird, so not unlike whenever religion came up at school and my friends scoffed at the over-expressive Christians, I agreed muttering a halfhearted, “Yeah.” Was conformity a sin?

The next morning we drove back to the church where we were being picked up. Shouting goodbyes, chattering about the retreat, and exchanging last hugs, the kids departed. One by one, the giant mass that was our retreat group diminished and I have to admit, I kinda felt like I lost something, I felt a bit lonely without the hundreds of bodies surrounding me. Nina’s car pulled up and she tossed her bags into the trunk. She waved bye and left with a few eloquent parting words.

“Hanging out with you made the retreat almost bearable. See you around!” She said this with the same cheeky grin and boldness she displayed our first meeting.

I heard Nina’s parents ask her how the retreat was and Nina answered with a heartfelt description on how the retreat “really changed her and how she viewed the world.” The fakeness of her hollow words rang in my ears as her car pulled away from the church. I admired Nina before for her ability to express herself and do the daring things she did. I still did. But she wasn’t as great as I made her out to be that first day. She was out-going and expressive, but she was also arrogant, haughty even.

My parents came soon after and I, like Nina, tossed my duffle into the trunk and go into the car. My parents asked me how the retreat was. I thought about the trip. How I spent it fooling around and how I could have made it a better experience. True, there were a few complications, but I could see what the chaperone meant when she was lecturing us before. With a little effort, I could have overcome little complications. The sermons did have English translations that Nina and I were too lazy to read; the praise songs didn’t have to be sung exactly right for me to be able to ‘praise God’; and if I had to guts to, I could have asked for translations from Nina for the instructions. I could have made it better, just like I could have adopted reading the bible daily, paying attention to the sermons at my church, and praying… But some things weren’t easy to do, and for now, I decided to take to easier way, the way I was accustomed to. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t try later, but for now, I’d prefer fewer complications.

“How was the retreat?” My parents repeated the questions breaking me from my thoughts. “Did you learn anything?”

I smiled and answered with a simple, “Yeah.” It was an honest answer. Ironically, I gave the same answer to Nina last night. It was also an honest answer. I did learn that I had options; that Christianity had some interesting prospects, but they were prospects I wasn’t ready to explore just yet. For now, I’ll go along with the crowd, making fun of the kids I just ‘bonded’ with. It doesn’t mean I’ll do it forever. I’ll get around to changing. Eventually.

I can do it.
God is with me.