Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: REFUGE (08/29/19)
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TITLE: CYARA | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
09/04/19 -
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“Shush, it’s ok. Remember how excited you were? And once you get there, you know you’ll have fun.”
I watched this girl, older than me, being comforted by her mother.
Not want to go? I thought. How could that be?
As soon as Bronwyn, our team leader, motioned for our group I almost bounded on to the bus, forgetting all about the scene I’d just witnessed. No crying for me! I was beyond excited to go.
A few minutes later the bus was full of about one-hundred 10-13-year old’s, a few adults, and a handful of teenagers, our group leaders. Some of the kids were still sniveling, but I ignored them as the bus lumbered away from the school and headed towards the lodge.
“Dad?” I cautiously approached my father. I had to time things just right. Not drunk enough and he’d get belligerent, and I’d be lucky to escape with just a smack to the face; too drunk and he’d not remember, and then later hit me for telling lies.
It looked like I had found the sweet spot. Just buzzed enough to be nice. He blearily looked up from his book, whisky glass dangling from his hand. “What do you want?”
“There’s a camp that the Christian Student Association at school is offering this summer. It’s a week long and it’s R60 for the whole week.” I stumbled over my words, trying to get the facts out before I got a flat-out no.
“Christian camp? Are you *$#@% me? No way!”
“But Dad, it’s in the summer. I’d be gone five full days.” Let him focus on me being gone, not the Christian part, please!
My mother interjected, something she seldom did. “Charles, that actually sounds nice. We’d be rid of her for a week.”
She looked meaningfully at my father. They had made no bones about the fact that I was a burden to them, stunting their ability to drink themselves into oblivion every night and weekend.
“If you say it that way…” my father trailed off. Impatiently he gestured, “Where’s the form? Come on! Give me the *$(@&$ form!”
I quickly handed it over, excitement pounding in my chest. But I wasn’t home free yet. “I need the money too, dad.”
“Get me my wallet,” he demanded.
I ran to get it, hope singing in my heart. I handed it over and he pulled out three 20 Rand notes. “Make sure the teacher in charge gets this, ok?”
Leaning my head back in the seat, I couldn’t contain my smile as I contemplated a week with no responsibilities. A week free from cleaning the ashtrays, making the morning coffee and tea, rousing my parents and making sure they were ready to leave the house. A week free from mixing their drinks, and cleaning them up when they passed out. A week of not having to care for anyone but myself.
I swayed violently as the bus turned onto a dirt road. One of the adults, Ms. Sumter, stood. “Right everyone. We are almost there. When we get off the bus we will all meet at the chapel and go over room assignments.”
As she spoke the bus drove under a high wrought-iron arch, with the letters C Y A R A. spelt out.
“Welcome to KY-ARA,” Ms. Sumter announced as the bus slowed.
“Does it mean anything?” I queried Bronwyn as we got off. Me, a lover of words, had never heard the word CYARA.
“It’s from the Bible.”
“OK,” I said. I didn’t have a Bible. One wasn’t allowed in my house.
“Yeah, it’s from the book of Mark,” Mark has a book? “And it stands for Come Ye And Rest Awhile”.
Rest. A place of peace and quiet – away from my parents for a whole week. That sounded like heaven.
Mark 6:31 (KJV) Come ye …apart… rest awhile.
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CYARA still runs camps, and was my refuge for many years - https://cyaralodge.co.za/
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