Binyamin Kaminsky's Experience in Yeka!

Here is an essay that Binyamin Kaminsky wrote about his experience in Yekatrinoslav last year (Not this past year). All I can say is beautiful.

The words and phrases ricocheted feverously in my head constantly, day in day out, without so much as a few seconds for my mind to ponder rationally for a brief moment, the task I was about to undertake. "You're crazy!" "No seriously, what are you really doing this summer?" "Are you out of your mind?" Was I indeed crazy? I didn't believe so, or at least when I had thought out the idea I didn't think so. Being a counselor at a camp for underprivileged Jewish children in the Ukraine was not by any means a minor task. Had my passion for caring, and helping the Jewish youth of our world become demented? Sure I had been president of the Hatnuah Jewish Youth Organization in Hong Kong, and helped out once a week in leading a children’s service at synagogue. But flying ten hours to Eastern Europe, only to have a three day bus ride ahead of me in an automobile that looked more junkyard scrap than vehicle, was slightly unnerving. This coupled with the fact that my attempted crash course mastery of the Russian language hadn’t been very masterful made my odds of productivity in Ukraine look very slim, and left the task ahead of me daunting. Yet there was a certain burning desire that persisted within me to continue my mission to help Jewish children less fortunate than I, and see that camp Yekatrinoslav, in Bellanova, Ukraine, a tiny speck on the map, would be a resounding success. Following a three-day orientation designed to, “fire up” staff members, the campers were due to arrive. Needless to say I was superfluously worried. Suppose the kids didn’t like me? What if my Russian wasn’t good enough? However, the moment the first camper hopped off the first bus, with a smile adorning his face from ear to ear, I knew that going to the Ukraine, and following one of my true passions had been a wise choice. As camp wore on, and I better familiarized myself with the children, my desire to be the best counselor, mentor, and friend to my campers increased exponentially. This was more than likely due to hearing ubiquitous horror stories of families shattered by alcoholism, death, and poverty. It was common for a boy to be an orphan or have had a parent pass away. Most of the kids came to camp for 4 weeks with literally a daypack on their back stuffed with two, if lucky three t-shirts. The boys couldn’t understand why the Americans had two oversized duffel bags each. I very quickly began to enjoy a newfound appreciation for just how lucky I was. Pocket change to me, was a small fortune to the boys. My spending habits, although normal at home began to feel disgusting. Furthermore, every hour I spent at Bellanova, I increasingly began missing my parents, siblings, and friends. Not because I was homesick, I had certainly spent similar periods of time away from home, but because I badly relished the opportunity to pay homage to all that I cherished in life, and all that I was so fortunate to have. Although by the end of camp, I was definitely not fluent in Russian, the bond that I formed with the kids of Camp Yekatrinoslav transcended all notion of speech, and in fact was a language in and of itself. Proof of this was the emotional conclusion of our stay in Bellanova. To see 30 young viral men, tough enough to withstand four weeks of nothing but kasha and cabbage soup, sobbing in a circle is remarkable, and cannot be rationalized. The leaps and bounds I made in my personal growth while in Ukraine were tremendous. Not only did I mature emotionally, but I also matured spiritually. I witnessed firsthand what utter caring and devotion, and the instillation of a few ounces of Jewish pride could do to a few kids. For four brief weeks, we gave 120 kids, the opportunity to be kids again. No more drinking, no more working, no more smoking, no more mourning. The results brought tears to my face, a sense of fulfilment and growth, and finally, a ticket back in August 2006.