The Eldest Child

We were nine international volunteers that arrived at Erszebet children’s camp in Hungary to teach them English, dance, arts and to do other activities. For some reason, my first impression did not make me feel at home. The camp area was large with hundreds of children running everywhere; the canteen reminded of these typical school canteen’s that you once despised with its long lines, food smells, angry chefs and not that tasty meals; the children did not speak good English, so it was challenging to organize activities for them; the local volunteers did not show much interest in involving us, at times perceiving us like competitors to their own activities. Somehow I felt that I did not fit in, when my attention diverted to him, a 49 years old man who worked as one of the local Hungarian volunteers at the administration office. In fact, I would probably not have noticed him – a man behind the desk issuing keys, taking care of the laundry and doing other necessary small works – if it wasn’t his kindness that spoke to me first.