I just returned from a trip to the Great Smoky Mountains. On my birthday, I decided to hike with my dad and my brother to the top of a mountain called Charlies Bunion. When we got to the top, I stood on a cliff and witnessed one of the most amazing views I have ever seen. You could see all of the mountains before your vision panned into the great, booming, metropolis city of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, that we all know and love.
I was, in my mind – understandably, very annoyed. Then I realized that my dad is super afraid of heights and had already pictured me dead from falling off a cliff, even though I was right in front of him. I also realized that my dad is 55, has a messed up knee, and still decided to take the ten-mile hike with me. I remembered how generous that was of him.
This is the kind of generosity I saw with all of the families involved in
Al-Bustan Camp 2017, and I cannot emphasize how happy I was to be a part of this experience. To the parents of these families — you are all raising extremely generous people. Your children weren’t just campers at Al-Bustan, they were artists, dreamers, interpreters, leaders, translators, and storytellers. It is clear that all of you would hike ten miles with your children, even if your knees get weak.
I will always remember playing the parkour version of Red Light Green Light, talking about what we want to be when we grow up (a rapper!), my long overdue fan base for my unnoticed basketball *skills, unsolicited updates about Star Wars, sharing sketchbook drawings, the girls of group Awraq who became my crew of assistants for our final celebration, and my all-time favorite conversation from camp:
Soumya: “Okay, we’re going to play Red Light Green Light.”
Seraj, Group Funun: “Nope, change of plans. Hug party!”
You are all so special, and I wish you all of the hug parties you could ever hope for. See you next year!
*I can shoot free throws and dribble a ball one time through my legs.