If This Week Were Any More Special, We'd Name it Ed

You know, I really shouldn't compare weeks of EFY to one another. They're all so very different in their own different ways... but I still compare them.
After this week, every other week seems mild, and so will this one... probably. You never know...

Anyways, here are the chief contestants of the group "Looked Up/Mira Arriba" that made the week, well, let's say interesting for me: (Names have been changed out of courtesy for the individuals who will probably actually never read this blog)

Senyor Chihuahua (the ny is the n with a little squiggly above it, so you know. Someone computer savvy might be able to pull it off, not me): Anyways, this guy is pretty much straight from Mexico. It was people like this last week that had me scratching my head, wondering what in the world motivates this kid, what makes him tick? When I asked him what he liked to do, he would shrug his shoulders... a common response. Really, the only time I got him to smile was when I made fun of other kids' moms in Spanish. "Tu madre!" And that made me feel bad, so I didn't even do it very often. If I was fluent in Espanyol, instead of just partially there, things might have been different for him... and most of the other kids in my group (11 out of 14 spoke spanish as their primero idioma).

The Slap-Me-Upside-The-Head-Because-I'm-Gonna-Do-Something- Stupid Hermanos: One counselor didn't show up this week, so I landed two extra youth from what should have been his group. They were one of these hermanos, and another whom we will get to later. Did I use whom correctly? Maybe my English is suffering... anyways, this hermano and another in my group got together for most of the week. They refused to escort, claiming that the girls in our group were too ugly for them, and claiming so out loud where they could hear... (by the way, the girls of Looked Up were stellar! In an attempt to integrate, EFY high-ups had put 10 white girls in our group and 4 Hispanics, but the integration never really happened. Sorry girls, again...) An inappropriate picture landed these two boys in the site office, which was the second of my many visits with the session director and coordinators. After one of the BC's, notorious for being a hard word-I-can't-say, reamed them and their friends pretty thoroughly, I figured they learned their lesson and would behave better for the rest of the week. Next morning, one was missing from his room when I went to get him for morning devotional. Figures...

Crip Dawgy-Dawg: When asked what character he would be if he was a TV character, he said Snoop Dawg. Wonderful... I knew it would only be a matter of time before this guy got to know the session director well. He was a proclaimed LT Crip, complete with blue wardrobe, colorful vocabulary (which thankfully was incomprehensible the majority of the time with that slurred and lazy gangsta speak), threats to all who wear red, and knife and lighters for cigarettes. These last items were what fulfilled my expectations, considering if one is caught with weapons at EFY, one is sent home. He actually wasn't. The jury ruled on his simple ignorance of the rules. As such, he was kept under close supervision, invited to take a front-row seat for every fireside, and his weapons were confiscated and given to me. The shank, I mean knife, is now in the hands of Brother Brown (the session director) for use in future object lessons.

Mr. Depression: Note, this is Mr., not Senyor. This, my greatest test, was not Hispanic, but about as white as you can possibly get, and the other leftover from the counselor no-show. When I say Depression, understand that HE was not depressed, only me when I thought about his life. How to relate to someone who's greatest passion is glitching in a video game, "Gears of War"... and only passion, I might add. He very vocally refused to have a good time at EFY, and opted to go home on Tuesday, but understandably, his parents who forced him to come and payed for it, wouldn't have it. "So buddy, why don't we make the best of this..." Well, my advice was not taken, unless the "best of this" involves sticking to yourself, sleeping during all firesides and classes and study times, hiding during the dances, pretending to shoot things and people while everyone else is playing games on Wednesday night, spending free time reading and re-reading anime books, and wearing the same pair of pants, shirt, and socks for 72 hours straight (including sleeping in them) and never showering until Friday when the counselor made you. What a depressing life, really. I guess he's only 14, and still has plenty of time to realize there's more to reality than virtual reality. Where's the Umpa Lumpas, they could make up one heck of a riddle for this guy!

Despite my rantings, I was actually good friends with all these guys by the end of the week. I had to spend so much time baby-sitting them, I had no choice, and in turn, I got to understand why they are who they are, and why they do the things they do. This last week of EFY was definately special... in an odd, crazy, and character-building way. These boys were still my brothers, and I can do nothing but hope the best for them, even if it takes a LOT of hope. And there is so much more to each of their stories, but knowing you may never make it through this blog, we can talk in real life. People still do that, you know.

"Umpa Lumpa doopity doo
I have another riddle for you
Umpa Lumpa doopity dee
If you are wise you'll listen to me

What do you get from this colorful scene?
A geek and a thug and everything in-between
'No hablo espanol, lo siento'
'Ese, where can I get a tacoooo!?'
... que estupido gringo..."