Exploits
Saturday, July 29:
Just narrative. Without electricity, running water, phones/internet, or accessible services, the week did give me a quick taste of what outport life might have been like, or at least the summer version, and a good appreciation of our modern urban luxuries! But it clears the mind wonderfully to be able to focus on the necessities of life - food, clothing, shelter, warmth and safety - and leave the rest behind for a little while. If there's absolutely no way one can work (paid or volunteer) it's much easier to stop thinking about it. As with time, so with possessions: we pretty much filled the van with stuff we needed, or thought we needed, for the trip, but what of the time not all that long ago, when the inhabitants had to make everything from resources available on the island? What would you really need to import? How would you make sure that items could be repaired, or, failing that, reused or reduced to organic matter that would disappear? What would children need, to be educated and entertained as they grew? NEED NEED NEED gains new meaning, or, rather, loses some of its overuse.
Watching the experience of the children (five of them, aged three to ten) was also pretty enlightening about urban life. They had a wonderful time, all in all, mostly due to the fact that they could go and play on their own with water and woods and rocks, and with each other. Even those with siblings had the new experience of a larger family 24-7. Food, sleep and hygiene took a fair bit of adjusting to; they had to eat what they were given, which was reasonably familiar but had to be consumed within time limits, in a mannerly fashion (usually at their own table, since the kitchen only sat six) and without making a mess that they'd have to clean up. (This was a good theory and took much effort on our part, but most times they managed to get enough food in to keep going and satisfy our edicts.) They all took their turn at the dishes, with howls of complaint but it generally got done. They had to share bedrooms since there were so few, although it usually ended up with us separating them until they fell asleep - too much chattin' goin' on! Keeping track of their (too many) belongings in the small space was a big challenge. Due to stomach upset, my two went through more laundry than we ever could have brought, so washing clothes and bedding, which we hadn't figured would be a big feature of our week, was a headliner. The outhouse was the focus of much discussion, strategy, argument, and frustration ("GET OUT already!!"), but they managed pretty well, all told. The following of the complicated toothbrushing routine was a testament to their procedural thinking! They read books, were read to, played board and card games, spent ages fighting monsters with Sam's plastic swords, waded in the cove, swang on the swing and in the hammock, learned to row the boat (more or less), collected all manner of disgusting sea life, sang and played music, built a lean-to with help, went for walks with and without adults, and enjoyed the fruits of our hours of labour setting up a treasure hunt with clues. Nobody whined about the absence of screens, televisory or computerish, which is a constant background noise at home.
A key component of managing the kids that week was that all the adults were familiar enough with all the children to discipline them and be backed up by the children's own parents. If I couldn't tell a child, not my own, to do a certain task and be confident that the child's parents wouldn't undermine me - or conversely, knowing that my children would obey adults that direct them as well as they obey me (not that that's always perfectly, but as well as) without my intervention, then nothing would get done and the kids would spend inordinate amounts of time manipulating the grown-ups. As it was, we all adopted a unified no-nonsense attitude - do as you're told, no complaining, solve your own (interpersonal) problems, check weapons at the door - and it worked pretty well. With more time to figure out some logistical issues like sleeping and storage, we would have been able to get more of their own work out of them (the work of directly taking care of their needs, I mean) and given them even more independence. All ten of us enjoyed ourselves and came away still friends, which wouldn't have happened without the close friendship we'd had going in, and want to go back.
My pictures:
Others' points of view:
