june 2026
Summer Camp 26'
“
My name is Kwabena. I am ten years old and I live in Duadze. In fact, I look forward to the Summer Camp all year round.
When one camp ends, I know that I will have to wait a long time for the next one. But that is okay. Sometimes it is enough for someone to mention that in a few months we will be together again, and we already start planning who will be on whose team, who will run the fastest, and who will score the most goals this time.
When one camp ends, I know that I will have to wait a long time for the next one. But that is okay. Sometimes it is enough for someone to mention that in a few months we will be together again, and we already start planning who will be on whose team, who will run the fastest, and who will score the most goals this time.
Summer Camp is worth waiting for all year round.
Because holidays in Duadze look a bit different. Not all of us go away somewhere far. There are no summer camps, family trips, or grand vacation plans. Instead, there are a few special days right here in our town, when you can run, play, laugh, and do things from morning until evening that you sometimes don't have time for the rest of the year.
For us, Summer Camp begins much earlier than the first whistle. It begins simply when we are together again. This year there were as many as 120 of us. One hundred and twenty kids. One hundred and twenty different stories, personalities, dreams, and ideas for what the best match should look like.
For us, Summer Camp begins much earlier than the first whistle. It begins simply when we are together again. This year there were as many as 120 of us. One hundred and twenty kids. One hundred and twenty different stories, personalities, dreams, and ideas for what the best match should look like.
We are all like one team!
This year's Summer Camp was a bit different.
This time, it wasn't just kids like me on the pitch. There were also older boys—our brothers, uncles, cousins, and older mates. There were adults whom we usually see doing their everyday chores. This time, however, everyone came here to be part of the team. Suddenly, age stopped mattering. There were no "older ones" and "younger ones." There were teams. There was a match.
You could get tired. You could lose. You could get dirty. There was sweat on our foreheads, dust on our shoes, and a lot of shouting when someone scored a point. And when someone lost, sometimes there were tears too, because when you really want to win, defeat genuinely hurts. But a moment later, we were all together again.
You could also learn a local game that you hadn't even known by name before, or simply sit together on a mat. There were stories you won't find in any book. Stories of Duadze told by the elders, local tales and legends that we know thanks to someone sitting down and telling them once upon a time. This time, we listened to them together: children, youth, and adults.
And I think that's when I realized that sports and being together like this can do something extraordinary. For a few hours, they make age, what you do every day, and how old you are completely irrelevant. What matters is the team. What matters is whether you pass the ball to your teammate, whether you help him up, whether you shout with joy when he scores a goal, and whether you stay by his side when his team loses.
And that is exactly what I like the most. Because this camp wasn't just about football. It was about us. About where we come from, about the people who were here before us, and about what we can learn from one another. And also about the fact that sometimes the things you remember best aren't the grand things, but the small ones:
A friend's laughter,
A race that was almost impossible to win,
A match we will remember for a long time,
A story we didn't know before,
A meal shared together,
Tired legs at the end of the day,
And that moment when we all head back home a bit dirty, a bit tired, but with our heads full of everything that happened throughout the day.
To adults, Summer Camp might look like a few days of sports and fun. For us, it's something much bigger. It's a place where we can be together. A place where we can try, make mistakes, and try again. A place where we learn that winning is cool, but the team is more important.
And maybe that's why, when the last day of camp ends, we already start waiting for the next one. I certainly will. Because I am ten years old and I know one thing: Summer Camp is worth waiting for all year round.
This time, it wasn't just kids like me on the pitch. There were also older boys—our brothers, uncles, cousins, and older mates. There were adults whom we usually see doing their everyday chores. This time, however, everyone came here to be part of the team. Suddenly, age stopped mattering. There were no "older ones" and "younger ones." There were teams. There was a match.
You could get tired. You could lose. You could get dirty. There was sweat on our foreheads, dust on our shoes, and a lot of shouting when someone scored a point. And when someone lost, sometimes there were tears too, because when you really want to win, defeat genuinely hurts. But a moment later, we were all together again.
You could also learn a local game that you hadn't even known by name before, or simply sit together on a mat. There were stories you won't find in any book. Stories of Duadze told by the elders, local tales and legends that we know thanks to someone sitting down and telling them once upon a time. This time, we listened to them together: children, youth, and adults.
And I think that's when I realized that sports and being together like this can do something extraordinary. For a few hours, they make age, what you do every day, and how old you are completely irrelevant. What matters is the team. What matters is whether you pass the ball to your teammate, whether you help him up, whether you shout with joy when he scores a goal, and whether you stay by his side when his team loses.
And that is exactly what I like the most. Because this camp wasn't just about football. It was about us. About where we come from, about the people who were here before us, and about what we can learn from one another. And also about the fact that sometimes the things you remember best aren't the grand things, but the small ones:
A friend's laughter,
A race that was almost impossible to win,
A match we will remember for a long time,
A story we didn't know before,
A meal shared together,
Tired legs at the end of the day,
And that moment when we all head back home a bit dirty, a bit tired, but with our heads full of everything that happened throughout the day.
To adults, Summer Camp might look like a few days of sports and fun. For us, it's something much bigger. It's a place where we can be together. A place where we can try, make mistakes, and try again. A place where we learn that winning is cool, but the team is more important.
And maybe that's why, when the last day of camp ends, we already start waiting for the next one. I certainly will. Because I am ten years old and I know one thing: Summer Camp is worth waiting for all year round.
