The two-week experience gave me a two-week equivalent of sickness. And it is ridiculous and great as well to think that my body knew when it should release all the fever, colds, and cough in my body since I was on duty. When I finally had my rest, everything abnormal in my body just came out of nowhere, and I was sick in bed for two weeks. Now, I am having sinusitis because of the colds I had. Does anyone here know a remedy for sinusitis? LOL.
Going back to the children, I really didn’t think of putting myself in front of children, doing crowd control, and leveling up my patience to give an immense understanding of their playful actions. But I was there — I took care of their hygiene, made every meaningful activity I could think of, and made my observations of them. I was not fond of volunteering nor taking care of children because I knew how much hard work it would demand, but by the time I received the information that volunteers were needed by our program, I just listed my name for screening and was luckily chosen to be one despite not having any experience. I guess it was not luck at all but direction — a relevant experience I should have that is vital for my future role in the psychology field.
Every day, you would report to the camp, and after your attendance, these young and joyous children would greet you. Some were already waiting and hoping you brought something for them that would make their day extra special. But my presence was already enough for them, and treats were just the extra ones. I was really tired during the second week, but seeing the smiles of these children gave sense and meaning to why I reported to this unfamiliar place with people unrelated to me. I started volunteering with no clear picture of my goals, but I left the camp with satisfaction that I had helped them in all the ways I could, even if I am still not a professional.
For quite some time now, I still remember the pitch of the children's laughter — the kind of sound that comes from children who have already experienced unexplainable pain from the earthquake yet still choose joy in their lives. I honestly wonder how they are doing in the camp now — if they still draw on the ripped papers with the crayons we left, or if they still sing the songs we taught during our days at the camp. They are only a few feet away from the house, but my job was no longer existing. There are moments when I find myself scrolling through the photos I captured — which I have plenty of — trying to remember the experiences, their faces, and the words that made every tiring day worthwhile.
It’s funny how attached I am to the children even after the initiative. I guess I just have to practice not dwelling too much since I would be a psychologist in the future, and becoming too attached is not that good for my job. I guess they are just kindred spirits to me, and they became my reminder that even in tragedy, the smallest gestures — a shared story and a presence — can become someone’s reason to feel safe again. And maybe that’s what being part of the MERCY Malaysia initiative truly means. We are not solely bringing aid to the children but light and hope into their lives.
I miss the kids already. I mean, who wouldn’t miss these smiles and cute faces? I also miss the version of myself who found comfort in their humble company. Because in those days at the camp, I wasn’t only a volunteer. I was a torch in their darkest days and a caregiver of love and compassion they needed while everything around us was broken. MERCY Malaysia did not regret tapping our team, for sure, because for me, I did not regret accepting their request — for what we did was a little human way to restore what was broken.