Confessions of an Introvert

Kiren Coyoc ♦

Photo by San Pedro Scoop

I had always noticed how easy it was for other kids to make friends; they sought out friendship and camaraderie in practically anyone. It only took a matter of timid “hellos” before games commenced and laughter was shared. However, I was always a bit too quiet, quiet enough to build searing gorges between myself and others my age. One summer, an opportunity arose that would change the course of my introverted nature: eco-camp.

Prior to eco-camp, I’d never been anywhere without my family aside from primary school. Even in primary school, it had taken me ages to feel comfortable enough around new people to befriend them. Consequently, what the nine-day program that Chaa Creek Lodge offered was my first solo trip away from home. The crux of it was grappling with my bashfulness to interact with others on my own.

One aspect of the whole ordeal I often marvel at is how I came to Chaa Creek’s eco-camp in the first place. Initially, my Standard-Five English teacher approached me to say that a personal essay I’d written was exceptional enough to enter a particular competition. With her encouragement, I spent the night revising the paper. Several weeks later, I was asked to attend Chaa Creek’s Eco-Kids Camp along with twenty-three other kids from across the country whose essays had been well-received by the establishment’s owners.

From the Princess Casino’s main entrance in San Ignacio, my mother entrusted me to Chaa Creek’s camp counselors and bus driver, who would take me to the highly-rated locale that usually hosted foreign tourists. After getting on the bus, I sat timidly beside another girl and carefully avoided eye contact. From there, with a face akin to a fish out of water, I underwent the thirty-minute-long ride on the refurbished school bus listening to the others singing silly camp songs. We rapidly switched to the covered pan of a military truck and navigated dusty roads until we met a clearing. Then there was what felt like an hour-long hike of vast green uncertainty, following a trail intersected by leaf-cutter ants and twisted roots sprouting from the rich brown of the earth to finally – pheww! – arrive at the campgrounds.

The camp counselors divided us into four teams: the Howlers, the Jaguars, the Toucans, and the Tapirs. After introductions, I sat quietly with the girls from my six-member team, the Jaguars, and my first evening went smoothly until bedtime. I had decided I didn't want to meet my roommates just yet, so I took my time walking to my cabin from the outdoor showers. However, I soon realized that I couldn’t see my hand when I held it in front of me. Despite my bright flashlight, it was pitch-black, and to make matters worse, it started raining steadily. I hastily ran to my cabin, shoved open the door, and plopped down on the bed.

The girls in the room eyed me as if I was insane. It took me a while to realize I was in the wrong cabin! When I found my rightful lodging, I was too embarrassed to talk to the two girls who were my real roommates. Hence, I drifted to sleep dreaming about returning home.

The incident from the previous night made me wish I could just disappear into the thick of the forest. I withdrew further from the group, hoping my teammates would forget about me. However, the girls in team Jaguar seemed to have other plans. We sat on our team’s designated picnic table sharing a bowl of fruits at breakfast and talking about the Howler monkeys we had heard at night. Then, we made arts and crafts together that morning, shared recycled materials, and exchanged advice on our designs for our mini projects. I didn’t even notice when my timidness started to dissipate.

We had arts and crafts daily, and I credit that activity for helping to initiate a friendship between myself and the girls. On that same day, we hiked for almost half an hour before heading to the river, and one of my roommates, Mikaylee, voluntarily filled my water bottle for me. We shared our snacks because what one person disliked, the other entirely enjoyed. We made sure to meet up with the other girls on our team who were staying in another cabin. We made sure to stick together.

Then there was the Tree of Shame fiasco. We all looked out for each other in the bathroom to make sure no one had left anything behind. We feared our undergarments being taken to the infamous tree in the campground’s center. A couple of the boys’ underwear were already up there. No brave soul would retrieve it and risk the shame of revealing to everyone who the owners were. That was the nature of the Tree of Shame, and we girls guarded each other against that fate. Yet, that was only the beginning of the pranks that occurred at camp. Every day, someone snuck around to cause mayhem.

Some days our shoes were held hostage in a tree canopy, or someone drank shaving cream in their water bottle. One morning in my cabin, we woke with drawings on our faces and shaving cream poured across the floor. Our other teammates comforted us and found out who was behind the stunt. Despite all the antics, we enjoyed the outdoor activities, like playing campfire games, horseback riding among the richly forested hills, and swimming together near the banks of the Macal River.

As the days carried on, we arrived at an unforgettable talent show night, with singing by the different teams and skits coordinated by the camp counselors. “I gan da eco-camp, gan spend a week and a half...” started the Howlers. This yielded a hearty response: “And when I eat mih dinnah, ah eat a plate and ah half. Docio weh my ice cream deh? Docio weh my ice cream deh?”

Next, the Toucans performed the Cup Song, done with an elaborate cup choreography that was somehow popular at the time, and we Jaguars performed our rendition of a Justin Bieber song. Although I didn’t like our song, I still enjoyed every bit of our uncoordinated performance because we did it together. We had been practicing for the last two days but lost to the Howler’s rendition of “I gan da Manatee,” which blatantly reminded our cook, Docio, about the ice cream sundaes we were promised for the end of our camping stay.

The day before we left, we sat on our porch, and I, almost mechanically, internalized everything we had experienced together. We had become so comfortable with one another. That evening, we blissfully shared stories about school and life back home and laughed until the sky draped itself in nightfall. Later, at dinner, we sat for the last time around our tables and ate the long-awaited ice-cream sundaes Duccio had made especially for our last night.

When morning came, we cleaned our cabins and scampered around signing T-shirts. Remarkably, the birds seemed a bit too serene—as if they knew of the heavy hearts we held and were paying their respect to the tender goodbyes that rang out to and from the people I came to trust.

Since then, conversations and encounters with unfamiliar faces have become more manageable regardless of my inhibitions and initial apprehension. I may still be introverted and need time to recharge after being in crowds, but I now try to make an effort with new people, especially since I learned how much fun I could have with daunting experiences if I allow myself to open up to others. If I had kept up my self-isolation, I would never have enjoyed the revelations that came with spending a solo trip away from home and in the forest nonetheless! Though it is a memory fastened to the distant past, I’ve learned to cherish the friendships I’ve built with others in my life, even if they only blossom momentarily.

Kiren Coyoc is an English major at the University of Belize. She lives in San Ignacio Town and enjoys playing the ukulele and taking trips to the Mountain Pine Ridge Forest Reserve.