Did I ever tell you about smoked prunes? No kidding. For some reason, in Ukraine they smoke prunes like one would smoke meat. They’re quite dreadful, most Ukrainians I know don’t like them. I’ve found them in cookies, yogurt, and other desserts. They even ruin… I mean flavor… ice cream with it.
This week at camp, we experienced the ‘creme de la crème’ of said food product in the form of smoked prune juice. Some of the other camp staff compared it to tobacco tea, or drinking a cigarette. Anyone who knows me, knows I can eat anything. I eat food I don’t like, because I just eat well. But I just couldn’t down the smoked prune juice.
I had this experience because this week we stayed at the sanatorium where we’re ran a camp for around 200 orphan kids. For the record, I know that to Americans, the word “sanatorium” stirs up visions of padded rooms and straitjackets. But in Ukraine, a sanatorium is a place to relax or rest. I’ve seen several, but this was the first time I stayed at one. We didn’t share rooms with the kids, but we stayed in the same building. And either sanatorium definition could apply.
In the midst of that, I came to experience the orphans’ world. We ate the same food, heard the same techno music blasted to wake them in the morning (cruel), smelled the same smells. I even did calisthenics with them a couple times in their morning rituals. (not as a leader, but as a participant)
Smoked prune juice was just part of the regrettable foods that were served to us. We ate gretchka (stinky hot cereal made of buckwheat), sausages that wanted to be hotdogs but couldn’t make the cut, little cold silver fish with the heads removed, and mushy variations of staple cheap foods, (pasta, potatoes, oatmeal) mixed with various ingredients. We had salt and fruit brought in because neither was available.
It wasn’t all bad. Actually one morning they served a Cream of Wheat clone with jam, and it was quite good. But the goal in food prep was clearly economical, not taste. I was grateful that Ukrainians believe in bread at every meal. When in doubt, you can always fill up on bread. Mom will be proud to know that, excluding the smoked prune juice, I ate everything I was served, even cleaned my plate.
I think the food was the most difficult part of camp to (ahem) swallow. But because the kids at our camp are so needy in so many ways, it’s also emotionally draining. They don’t spend time with you as much as they cling to you. I’m a very hands-on, physically affectionate person. But there are points where you just want everyone to quit touching your hands, hair, face. Especially at the end of the week, since the kids are allowed one shower and change of clothes a week. You can imagine those kids were quite “ripe unto harvest,” to misuse the phrase. I’m critical of orphanage staff being cold and mean, but I can appreciate more how they could just be tired.
Somewhere in the week I had a bit of a revelation. Jesus put aside his “God-ness” to come to earth and become a weak, tempted, and sometimes stinky human being. The Creator of the Universe now needed to eat people-food to survive. The God so holy that even looking at him would kill you, was now subject sickness, pain, and torture to death.
He came to die for our sins, above all. But the Bible also says he wanted to “sympathize with our weaknesses.” From his Almighty position, He could understand and recognize, but He took it a step further and walked among us. And going from God to man is a much lower downgrade then for me to “become an orphan.”
This update is dedicated to the fine cooks at Bethel Park, my alma mater camp, where the food was always made with care, and smoked prunes were never on the menu. Bless you ladies, I remembered you many times!

¶ 8:24 AM //