Campers have really hit their stride as we round out Session 4, and it’s evident all around Camp. Bunk bonds are growing stronger by the day, and you can see kids walking around with more confidence, independence, and ease. Whether it’s cheering each other on at the Challenge Course or sharing laughs at meal times, there’s a strong sense of camaraderie and belonging that makes Tawonga so special.
After recharging over the weekend – including one jam-packed talent show – we jumped right back into our regularly scheduled programming to kick off the second week of Session 4. Camp is buzzing with ruach as campers soak up every last drop of summer fun. Over the past week and a half, we’ve seen campers Tikkun the lake by removing lily pads, whip up snacks in the Garden Kitchen, dance their hearts out in the Moadone, and cuddle goats at the farm. Whether sculpting clay, making stuffed animals or exploring their interests in specialty blocks like Lifeguard-in-Training and Gnarly, these campers are all-in – laughing , learning, and growing every step of the way.
Bunk bonding is at an all-time high, with epic Gaga games, spontaneous song sessions, and late-night chats under the stars. Session 4 is known for its joyful, creative energy, and this cohort is bringing it in full force, with colorful tie-dyes hanging on clotheslines, lively song sessions echoing around Camp, and a whole lot of love packed into every moment. Below, enjoy a spotlight on our Teva program.
A Summer with Teva
By: Jo Almond
This summer, I am working as a naturalist at camp – we call it “Teva,” Hebrew for “nature.” But what is nature, and what does it mean to be connected to it, here at Tawonga?
Often, we think of “nature” as land that is untouched by humans; maybe the word “wilderness” comes to mind, or the idea of “leave no trace.” As a naturalist here this summer, I am committed to helping campers rethink this divide between “us” and “nature.” By exploring Mewuk stewardship of the land, as well as their dependence on it for food, clothing, medicine, and materials, campers are learning that we can participate, and even use, the land around us, in non-extracting, stewarding ways. In fact, maybe they are learning, as I am, that to use and depend on land is the very thing that leads us to a deeper form of attunement and care.
“How do you think it would impact your relationship to your environment,” I ask the 13-year-old campers surrounding me, “if you relied on it for all of your food?”
We are sitting at Cookie Corner Near the Wilderness Shed and Saloon at this point in the Mewuk Walk, around a large, flat boulder riddled with deep holes. These holes can be found on boulders all throughout camp, and are some of the most concrete evidence of Mewuk presence on the land. It was generations of Mewuk food processing that eventually wore away these perfectly circular pits in the granite – primarily, the pounding of acorns, a staple Indigenous food throughout this region. This is what Mewuk Walks – an integral part of Teva programming – are all about: guiding campers to notice the signs of Indigenous stewardship still present on this land, and reflecting on how we can bring these practices forward as the land’s new, and temporary, stewards.
After explaining how the holes were formed, I have the campers guess what else, besides acorns, Mewuk people ate here. Usually campers get most of it: deer meat, berries (“can you spot a manzanita?”) foraged greens, fish from the river. I have them identify black oaks, point to one near us, and we sit with this idea for a moment, that an entire people could be sustained by this land on which we are now living.
Next, I ask the bunk to think about a meal they recently ate. From how many places do they think it came? Usually there’s some laughing, a few hesitant guesses that cheese comes from cows on a farm… somewhere, and tomatoes, perhaps, from Mexico? “If you don’t know, that’s okay,” I tell the campers. That’s the point – we don’t really know, most of us, nowadays.
Noticing Manzanita
When I ask campers how their relationship to the land they live on would change if they relied on it – and only it – for food, most kids tell me they would care for it more. This is a great answer, of course, but on one Mewuk walk, we went even further. On this walk, my friend Raq and I decided to take the kids foraging for manzanita. We gathered around the largest manzanita tree on the Challenge Course and asked permission to collect berries to make cider, just as Mewuk people have done for thousands of years.
Reflecting at the end of the block, the campers were shocked at how much they’d noticed. “I’ve never seen a praying mantis in the wild before,” one said. “But it was right there!”
During our recent land gathering, when we learned ancestral Miwok traditions with our Miwok neighbors, this idea was apparent throughout all the stages of Nupa making: to live from the land is to notice the land. Think about the knowledge that sustains our bodies: where I come from, it is knowledge of money and the economy. How many dollars do I need to buy eggs? How much is the tax on bread?
What if the knowledge we needed to sustain ourselves was, instead, this deep knowledge of place: the direction of the breezes, and rivers and their rocks, and each tree’s special use. What if we needed to know which plants can be used for baskets, and which for medicine – or both, as is the case for the willow trees that sprawl just outside Tawonga’s garden, their splayed shapes evidence of Mewuk tending hundreds of years ago?
Teva Means Nature
I conclude many of my Mewuk walks with one reflection, that I hope campers will carry with them far beyond that day: the land is full of abundance – but we need to meet it halfway, with our skills, and our stories.
On Teva, we try to impart these skills through many types of programming. When we weed garden beds, we identify purslane, and the campers snack on its leaves as they work. After every Cuddle Puddle on the farm, I ask them to reflect on how they found ways to communicate beyond words, transcending species difference. Every tea-making block, we begin with our senses: just smelling the herbs – noticing them. We read stories, the bedrock of our perception of the world and our place in it: the Jewish tale of Honi and the Carob Tree, alongside Mewuk stories like the Tale of El Capitan.
We practice leaving “positive traces” on the land, defying the heralded principle of Leave No Trace. During Forest Tikkuns, we create burn piles so we can continue the controlled burns that Mewuk people have been using for generations, create trails, and remove invasive lilypads from the lake.
My job this summer, as I have come to understand it, is to teach kids to be a steward in partnership with the land rather than protecting it from the outside. I hope they remember the taste of acorns, the elegance of the praying mantis, and the sparkle and crunch of thick purslane leaves. I hope they remember these moments when they get to fully be – not individuals, but an entangled, nourished, and joyful, part of the land.
About the Author
Jo Almond is a second generation Tawongan and a camper and Quester alum, currently working as a Naturalist and a Farmhand this summer. Outside of camp, she works as a writer and activist, studying Environmental Anthropology at Wesleyan University. Jo has authored several pieces for Tawonga prior to joining the summer staff. See her reflection on Quest in this 2019 post. Jo’s dad, Steve Almond, is a Tawonga alum and New York Times best-selling author. You can read his reflections on Camp here.
