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From a Difficult
Beginning to...
A
large building constructed with red bricks. A college. A grey wall. Leaning
to this wall some grey buildings, almost like barracks. A meeting place of a
group. A group with green-and-white neckerchiefs. Scouting neckerchiefs. And
green sweaters. And short brown trousers. And green hats with yellow stripes
on them. Cubs.
June 1985. One 12-year old boy amongst those cubs, in a strange environment.
Not completely strange, he went to school in that college. One boy whose
father and uncles had been members of Scouting for long. Long before he was
talked into it.
A walk. No, a hike. A hike from the local park along a small smelly river. A
rather long hike. The boy, still not in a uniform, amongst all those cubs and
their leaders of troop 46 St. Xaverius. Somehow feeling uncomfortable yet
good. A walk to Wommelgem. Then a large orange bus. A bus back home. A story,
a first meeting with scouts. Still feeling uncomfortable, not many friends.
A month later. A camp? No, not for this boy. Not participating long enough to
go camping with that group. Too strange, too far away and yet very close.
Two months later, a new season. A new age group. Jongverkenners, they were
called. Still feeling strange. Still no uniform. Still not belonging to that
group. Not many friends yet. Strange activities.
A weekend with that group. A small wooden barrack in a small forest, called
Sparrendael. A weekend on which the young uncertain boy would speak his
Promise. A Scouting Promise? So it should have been, so it didn't seem.
Fetching cigarettes for the leaders, that was the assignment. Walking from
door to door in a rich neighbourhood begging for cigarettes. But, the boy was
dressed up in a Scouting uniform. Finally after those months. Short brown
trousers and a khaki shirt. No neckerchief.
No fun either. Bad weekend. Crying. Reaching out to return home. A failure.
Coming home. Parents saw that something was wrong. And they just bought that
uniform.
November 1985. A florist. A florist? Yes, a florist who lives across the
street and who tells about a Scouting group in the middle of Antwerp. Troop
1/25 St. Jacob. He suggests to come with him and take a look. A leader of
that troop lives in the neighbourhood and he brought the very first
programme. The programme of November 1985. A true Scouting programme with
true Scouting activities.
Hope came to the boy. Does Scouting really exist? Wasn't troop 46 as a true
Scouting troop should be?
A house with brown and yellow paint in a street in the middle of Antwerp.
Several rooms in the house. Scouting rooms. An alley with an iron stair
leading upward to more rooms. A room on the first floor filled with
Jongverkenners and their leaders.
November 10, 1985. The very first meeting with that new exciting troop. The
boy was afraid, what if this also went wrong? Painting the patrol corners of
the room. And it was funny!
Scouting really exists. What a relief!
Many many good activities followed. A visit to a first-aid station in the
port of Antwerp. Games in the city. Hikes. A hike along a channel formed
during WW II. A bombed fortress which was fun to climb on and explore. Fun!
Exploring! Friends!
December 1985. A weekend with that group. Prosperpolder, in the shadows of
the nuclear plant of Doel. A weekend on which the young enthusiast Scout
would speak his Promise. A true Scouting Promise. So it should have been
and... so it was! Finally, it happened. That day was the beginning of a new
life that would never end. Never. The boy got a yellow-and-red neckerchief. A
Scouting neckerchief. His first one.
And many many more good activities followed. Easter 1986, a small camp on
which the growing Scout learned to know the real Scouting life. Even so real,
he didn't dare to participate on the 1986 summer camp, alas.
But the good things kept coming, year after year. A totem in 1987, at the
summer camp in Martilly. The boy was called Tapir from that day on. And it
went on and on. Nice hikes, friendship, and growing values. A light in the
life of the Scout who didn't have many friends at school but luckily enough
in Scouting.
He became explorer and renewed his promise. He got an adjective added to the
totem as the tradition wanted it to happen. More camps. More hikes. More
learning. More special moments that will always be remembered. More fun. More
life!
April 1989. The 24th. The scout was at school and it was a bit after 2 PM in
the afternoon. The school director entered the classroom and took the scout
out for telling him bad news. His dad had an accident and didn't survive it.
The boy sat there in a small office and didn't realise what was happening.
His uncle came to bring him home. His mother sat there, crying. His sister
too. A few days later, the funeral. They were all there. The scouts of St.
Jacob and the leaders. All of them. Even though they should have been on a
fantastic kayak weekend in the Ardennes.
Lots of support afterwards. Superb leaders who continued to teach Scouting to
the boy who lost his father. And every second, the Scouting feeling grew
stronger and stronger.
September 1991, the Scout became a cub leader, just like his dad did thirty
years before him. He used his dad's books for inspiration. He learned the
cubs exactly the same as what he learned. He gave them good activities,
hikes, camps. He listened to them as they spoke their Promises. Scouting
Promises? Yes, they were. And he enjoyed seeing his cubs enjoying it.
After five years, he gave up the leadership and took a function at the
national headquarters. But his mind became to grow international. Over the
Belgian borders. He saw Scouting as a true worldwide movement.
February 1998. The Scout met a Dutch Scout and didn't forget his own
leadership skills. So, he joined a group in the Netherlands and became Akela
once more. Every Saturday on a train at 5 AM. Returning home with the night
bus at 2 AM Sunday night. But again, he enjoyed it. More cubs to give joy in
Scouting, to teach things, to have hikes with, to give great camps. More cubs
spoke their Promise. Scouting Promises? They didn't went the same way as he
saw and heard them in Antwerp. But yes, it were true Scouting Promises. And
again, he loved to hear the cubs speaking them. He loved the sight of a cub
in a green shirt laying his hand at the Scouting flag while reading up the
Promise.
After six months, the Scout moved abroad, he went living in the Netherlands,
a few miles from his new Scouting troop "D'n Hartel" in Terheijden.
A wooden building with blue and yellow paint. A grass field. No large city.
Moved abroad for Scouting. And with pleasure.
More activities. More weekends. More camps. More fun. Meeting other Scouts in
Switzerland and becoming friends with them also. Meeting more Scouts in the
United Kingdom and becoming friends with them also. Never forgetting his
first true Promise of December 1985.
September 2001. The Scout in our story is 28 now. He has leaded cubs for
eight years. Now it's time to bring into practice what he learned himself. He
joined the Red Cross in order to do what he promised so often.
And for those who should doubt... I'm that Scout. And I feel lucky and proud
to be a Scout. And to everyone who reads this, I want to make the following
Promise. A Scouting Promise? It doesn't look like one at all. No uniform, no
leaders, no other Scouts, no flag. But yes, a true Scouting Promise.
I Promise
to do my best to follow the rules and guidelines of Scouting in every aspect
of my life.
I Promise to spread out the words about Scouting to everyone who wants to
hear them.
I Promise to bring happiness to everyone as it was brought to me in all those
years.
I Promise to remain Scout for ever.
Yours in Scouting,
Erik Heirbaut
The Netherlands
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