This summer camp is helping Black kids connect with their culture

As rain threatens on a humid late July morning at a nature centre north of Ottawa, Jayeur Joseph-Antoine tells an Afro-Caribbean story to a small group of children. She sets the scene, telling them that in a few days, August will arrive. 

"August is a very, very special time — a time of celebration in our culture," says the Saint Lucian Canadian, who runs a local youth organization, "Have you ever heard of Carnival?" 

The campers, ranging in age from four to 12, cry out in unison "Yes!" A seven-year-old excitedly describes Carnival to his friends: "A lot of people walk down the street and they sing and they yell, and there's a bunch of big balloons!" Another seven-year-old chimes in: "It's like a birthday, but with more dancing!"

The elation — and cultural connection — is exactly what Black in Nature day camp founder Lukeisha Andrews was hoping for when she designed the day camp. She founded the non-profit organization so Black children like her own could enjoy nature in a welcoming, culturally affirming environment. 

Andrews wanted her child to be free to explore nature as she had growing up on the Caribbean island of Saint Vincent. She remembers creating collages from banana plants and watching the sun rise every morning from a riverbank, after fetching water from a public pump with her great-grandmother. 

Andrews brings the magic of those dazzling sunrises to her campers with nature-based arts — especially in the summer sessions when the heat and mosquitoes prevent them from spending extended stretches in the forest. 

Weeks before camp, Andrews gathers information about each child and their heritage and creates arts programming that highlights their cultural experiences and identities. This year, campers' backgrounds span the African diaspora, from South Africa to Haiti, Mali to Jamaica, and Cuba to Nigeria.

Every single camper and staffer is Black, exceedingly rare in nature education in Canada. Andrews remembers a child in the early days of the program stopping to exclaim, "Oh, my goodness! Everybody around here is Black!" 

"He hadn't seen people like me in leadership roles in the outdoors," she says. 

Every morning, Andrews — who insists the children call her by her first name — asks the campers what activities they'd like to do that day. She then sets out what she calls "provocations" of paints, modelling clay, magnifying glasses (to draw on wood with the sun), and anything else the campers have requested. Then they choose for themselves what they want to create. 

That child-led freedom, instead of following routines or directions from teachers, reflects the decolonizing spirit of Black in Nature. Kids are allowed to listen to their bodies and their minds. For example, they don't have lunch at a specific hour; rather, they eat when they're hungry. 

"It's important for them to make smart decisions on their own, especially self-care," says Andrews, who is so dedicated that she runs the camp during her vacation time from a full-time job at the Child and Nature Alliance of Canada.

Over that week in July, the children learned drawing from an Afro-Cuban artist, percussion from an Ivorian drummer of the Senoufo tribe, and steel pan from Trinidadian maestro Eddie Alleyne, who says steel pan was invented in response to the colonial banning of African drums.

Likewise, Black in Nature is an attempt to redress the exclusion and erasure of Black people from the outdoors. Andrews has found Black parents are often concerned that white educators wouldn't recognize hypothermia or tick bites on their children's skin. And they fear if their child is injured during outdoor play, they'll be met with medical racism or reported for child abuse. 

"For Black and brown people, nature has always been our thing," she says. "[The colonizers] took that away from us."

Back in the storytelling circle, thunder and lightning prompt screams from the children. Wearing colourful feathered Carnival regalia, they rush under the overhang of a nearby building and share stories inspired by nature. 

"There was this one flower which stood tall and great," says a 10-year-old wearing a yellow and orange headdress made of beads, sequins and two-foot-long feathers reminiscent of a bird-of-paradise flower. "Then there was a storm. But it was a magical storm, and anything its lightning touched came to life." Everyone coos, and the child continues: "During that storm, the bird of paradise got struck by lightning and turned into a beautiful red and gold bird." 

With the tale over, storyteller Joseph-Antoine turns on soca music, and the children jump and dance and cheer for their friend. Off to the side, Andrews beams. Her children are shining, connected to nature and their cultures.