Books! Books! Books!

I was able to visit three of the more that 50 schools that my daughter is involved with. At the first, Hololo,I was presented a traditional Besotho blanket and hat. Bright eyes and big smiles greeted me as the children gathered around to see the principal of the school, my daughter's host mother, wrap the blanket around me and welcome me to Lesotho, her village, and her school.

At the second site, Muela, the children danced and read in my honor. Three students were chosen to read from books in the new library. Who Am I? The Magic Locket and Black Beauty. Carefully and with pride, the students read aloud to me. What a delight. Later we were served coffee in the library.

The road into the third school defies description. Far beyond being a dirt road, it was also deeply rutted, rock strewn, narrow (this is a curvy, dipping mountain road - MOUNTAIN - road with no barriers between a car on the road and a car several hundred of feet off the road, down the side of the mountain) and we were driving on the left side of the road. Maybe, in time, acclimation to the road surfaces would ease my fear but it was a long hour. Usually, my daughter walks 3 1/2 hours to Tsime school. ONE WAY. She travels across fields,streams, through villages, up and down the mountain and along the same road we drove. I guess that journey puts my journey into perspective. She did say my reaction was like when she was 16 and learning to drive: my symphony of sounds as I sighed, gripped the seat, closed my eyes, reached for the e-brake and added a bass drum as my foot tried to slow the car -- pumping imaginary brake. As if it would help! My daughter didn't even blink!

People from the whole community turned out to celebrate my visit to Tsime. I was humbled by the hundreds of faces waiting for our arrival. The principal introduced me as Ma Mpho - meaning Gift. What a wonderful name. When we arrived, lunch with traditional foods was waiting for us. Papa (maize meal), moroho (rape or any green like spinach or lettuce - put in a pot, with oil and salt), pumpkin and a piece of boiled chicken. A lace tablecloth was laid over a desk before our plates were laid down. Traditional dances, in full attire, were preformed by the boys and girls. Even the mothers danced. Mixed in the dancing were short speeches. The village chief spoke about a day in village history when the school received a library. He called my daughter a hero for facilitated the library project. A student spoke about how happy he was to have so many books at his school. The principal and teachers spoke with joy about the work that my daughter has done. Then one of the mothers spoke. Her genuine gratitude and joy was touching witness to the value placed on the establishment of the library. At the end of several hours, the mothers presented my daughter and I with a collection of gifts: traditional baskets, vessels, bowls, food, Lesotho hats, a woven mat and a cow horn lamp. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of the women: they have so little and yet, shared their day (many of them had walked 1-2 hours to be at the school), their joy, their music and themselves with me. Our common bond was our children....mine and theirs.