A tiny school stands in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of fields of dry grasses blowing in the wind. These ramshackle buildings are full of laughter, dancing, and singing. But most importantly, they are full of unconditional, unquestionable, and unimaginable love.

Just down the street stands a small building. The ranch house is made of dark red bricks and wood, with barred windows and gated doors. The ceilings are high and the doorways are arched. A large dining room has floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, allowing the light from the sunset to filter in on the large mahogany table in the late afternoon. Just off the dining room, a spacious kitchen accommodates every need; that is, unless a toaster, cheese grater, or working refrigerator is needed. Many small bedrooms, each containing two tiny beds and a closet, branch off a long hallway. In each bedroom, barred windows let in the beautiful sunlight and splashes of moonlight, as well as the pesky mosquitoes and swooping bats. With each pat of bare feet in the hall, tiny patters of rats answer from the walls. Ants create endless mazes over the doors, walls, and counters, venturing into treasure chests such as peanut butter jars and cookie tins.

Outside large iron doors and a barred gate, a dirt yard filled with sparse vegetation, few trees, and two large owls stretches out to the edges of a wire fence and a stone wall. Set in the stone wall is yet another large metal gate, locked with a simple padlock. Outside the gate, a dirt path, studded with pebbles here and there, stretches into the distance. Around a turn and past a few gated yards and barking dogs lies the school. Each day, bare feet trod that silken path twice to the school, and twice back. Each day those feet dance to a silent tune, though sometimes bearing the burden of countless schoolbooks, or a heavy water jug. Each day those feet speed up in excitement as the school comes into view.

Through the gates is the schoolyard, where flocks of little children play. Four and five year olds fling their tiny arms wide for a hug and cheer “Teecha, Teecha!” in greeting. But then they are shuffled back into their classroom and made to sit as they learn the alphabet, letter by letter. The older students are already hard at work, though it is early in the morning. They sit behind cramped desks or folding tables, occasionally passing notes or whispering secret mysteries to each other only to be reprimanded sternly by a teacher. Many of the grades are placed in rooms together, learning separate math concepts, or different levels of reading. But the children work well with one another, each using their own skills to improve another’s understanding.

Come lunch, the students spill out of their classrooms, a sea of black faces, maroon uniforms, and pearl-white smiles. Their laughter fills the air as they line up for their peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. Running through the buildings and into the play yard, they quickly claim their stakes on the softest patches of grass or under the shade of the single tree and gobble down their lunch. Soon, they will have to return to school. But for now, they can enjoy each other’s company under the blazing hot sun. The feet make their journey back to the ranch house, where they stop by a pile of different school books-American school books. Later, dancing with renewed vigor along the dirt path, they run towards the school.

By this time, all of the children have completed their day’s schooling, and are out in the play yard together. Boys locked in wrestling matches tumble across a makeshift soccer field, where they are almost hit by a “plastic-bag ball.” Girls wander in groups, gossiping with each other, each with a baby doll tied to her back via a blanket wrapped around her waist, each playing “mommy.” The older boys gather in groups and throw marbles at bricks lying on the ground or invent intriguing games with half a pack of ripped playing cards.

For hours, these children tumble around and over each other in the dirt yard. Then a piercing siren goes off, and they all run pell-mell towards the metal “barn,” which serves as the cafeteria. A spoon-full of “pap and beans” is plopped into each child’s waiting lunchbox, and is eagerly scarfed up by hand. Water is the only beverage, and is available at the rusty spigot situated outside the tin walls of the cafeteria.

After dinner, the bare feet again leave for their journey home, leaving the children to shower and dress for bed and go to sleep in their separate bunk houses. They are sent off with cries of “Hambakahle,” “go well.” Back at the ranch house, letters are composed with colorful crayons and pens: Zinhle, Kgaugelo, Sipho, and many others will receive these beautiful and heart-felt letters. Many will return letters equally as sweet; letters that will be treasured forever:

Dear Teacher,
Keep praying to God. For it is written: you must not forget God. Put him in your heart. And tell those you don’t know about the Bible and teach them what you are teaching us and love your neighbor and love your family as you love yourself. And give what you like to the poor people and love your father and your friend. And you must remember, we are the branches and the sons of God.
I will always believe and trust.
I will always tell about Jesus’ story.
From:
Yvan