Mamboze... and beyond!

The kids showed up within 3 minutes of our arrival. Kids on summer vacation left their dusty games in the sand, soccer kicking, and short errands from home. At 9 am, the sun was already high, and after a short 15 minute walk from where we parked the car, I wished I’d brought a bottle of water. Veronica and I greeted the kids and a few adults passing by. Smiles brightened while they talked of Veronica’s Christmas lollipops she gave them before her two-week vacation. There is an easy rapport between her and the kids... and the moms. They led me to the shade tree where they have been meeting a couple times a week for “classes”. It is a tiny spot just off the road. Too small to be anything except a resting place from the sun. Apparently it belongs to someone who plans to build something right there... they mark their ownership by leaving a pile of about 100 bricks under the tree. With thorn bushes growing through the bricks scattered across the area, it looks like they abandoned hope of building long ago. But I remember my own plans to build on a plot of land not far from here... at times I expect my land looked forsaken, too. Maybe they will be back to build here.

Kids from 2 years old to almost 12 gather in the shade at the edge of the bricks. I’d climbed to site right under the tree, stumbling on chunks of brick, assuming that is the place to be. No, the shade is better further down the slope... on the other side of the prickly bush. I feel foreign again. The lady that doesn’t know how to pick a spot to sit in the shade. I arranged three bricks on a stack to set my bottom on. Almost comfortable and almost shaded. I listen to the report of where each kid is and who has enrolled in school and who is missing. What grade will they start next month? Has someone moved away? The same conversation will be taking place in many classrooms around the world after a summer break. But this isn’t a school, nor is it a classroom. This is a Little Zebra reading group.

Once they have caught up on the essential news, Veronica asks them about a few letters. Which letters do they remember? Who can write that letter? How does that letter “talk”? Lewa... Nemba... Read... Write... Brave 6-year-olds scratch with a finger in the 40 cm patch where the sand is soft enough to write. A...a... E...e... Someone tries a letter they don’t know the name of... it is an upside down L. Kids are guessing T or 7 or maybe I... no, he doesn’t know what letter it is, but it looks like it is a letter. The 4^th grader giggles. The others smile. That’s ok, Who else knows a letter?

Can it be that after a full year of first grade a child knows only two vowels? Unfortunately, that is often the case. To know the WHOLE alphabet and the sounds of each letter is almost unimaginable. Only kids who have private tutors or help from someone at home manage these skills. I have heard statistics that show an average school child will have a total of only 45 effective days of school in a whole year. Teacher absences, sicknesses, delayed start to the school day... or the school calendar all chop away at time at school. There are no substitute teachers. There are no make-up days. There are good intentions, but often reality creeps in and robs the time from important things. One must eat. One must have a safe place to stay. Keeping on top of those things is often enough for a parent to handle and chasing after teachers who don’t show up at school just falls by the wayside.

People often ask what Mozambique REALLY needs to fix the broken system. Things are limping along in so many ways that it is hard to know what small changes will make a difference. I hope that a few caring adults in each neighborhood will take a chance to make a change. The mothers watching the little group from a shaded clearing where they sell veggies and maize drink have agreed to come to a meeting next week. One woman offered her yard for the meeting, “No, we don’t want to sit on bricks under that tree,” they said. “The kids need a better place to meet.” One inquired if there are reading classes for adults or only for children. Another said she used to teach literacy, but hadn’t had work this past year. In each little corner of our world, there is someone with an idea of how to make things better, but too afraid she will be the only one. That silly white lady shows up asking dumb questions and they start talking.

I don’t want to be the leader of the groups. I want to see local initiative. Somehow God has allowed our simple presence to nudge these women towards thinking about change. They won’t volunteer their info at a town meeting or at a school event. But when you step right into their own world, they will open up a little more. Veronica found this community on her walks around Tete. Places off the beaten path. Places behind the hill. With her crooked gait over rocks and brush she moves ahead one step at a time and teaches us all what it means to seek and save the lost. Just like Jesus. No excuses, just an open heart.

As we said good-bye to the ladies and turned back towards the path to town, a man shouted for us to stop. “I see what Veronica is doing here with the little school kids. Over there, on that hill very near here, we need a little pre-school, too.” They can come to this one. Veronica can’t manage to go to all the groups. No, we need one at our place. I explain that I think it is wonderful that a community has the initiative to do something. They should find someone right there who wants to read with children and we will help with training and materials. He agreed to bring someone to our meeting next week. 

Imagine with me... scattered pockets of small groups helping kids decipher the mystery of reading. Places where kids know they can get help and hear a story. A welcoming smile and a mom who values education. It could happen. I really think it can.