Ubulhe Pre-school

The children were still at lunch when I arrived at Ubuhle Pre-school with Poppy, the Tembisa children's librarian. We sat on small wooden chairs in the main room. Through an open door we smiled at forty or more children seated at low tables, eating samp (hominy grits) and beans from bright plastic plates. As they finished, they came to greet us.

First came three little girls. They were probably four or five years old. Their hair was braided in tight cornrows. Two were obviously twins. "Good day," they said in turn, their brown faces exploding with grins as if they had dared one another to actually speak to the visitors in English.

"Good day," I said although it is not an expression I normally use. "How are you today?"

"I am fine," they replied in unison, pressing against the wall and dissolving in giggles.

A little boy came up the steps from the garage/lunch room. He held out his hand for me to shake. "Good day," he said clearly.

"Good day. And how are you?" I asked him.

His huge brown eyes went blank.

"Say, 'I. Am. Fine'," one of the little girls prompted him, enunciating each word separately.

"I. Am. Fine." He nodded his head with each remembered word.

After that they came more quickly, thrusting eager hands for Poppy and me to shake and reciting the words of greeting they had learned. Some needed prompting by the bigger girls. Some managed all by themselves.

While we waited for the stragglers to finish their lunches, we went on to "My name is ___. What is your name?" They all understood the question, but only the most confident could be enticed to say, "My name is" in front of the answer.

After that we talked about the colors they were wearing. (What is it about little girls and pink?) And body parts.

Still stragglers at the lunch table. I didn't want to start the stories without them.

We stood up and did actions with those body parts. We played London Bridge, a totally new game to them, but one that aroused lots of giggles.

The last children finished their samp and beans and came to the tiny classroom. While the smallest slept on a mattress in the corner, we read Emeka's Gift and counted all the things in the market that he considered taking to his grandmother. But he had no money, so he didn't buy her anything.

"Child, you are the best present of all," his grandmother assured him when he told her.

My librarian friend, Poppy, translated the last bit to be sure the children understood the concept of how precious they are. I'm grateful that she and Annah, the wife of the Assemblies of God pastor and owner of Ubulhe Pre-school, value these children so much. May they be precious to someone at home as well.