This Book Belongs To...

Blog Post #16 - Monica Rae

- January 24th, 2021 -

" A little word that means hello is ‘hi’

A wink is a little blink with one eye

A chuckle is a little laugh

A little cow is a calf…

A little word for good-bye is Adieu

And this little book is for you”

The first book I read my daughter was The Little Book by Sherl Horvath. She was 3 months old and barely sitting up on my lap. Every night I would bathe her, feed her and read to her—little arms wailing about, gurgles and drool covering my ears and hands. Her eyes would sparkle in anticipation and she would stare at the colors in delight. Words became familiar as books were repeated. Infant fingers turned into chunky toddler hands that grabbed each page looking for the fuzzy animals to feel or a smile to point to. Stacks of books filled her room, along with all the stuffed animals I could find so she would know the name of creatures that filled the lands of Africa and India.

“Come follow me….come follow me…come follow me, “ the sound of Mathy’s song echoed over his father’s voice as we spoke on the phone.

They sit upon stones outside their home in Cameroon, Africa, as I sit upon my bed in middle America and listen. Mathy’s 3-year-old voice, still fragile from age, releases all my inhibitions—beckoning me to learn through play and wonder.

From a distance I hear children crying. My friend Mounga (Mathy’s father) explains it is a child who cries each day at the same time because the mother has requested he take a bath and he would rather stay outside playing. I chuckle in understanding – and for a brief moment there are not thousands of miles between us.

I suggest the mother read a book to her child while he soaks in the water.

Mounga gently reminds me—“Mony, books are a luxury here.”

When I was a child I remember going to the elementary school library each week with my teacher and classmates. As the teacher gave instructions on the most recent assignment, I would wander off into the aisles—my eyes already distracted by the large picture books strategically placed in front. After school, my mother would take my sister and I to one of the multiple community libraries near our suburb of Orangevale, California so we could make copies from books for research projects and biographical essays. Time ceased to exist as I took off my shoes, making myself comfortable on the dingy green carpet surrounded by my recent pulls from the shelves.

The idea of NOT having books in my home, backpack, closet and classroom…

that NEVER occurred to me.

As I grew, reading became my escape into the world I could not touch or travel to but could experience in my mind. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease as a child and found the healing power of stories were the only medicine that allowed me, for a time, to forget what the illness robed me of.

Books were never far from me at every stage in my life. In high school, my boyfriend and I were caught making out by a stack of books I was supposed to be restocking on the ‘new release’ shelves. While I volunteered in the library at school, my first paying job was not surprisingly, at a bookstore.

During my college years when days were used for functioning (college, work, chores, church or travel) they were followed by a rest day when lights were dimmed, makeup was off, and stacks of books were at my bedside.

And when I became a mother, …my daughter grew taller and wiser, and I couldn't hide behind my pages any longer. I had traded my stack of books and hours of uninterrupted rest for fear—what could I offer my child?

I knew!

Trips to the library.

When I could not give her travels abroad or the latest fashion trends I could take her to the place I found solace—the quietness that it required brought comfort to her soul as we filled our bags with the large stacks of books that would be reread multiple times before returning them.

……

Recently, while I was battling Covid, Mounga, was juggling a bout of malaria. While I stayed in quarantine, his pain would accompany him to work. In the early morning, after his infusions, he would leave his compound to check in with his Red Cross team bringing relief and assistance to refugees entering Cameroon from nearby rebel-controlled territory.

We discussed politics, history of the area and books. When I learned that his children attend a school that does not have a library I paused long enough to realize I couldn’t unknow what I knew.

Children, without books?

“Ok, Mounga, let’s do this,” I said. “Let’s gather books for the children.”

The first step of our vision: to provide three schools in Garoua Boulai with access to books to read and borrow in Spring of 2021. In the past couple of months we have collected over 250 books and raised close to $300. Our goal remains 400+ books and a total of $900 for books and shipping costs.

Upon meeting Mounga, via a project he was doing to provide school supplies to kids in his community, I was shocked to have stumbled upon such a determined soul.

A history thick with claim, French influence and tribal pride—Cameroon is Africa in the miniature. Mounga’s town, Garoua Boulai sits at the border of Cameroon and Central African Republic. His family lays their heads on his shoulders, looking up at the cresent moon while gunfire and bird’s songs flicker in the distance. Motorbikes and TukTuks line the streets. Mango trees and refugee market vendors provide shade and subsistence as the electrical power grids take unscheduled breaks from working.

Mounga carries a wisdom from scars of life experiences he shares like the journalist he is—full of facts and details that leave me schooled.

As a teacher he sees firsthand the lives that will instruct and provide for the future generations.

As a father he sees what the children are lacking. His driving force is daily sacrifice, an instinctual and universal desire to offer his offspring an open door to every opportunity.

As a soul who cares more about serving than sleep, he is awakened with a determined and loyal swagger to deliver hope to all who surround him.

If their eyes could speak, what would they say?

Children give their innocence, an untainted belief that tomorrow is full of opportunity.

Children give their joy, smiles and giggles—a reminder of hope no matter the circumstances.

While adults are busy providing and protecting, children are waiting…

Waiting to play, to eat, to learn.

Food, clothes, shelter, safety—these essentials we pray they never go without. Books, education, opportunity—are these not just as important? What a child can learn from books allows them to dream beyond what they see.

Books bridge the gap between the wondering and the doing,

the questions and the knowing, the dreaming and the planning.

Judy, Mathy’s older sister, tells him stories as they play in the African dirt—building with sticks and stones. I watch videos of the young children at Government Bilingual Nursery School in Garoua Boulai—they shake their little bodies in celebration—their parents and teachers standing by with smiles and pride. I see classrooms filled with more children than desks for them to sit in. Their struggles I do not know, their determination is my muse.

Learning is the consequence of engagement

and childhood is when the door opens to lifelong influences.

I want to gather the children for story time. Feel their eyes upon me in anticipation.

Fill their minds and hearts with the hope that comes with knowing and sharing ideas. I want to give each one the same attention I gave my child when she was young—a pouring into the soul through the pages of books.

There is no solving all the problems in the world…no special delivery that can bring world peace. There are enough people though…a world in fact full of people who were given so that they themselves could give…

There is a glorious release that comes when we let our souls drip…into another.

My African home awaits me, starting this Spring. And while I stuff my bags with flipflops and malaria medication, there is nothing I can give they do not already have…except…perhaps…some books…

For babies in baths…

Girls in their classroom curious about history…

And boys wanting to fill their school bag with stacks of stories to share with their families under the sparkle of an African sky…

Our GoFundMe Project Information

Hope & Books for Children in Cameroon

https://gofund.me/e97e9263

DEDICATION: Juste pour toi Mounga, my words are not enough to express my gratitude for sharing your heart, family and community with me. You are Afanyinyi.

Judy, Mathy, Myriaam and the children at Government Bilingual Nursery School, Bilingual Primary School 1 and Bilingual Primary School 2. Your smiles are my great reward. I long to feel your hands turn pages of books with me.

And to my grandmother, Iola, for starting my library collection – one I can now share with children near and far.