Dear Readers,
We would like to invite you to take part in a new project called "From Stories to Books".
The Stories for Everyone Team have been, for some time, gathering and selecting books that provide some sort of reflection on the fundamental ethical principles of
our society, such as solidarity, courage, honesty, respect for differences and a sense of justice, matters that have deserved the attention of writers from various
nationalities.
Therefore, the Stories for Everyone Team proposes to send, together with the usual weekly stories,and also free of charge, full texts of selected books.
In case you are interested in receiving each week, by email, a chapter of an extensive reading book, all you have to do is send an email to
books@storiesforeveryone.com or stories4ev@gmail.com by writing the following sentence in the subject field:
"Yes, I am interested in participating in the project From Stories to Books."
Hoping that this new proposal will meet your utmost interest, we look forward to your reply.
The Stories for Everyone Team
Madoulina:
A girl who wanted to go to school
Let me tell you the story of how I was once like a bird who leaves the nest very early and only comes back late in the evening. I am Madoulina. Babo, my younger brother, and I lived with our mother in a small house in the Mokolo neighborhood in Yaoundé, Cameroon. My mother was poor but brave. Every day she went to the market to sell fresh produce and fritters.
I had to help Mother. Every morning Babo went to school, but Mother kept me home.
Every day at six o´clock, Mother woke me up.
"Get up, Madoulina, it´s time to sell fritters," she would say.
Sometimes I wished I could sleep longer, but I didn´t want to disobey. So I would get up. Then, with a tray of fritters on my head, I went out into the street. Walking all around town selling fritters was not easy for someone my age.
One evening as school was letting out, one of the students started to tease me.
"Look, Babo´s big sister is already selling fritters, just like her mom. Doesn´t she want to be a doctor anymore?"
We started to argue.
All of a sudden a man came up to me and asked for some fritters. I wrapped a few for him.
"What´s your name, little girl?" the man asked.
"My name is Madoulina," I replied.
"How old are you?"
"Eight."
"Ah! My name is Mr. Garba. I´m the new teacher."
"So you are my little brother Babo´s teacher?" I asked.
"Yes, I am. But I´ve never seen you at school. Why?"
"Uh…well... I was supposed to start the first year of regular school, but my mother is poor. My father abandoned us, and my mother is raising us all alone. She would rather Babo went to school. As for me, I´m a girl, and when I grow up I´ll get married. I´ll take care of my husband and children."
"That may be, but school is very important also. Girls as well as boys must be educated. Meet me here tomorrow after school and take me to your house. I would like to speak to your mother."
So the next day I waited for Mr. Garba. It was getting dark when he arrived.
We walked in the moonlight, not speaking, along a little soccer field that led to the street where I lived. Piles of garbage lay here and there where hungry dogs came to feed. Most of the houses were old. Some, built out of planks, fit right in with the garbage cans. It was the poor part of town. People called it "Mokolo-Elobi"— the swampy area.
"Here we are. This is where I live."
We went in. Mother was surprised to see me back late and not alone. She asked me who our guest was.
"It´s Babo´s teacher. Sir, this is my mother."
After the introductions, I gave Mother the day´s earnings. Then I went to give my little brother a bath.
Mr. Garba tried to persuade Mother to send me to school. The two of them didn´t seem to be getting along. Quickly, I finished giving Babo his bath, and we went back to the sitting room.
Mother was furious. She stood up.
"My dear sir," she said, "your arguments do not interest me at all. A woman is meant to look after a household."
"That´s fine, ma´am," he said to her. "But if Madoulina went to school, she could look after a household even better. Besides, it´s the right of all children to have an education — girls and boys."
These words went straight to my heart. They made me happy, even if they did not conquer the shadows in my heart.
The path to the truth
The rain that had been falling for some days stopped on that afternoon, and the whole class sighed with relief. The boys now knew that the football match they were looking for so much wouldn´t be cancelled due to bad weather.
"We´ll meet on the field at three o´clock sharp," said Matthew to Richard, as they were heading towards home after school.
As Matthew kicked the stones on the road to improve his scoring ability, Richard kept mumbling something unintelligible. Matthew tried to hit a tree trunk, a rock, and even one of the leaves in a branch. Richard found it hard to endure his friend´s behaviour. Matthew´s stone-kicking had already caused too much trouble, although he saw his poor shooting as a further reason to keep improving. For him, stone-kicking was definitely a matter of life or death.
Richard was thinking on this when he heard the sound of broken glass: Matthew´s last stone had gone right through Mr. Gilbert´s front window. Richard stood staring at it, unable to move.
"We´d better run!" he heard Matthew hissing.
And off he went, fleeing the crime scene.
Richard was still looking at him when he felt someone grabbing him by the collar and giving him a strong pull. It was Mr. Gilbert, furious and breathless.
"At last I get my hands on you, little crook! Just wait until I take you to your father!"
At three o´clock sharp, Matthew went to the playfield and was surprised not to see Richard there.
They must have caught him! Matthew thought.
Either Richard had taken the blame for the broken window or he hadn´t been allowed him to explain himself. After all, Richard´s father had a reputation for being strict. All of a sudden, Matthew lost interest in the match. He was thinking of the window and of Richard. His bad conscience began to torment him. Slowly, his head bent down, he left the field and walked, hesitatingly, towards Richard´s house.
It was the father who answered the door. Mad as he was, he didn´t even allow Matthew to utter a single word.
"You came here for nothing, my boy! Richard is in his room, doing his homework… He won´t be going to the match as punishment for what he did. He´ll tell you all about it next Monday at school."
Having said this, Richard´s father nearly slammed the door on Matthew´s face. The boy rang the doorbell once again, although he felt hopeless. He couldn´t accept such an injustice.
…
(To be continued in the PDF attachment)
Eva Rechlin
Jutta Modler (Org.)
Brücken Bauen
Wien, Herder, 1987
(Adapted)
Posted by: Stories for Everyone - AS <sg@storiesforeveryone.com>
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