As a young girl growing up in Nigeria, I remember some of my most vivid memories on the grounds of my elementary school. The day I discovered the library, I had been sent to the infirmary (school clinic) because I wasn’t feeling well. Not one with the greatest sense of direction, I got lost and found myself in a dim room with many tables. A fe
w of the older students were sitting at the far end of the room but I paid them no notice. What held my attention was the amount of books that was in the room. I remember asking someone if I could take one with me, promising in earnest to return it. I was told the books were not allowed to leave the room, but I was welcome to stay and read them.
In Nigeria, I don’t remember seeing or visiting a public library. Rather, most of the books we had were purchased by my parents and friends of the family. We always had books around us. My mother would even secret books out of her office, a no-go zone for us children. We would bounce around in glee and anticipation as we waited for the joys of a new story to spill out of their bindings.
At school, the culture amongst the other students was to lend and borrow books. If a friend or relative got there hands on a collection of Aesop’s Fairy tales or better yet the Adventures of Tin Tin, you were an instant celebrity. My mother would often get us European novelities like Obelix and Asterix, one of my sister’s favorites, and we would spend hours pouring of the pictures and the strange worlds the words painted. Despite this environment, rich with literature, I do not remember visiting a library.
The importance of having a library, whether a novelty as it is in many parts of Africa, or a commodity as it is here in America, cannot be overstated. South Africa Partners has an initiative to increase the number of libraries in the most impoverished parts of the nation. Check out their link to find out more information.
w of the older students were sitting at the far end of the room but I paid them no notice. What held my attention was the amount of books that was in the room. I remember asking someone if I could take one with me, promising in earnest to return it. I was told the books were not allowed to leave the room, but I was welcome to stay and read them.In Nigeria, I don’t remember seeing or visiting a public library. Rather, most of the books we had were purchased by my parents and friends of the family. We always had books around us. My mother would even secret books out of her office, a no-go zone for us children. We would bounce around in glee and anticipation as we waited for the joys of a new story to spill out of their bindings.
At school, the culture amongst the other students was to lend and borrow books. If a friend or relative got there hands on a collection of Aesop’s Fairy tales or better yet the Adventures of Tin Tin, you were an instant celebrity. My mother would often get us European novelities like Obelix and Asterix, one of my sister’s favorites, and we would spend hours pouring of the pictures and the strange worlds the words painted. Despite this environment, rich with literature, I do not remember visiting a library.
The importance of having a library, whether a novelty as it is in many parts of Africa, or a commodity as it is here in America, cannot be overstated. South Africa Partners has an initiative to increase the number of libraries in the most impoverished parts of the nation. Check out their link to find out more information.
As students in America, how can we contribute to this initiative? One of the goals of our expedition is to partner with a school and I am hoping an end product would be a literary exchange where we populate their libraries as they populate ours. What are some titles you would recommend for students in South Africa?
-Ms. Ade
