You’d think offering free reading classes—complete with books, support, and food—would be enough to fill a room. But Kalbaskraal doesn’t work that way.
Some days, twenty kids arrive. Other days, one. And then there are the days no one shows up at all.
It’s not apathy—it’s culture. In a place where survival takes priority, and structure has never been predictable, even something as generous as a free reading programme gets side-eyed. Parents who complain their children can’t read often don’t send them when the chance arises to fix it. It’s frustrating. It’s heartbreaking. And it’s real.
But still—we show up.
Because on the days they come, everything changes.
A child who couldn’t recognise their own name last month starts reading whole sentences. Another discovers a favourite book and begs to take it home. And sometimes—just sometimes—someone in the street shouts “COACH!” with a grin that could split the sky.
We’ve also had someone new join the team. Nicky, with a rich and exciting life story of her own, has stepped into the library with open hands and a heart full of wisdom. She’s going to pass down more than phonics—she’s going to pass down life.
And in the background, Saskia’s Place continues to shift. The books are being rotated. New ones are coming in. Stories are being refreshed to keep young imaginations fed.
It’s not perfect. But it’s faithful.
And in Kalbaskraal, that’s worth more than you think.