Children of South America

by Katharine A. Hodge

The time has arrived for reading-lessons, and a whisper of appreciation is heard, for reading from the “Spanish Reader” involves a lesson in Spanish; and Indian and “Cholo” (half-caste) alike learn eagerly and quickly the tongue of the ruling class. Confronted by Bolivia’s map, a barely suppressed giggle ripples through the school. They think the names of towns, rivers, and mountains are so foreign and funny!

Arithmetic is useful, however, and all work diligently at this. Little Manuel is the pride and joy of the school in this department. Three months previously he could not write a single figure. Now, he adds and subtracts and multiplies with great exactness.

Now, at the words, “Slates down,” these articles reach the hard floor with a rattle. Little Nieva draws her naked feet up on to the seat, and arranges her “manta” with the air of a Turkish princess. Word goes round, “The Jesus Book”; and a respectful silence prevails. Thank God, for these wonderful stories of the Saviour. The children’s verdict is: “Beautiful.” Thanks to Him for at least this small portion of the Gospel of St John translated into Quechua.

Now comes time for dismissal—with a respectful “Hasta mañana, Señor!” (“Until to-morrow, Sir!”), or the Quechua “Ce’aya cama,” they file out, soon to break forth into whistle and shout, just like the little folks in the homeland.

Our head is somewhat muddled with this two-language task of teaching Quechua-speaking children from Spanish text-books. Some attend for a week or two, and then come no more. The parents desire that they should be educated, but confess to being powerless to persuade the young folks to attend.

Mr Grocott, of the Bolivian Indian Mission, having given such an interesting account of the day-school work, Mrs Grocott now tells about the Sunday-school. She says:—

“Could you visit our little school-room some Sunday morning, between seven and eight o’clock, you would find a little gathering of from twelve to twenty-five men, women, and children, representing the whites, the half-castes, and the pure Indians. These are gathered to learn about Jesus. They do not come because it is God’s Day, for Sunday to them is as other days. No, they come because they like to come.

“They have dirty faces, uncombed hair, and clothing which has not been washed for many weeks. Not an attractive audience, is it? But a missionary may not be critical. She has come to teach them to do better, and one must always begin at the beginning.

“The day-school children come to these meetings, as do some of the parents. The Indians are rather shy at entering, and often prefer listening at the window. Those who do come in look round for an out-of-the-way corner, and, despising a seat, squat on the floor. One day a young Indian came in and immediately knelt down bareheaded before the blackboard, in an attitude of prayer.

“At the time of his entering, the attention of those present was centred upon the words written on the blackboard and he evidently thought of worship. Being accustomed to kneel in the Roman Catholic church before shrines and images, he was quite prepared to kneel to anything that appeared to him to be the object of worship for the day.