https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-V-Roach/e/B004G9X3NW

Boys and girls from 2 to 8 will delight in the pictures and antics of Elephant Joan and her adventures with a cell phone. The story by Elizabeth V. Roach and the illustrations by Peggy Dawson combine to provide a child with early experience of respect for the environment and its inhabitants.

Gift for America

A GIFT FOR AMERICA

“Good  Morning, Christopher!” the tutor in a Catholic school said.

Christopher was a new student, six years old, in First Grade. He needed help with English, his second language. This was his first meeting with the tutor.

Christopher didn’t answer the tutor. He looked unhappy.

The tutor greeted him in Spanish.  .

When he still didn’t answer, the teacher asked if something was the matter.

“Don’t you feel well?  Are you sick?  Does something hurt?” She asked in English and in Spanish.

Christopher’s bottom lip trembled. He tried hard to hold back the tears.

At last, the words burst out.

 “The teacher screamed at me because I can’t read,” he said. The teacher was not his regular teacher, but a  substitute who came occasionally.

Now, the new tutor promised she would never scream at him. Together they did the lesson. He seemed happier when she took him back to his classroom.

Each day, Christopher and the new tutor met. His English improved rapidly.

Then, one day, Christopher, didn’t seem to want to begin the class. He looked pensive.

The tutor asked, “Is something the matter?”

Christopher struggled to say  all the words correctly.  “You know that teacher who yelled at me? She doesn’t yell anymore, because I can read. I asked jesus to help me, and he did!”

As the tutor got to know Christopher, she came to love him. He was such a thoughtful six year old. 

One day, Christopher came to the class with a puzzled look on his little face. He had just come from Religion Class.  He looked up at the tutor and asked, “What was before God?”

The tutor tried to answer, but she was amazed at the profound question six-year-old Christopher asked.

When she got home that night, she had supper with her family.

She told them about Christopher and his question. 

Her husband said,  “How fortunate we are that so many people from other countries come to America. Christopher is a gift. If he can ask questions like this at six, imagine what he will contribute to our country as he learns more and more.

“We have a deep thinker in this little child. We need to give thanks to God that he has led him here.” 

The tutor’s children bowed their heads as their father and mother prayed and gave thanks for Christopher and the gifts immigrants bring to America.

Then, they played a game to see who could name famous immigrants who have been gifts to America. 

They named scientists, doctors, statespersons and many others.  Can you name some?

A FEW FAMOUS IMMIGRANTS

Leoh Ming Pei: architect of East Wing of National Gallery, Washinton DC

Madeline Albright, Secretary of State

Albert Einstein,  Physicist

John Muir,  Naturalist

Joseph Pulitzer,  newspaper publisher

Felix Frankfurter, Supreme Court Justice

©photo & story Elizabeth V Roach 2017

What Peace Looks Like

The following story was first published in The Maryknoll Classroom Program, a service for teachers. Programs for K-12 are available free to teachers who request them from Maryknoll Magazine. www.Maryknoll.org
  

 What Peace Looks Like

      Aron was taking turns with other children jumping over a large water jug. He was having fun, but missed the toys he had left back home especially his green bike.

     Aron and his family had left their home in Syria about a year ago, when he was 7. A war had started there, and his parents and grandparents decided it was not safe to stay. They could bring only the most important things. It was a long trip before they could stop. And they stopped here at a refugee camp. Now they lived in a tent, among hundreds of other tents and people. They had all left their homes because of the war. They were waiting to find out when they could leave the camp and where they could go.

     "Here comes the art lady!" shouted Aron's sister Estes.  She was pointing to Sister Rosemarie.
Sister Rosemarie took the children to another part of the camp.

     Soon they reached the art group. The children were all from Syria. The adults were from different countries, Canada, Poland and the United States.

     "We are a peace team," Sister Rosemarie explained. "All around the world, people are looking for peace. What does peace look like to you?"

     "Peace looks like me sitting with my family, all together,"  said Este.

     "Peace is being safe with no tanks and no rockets!" said Muhammad.

     Reza said, "Peace is playing outside by my home."

     Pile added, "And going to school!"

     "Peace means flowers and birds," Miriam said. "And trees, I miss trees."

     Aron looked around. There were so many tents, but he could see no trees.

     "Aron?" asked Sister Rosemarie. "Do you have a picture of peace?"

     "Riding my green bike, and going fast and laughing--and not feeling afraid at all!" he said.

      Sister Rosemarie smiled. "These are wonderful ideas,: she said. "Now let's all draw these pictures of peace."

     Muhammad painted circles and lines in yellows, oranges, and blues, colors that made him happy.

     Miriam drew trees, flowers and birds.

     Pile and Reza drew a school with children playing outside
     Este painted lots of people holding hands.

     Aron couldn't draw a bike, so he took the green paint, the color of his bike, and made big swoops of green.

     Every one shared ideas and became friends 'they wee happy because they were thinking about making peace.

SAINT ROSE OF LIMA

THE SAINT WHO MADE GOOD FRIENDS

 

           A little girl was born in Lima, Peru, in August of 1586. She was named Isabel for her grandmother.  One day her nursemaid looked into her crib and marveled at her beauty. The nursemaid told everyone the baby’s face looked like a beautiful rose. 

Everyone, except the grandmother, began to call the child Rose. Grandma did not like that, but soon everyone called the little girl, Rose. Rose was not only pretty; she learned all about Jesus. And she truly loved Him.  

Rose grew up in Lima at a time when terrible things were happening. Many people were very poor, and the officials were often cruel. Rose saw this and she wanted to do something about it. She built herself a little room in the garden of her house. It was like the size of small closet. It was just big enough for her to enter and pray there. She spent many hours telling Jesus about her people and her love for Him.

‘        Rose not only prayed, she also visited the sick. She prayed often at Santo Domingo Church. She had a special devotion to the Infant Jesus. She called him her “Little Doctor.”  She asked Him to help her heal the sick.

Rose had many friends especially among the poor. It is important to have good friends. Rose had two Saints as friends.

Her neighbor, who lived down the street, was a boy about her age. His name was Martin.  Today, we know Rose as St Rose of Lima. Her friend Martin is called St. Martin de Porres. She was baptized and confirmed by another Saint who was much older. He was the Archbishop of Lima and today we call him St. Toribio.

All three loved the poor.   Rose and Martin both healed people. Toribio was appointed at the request of King Philip the Second of Spain. Toribio traveled from Ecuador to Argentina and wherever he went he helped the poor. He is known as the Defender of Native Peoples. 

Even today, these friends are remembered in Lima.  Rose and Martin belonged to the Dominican Order. They wore white robes like priests and nuns when they served the sick or went to church. Even today, boys and girls in Lima dress like Rose and Martin on their First Holy Communion Day.  And the Seminary there is named for Toribio.

Good friends help us follow Jesus. I hope you have good friends who help you be good and help others around you like Rose, Martin and Toribio. 

St Rose of Lima’s Feast Day is celebrated in Peru on August 30, but in many countries it was changed to Aug 23 when the Roman Calendar was revised in 1969.

 

 

The Fighting Mummy

The day was hot and muggy. University students and old men sat languidly in the shade of the main plaza of a little town in the coastal desert of Peru. The Cathedral bells rang twelve noon.

Santos, a swaggering, tough 13-year-old shoeshine boy was giving some advice to “The Mummy.” Mummy was his skinny, coughing, barefoot nine-year-old friend. Suddenly, Santos whispered, “Quick! Here he comes!”

The two boys scurried in different directions. They clutched their boxes of equipment tightly so nothing would fall out.

A fat, angry, plaza guard, waving a stick, chased after them. The guard chased after one, and then the other. But the boys were too quick. Breathless, sweating, and fuming,the guard gave up.

The boys, laughing and puffing, soon found one another again and sat down to rest. “That’s the third time this morning,” Mummy gasped. A fit of coughing prevented him from further conversation.

Santos begged a glass of water from the woman at a nearby fruit stand. He offered it to Mummy. “Here, take it easy. We got away, didn’t we?”

Mummy said nothing. He had been shining shoes for two years, ever since he was seven. He had learned a lot of things and now he sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his chin almost touching his knees, almost like the ancient Peruvian mummies. He had been sitting like that the day the boys gave him his nickname.

Just then, a big man in an expensive grey suit came along. Mummy called out, “Shine, sir.” The man stopped, looked at his shoes and then put one foot on Mummy’s box.

Business-like the boy set to work. First, he brushed off the dust; then he carefully applied a little polish. Mummy protected the man’s sock by running his little finger along the top edge of the shoe as he put the polish on.

Next he splashed a few drops of water from a little bottle. The drops rolled around on the shoe and Mummy massaged them into the polish with his fingers.

Then came the shine with the special rag his mother had made him from his father’s old trousers. Mummy seemed to be attached to some source of electric power as his arms moved the rag over the shoe like a continually reversing conveyor belt. At last, the shoes shone like new mirrors. Mummy slapped the tow of on shoe and held out a polish smudged hand for hit tip.

Santos had a customer too, so Mummy waited and survey the world through two pensive brown eyes.

For two months the battle had been on. It had all started with the Mayor’s Clean Up Campaign. The plaza guards had been ordered to chase the shoeshine boys out of the Plaza. They might hurt the tourist trade.

Santos finished and rejoined Mummy. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said.

“If I eat, I won’t have much to take home,” Mummy said.

“Well, you have got to eat something,” Santos ordered. “That’s why your cough hangs on. You didn’t eat anything yesterday. C’mon,Doña Rosa will give us a saucer ofseviche for five soles.(Peruvian currency at the time of story) We will split it.”

The boys shared the seviche (a popular Peruvian dish of raw fish marinated in a sauce of lemon juice, onions, and hot pepper). Santos continued to counsel Mummy. “We have to fight the Mayor. The good guys want to change things. Before, the Mayor could live in town and go out, when he felt like it, to collect from the guys who worked his farm. Now absentee landlords are having trouble. He afraid he will lose the farm, so he is trying to get an edge on the tourist trade.

“My dad says we have got to stay in the Plaza. Nowadays, poor people have rights, too, but we have to fight for them.”

Mummy counted his earnings. He held out his hand for Santos to see how little it was.

Santos insisted, “Yeah, I know. We are losing the fight, but just the same, we have got to fight.”

Mummy handed back the plate toDoña Rosa, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and rubbed his hands on his trousers. Suddenly, he darted across the street and pounced on a boy his own size. Soon the two were down on the pavement, locked in a vicious struggle. Mummy was searching the other boy’s pockets. The victim pushed and kicked trying to escape, but Mummy was on top and would not let him go.

Santos caught up and tried to reason with Mummy. “Mummy, what did the kid do to you?”

“He borrowed ten soles a week ago. I have asked him for it three times,’ gasped Mummy.

The boy on the ground blinked back tears as he said, “As soon as I get it, I’ll give it to you.”

“Aw, let him go, Mum. He hasn’t got it,” ruled Santos.

Mummy’s eyes showed a moment of indecision, but with one last punch, he said, “Okay, but tomorrow.” The debtor, after a grateful look at Santos, scampered off.

Mummy poked his friend in the ribs. “Santos,” he said. How come you want me to fight for the plaza, but not for my ten soles?”

“Listen. All us shoeshine kids have to stick together. The bad guys like it when we fight one another. It means we are not fighting them,” Santos explained. “The plaza belongs to everybody.”

Mummy thought about this as he always did anything that Santos said.

When night came, the two boys went their separate ways. Mummy dragged his feet because the day had brought only fifty soles. What can Ma do with that,’ he asked himself.

As he walked home, he wished with all his heart that Papa was still with them, but it had been two years since that night when he stopped coughing for ever. Since then, Ma sold fruit in the market. Elvira, Mummy’s eleven-year-old sister, watched the house and took care of their baby brother.

At last, Mummy reached the dark narrow alley and found his way to the piece of corrugated zinc that served as a door to the one room that was home. As his eyes got used to the candlelight, he saw Ma at the wooden table mending an old shirt.

Mummy placed his earnings on the tableas Elvira brought him the dish of rice she had saved from dinner.

As Ma gathered the soles, she said, “You look all tuckered out. You are working too hard.” Ma made made you feel proud of whatever you did.

When it was time for bed, she unrolled the lambskins and the boys settled down for the night under one blanket on one side of the room, Ma and Elvira on the other. For a few minutes Santos and his baby brother wrestled one another. Soon all were quiet.

Mummy awakened early the next morning. He stole out before the others wakened. He wanted to get to the plaza and do a few shines before it was time to go to school.

For five months he had struggled to earn a little every day. His cough got worse and worse. Ma took him to the government clinic. The doctor gave him medicine and told Ma to see that he got lots of milk and meat.

As the days went by Mummy got less able to run from the plaza guard, but Santos looked for him when it was time to eat. Often they split a saucer of seviche.

Then, one day Mummy fainted and a policeman took him to the hospital. The doctor told Ma that he was very sick. Santos visited him every day. On the third day, Santos saw that Mummy was trying to say something.

Mummy was very weak, his voice was a hoarse whisper, his hospital gown was damp with perspiration, but he struggled to sit up.Just before he fell back on the pillow, Santos heard him say, “Shine, sir.”

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© 2009 Photo and story Elizabeth V. Roach - This story is adapted from a story Sister Elizabeth published in CATHOLIC FIRESIDE, in Britain in 1975. It was based on the life of Augusto Berrocal who died of tuberculosis at the age of fourteen in Ica, Peru.

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RAINY DAY STORIES

by

Elizabeth V Roach

Discover why Benny wonders why the tree is crying.

 Thomas hears a "little sound."  What is it?

Benabab meets three basket makers. What happens?

What is the new custom from another land that

Peter and Marisa try?

New book available online in paperback and e-book.  



Running Friends

Running Friends

       Kamau wanted to be a long distance runner. He lived in the Kenyan Desert near the city of Bura and he practiced running every day.His friend, Abiria, often ran with him.  One day, as they were on their way to school, Kamau said, “I saw the new teacher. He looks mean, and he is missing one leg.”

Abiria’s eyes opened wide. His mouth was wide open too. “How will he teach us Physical Education without a leg,” he asked.

Kamau shrugged. “I don’t know, but we are scheduled for his first class.” The bell rang as the two boys stepped into the school yard. They hurried to get in line where the new teacher stood.

“Straighten your line,” the new teacher barked in a loud voice. “March,” he bellowed.

Kamau marched tall and confident. He was the best marcher in the school. Abiria trembled, but tried to keep in step with Kamau. When they got to the field for exercise, the new teacher, said,
“I am your new teacher. You will call me Mr.Johnson. Yes, I have a prosthesis for my right leg. I have learned to use it for many things.  So, don’t try anything.”

After class, Abiria said, “Wow, Kamau! How did he get us to do all those stunts with one leg!”

Kamau made a face. ‘He scowls at us. Why can’t he be jolly and laugh once in a while.”

“I don’t know,” Abiria said.  “Maybe the leg hurts.”

Next day, Kamau asked the teacher a question about the exercises? “Sir,” he asked. “Why are we doing this exercise first?  The other teacher did this one after we practiced running.”

“I am not the other teacher. We will do it this way,” Mr. Johnson said. Kamau saw the teacher was string t him and waiting for something. Kamau stood still. The whole class was quiet. Mr Johnson stared at Kamau.

Then, Mr. Johnson barked, “Yes, Sir!”

Kamau mumbled, “Yes, Sir.”

“Speak up,”  Mr. Johnson barked at Kamau.

Kamau shouted, “Yes, Sir.” Mr. Johnson continued the class.

On the way home from school, Kamau complained to his friend. “Abiria, I don’t like that teacher.”

When he reached home, Kamau announced, “Papa, I am not going to Physical Education class.”

“Yes, you are, Kamau,” his father said.

“But I don’t want to go while that new teacher is here. He only has one leg and he’s mean.”  Kamau pouted.

His father said, “Kamau, that is not an intelligent decision. You need to learn the skills of Physical Education.  You don’t hurt the teacher by skipping class. You hurt yourself.”

Kamau said, “I don’t like him!”

“Kamau, everyone likes to be liked.  Like him and you will see he will like you.   Do you know how he lost his leg?”

‘No, and I don’t care,” Kamau said. But next day, Kamau decided to see if what his father said was true.

During recess Kamau walked over to Mr. Johnson who stood alone near the school door. Kamau swallowed and tried to keep his voice steady as he asked, “Sir, How did you lose your leg?”

“It is a long story, young man. I wanted to be a runner. I did not have a teacher and I ran on a highway.  I got hit by a car. Thank you for asking. You are brave to ask,” the teacher said. He smiled at Kamau.

Kamau got all flustered. He said, “Yes, Sir.” And ran back to where Abiria waited for him.

“What happened?” Abiria asked.

“He was nice. He didn’t yell,” Kamau said.

“But what did he SAY?” Abiria asked.

“He got it running. He was running like I do, on the highway,” Kamau said.

Next day, the teacher asked, “Who wants to be a runner?”

Kamau and four other boys raised their hands.  Mr. Johnson said, “Meet me after school.”

After school, Mr. Johnson gave the boys tips on what would help them to run faster. He taught them how to breathe effectively, when to stop, and how much water to drink/.

Each day after school, Kamau and his friends ran. They practiced hard. Mr. Johnson selected Kamau and Abiria to run in the District Competition.

They practiced everyday. They could not wait for the day to arrive. “Tomorrow we run,” Abiria said to Kamau on the eve of the District Competition.”

Kamau said, “Yes, and my father is going to take us there.”  Kamau could hardly sleep that night with excitement. In the morning, he jumped up, ready to go to the competition., but his father was very sick. He seemed to have some acute pain in his right side.

Kamau, s mother said, ‘I am sorry, but you must stay here to care for your little brothers. I must take your father to the hospital. “

When Abiria arrived to travel to the District Competition, Kamau told him to go to the school. He could travel to the competition with Mr. Johnson and the other boys.  Abiria was very sad. He did not want to go without Kamau.

Kamau insisted and Abiria went off to school.

Kamau held back his tears until his parents had gone to the hospital. He sent his little brothers out to play. Then, he sat in the doorway watching them. Tears flowed down his cheeks. He did not weep about not going to the competition.  His fear was much deeper.  How could he go on without his father?

When his mother returned, she said his father would stay in the hospital for a while, but he was going to recover.  “Kamau,” his mother said. “Your father has pain, but he seems even sadder that you had to miss the competition because of him.”

Kamau swallowed hard. He said, “Mama,”, “There will be other competitions. Papa is more important that a race.”

Kamau’s mother patted him on the head. “Your father will be happy to hear that you said that.”

Next day, Kamau went to class. Mr. Johnson announced to the whole school that Abiria had done very well in the competition.  “We must practice now for the National Competition,” he said.

Abiria whispered to Kamau, “I would not have won, if you had been there. Practice, you can win the  National.  Kamau slapped Abiria on the back. You are a good runner, Abiria, and YOU won, but thank you for being such a good friend, too.

The boys continued to run after school. Mr. Johnson coached them. They won many competitions, and their friendship endured.  When they finished school, Kamau went on to join and win many races. Abiria became a doctor, specializing in Sports Medicine. When Kamau competed in a race, Abiria was always there to cheer for him. Abiria married first. He named his first child Kamau. When Kamau married he named his first child Abiria. Mr Johnson was godfather for both children.