The church hall smelled of floor polish and decades of hymn-singing. Morning light filtered through stained glass windows, casting rainbow patterns across the concrete floors where seven children now sat in a rough circle.

"Today we're learning about colors," Nyasha announced, holding up laminated cards.

Zodwa watched from the side, pride swelling in her chest. Two weeks of planning had culminated in this moment—their first official "class" in Spiwe's church hall. They'd rearranged the old chairs, brought homemade teaching materials, and established simple routines.

It wasn't a real school. Not yet. But it was something.

Rudo sat between Tadi and Tatenda, not joining the activities but tolerating the proximity of other children; it was progress by any measure. Her humming had decreased since they'd started meeting regularly, as if the predictable structure soothed her overactive nervous system.

...more