I set my eyes on a small tree by the front gate of the school . That tree was planted by Tzu Chi and local people at the opening ceremony of the school. It is the only tree in the village of Morita. Its roots absorb the life blood of that piece of land. Its new leaves shake vividly, as if telling a beautiful, touching story to the mountain wind.

Morita is a small shantytown in the hills south of Tijuana, Mexico. Very few citizens of the city know anything about it. Old houses built of discarded wooden boards nestle on the sterile slopes. Seen from afar, the shanties are like patches on old, crumpled clothes. Whenever the wind blows dust down the hills, the village is hardly visible.

The trails in the village follow the traces left by the first wagon that drove through years before. They are so obscure that whoever comes into the village can hardly find the same way back out. On the trail up to the village, there is no tree to offer shade from the scorching sun or stream to quench the thirst. Lost birds circle for a while and then fly back to the comfort of the city.

The first Morita villagers came in January 1993 from the southern part of Mexico, their pants frayed from the long, hard trudge. At that time, there were only three shanties on the slope, one of which belonged to Martha. Her house was built with four wooden poles, plastic boards for the roof, and bedsheets for the four walls. The children were frequently bitten by snakes and scorpions. At night, she hugged her sleeping children tightly, because in their dreams they couldn't distinguish the howling of the wind from that of the wolves. Whenever there was a heavy rain, water flowed down the slopes onto the muddy floor, gurgling around the corners of the bed.

Charming Children

The villagers in Morita are charming. The music from a single guitar in the dark stirs up the whole village. As if bewitched, people sing and dance through the night, until the campfire dies out and the eastern sky grows light.

The most charming of all are the Morita children. In the day, when your tired eyes gaze at the yellow ground, a group of children playing at the far end of the street suddenly pops into view. You smile and wonder how there can possibly be such pretty children in such a bleak, barren land. Their big eyes, long lashes, shining black hair, pink faces and ever-smiling dimples* Just looking at them makes you happy.

There was no school in Morita. According to the village leader, there were about 600 school-age children. The villagers had submitted several applications to the government to establish an elementary school there, but nothing had been done. The officials said that there were not enough children in Morita, and so there was no need to build a school. The parents were so upset that more than 300 of them took their children and walked more than 10 miles under the scorching sun to petition the state government offices, they couldn't even stand straight.

The official who received them opened a window and pointed at the endless slopes to the south . Through the window in that tall building, the villagers saw their own village as one tiny dot among many others. The official explained that more and more people were moving in and the government could never keep up with the immigrants' needs. The lack of schools was a wide-spread problem. When the parents from Morita heard this, they were overcome by a feeling of helplessness.

Rekindling the Fire of Hope

Since the end of 1994, Tzu Chi members have distributed food, provided free medical services, and visited the poor in Morita and the nearby village of Pipila. The volunteers' idea of establishing a school at Morita won the support of Stephen Huang, CEO of the Tzu Chi US branch office.

The local Mexicans simply didn't believe that Tzu Chi would build a school there. When Sister Ah-jung told the villagers in Morita about Tzu Chi's intention to set up a school there, they thought she was joking. Since the villagers were pious Catholics, Sister Ah-jung and Sister Tzu-heng finally asked a Catholic priest to help persuade the villagers. The villagers finally accepted the sincerity of the Tzu Chi members, and their hope was rekindled.

The application for a building permit was submitted in September 1995, just at the time of a presidential election. Officials were suspicious that Tzu Chi was being used by one party or another to win the villagers' trust and ballots. Some went to Morita to ask the residents what Tzu Chi people were doing there. They also summoned Sister Ah-jung several times to answer questions. Sister Ah-jung was very calm and open with them. She took every meeting with the officials as an opportunity to introduce Tzu Chi. She emphasized again and again that Tzu Chi would never be involved in politics. Gradually, the officials let go of their suspicions and began to listen with their hearts. Sincere smiles finally appeared on their faces.

Perseverance and Efficiency

During the long wait, the villagers became doubtful and impatient. They decided that each family should pay 20 pesos to buy wooden boards and construct a couple of classrooms themselves.

The classrooms had neither doors nor windows. Fierce sandstorms often interrupted the classes. Planks were torn off by the winds, and the villagers nailed on anything they could find. One of the two teachers sent by the education bureau couldn't stand the situation and disappeared five days after his arrival. The one that remained was in no mood to teach either. The sounds of students reading became quieter and quieter.

The school building application had to go through government departments involved with land, administration, education and construction. In order to prevent the documents from being kept in each department for too long, Sister Ah-jung, Sister Kuo Yuan-chin and other Mexican Tzu Chi volunteers went to the state and city governments again and again to push, to explain and to plead. Words could not describe the difficulties and frustrations in getting approval for the application. When the last document was approved, Sister Kuo cried like a baby.

A Miracle in the Valley

In November 1996, when the Morita Tzu Chi Elementary School was officially opened, Sister Ah-jung and I paid a visit. The school was situated in the lower valley of the village. Among the shabby old houses, the bright, new school buildings rose miraculously from the ground. Wide glass windows glittered under the sun, like shiny eyes watching the children on the playground. The boys were playing football and the girls were chasing one another. The valley was filled with laughter. The students wore clean, tidy clothes and their hair was neatly combed. The white stockings under the floral skirts of the girls reminded me of the muddy pants a year before.

When the bell rang, the children stopped playing and ran toward the six classrooms. Lines of students formed at each classroom door. After roll call, the students went in. The six teachers, young Mexican men and women in their 20s and 30s, smiled and waved to one another, entered their rooms and closed the doors. Silence fell upon the school.

I talked with the teachers during the breaks. They were all newly graduated from various teachers' colleges and had volunteered to come to this remote village. To them, teaching was not just a job, but the meaning of their existence. They said, "It hurts us to see children deprived of the chance to go to school." Out of love for the children, they had to transfer buses and walk several miles every morning to get to the school. Out of their meager salaries, they bought stationery for poor students. They often visited students' families after school, and they frequently gave up their weekends to tutor the slower students. Tehy were idealists with a holy mission.

Great Teachers and Students

With the permission of the school principal and the teachers, we went to see the students in class. The children didn't know we were coming. When they saw us at the door, they stood up in unison and greeted us with smiles on their pink faces.

With what patience and methods did the teachers educate the children to be so well-behaved and courteous? Their energy on the playground and good behavior in the classrooms were the realization of the common educational ideal of those young teachers: in the pursuit of modern knowledge, the teachers carefully protected the inborn vitality and spirit of those children.

School teacher Claudia Calvario said that the children in Morita had experienced hardship, so they felt grateful to have such a beautiful school. She felt that the students were very close to their teachers. She smiled and asked the students around her, "Do you love your teachers?" They laughed and shouted, "Yes, we do." They pressed closer to her, and some even clutched the corner of her dress as if afraid she would leave them.

Grace Sanchez, the principal, said that with the establishment of the Tzu Chi school, 90 percent of the school-age children in the village were attending classes. There were 529 students divided into morning and afternoon shifts. Courses included Spanish, math, history, geography and physical education. There was also a supplementary class for students above 14 who had never had a chance to go to school before.