My name is Rana Madanat, the founder of Growing with Books. For those of us living in a world filled with libraries, and where bedtime stories are a nightly custom, it is hard to believe that there are homes where reading is not a way of life and where children’s books are extremely difficult to find. I know firsthand what it’s like to grow up in such a world—and the power of books to change a life. That’s why I founded Growing with Books.
Let me tell you my story.
I was born in 1970 in the town of Zarka, Jordan. I’ve always loved reading, even though there were few books in my house or even my town. It wasn’t until I began first grade, when children start attending school in Jordan, that I discovered my passion for reading—and these were just school primers, not storybooks.
Growing up, my world was very limited. I was the oldest of four children. My mother was a nurse for the United Nations where she made about $400 a month—a lot of money at that time—while my dad worked in the army, earning a small salary. Between the two of them, they managed to live in their own home and educate us at a private Catholic school.
We were a traditional Jordanian family with my mother doing the cooking, laundry, cleaning, and caring for everybody - in addition to her job. We obeyed strict rules. I was destined to follow this same traditional path, an obedient wife whose life is defined by her home and children.
But in school, I discovered that there was so much more beyond my tiny world. I loved learning and one junior high teacher in particular, fueled my passion. In class, he was inspiring, bringing books to life. He also encouraged us to read more than just the assigned homework, offering a small incentive: “Who ever reads more pages of any book we chose will receive a home work pass.” We’d read for hours and hours each week just to avoid one hour of homework.
When I was 13, five of my best friends and I started saving our allowances, the equivalent of 10 cents a day. At the end of the month, we’d all walk to the only bookshop in town and buy a different used book, with a goal of reading a book a week. Each time we finished a volume, we’d trade. I considered myself a great student who one day would go onto college.
During my last year of high school, my parents arranged for my marriage, which meant that soon I’d be moving to the United States. I was just 16 and extremely excited because my future parents-in-law promised that I could attend college. I didn’t think about being somebody’s wife or a mother, and all the responsibilities that came with the package, just that I would have a college education.
In 1987, I left my family, my friends, and my neighbors behind and welcomed my new life in San Francisco with open arms. Unfortunately, it was soon apparent that although I was thousands of miles from Jordan, very little had changed. My husband and his family followed the traditions of a typical Middle Eastern family—everyone worked in the family business. There was no time for college.
The birth of my daughter, Sandra, was exhilarating—she was like a new baby doll. However, in the back of my mind I kept thinking: “ I need to go to college. I need to learn the language so I can help my children with their homework.” This determination paid off—for two semesters, I managed to enroll at a community college, earning good grades.
But at home my learning was in defiance of family tradition. I was told to stop attending classes and to care for the family as well as to work at the family’s store. I felt hopeless, but fighting back wasn’t an option. Maybe having more children would take my mind off college. Two sons followed, precious gifts from God who kept me very busy—and led me back to books.
One day at Sandra’s pre-school, a parent introduced me to the local public library. It was like winning the jackpot. I’d never seen so many books in one place in my life. We became regular visitors to the children’s room, heading there right after school and spending hours sitting on a very comfy couch, picking out books, looking through them, and checking out some to take home. I was amazed by how many books were written about raising children, and as a young mother in a foreign country, the advice was invaluable, helping me survive some very rough times.
Life is not always a fairy tale. After 12 years of marriage, I left my husband and moved away with my three children. Leaving an arranged marriage was so rare that, back in Jordan, my father suffered a heart attack. But I felt I had no choice. I’d been slowly suffocating inside such a home with such rigid traditions.
Once free, a huge question loomed: how was I going to support three children on my own, with limited work experience? I kept telling myself that I had the strength to make my own choices, that I had to be an outstanding mother and role model for my daughter. In books, I’d read about people who had accomplished great things by believing in themselves, and I set out to prove that I could turn an idea—owning my own daycare center—into reality.
Three days a week I worked in an optical shop, and two days at my children’s preschool, while enrolling in early childhood education classes. In time, I realized that opening a day care center would prove too difficult, but perhaps I could own a business—maybe a teahouse, which were growing in popularity.
I searched the newspaper for businesses for sale. My friends teased me, suggested that I should be searching for a rich man. However, one day I spotted an ad, not for a teahouse, but a coffee shop in Marin County, and at a reasonable price. Although I’d managed to save only $2,500, I had a good feeling about this café, so a friend and I took a day off and drove the 40 miles to Marin County. I still remember the feeling when I walked to the little café. I fell in love with it. Luck was with me—the owner, a new mother, wanted to sell. She agreed to carry the loan, allowing me to pay her back over a period of time. This year will be the sixth anniversary of Café Marmalade.
The town and the people quickly made me feel like I belonged, so much so that I moved nearby where my children could attend the excellent public schools. I was tremendously happy and proud of what I’d accomplished. Life was good again.
After 20 years in the United States, it was easy to forget what it is like back in Jordan. In 2006, I returned for only the second time—my mother had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. After making the rounds of doctors with her during the day, I looked forward to the evenings with my younger sister and her children. One night, I asked my four-year old nephew, Majed, to bring me a story so I could read to him before bed. He stared at me like—What are you talking about? When I asked my sister and her husband why Majed didn’t own a book, they told me that he was a very bright little boy, and books are not available. They’d never heard of a public library with books for young children. The next morning, I headed straight to the used bookshop where I’d bought books and discovered it had been replaced by a bakery. The only library was on the third floor of an office building and there were no books for children younger than seven.
During a second visit, I traveled to other cities in search of public libraries. Sadly, there are none. The mayor of our hometown explained that there is no budget for libraries or for early childhood education. Jordan’s resources are stretched to the limit as the natural resource-poor nation struggles to care for its own people, as well as a huge displaced population from Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries.
In contrast, every child deserves a book. Parents shouldn’t miss out on reading to their children, a special time that allows for the deep bonding and communication that so enriched my family.
Back in the United States, we took action. My friends and children helped launch the expensive undertaking of shipping storybooks to Jordan. My children emptied out their bookshelves. I put a sign in Café Marmalade’s window, asking for donations. The local school district sponsored a book drive, and suddenly there were boxes and boxes of storybooks. Although written in English, the colorful illustrations made them easy to understand in any language. Our first shipment had an immediate impact—every child in the neighborhood was able to select one book to take home.
Shipping books was just the first step. I founded Growing with Books with the goal of bringing libraries, ranging from mini-community libraries to stand-alone structures, to young children in developing countries like Jordan. Our first major contribution came from the mayor of my hometown— he donated a building and the manpower and resources to operate it. It’s up to Growing with Books to transform it into Jordan’s first children’s library. With your help, young children will pour over storybooks, helping them learn to believe, like I did, in their dreams.