Gratitude to teachers in the fight against period poverty

In the rural villages of Lesotho a quiet revolution is taking place. It is not led by politicians with loudspeakers or international NGOs with vast budgets. It is led by the most fundamental pillars of any community, its teachers.

In countless rural classrooms, educators are digging into their own already stretched pockets to purchase a simple yet profound item – a packet of sanitary pads.

In doing so, they are not just handing out hygiene products, they are offering a lifeline, ensuring that a young girl’s menstrual period does not become the reason her education ends.

This silent crisis, known as period poverty, is one of the most pervasive yet overlooked barriers to education for girls in Lesotho. When a girl cannot afford or access menstrual products, she is forced to miss school, often for several days each month.

She falls behind in her lessons, her confidence wanes, and the gap between her and her male peers widens into a chasm.

In a country where educational outcomes for girls are critical for breaking cycles of poverty, this monthly absenteeism is a national emergency.

It is an injustice that steals potential, dims futures, and reinforces gender inequality from a shockingly young age.

Yet, in the face of governmental and systemic shortfalls, it is the rural teacher who has stepped into the breach. These educators, whose salaries are modest and whose challenges are many, have become the first and last line of defence for their students.

They see the anxious look in a girl’s eyes, they notice the unexplained absences, and they understand the silent shame that poverty can breed. Their response is not one of policy, but of profound humanity.

They go to the local shop and use their own money to buy pads, keeping a discreet supply in a desk drawer for any student in need. This act, repeated school term after school term, is a testament to a commitment that far transcends a job description.

To these teachers, we say: Your sacrifice is seen, and your impact is immeasurable. You are more than educators – you are guardians of dignity.

When you hand a girl a sanitary pad, you are handing her back her confidence. You are telling her that her body is not a source of shame, that her education matters, and that she is worthy of care. You are ensuring that her biology does not become her destiny.

The classroom you maintain is not just a room with walls and a chalkboard; it is a sanctuary where a girl’s mind can grow, unhindered by the circumstances of her birth. The future doctors, engineers, and leaders of Lesotho are in your classrooms today, and you are ensuring they have the chance to stay there.

But this burden should not be yours to carry alone. The fact that the educational futures of our girls rely on the personal charity of their teachers is a stark indictment of our systemic failures. It is unsustainable and unjust to expect educators, who already contend with large class sizes and a lack of resources, to subsidise a fundamental public health and educational need.

Therefore, this editorial is both a celebration of these heroes and a clarion call for action. We must move from individual acts of compassion to a collective, systemic solution.

Government must recognise period poverty as a critical issue and integrate it into public health and education policy. A national programme to provide free, quality menstrual products in all primary and secondary schools is not a luxury; it is a necessary investment in the nation’s human capital.

The teachers of rural Lesotho have lit a candle in the darkness of period poverty. They have shown us what is possible with compassion and courage. They have proven that this is a solvable problem. It is now our turn – as a government, as business leaders, as a society – to build a bonfire from that single flame.

Let us support these educators not just with our praise, but with our policies and our resources. Let us ensure that every girl in Lesotho can go to school every day of the month, with dignity and confidence. The teachers have held the line; it is time for the rest of us to join them.

However, the fact that the personal charity of teachers remains a primary solution highlights a systemic gap that must be closed. The burden should not rest on their shoulders alone.