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| More than an image, this self-portrait of Patsy, is a testament to a life devoted to books, ideas, and community. |
Too often we take for granted the spaces we enter without much thought, as if they are simply our right. That’s how I’ve always felt about libraries. I am especially proud of Philadelphia’s long history of free public libraries which is a tradition that is far from the norm in many places.
I think often of Patsy Kiros, this beautiful and elegant (without ever being stuffy) African-American woman from Toledo, Ohio, whose path I was lucky enough to cross in Côte d’Ivoire. Patsy was married to Mr. Kiros, an Eritrean gentleman. They had lived in Ethiopia during a very difficult time, before Eritrea gained its independence, and later moved to Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire, where he represented Ethiopian Airlines, for the West African hub. Patsy became the chief librarian at the International Community School of Abidjan.
When I arrived there, still a new wife and mother after Sojourner’s birth, disoriented as a writer and teacher, Patsy welcomed me. She visited my classroom to understand my teaching style and what resources I needed, and then she invited me into her home. Over those lovely, intimate dinners with other American women and woman from literally across the globe, she gently asked me what I was most passionate about. Over many years, she did what true librarians do best, she listened, observed, researched, and then placed in my hands books, articles, and resources that connected directly to my intellectual life. Through Patsy, we never felt cut off from the cultural and academic explorations happening in the States and around the world. Even our awareness of Black arts and entertainment was kept alive through Ebony Magazine gatherings( *smile-those Ebony parties), where we shared issues that might have been months or years old, but still tethered us to home.
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| With Patsy, whose presence and passion for sharing knowledge shaped my journey as a writer and teacher. |
Years later, when our lives were forever changed by political turmoil and the deaths of our husbands when she returned to Toledo and me to Philadelphia,Patsy’s generosity continued. When my first book of poetry was published, she immediately bought 50 copies for her book club and brought me, all expenses paid, to Toledo in 2005 to read at schools and community events. Mona Washington accompanied me on that unforgettable trip. Mona R. Washington
Before Patsy’s death in 2020, she knew her time was near. She sent me some of her favorite books and a self-portrait, which now hangs in my living room. Her eternal presence reminds me daily of the bounty of books, the joy of sharing ideas, and the way librarians can transform lives.
I thought of Patsy yesterday when Yero (Haj) told me he had finally worked up the courage to ask if there was a library in the detention center. I had recommended he inquire. The very idea of a space offering books for free was almost unimaginable to him. And yet, when he learned there was one, he was over the moon. He checked out two books; one even in French. What struck him most was not only that he was allowed to borrow them, but the kindness of the librarian.
In that moment, even within confinement, he felt a door open.
We can all be that kind of door for Yero ( Haj). Right now, he needs our support. Here’s how you can help:
Donate to his GoFundMe campaign: every dollar goes directly to his legal team fighting for his release. Here is the link: https://gofund.me/ea76afe0
*Shout to Mrs. Nargis Bhaloo; she and Patsy were a force as librarians at I.C.S.A. ICSA family do share any memories you have of Patsy.
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