Photos: This may be the most inspirational night school on Earth

Shepherds attend a part-time night school near Mokhotlong, Lesotho. For many, these classes are the only form of education they can access. Tommy Trenchard for NPR hide caption

The sun has already started setting behind the towering peaks of central Lesotho when Kabelo Mohai and Lepeli Maapesa begin their long walk to school.

Wool blankets draped over their shoulders against the biting cold, the two young men scramble down rocky paths nearly 8,000 feet above sea level. Far below, scattered rural villages appear as tiny dots. The moon is high in the sky, an hour and a half later, when they finally spot the lights of the small town of Semonkong in the distance.

In the pitch darkness, dozens of similar blanket-clad silhouettes make their way down the mountainsides, singing and chatting excitedly as they approach a building illuminated by fluorescent lights: the Good Shepherd School, where more than 40 herders gather every evening for night classes.

Mohai and Lepeli are among tens of thousands of boys and young men working as shepherds in this small, mountainous southern African country. Livestock is deeply woven into Lesotho's economy and culture: Wool and mohair account for nearly 60% of agricultural exports and support a quarter of the rural population. Driven by poverty and tradition, school-aged boys are often called to tend the flocks, spending months at a time herding alone in the mountains, cut off from society. A World Bank analysis of 2018 data found that nearly half of all boys in the country were engaged in some form of herding. For many, like Mohai, the work comes at the expense of schooling.

Shepherds Lapeli Maapesa and Kabelo Mohai take a break while trekking down from their cattle posts in the mountains to attend class at the Good Shepherd night school in Semonkong, Lesotho. Some shepherds walk as long as two hours to attend their night classes. Tommy Trenchard for NPR hide caption

"I started working with animals when I was 9. I only finished primary school," says the now 20-year-old, his youthful face peeking out from under a ski mask patched with colorful threads. His companion, Lepeli, is 23.

To give these "herd boys" a second chance at education, dozens of dedicated schools have emerged across the country. Mostly run by volunteers on shoestring budgets, they hold classes at night, once the flocks have been safely brought into their pens. The teaching is often basic — reading, writing, counting. And the schools constantly struggle financially to keep their doors open. Yet for many, they offer the only chance to dream of a different future.