The beginning
Ok, so I never really thought it would be easy to convince tiny traditional, semi-nomadic rural communities that education is important; however, I think deep down I was arrogant enough to hang on to a slight hope that if I really got to know people (and was liked and trusted by my village) I would find a magic touch and it wouldn’t actually be that difficult.
Before arriving at my site, I was most worried about the first 3 months in village, the so called “Etude de Mileu” During this period new PC Volunteers are supposed to minimize travel and spend almost all their time in village in order to get to know people and learn how things work. Let’s just say I lost more than a little sleep over the thought of being the only foreigner in a tiny village where history is told in terms of residents’ ancestors.
I was very pleased to find that the first three months actually went really well. As the only White in the village, I quickly became the local celebrity (nothing special, so did all my PC friends in their own villages). Honestly, in villages it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t want a white friend (or an American wife for that matter), so greeting people in their first language, holding their 7 day old babies during baptisms (and not exclaiming when the baby pees on me) and drinking tea with people goes a long way.
About halfway through the “Etude” Period, I started getting antsy. I had been in BF many months and had learnt a lot, but hadn’t done much.
What I’ve learned thus far
(This is generalized and of course there are rare exceptions…but they are hard to find) In many ways education is viewed to be connected with the school building and not with life. The majority of people don’t view school as a way to improve life. Why?
Well, most parents never went to school and don’t understand it, thus don’t see why education is important and don’t encourage their kids to try or study (and in many cases, don’t send all their kids to school in the first place). In many cases, attendance, continuation and success depends on the individual child’s motivation to come to school and work hard. Unfortunately, almost all schools are taught in French, and village kids generally don’t hear French before they arrive at school. So kids, who days before had only spent their time running around barefoot (and probably at least half naked) are expected to spend 7 hours a day sitting on benches “learning” in a language they don’t speak. You see the problem. (In stark contrast to most theoretical French language schools that depend on rote memorization, there is a “non-formal education” school that is practical, interactive and taught in Fulfulde. When observing, I didn’t understand much of what was said, but I’ve never felt more at home in Burkinabe classrooms. Unfortunately these schools are few and far between and are seen as a last resort for kids who didn’t attend the regular school.)
For girls, add extensive household chores required for family survival and early and forced marriages to the lack of parental support and it is no surprise that most girls don’t make it to 5th grade.
These factors, compounded by many others, result in obstacles so great that so few students succeed (boys or girls). In my village in particular no one has passed the test to complete junior high (the minimum requirement for formal employment) and no one has used their education to dramatically improve their life. We have no local role models, thus the word on the cowpath isn’t “Sambo has a new moto because his son went to school and now has a job and helps the family”, but often is “Hama’s son went to school for a few years and now is scraping by selling meat in Ouaga with my son who never set foot in a school building.” With the exception of Bani (the central and administrative village in the department), which has slightly better success rates, this scenario reflects the situation in most (I’m afraid to say all) villages in the department, if not the region.
An additional factor is that in most tiny villages there is nothing to read in French or Fulfulde other than school books. With nothing to read, literacy seems unimportant (again connected to school and not life), people can’t practice and improve their reading abilities, and reading for fun seems unimaginable.
Furthermore, much of life is unreliable and depends on external factors. Will it rain enough so that I can harvest enough millet to sufficiently feed my family? Will the government send enough notebooks for schools as promised, so I don’t need to buy them for my kids? Will the World Food Programme send enough food so my kids who I do send to school can eat lunch there everyday? In Amsia, the answer to all of these questions was NO this year. This results in feelings of lack of control, lack of agency in one’s own life.
So now let’s look at financial restraints. In my village, families could easily spend 162 000 cfa (about $324USD) to put a child through school until the end of junior high. However, this estimate is based on the unrealistic assumptions hat the student will never repeat a grade, only needs to purchase a new junior high uniform every other year, and already has a bike to pedal the 5km to the junior high. Most men have at least 2 wives, with at least 5 kids each. I guess you could say there are financial restraints to sending all the kids to school.
When so much seems undependable, the benefits of education seem abstract and unattainable, but the opportunity costs so tangible (loss of labor to tend animals, fetch water and wood, etc) it is no surprise so few parents are willing to make the minimum $324 and 10 year investment required per child to complete junior high and potentially get a job.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
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2 comments:
Kaitlyn:
What village are you working in?
My wife and I were volunteers during the 80's (Yako and Barsalogho - near Kaya).
I work in Bani, about 40km before you reach Dori (Kaya to Dori was paved about 3-5 years ago!)
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