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South Sudan

For children in South Sudan, education offers the brightest ray of hope

Schools run by UNICEF in a camp for those displaced by the conflict are nurturing children’s dreams of a future free from war.

By Pavithra S Rangan

WAU, South Sudan, 19 March 2018 – He was a quiet, shy boy of 14, helping his parents at the farm, sharing household work and finishing his lessons, in Bentiu county in then undivided Sudan. One day, on an otherwise a regular afternoon, his parents and uncle were dragged out his house and shot dead by plain clothes men with masked faces, while he stood there watching.

Days after the incident, Matet was holding a gun and learning to shoot as a child solider with an armed group. He didn’t think twice about giving up school at grade 5. “If I remained at home, they would’ve killed me as well,” says 41-year-old Matet, his red eyes narrowing into cracks as he recounts details of that day. “I wanted to avenge my parents’ death, protect myself and fight for the freedom of South Sudan. I joined the army in 1991.”

Since then, he has served at different posts across the country. During the brief and tenuous years of peace, Matet married and now has a son of 15 years. However, with conflict erupting again in 2013, he fled once more from his home in Rumbek, with his wife and son, to one of the two United Nations protection of civilian (PoC) sites in Wau, in the west of the country.

At the school within the Protection of Civilians site in Wau, South Sudan, 41-year-old Matet considers his son fortunate for being able continue his education, despite the conflict. “He must study because education helps you reason. South Sudan is caught in war even today because most of us are illiterate,” he says.

“My son can grow up and do anything he wants. I just don’t what him to be like me,” he says. “He must continue studying because education helps you reason. South Sudan is caught in war even today because most of us are illiterate.”

In one corner of the camp, only a few hundred meters from Matet’s home, are eight make-shift rooms of bamboo, aluminum sheets and tarpaulin. Matet’s son, Immanuel, goes to school there and is now in grade six. “He is really fortunate to able to continue his education despite the violence,” Matet says.

The United Nations Mission in South Sudan built the first PoC here in 2013 to provide a haven to those fleeing the throes of war. Soon after, UNICEF set up schools in the PoC so that an entire generation of children, growing up in conflict, don’t lose out on an education. Many had dropped out of school due to the violence, and they enthusiastically seize on the opportunity to continue their education.

Matet’s son Immanuel smiles often and speak with an endearing confidence. “I will be an astronaut in a few years. Last year, we studied that it is possible to travel to the moon. I will be an astronaut and go to the moon, far away from here.”

The ongoing crisis has left an enormous impact on the life choices these children. Parents of most children in both PoCs are soldiers from the conflict-ridden regions of Upper Nile, Jonglie or Bentiu, taking refuge from opposing armed groups. Immanuel’s friend, 16-year-old Isaac, hasn’t seen his parents who are in Jonglie, for at least four years now. He lives in the PoC with his sister and brother-in-law who was also a soldier. “I want to be a priest and learn how to talk to God. If you talk to god directly, you can surely ask him to stop this war.”

However, gathering the nearly 4,700 children in both schools at the PoCs has been no mean task for the teachers. "Most parents were not like Matet. Having fled their homes after being exposed to extreme violence, sending their children to school was the last thing on their minds,” says Kalany Mach, the head teacher of the school in the camp knows as PoC 1.

“However, after two years of going from one house to the other counselling parents and children, today, nearly all children come to school willingly every day. They see the aid workers as their role models,” he beams.

UNICEF and partners are doing everything they can to ensure that children experience a normalizing environment that reduces the psychological impact of war. UNICEF’s education in emergencies programme is providing these out-of-school children with access to education in safe, temporary learning spaces.

“We don’t really have drop-outs. If a child doesn’t turn up at school for over three days, we go to their homes and ensure that they’re back in school,” says the English teacher school, Mathew Gatkan. “Absenteeism here is mostly because children often fall sick.” Children are also not promoted to the next class until they pass the requisite tests for each grade. “If they don’t know the alphabet at the end of pre-unit, we hold them back until they learn. This why you see some 10-year-olds at the pre-unit,” says Mathew.

Schools in PoC 1 and 2 are functioning with support from 96 volunteer teachers, include 34 female staff, to who UNICEF provides monthly incentives. Besides making available all teaching and learning material, teachers are also trained in pedagogy and in providing psychosocial support.

For 12-year-old Paula Ambross in grade four, her classroom is also her sanctuary. She speaks softly, without lifting her eyes off the floor, fiddling nervously with her text book. “I didn’t step out the house for months,” she says. “Bullets were being fired all around. For over a year I stayed out of my school,” she says recounting the months before her parents brought her to the camp.

Slowly, she opens up, talking about her best friend at school, Agnes. “Both of us want to write novels. I love reading and English is my favourite subject,” she smiles. She has been top of the class in the subject in all the tests this year, her teacher announces proudly. (Funds for scholastic kits, teaching and learning material, incentives and training to staff in schools at PoCs are generously supported by USAID.)