Bullets banish books in South Sudan as education becomes a casualty of war

At the end of a school day in the South Sudanese capital, Juba, young girls in light brown uniforms walk home, chatting in the late-afternoon sun. The scene should be repeated all over the country but over the past year and a half the civil war has forced hundreds of thousands of children out of school nationwide.

Education is one of the hidden casualties of South Sudan’s latest conflict, which began in December 2013 and shows little sign of ending. School buildings have been requisitioned by soldiers, pupils and their teachers have been press-ganged into armed groups, and an estimated 400,000 children have been forced out of school.

In the three worst affected states, Jonglei, Upper Nile and Unity, 70% of the 1,200 schools have been closed. In some counties, not a single school is open.

Related: The harsh reality of life in South Sudan's Bentiu camp – in pictures^[1]

The education sector was a concern even before the war broke out: the national literacy rate of 27%^[2] was one of the lowest in the world, and primary school enrolment (47%) and completion (10%) rates were also unimpressive, though better than they had been during the long years of conflict before South Sudan seceded from Sudan.

At independence four years ago this week, South Sudan was one of the least developed countries^[3] in the world, and the new schools created in peace time were often extremely basic. Nevertheless, some progress was made. The country’s subsequent rapid descent into civil war reversed many of those slight gains.

Aliza Ruai knows what that feels like. She had been a student in Lich primary school, in Unity state, when the war began. In June 2014, she was forced to flee as the violence surged towards her home.

“We could only move at night,” says the 17-year-old. “I couldn’t see the fighting but I heard the guns. I was feeling very bad. I was afraid. My father was taken in April before we fled. I have not seen him since.”

She missed her exams because of the fighting, and spent more time out of school as she looked after younger siblings. Now, though, she is studying again, at a makeshift school in the UN camp where she lives on the outskirts of Bentiu, the state capital.

“Because I want a good life, I will study,” she says. “Maybe I can be a doctor or a teacher.”

Samuel Liom is at the same school. He was 14 before he first went to school, since there wasn’t one in his village. At first, he found it difficult to be in a class with much younger children, but he enjoyed learning so much that he overcame his embarrassment.

My favourite subject is social science because you learn how other countries are doing on justice and social issues

Samuel Liom

Like Aliza, Samuel was forced to flee the fighting in Unity state – what he calls the “shooting and lootings” – and dead bodies by the side of the road. At first, he wasn’t sure whether it was worth going to school in the camp, but sitting around doing nothing became frustrating. Now he is back at school, and hopes to get a job with the UN. The civil war has sharpened the focus of his studies.

“My favourite subject is social science because you will learn the world story – how other countries are doing in terms of justice and social issues,” he says. “If you do social studies, you know the heart of the country.”

South Sudan needs peace, Samuel says, to allow him and others to lead normal lives.^[4]

Both Aliza and Samuel are studying at a school supported by Unicef as part of its Back to Learning Campaign, which has reached 121,000 children and hopes to help three times as many. Funding, though, is in short supply. ^[5]

During a mine awareness initiative, a student stands in front of a cast of landmines in Juba, April 2014. Photograph: Charles Lomodong/AFP/Getty Images

When a war breaks out, education sinks down the list of priorities. In 2014, around 1% of humanitarian spending went on education.

As the world meets in Oslo this week for a Summit on Education for Development^[6], Unicef will argue for a higher priority for education in humanitarian emergencies.

“We have to keep in mind that conflicts today, like in South Sudan, are lasting much longer, so we have to rethink the way traditional humanitarian assistance is provided,” says Phuong T Nguyen from Unicef, in South Sudan.

“Aspects of education are life-saving: how to protect yourself from cholera, the use of clean water, how to protect yourself from gender-based violence. It’s not in the same sense as food but it is life-saving.”

Many in South Sudan would agree. Edmund Yakani is a prominent activist who organises programmes to help provide schooling for children affected by conflict. He’s concerned that an entire generation is growing up without a proper education – making South Sudan’s future prospects even bleaker.

Even areas not directly affected by conflict are “overwhelmed”, he says. Class sizes have grown from around 45 to well over 100 in many cases, “reducing the quality of education. And many teachers are getting work as humanitarians because the money is better. The educational cost of this war is high.”

References

1. ^{^} The harsh reality of life in South Sudan's Bentiu camp – in pictures (www.theguardian.com)
2. ^{^} the national literacy rate of 27% (www.unicef.org)
3. ^{^} one of the least developed countries (www.theguardian.com)
4. ^{^} South Sudan (www.theguardian.com)
5. ^{^} Back to Learning Campaign (www.unicef.org)
6. ^{^} Summit on Education for Development (www.osloeducationsummit.no)