Ironic that to understand (in part) policies and programs for refugee education is to cull through hundreds of documents at the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) Headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland--a world away from the camps themselves. Everyday between 9am and 1pm I sit hunched over my computer in an alcove on the third floor and make digital copies of twenty-five years worth of policy briefs, technical mission reports, funding appeals, and position papers. The well-patterned routine (scan, turn page, scan, turn page) is occasionally interrupted by a particular title or passage that catches my eye. "Significant antitipcated shortfall in UNHCR budget constricts education funding in Dadaab," or "student to teacher ratio in Kakuma Camp 100 to 1."
These two camps, Dadaab and Kakuma, are the first and second largest refugee camps in the world. They are not so much camps as sprawling cities of approximately 500,000 and 100,000 persons respectively. Established in 1991 to shelter Somali and Sudanese refugees, the camp-cities are fixed features of the landscape. There are tents as far as the eye can see but there are also permanent structures--airstrips, tarmacked roads, hospitals, community centers, market places. And there are schools. I haven't seen any of this yet, but I will. Soon. Understanding refugee education begins in Geneva but carries on to Kenya in a days time.
Here's the situation in short. Refugee education is complicated, particularly in protracted situations (lasting 5 years or more). Challenges include who funds it, who manages it, what curriculum is taught and in what language. Then there is the challenge of determining what education is preparing refugees for. Repatriation back to their home country? Local integration into their host country? Or resettlement to a third country? These are the three "durable solutions" to refugee situations that the UNHCR works towards on behalf of approximately 10.5 million refugees throughout the world. However, many "third" countries are significantly reducing their resettlement quotas and host countries are increasingly resistant to local integration and confine refugees to camps. Finally, as conflict is intractable in many refugees' countries of origin, the average stay in a camp is over seventeen years. Some stay for much longer; there are tens of thousands of "third generation" refugees born to parents who themselves were born in the camps.
Many of these challenges are reflected in the gaps and shortfalls of refugee education. In a 2011 review, UNHCR found that across 92 camps worldwide, 24 percent of primary school-aged children and sixty-four percent of secondary-school aged youth remain out of school. The average student to teacher ratio is 70 to 1. And education receives only 2 percent of all humanitarian aid funding. In Kakuma and Dadaab camps, these figures are worse.
In the coming weeks I will travel to Dadaab and Kakuma and talk with education officers, refugee students, teachers, parents, protection officers, and government officials. I'll ask them to tell their stories of changes and continuities to education policies and programs (and according to documents in Geneva there are several) as well as their lived experiences in (or out) of schools. My intent in doing so is to gather enough threads and traces to construct a history of education in Dadaab and Kakuma camps.
Many studies have described what is (or is not) happening with regards to refugee education in the months when the study is conducted. However, an historical analysis of refugee education allows for explanation--to ask and answer not just "what" questions but "why" and "how" questions. Addressing persistent challenges to refugee education necessarily requires considering old problems in new ways. It's like driving forward with the help of the rear view mirror.
I'll be sharing updates from the field. Stay tuned!
These two camps, Dadaab and Kakuma, are the first and second largest refugee camps in the world. They are not so much camps as sprawling cities of approximately 500,000 and 100,000 persons respectively. Established in 1991 to shelter Somali and Sudanese refugees, the camp-cities are fixed features of the landscape. There are tents as far as the eye can see but there are also permanent structures--airstrips, tarmacked roads, hospitals, community centers, market places. And there are schools. I haven't seen any of this yet, but I will. Soon. Understanding refugee education begins in Geneva but carries on to Kenya in a days time.
Here's the situation in short. Refugee education is complicated, particularly in protracted situations (lasting 5 years or more). Challenges include who funds it, who manages it, what curriculum is taught and in what language. Then there is the challenge of determining what education is preparing refugees for. Repatriation back to their home country? Local integration into their host country? Or resettlement to a third country? These are the three "durable solutions" to refugee situations that the UNHCR works towards on behalf of approximately 10.5 million refugees throughout the world. However, many "third" countries are significantly reducing their resettlement quotas and host countries are increasingly resistant to local integration and confine refugees to camps. Finally, as conflict is intractable in many refugees' countries of origin, the average stay in a camp is over seventeen years. Some stay for much longer; there are tens of thousands of "third generation" refugees born to parents who themselves were born in the camps.
Many of these challenges are reflected in the gaps and shortfalls of refugee education. In a 2011 review, UNHCR found that across 92 camps worldwide, 24 percent of primary school-aged children and sixty-four percent of secondary-school aged youth remain out of school. The average student to teacher ratio is 70 to 1. And education receives only 2 percent of all humanitarian aid funding. In Kakuma and Dadaab camps, these figures are worse.
In the coming weeks I will travel to Dadaab and Kakuma and talk with education officers, refugee students, teachers, parents, protection officers, and government officials. I'll ask them to tell their stories of changes and continuities to education policies and programs (and according to documents in Geneva there are several) as well as their lived experiences in (or out) of schools. My intent in doing so is to gather enough threads and traces to construct a history of education in Dadaab and Kakuma camps.
Many studies have described what is (or is not) happening with regards to refugee education in the months when the study is conducted. However, an historical analysis of refugee education allows for explanation--to ask and answer not just "what" questions but "why" and "how" questions. Addressing persistent challenges to refugee education necessarily requires considering old problems in new ways. It's like driving forward with the help of the rear view mirror.
I'll be sharing updates from the field. Stay tuned!
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The Broken Chair, outside of the United Nations and just up the street from the UNHCR, is intended to serve as a reminder of the consequences of war and conflict (specifically cluster bombs and landmines) to politicians and tourists visiting Geneva.
Photo from the Bain de Paquis on the Geneva waterfront. A world away...
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