海角大神

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S. Sudan: For some students, war no excuse to miss finals

National exams were set for Dec. 16, a day after war broke out and schools closed. Now UN camps are helping serve up English and math tests. Maybe new peace deal will also help.

By Katarina H枚ija , Correspondent
Juba, South Sudan

Some 380 South Sudanese students spent last week in a makeshift disco and waterhole at a United Nations camp for displaced persons outside Juba, the capital.聽

But they weren鈥檛 dancing or drinking. They were sharpening their pencils and taking math and English exams needed for high school and college 鈥 in a country where an already ailing school system now faces the challenges of a war.

Fighting here broke out Dec. 15, a day before national or final exams were scheduled to commence. Schools closed. Since then, a bitter struggle between rebel and government forces has displaced a half million people and created a reign of fear and resignation in many villages and towns 鈥 though a tentative ceasefire was announced Thursday during talks in Addis Ababa.聽

Yet showing pluck and resolution, the outbreak of war is seen by many local educators and aid groups in Juba as no excuse to delay exams and throw the past school year into limbo.

So last week using propped up scrap tables and old wooden desks, aid workers handed out loose-leaf exams to students of all ages who sat cheek by jowl. And a somewhat unearthly quiet marred only by scribbling descended on what is a nighttime disco for humanitarian workers.

鈥淭he fighting has already disrupted the students鈥 school year,鈥 says Simon Mphisa, a spokesperson here for UNICEF which has taken charge of exams inside the UN camp, which shelters some 17,000 people. 鈥淭hat is why we decided to let them sit the exam in the camp.鈥

When fighting broke out, 17-year old Sunday Ulang fled to the camp, which she says was the only place she felt she would be safe. Ms. Ulang is taking exams with hopes of going to a university to be a doctor.

鈥淪oldiers were shooting all around us. People were coming from everywhere,鈥 she says of the days in mid-December.

鈥淚n a few hours the ground between the airport and the city was full of people,鈥 she recalls. Later she learned that her uncle was among those killed in chaotic shooting.

After Dec. 15 the camp sprang up quickly. It is dusty and congested. People move in and out in a steady stream. One area has become a virtual market space with women selling vegetables, soft drinks, and pieces of dough fried in sizzling oil. Young men haggle over mattresses, pieces of wood, and plastic sheeting with humanitarian logos.

One exam taker, Michael Bior, a primary school student (6th grade) despite being 19, helps to provide for his family by selling phone credit and charging mobile phones at a wooden stand on one of the camp鈥檚 busy side streets.

鈥淪ince we can鈥檛 go outside, everyone in here is struggling to survive,鈥 says Mr. Bior, who adds that many dwellers here refuse to leave.

鈥淲ith the shooting still going on, I fear for my family鈥檚 safety. Almost every night there is gunfire from the army barracks not far from the displaced camp.鈥

A generation of South Sudanese had their schooling delayed by a war with the North. South Sudan gained formal nationhood in 2011. Some students whose families left for Kenya or Uganda or Sudan during the earlier independence war and upheavals found on returning home that they were years behind in school.

Now comes a new war pitting two former generals of South Sudan鈥檚 independence movement against each other; it is a power struggle between President Salva Kiir (a Dinka) and former vice-president and rebel leader Riek Machar (a Nuer). The struggle has since devolved into an ethnic conflict among the Nuer and Dinka ethnic tribes.

Very few youth in the camp believe the fighting will end soon or that there will be long-lasting peace between political factions or ethnic groups.

鈥淏oth sides will continue fighting until there is nothing left to fight for. I don鈥檛 believe in peace in South Sudan,鈥 says Ulang darkly, after taking her exam.

Yet levels of schooling here have always been low, according to UNICEF numbers. Illiteracy rates among adults now are 27 percent. Some two thirds of children aged 6 to 17 have never set foot in a classroom. The completion rate in primary schools is less than 10 percent, one of the lowest in the world. Only a third of females get a basic education.

鈥淢any rural areas in South Sudan lack even primary schools,鈥 says Mr. Mphisa from UNICEF, which helped coordinate the test. 鈥淣ow schools have closed again because of the fighting that started in Juba in mid-December and later spread across the country.鈥

So it is not surprising to find two generations of South Sudanese taking these exams, with fathers and sons sitting together.

One 27-year old bent over the test is sitting next to his 48 year old father. The younger man, Kueth Machar, 聽says that if he passes the test 鈥淚 want to go to school and learn English. Maybe I鈥檒l become a teacher.鈥

His dad, Michael Machar, a trader, never got formal schooling but is using his predicament as a displaced person to test his level of learning.

鈥淲here I grew up there were no schools. If things are going to improve in South Sudan we need educated people. I鈥檓 taking the exam to give my children a better future and for my country,鈥 the elder Machar says.聽