No money, no school
[This report does not necessarily reflect the views of the United Nations]
KISANGANI- - The headmaster, wearing a tattered red uniform, points at his worn slippers and says, "Look at me. Do I look like a teacher? We have no desks, no books - not even water." Then Ire Yabongengo complains about parents who are fed up with constantly repairing the school, a collection of shacks made of sticks and mud, with roofs made of leaves.
Lokanja Lina Nkoy is a tiny village in the midst of the immense rainforest that blankets most of the Congo Basin and comprises the heart of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). The only school here is run by the Kimbanguistes, a religious sect worshipping Kimbangu, a freedom fighter incarcerated by the Belgian colonial powers, who died in jail shortly before the end of the colonial era.
As is the case for most public schools in the DRC, the government is responsible for paying teachers' salaries and providing benches, tables and classrooms for the 150 pupils at the Lokanja Lina Nkoy village school. However, students here are crowded into four classrooms where the sun shines through gaping holes in the roof. They sit on logs, bare feet in the sand, wearing shabby clothes instead of uniforms. Still, the children are enthusiastic about learning, even if they must do so without even the most basic supplies.
"Bonjour M le Directeur!" they shout heartily.
There is not a single pen, book or piece of paper in the shacks. Teachers scribble French words with chalk on raw wooden boards that have been painted black. The children practise writing words in the sand.
Lokanja Lina Nkoy primary school is more the rule than the exception in a country where the education system is in a state of decay after years of civil strife and decades of neglect. As a result, more than 3.5 million children do not go to school in the DRC, which has a population of about 60 million.
According to the Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper produced by the government and UN agencies in March 2006, the situation has deteriorated in recent years. In 1995, 25 percent of all children did not attend classes; in 2001 that figure had risen to 30 percent.
No salaries
Until the 1960s, the churches ran most of the schools. The majority were built by Catholic priests, who had established mission stations all over what was then called Zaire. When Mobutu Sese Seko came to power in 1965 he started an aggressive campaign of nationalisation. This strategy bled not only the economy but also ruined the civil service, most of which had been supported by the clergy. School fees were now collected by the government, but the responsibility of running the schools was left to the priests - with no funding.
The teachers in Lokanja Lina Nkoy have not received their salaries in months. When the government does pay the headmaster, he earns 14,000 Congolese francs, the equivalent of about US$30. Regular teachers are paid less than half that. But $15 is far too little in the DRC, where almost everything has to be imported, including pens and paper - in a country with the largest forest in Africa.
Despite their frustrations, some parents and teachers in the village have refused to give up hope and are constructing a new mud hut to replace one that is threatening to collapse on to the pupils. "Were it not for the teachers and parents, the education system in the DRC would not exist at all," said Christian Lannoye, an education expert and consultant for the development agency Technical Cooperation Belgium.
No money, no school
The new constitution approved by Congolese voters in December 2005 guarantees free primary and secondary schooling for all children. But since teachers are not paid, schools all over the country demand a 'prime', or premium. The 'prime' varies from about 15 cents to $1 in the interior, and between $10 and $30 in the capital, Kinshasa.
For many parents, even 15 cents is prohibitively expensive. Mothers washing plates and clothes in the Lomami River, close to the village school, complained that their children could not learn to read and write because they could not afford to pay the 'prime'.
Residents of Lokanja Lina Nkoy survive through subsistence farming and fishing. Aside from selling cassava cake and smoked fish to other poor people, they have no means to earn a living. Tonnes of cash crops such as coffee and oil palm fruit are rotting in the hinterland. The cost of transporting goods to Kisangani, capital of Orientale province, is more expensive than the sale price of the goods at the market.
Three hours on foot from the village is Isangi town, a trading post of 5,300 people with a Roman Catholic mission and the administrative offices of Isangi Territory, one of more than 500 municipalities in Orientale province. The oil palm plantations in the area are neglected, and the plantation company - Busira Lomami, the only employer in the area - ceased operations when the town was occupied and looted by Rwandan and Ugandan armies and Congolese rebels in the 1990s.
The primary school in Isangi is run by Catholic priests and is in better shape than that in Lokanja Lina Nkoy, but only just. Once proud brick buildings erected in the 1930s are crumbling due to lack of money.
No pensions for retired teachers
School headmaster Augustin Mombaya, 68, has lived through Mobutu's reign and all the conflict that ensued after his overthrow by Laurent Desire Kabila, father of current President Joseph Kabila.
Mombaya earns 32,000 Congolese francs ($70) a month - in theory only, as salaries in his school are 15 months overdue. "Ten percent of all our teachers never received a salary at all, because they are not registered with the ministry of education," he said.
When old teachers are too weak to work, young teachers are appointed in their place. But because of the inefficiency of the education system, the 'retirees' remain on the payroll - sometimes even after they have died.
Mombaya should have retired 13 years ago, after 30 years' service. "Several times I sent lists of 140 teachers who should be retired to the education ministry in Kinshasa, but I did not get a reply, even once," he said.
When the minister of education in Kinshasa recently presented the budget minister with a list of tens of thousands of teachers eligible for retirement, he was told there was no money for their pensions.
Teachers all over the country have called a strike twice this school year - but nothing has changed.
Girls drop out first
The effect of the 'prime' system is felt mainly by girls. In the secondary class in Isangi, one female student sits in a class of 15 young men. In primary school, girls often make up the majority - the result of a campaign by the United Nations Children's Fund (Unicef) to encourage parents to send them to school.
As years go by, however, girls drop out - due to lack of money, pregnancy or early marriage.
Unicef has provided kits of writing materials for children and chalk for teachers to 290 schools in Orientale province. Still, more than 2,200 schools are waiting for support, and new pupils will continue to enter the system.
Pascal Libondo Molanga, director of 63 primary schools in Kisangani, told IRIN that one-third of all children in the city - an estimated 80,000 in a population of 500,000 people - did not attend classes. "Sixty-five percent of all children that roam around during the day are girls," he said.
"Many of them prostitute themselves with the silent agreement of their parents in order to send their brothers to school," said Giovanni Pross, an Italian priest who has lived in Kisangani for 20 years, and is frustrated and angry about the way politicians handle matters here.
Sylvain Nzaba, Unicef protection officer in the provincial capital, Kisangani, believes that lack of schooling, among other factors, is responsible for the estimated 5,000 street children who have to fend for themselves all over the city.
The money is there, but there's no way to get it
Lannoye battles with the education ministry in Kinshasa for the system to be reformed. He has difficulty finding partners who understand the seriousness of the situation and are able to find solutions to the problems. "These are not politicians, but predators. Much of the money that comes in is stolen, and money that would be available remains in the coffers of willing creditors because the people in the ministries don't know how to access it and use it. Millions are waiting to be invested," said Lannoye.
The problems in the education ministry mirror the situation on the ground.
According to Lannoye, almost everyone in charge is very old - on average 60 to 70 years old. They are often not qualified. "They hold all the jobs, preventing younger people from being promoted. The last time new people were hired was more than 10 years ago. Their salaries range from $7 to $15 a month, which forces them to do other work."
Like the teachers, the older employees in the education ministry are unable to retire. Meanwhile, the World Bank has introduced a project to provide the DRC government with funds for one-off retirement benefits of up to $600 per person.
Breeding ground for trouble
Not as bad, but far from good, is the situation in the universities - breeding grounds for frustration, discontent and trouble. The dean of the University of Kisangani, Danly Ngbonda, a medical doctor, puts it like this: "If you have economic and political problems you also have a problem at the learning institutions."
His university lost dozens of professors during the battles that ravaged the city in three rebellions. Many fled to Kinshasa, the luckier ones left the country.
The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) now helps Ngbonda to get some members of the diaspora back to teaching in Kisangani by paying their airfares and salaries. So far, four have returned this year, but that still leaves just 65 professors who have to teach more than 5,000 students in eight faculties. There is no internet connection, electricity supply is random and the libraries are badly equipped.
Like all other professors and teachers in DRC, Ngbonda cannot live off his salary alone. He is a qualified paediatrician, and as such makes some money on the side - something other professors are not able to do. This opens the door for corruption.
"I don't know how many professors are asking for bribes when students want to pass their tests," said Ngbonda, adding that "it's not the brightest who make it through school - it's often just the wealthiest."
In the primary school in Lokanja Lina Nkoy, there is little hope that things will change soon after the 30 July elections.
The headmaster shrugged: "The government has promised us a lot of things in the past, and nothing ever materialised. Why should things change this time?"