Pursuing a militant agenda - for education
At the far end of a quiet, unpaved alley on the periphery of Karachi, in the shadow of a mosque affiliated with the outlawed sectarian outfit, Sipah-e-Sahaba, a small, nondescript two-storied structure houses a co-ed elementary school that offers classes in English, Urdu, mathematics, social studies, religion, and drawing.
In his report for Globalpost, author HM Naqvi writes about the two organisations - Sipah-i-Sahaba and Friends of Literary and Mass Education (Flame) - and how they vie for the allegiance of the children of the conservative Pathans, mostly Mehsuds of Waziristan.
Women in Waziristan rarely leave their houses, much less read or write. In this school, however, they run things, Naqvi writes.
There are three rooms inside, arranged around a neat, open-air courtyard. A wizened old lady presides on a bedstead in one. When her husband died a few years ago, leaving her to raise three children, she was convinced by a representative of Flame to open a school in her house.
While the matriarch’s son, a bearded fellow who wears a skullcap, only reluctantly conceded, her daughters, both matriculate, readily signed up to teach the 55 students, mostly girls. It was a small revolution.
Although the students seem shy at a glance, they stand up confidently when called on. A 6-year-old boy, with his hair combed to one side, explained the philosophy of multiplication. When you get down to it, multiplication is basically addition, he said, before solving equations in his workbook. Another student displayed proficient portraits and drawings depicting urban landscapes.
One student, a 10-year-old girl named Aksa, read a passage in English faster than most newscasters: “Aunty Sadori was shaping a pot. [The wheel] went round and round. While the wheel was moving she shaped the pot with both hands. It was fun to watch.” She proceeded to read, in the same breathless manner, passages in Urdu and Sindhi. At 10, Aksa speaks four languages.
Although education is practically free at Flame schools, parents have to be independently counselled by a teacher or field coordinator to convince them to send their children to the school.
The field coordinator for the area, an articulate Sindhi named Ahmed Hussain, said that Pathans often refuse to send their girls to government schools where there are men on the staff, whether teachers or plumbers. Many are even wary of him, Hussain added.
“Some parents, some teachers even, have never met a man who is not from their clan,” said Hussain, “I have to explain myself, explain the importance of education, explain Flame.”
Owing to the poor social services infrastructure in Pakistan, initiatives such as Flame have multiplied over the years. From the Edhi and Chhippa ambulance services in Karachi to the health, education and poverty alleviation programs of the Health and Nutrition Development Society to the formidable network of low-cost schools operated by The Citizen’s Foundation, individuals and donors have stepped up to the plate.
And there are private sector initiatives as well. Nasra School, for instance, which began in a garage five decades ago, has become the largest private school in Karachi under the aegis of Kaniz Wajid Khan and Zohra Karim. In the last four years, it has expanded to two more campuses in North Karachi and National Highway.
Though not unique, Flame is a remarkable venture. Started in 2004 by Mansoor Alam, a retired diplomat, it is becoming a phenomenon.
“I wanted to use a low-cost model for basic education, for the poorest of the poor. But even that requires money,” he said. Initially, Alam solicited funds from his extended family. The Japanese Embassy in Islamabad subsequently furnished a one-time grant of $33,000. The government of Sindh and the Italian government have also recently become involved in the effort. Most funds, however, are raised from private local donors and Pakistanis settled abroad.
At present, Flame accommodates around 12,000 students, including 7,800 girls, in and around lower-income cantons of Pakistan.
In addition to providing blackboards, textbooks, uniforms and paying utilities and teachers’ salaries, Flame regularly dispatches ‘mobile health units’ to each school. The unit comprises two or three female doctors, who hold a clinic to treat common ailments, from bruises and cuts to coughs, colds and flu.
While administrating Calpol syrup, a 20-something doctor at the school said the mobile health units not only encourage the students to maintain hygiene but also to attend school. After all, it’s free health care, she said, adding that the teachers also avail of the service and it motivates them as well.
“Education changes motivations, objectives, and perceptions,” said Alam, “The girls who attend school start thinking differently. Their world becomes bigger. And the boys also have more options than just going to madrassas.”
If he gets enough funds, Alam plans to expand Flame’s network to a whopping 10,000 ‘non-formal basic education schools’ in the next five years.
Published in The Express Tribune, July 7th, 2010.
In his report for Globalpost, author HM Naqvi writes about the two organisations - Sipah-i-Sahaba and Friends of Literary and Mass Education (Flame) - and how they vie for the allegiance of the children of the conservative Pathans, mostly Mehsuds of Waziristan.
Women in Waziristan rarely leave their houses, much less read or write. In this school, however, they run things, Naqvi writes.
There are three rooms inside, arranged around a neat, open-air courtyard. A wizened old lady presides on a bedstead in one. When her husband died a few years ago, leaving her to raise three children, she was convinced by a representative of Flame to open a school in her house.
While the matriarch’s son, a bearded fellow who wears a skullcap, only reluctantly conceded, her daughters, both matriculate, readily signed up to teach the 55 students, mostly girls. It was a small revolution.
Although the students seem shy at a glance, they stand up confidently when called on. A 6-year-old boy, with his hair combed to one side, explained the philosophy of multiplication. When you get down to it, multiplication is basically addition, he said, before solving equations in his workbook. Another student displayed proficient portraits and drawings depicting urban landscapes.
One student, a 10-year-old girl named Aksa, read a passage in English faster than most newscasters: “Aunty Sadori was shaping a pot. [The wheel] went round and round. While the wheel was moving she shaped the pot with both hands. It was fun to watch.” She proceeded to read, in the same breathless manner, passages in Urdu and Sindhi. At 10, Aksa speaks four languages.
Although education is practically free at Flame schools, parents have to be independently counselled by a teacher or field coordinator to convince them to send their children to the school.
The field coordinator for the area, an articulate Sindhi named Ahmed Hussain, said that Pathans often refuse to send their girls to government schools where there are men on the staff, whether teachers or plumbers. Many are even wary of him, Hussain added.
“Some parents, some teachers even, have never met a man who is not from their clan,” said Hussain, “I have to explain myself, explain the importance of education, explain Flame.”
Owing to the poor social services infrastructure in Pakistan, initiatives such as Flame have multiplied over the years. From the Edhi and Chhippa ambulance services in Karachi to the health, education and poverty alleviation programs of the Health and Nutrition Development Society to the formidable network of low-cost schools operated by The Citizen’s Foundation, individuals and donors have stepped up to the plate.
And there are private sector initiatives as well. Nasra School, for instance, which began in a garage five decades ago, has become the largest private school in Karachi under the aegis of Kaniz Wajid Khan and Zohra Karim. In the last four years, it has expanded to two more campuses in North Karachi and National Highway.
Though not unique, Flame is a remarkable venture. Started in 2004 by Mansoor Alam, a retired diplomat, it is becoming a phenomenon.
“I wanted to use a low-cost model for basic education, for the poorest of the poor. But even that requires money,” he said. Initially, Alam solicited funds from his extended family. The Japanese Embassy in Islamabad subsequently furnished a one-time grant of $33,000. The government of Sindh and the Italian government have also recently become involved in the effort. Most funds, however, are raised from private local donors and Pakistanis settled abroad.
At present, Flame accommodates around 12,000 students, including 7,800 girls, in and around lower-income cantons of Pakistan.
In addition to providing blackboards, textbooks, uniforms and paying utilities and teachers’ salaries, Flame regularly dispatches ‘mobile health units’ to each school. The unit comprises two or three female doctors, who hold a clinic to treat common ailments, from bruises and cuts to coughs, colds and flu.
While administrating Calpol syrup, a 20-something doctor at the school said the mobile health units not only encourage the students to maintain hygiene but also to attend school. After all, it’s free health care, she said, adding that the teachers also avail of the service and it motivates them as well.
“Education changes motivations, objectives, and perceptions,” said Alam, “The girls who attend school start thinking differently. Their world becomes bigger. And the boys also have more options than just going to madrassas.”
If he gets enough funds, Alam plans to expand Flame’s network to a whopping 10,000 ‘non-formal basic education schools’ in the next five years.
Published in The Express Tribune, July 7th, 2010.