New schools in remote communities in Papua may be rudimentary, but they are providing hope for children’s futures.
The children sit, cross-legged, mouths slightly agape, their gaze fixed on the nimble movements of Yuliance Asso’s right index finger. It darts from one illustration to another on the wooden board as she utters the names of days of the week and briefly recounts, between the names, the Bible story of the seven days of creation. The children are spellbound by her composed yet dramatic narration.
Their classroom is dark, save for the bold sunlight that streams through every opening – the windows, the doorway, the holes in the roof – onto the children’s faces. The classroom has chairs and tables, as well as some small cabinets, but, as usual, the children prefer to sit on the hay-covered floor.
Now, it’s their turn. Their voices burst forth in a dissonant chorus as they chant the days. Some of the children have them in the right order, others still slightly perplexed. Smiling at them when their shouts have faded into silence, Yuliance repeats the whole thing, this time with a song.
Soon, it is snack time. The children, barefoot, form a line and walk out of the classroom toward a clay vat from which Yuliance pours clean water so they can wash their hands. One by one, the preschoolers gather around a pole to dry their hands on a towel larger than themselves. Then, surrounded by the green hills and cloud-capped peaks of Jayawijaya Regency, Papua, they happily munch on their meal – a handful of sweet potatoes.
Thus passes the time at Wahana Pena Emas of Wiaima, which serves as a one-stop learning facility for children up to the age of six. The brainchild of 35-year-old Yuliance, a native of Baliem Valley who trained as a teacher in Malang, East Java, Wahana Pena Emas integrates a basic education for preschoolers with health care, hygiene and nutrition.
Pioneering Effort
Among Baliem Valley’s relatively isolated communities, many of whom are not fully aware of the kind of education children need, Yuliance’s work is pioneering. After a teaching stint at a school run by Oikonomos Foundation, a Dutch-based religious humanitarian agency with decades of involvement in developing highland Papuan communities, she managed to convince her own tribe to send their younger children to school only a few years ago.
Receiving basic supplies and educational materials from Wahana Visi Indonesia (WVI) – a partner of World Vision, an international humanitarian NGO – she and her fellow villagers built the school on a plot of communal land, and named it Wahana Pena Emas.
“I saw my childhood friends skip school, drop out, then become drunkards and gamblers. It’s an inevitable path for many of us Papuans,” Yuliance admits. “The habit’s really hard to break, even among the children. Later when they’ve become parents, their children, too, will follow suit.”
Her goal is to break the cycle, starting with the very youngest of her people.
“The earlier it is we shape our children’s attitudes, the greater is their chance of realizing a brighter future, instead of falling into the familiar traps and becoming a lost generation,” she says.
This strong aspiration does not belong to Yuliance alone. Over time, the villagers took to the idea of taking the younger kids to school. Some, including Yuliance’s little sister, Lusiana Asso, have even offered their time as assistant teachers.
Emilia Wetipo, 37, a relative of the incumbent regent of Jayawijaya, shares Yuliance’s dream and recalls her own youth, that not-so-distant time when education was practically nonexistent, especially for girls.
“My parents used to say that it is shameful for a girl to attend school with blood running down her thighs [menstruating], so I didn’t get the chance to finish school,” she says.
Emilia, however, was determined to improve her life, so she attended matriculation programs and clinched a job as a civil servant.
“If we want our land to be developed, to thrive, we have to develop our kids first,” says Emilia, swiftly seconded by Yuliance, who adds: “The future of our land rests on their heads, hands and hearts.”
Feeding Futures
About an hour’s drive from Wiaima to the north, in the scenic, tranquil village of Manda, a similar school to Yuliance’s is taking shape inside a honai, the traditional house of Papua. The school is only one of a number of modified honai within a compound developed by locals in 2006 with support from World Vision; the complex serves as an epicenter of activities related to promoting the well-being of toddlers and preschoolers.
In these honai, children younger than six are not only taught their numbers, letters and songs; they are also often introduced to new and nutritious foods – besides the ever-present sweet potatoes – such as rice, locally grown vegetables and beans. Periodically, at the adjacent posyandu (integrated health station), the young children, along with newborns and toddlers brought by their mothers, have their height and weight measured and receive vitamin supplements and vaccinations as necessary.
The inhabitants of Manda – the Walak – have long understood the importance of education in shaping their children’s futures. However, as is the case all over the highlands of Papua, the scarcity of schools and lack of transportation meant that going to school meant crossing mountains on foot in an hours-long daily journey. No wonder that from the outset they embraced World Vision’s initiative to build a school closer to their homes.
Yet even for an open-minded tribe like the Walak, the idea of using the far more intimate honai as schools – rather than constructing modern buildings – was ingenious and pioneering. It heralds a significant conceptual shift in the mind-set of the indigenous tribes. Whereas the honai was customarily viewed as a place to live, eat and sleep, it is now understood as a place for children to study and interact with their classmates.
The idea caught on and turned out to be so effective in improving learning conditions in the area that in 2009 the district government agreed to establish a public primary school (SDN) so that the preschoolers could continue to receive an education.
“Parents have figured out now that proper schooling doesn’t necessarily have to take place far away in some serious-looking building; education can easily happen right at home, and they, too, should assume the role of teachers,” says Yali, a distinguished Walak elder who also teaches at the preschool.
Yali himself has some minor difficulties with writing and speaking correct Indonesian, and may not be considered the ideal teacher. But he gets it right, and that’s what matters. Now, as funding for education facilities increases and Papuan parents’ awareness of the importance of education grows, a chronic and immediate issue that remains largely unresolved is the dearth of good teachers.
“There are plenty of teachers here in Papua. Many of them migrated here from Java, Sumatra, Sulawesi,” says Youdy Wuisan, originally from Sulawesi, who relocated to Baliem Valley with his family and is now principal of Adventist Primary School (SD Advent) in the village of Maima.
“Some of them are in it to secure the position as civil servants, pocketing the ‘hardship benefits’ for living in a remote location. They rarely do come to school to actually teach. Who would care?” he adds, his voice rising with anger. “Some others, who were initially devoted to teaching, had a really hard time adjusting to the harsh environment of this place, having to work in the field or find side jobs to make ends meet.
“All those who couldn’t handle it just went.”
Abstract Figures
A problem for the teachers is how to adapt the teaching materials as ideas and objects that are accessible to children with little exposure to the outside world. Ramses Revasi, a tall teacher from Yapen Island in northern Papua, with 30 years of classroom experience under his belt, puts it quite bluntly.
“From the books that we have, the kids read about trains, tigers, elephants,” he says. “But here they don’t completely take in the meaning of three elephants plus four elephants; they don’t really know what an ‘elephant’ actually is, let alone ever see one in real life.”
The most astounding sight at the kindergartens and schools in Papua is the children taking part in outdoor games and sports. Physical activity is plainly their true joy in life, and they always have energy for it. Yet call them back into the room for a simple math lesson, and they slouch in their seats, the spark of passion in their eyes dwindling.
Grasping abstract concepts, numbers and calculations, for instance, is perhaps what the children find most challenging. To make matters worse, many teachers’ own grasp on the knowledge is still a bit fuzzy, especially when it comes to math and natural sciences.
A new project has been designed to dispel both students’ and teachers’ fear of these two important subjects. SD Advent Maima is one of the schools in Papua that are taking part in a pilot project run by World Vision in collaboration with the Surya Institute, a science teaching institution founded by Yohanes Surya, famed for his feats in training students into award winners in International Physics Olympiads.
The project aims to recast the teaching and learning of math and science as an easy and meaningful process for teachers and students alike. After participating in a series of workshops, the teachers of SD Advent Maima, including Ramses, feel much more capable.
“Basically, my colleagues and I can now provide answers when students ask us about a certain topic. In the past, we just told them, ‘Don’t ask. That is how it is, just memorize it,’” Ramses confesses.
“Now, we can explain to them using terminology they can well relate to. With great confidence, too,” he adds, a hint of smugness lurking in his wide grin.
If the project succeeds in the long run, the quality of education in Papua could be greatly improved, the first step being, of course, to train up the teachers.
A board hanging on a tree in the SD Advent schoolyard holds a slogan written in Indonesian. It translates into English as something like this: “Education is the golden bridge that leads to the coast of happiness.”
For most children born and bred in Baliem, a pristine valley landlocked by Jayawijaya’s unbroken chains of precipitous mountains, the notion of arriving at a beach and gazing across the bounteous ocean may be difficult to grasp, both literally and figuratively. But the coastline, this happiness they desire, is by no means beyond their reach.
It is just a matter of knowing how.