An uphill education

Karen children in Kanchanaburi find simply getting to school is their biggest stumbling block

Only in the past couple of years have Karen children of Lower Klity had a daycare centre in the village. A primary school is still a far-fetched dream. --Pictures by SMITH SUTIBUT

Vasana Chinvarakorn

In a pool of amber light from a kerosene lamp, Nya, 25, is labouring over an important letter. The young Karen is conscious of a dozen pairs of eyes watching him as he painstakingly forms words in the Thai script on a slightly crinkled piece of paper.

The future well-being of Nya's family, and those of his neighbours, depends on this letter. It is an official complaint to the Thai government about a lead mine upstream which has for years released toxic chemicals into the Klity stream, the lifeline of the residents of this village in Kanchanaburi province.

Nya's six years of schooling, and his memory of the Thai alphabet, is proving to be an effective, and perhaps the only, way for the Karens of Lower Klity village to air their grievances to the authorities.

Nya is one of the lucky ones. Many of his friends have long been, and will continue to be, deprived of a school.

"I was lucky to have some relatives in another district. I stayed with them while attending a primary school there," explains Nya, whose Thai name is Kharnjai Boonsermthawornnij.

The only time Lower Klity villagers recall having anything close to a school in the area was over a decade ago when an officer from the Department of Public Welfare, also a Karen, set up a makeshift study centre. A string of his colleagues took turns teaching Karen children how to speak, read and write Thai. But lack of financial support and other obligations gradually made the continuation of the centre too heavy a burden.

Now the wooden lean-to of the abandoned study centre looks dejected, patches of grass grow in the shade of its leaky roof as it is left to decay with time.

"We wish our children could go to school like in other villages," says deputy headman Yasue Nasuansuwan, 48.

"With education, they will not be ignorant like their parents. But very few children here manage to finish Grade 6. Nya is one of those," Yasue says proudly.

In this backwater hamlet of some 25-30 households, tucked away deep in the forest, the possibility that Yasue's wish will ever come true seems remote. Upper Klity, the nearest village with a school, is 12 kilometres away, connected only by a rough dirt road. A heavy downpour can cause a flash flood with the water reaching waist-high, cutting off Lower Klity from the outside world.

But aspirations for formal schooling, at least on the parents' part, have lead to some children being sent to live and study in other villages or provinces.

"There are about 30 kids who study elsewhere, and 11 who don't, even though they are of school age. Seven more are enrolled in non-formal schooling programmes," says Yasue.

The middle of May is the time for the kids of Lower Klity to leave home for the beginning of the new school year. For Somsri Nasuanjamrus, this will be her final year in primary school in Onglu village, a few hours walk away. The 13-year-old girl, who lives with relatives in Onglu during the school year, still doesn't know if she will ever make it to high school. At least Somsri knows she's faring better than her elder sister, Saijai, who dropped out in Grade 3.

"My sister is 22 and already has three kids. Me? I want to become a policewoman," confides the dreamy-eyed girl.

Saijai's early departure from school is not unusual for Karen children compelled by circumstances to live away from their parents. Nya has seen many youngsters quit school half way through because they were unable to endure the loneliness or homesickness.

"Some simply refused to go. If forced, they would sneak back," he says.

On the other hand, Nya and six other young adults in the village are trying hard to continue their studies through a non-formal education programme. Once a month, they will leave for Tipuyeh village, about 50 kilometres away, for a session with their teacher. "Students in this programme usually meet their teacher once a week for 3 hours," explains Krissana Butprasert, a Hilltribe Welfare Officer stationed in Tipuyeh.

"Considering the distance and travelling difficulty, however, we have to be lenient. It's already hard to find someone to fill the teaching position. Last year, there was no teacher at all," says Krissana, who once taught at the Lower Klity village.

It is ironic that now the hilltribe people are seeing the importance of formal schooling, the means to attain it is becoming less accessible. The Thai government's concerns over border security and drug trafficking in recent years prompted it to devise several programmes aimed at "incorporating" ethnic minorities into the nation's cultural fabric. Schooling was, and still is, considered one of the most effective vehicles of doing so. But the government's commitment to this policy seems patchy at best.

Teacher quality in the hilltribe schools around the country varies as staff are mostly recruited from whoever has access to the remote areas and is willing to take on the extra responsibility. The Border Patrol Police are among the first to take the role of Thai language coaches. Next are officers from the Hilltribe Welfare Division, a unit of the Department of Public Welfare. In 1980, the Department of Non-formal Education set up the Community Education Centre Project (CEC) which provides non-academic courses for people in mountainous areas.

The last in line, and the one villagers seem to want most, are the schools run by the Office of National Primary Education Commission (ONPEC), being the only one with authority to issue certificates.

"For Kanchanaburi and three nearby provinces, there is only one ONPEC school which offers room-and-board scholarships to hilltribe children. That's in Panomthuan district, about 200 kilometres from Lower Klity. This year's quota is only seven students," Krissana points out.

"Before there was unlimited supply. ONPEC teachers even had to knock at each door begging parents to send their children to school," the Karen teacher recalls.

Thawan Pimkanchanaphong, director of Kanchanaburi's Centre for Hilltribe Development and Support, attests to the cutback in the government's budget for hilltribe-related projects.

"A classic example is funding for Aids awareness campaigns. For the whole year for four provinces, I got 400 baht. I could only put up two billboard posters in two districts with that amount of money. Salaries for teaching assistants still haven't arrived," he says.

For Thawan, financial allocation for the ethnic minorities seems as constrained as before. He recalls that 20 years ago, the budget was three baht per person per year.

"Now each unit, covering a few villages, receives a thousand baht a year for development projects. That must pay for everything - maintenance, stationery and so on."

Having learned a lesson from their long, futile wait for a government school, Lower Klity villagers realise they have to take matters into their own hands if their children are to get an education.

They plan to build a house in Onglu village where Somsri and other children from Lower Klity are studying. The house will serve as living quarters for the kids during the school term. Another project well underway is a daycare centre inspired by a visit to a similar centre in nearby Tipuyeh village. Partial support from government agencies and a non-governmental organisation called the Karen Development and Study Centre has resulted in a one-room building which serves as the first daycare centre in Lower Klity. It is located next to the dilapidated makeshift study centre.

A small fund has also been set up to cover lunch for the children at five baht per head per day. Each child also receives a couple of notebooks and pencils to use throughout a school year. A single cupboard is cluttered with ragged dolls and toys, donated via the Department of Public Welfare.

At present, one teacher and one assistant look after 30 children, ranging in age from 3 to 10. Ratana Thongpaphumpatawee, 20, the assistant, says the older children are those who dropped out after studying in another village.

Ratana herself never had proper schooling. As a Lower Klity native, she learned how to read and write Thai from Department of Welfare teachers. But this year, she, like Nya, has enrolled in the non-formal education programme, hoping to obtain a Mathayom-3 certificate and a chance to apply for an official position at the daycare centre.

"To be recruited as a teacher on the official payroll, they must have an M-3 diploma. In fact, considering the present high turnover rate of teachers in remote areas, it is probably best if teachers are hired from locals," Krissana explains.

A point which Nya, who volunteers as the daycare centre's secretary and has a daughter enrolled there, agrees with.

"If we had a school here and a teacher who lived in the same village, we could keep a closer eye on the kids' progress," he says. Lower Klity may one day have a school of its own. But for the time being, getting an education means being deprived of family life, at least during the school term. "It's tough on children to live away from their families at such a young age. It's a sad fact of life, but there is no other choice. Their future must come first."

Come rain or shine

The stifling heat of May is nothing for Orapin Thongpasutthi. By the time she reaches school, over 5 kilometres away from her village of Tipuyeh, her uniform may be soaked with sweat, but at least her textbooks keep dry.

It's the following months of the rainy season that makes the 12-year-old Karen girl anxious. With no umbrella or raincoat to shield her precious books, Orapin dreads the thought of walking to and from school everyday along the muddy pathway. Sometimes, a plastic bag is enough to protect her books. Other times, it's not.

A long walk to school: 12-year-old Orapin (left) with her friends in front of Tipuyeh's daycare centre.

"At least I'm better off than my sister. Once she had a severe stomach ache and we had to carry her all the way back home. That wasn't easy," recalls Orapin, now a Grade-6 student at Kroeng Kravia Primary School.

Orapin's parents are wondering whether her younger sister, Passadee, 7, should follow in her siblings' footstep. After all, they don't have much choice since their village, Tipuyeh, does not have a school of its own. Currently, they are lucky enough to have a teacher from the Department of Non-formal Education to offer alternative schooling. But who knows how long he will stay.

Although Tipuyeh, named after a local plant grown near the village stream, is double the size of Lower Klity, both are considered by the Ministry of Education to be too small to have a proper school.

The Ministry's school consolidation policy in recent years has worsened the situation. Citing economic constraints, it stipulates that the teacher/student ratio must be at least 1:25. Small schools, with fewer than 120 students, must be either merged or closed down.

"We made so many requests to the educational authorities. They simply said a five-kilometre distance is nothing. Other villages are even 10 kilometres away from their schools," Krissana Butprasert, a Tipuyeh Public Welfare officer, confides his exasperation.

Other critics point out that a typical curriculum does not take into account preservation of the hilltribe culture.

Mr Krissana adds that, even when a school wants to, books specially designed for the hilltribe people are extremely difficult to get. Teachers commonly resort to using general textbooks oriented toward children in the mainstream culture.

After all, hilltribe children rank among the lowest in the hierarchy of education in Thailand. Their lack of legal status - most don't have official identity cards - means their parents are reluctant to make demands on, or question, the authorities.

But for now, the more pressing issue is very simple: how to ensure that children like Orapin and her friends will continue to trot along to school, rain or shine.

Info for donations:

The Lower Klity village is located deep in the forest and it is not accessible by post or phone.

The nearest education office is the Hilltribe Centre at Kanchanaburi province. To help the children, call teacher Pantip Charoenwai at (034) 51-8694 and (034) 51-2452. He leaves his forest post in Lower Klity at the end of month every month when he can be found in the Hilltribe Centre.

If you cannot contact him, send your cheque payable to Post Publishing Public Company Limited (for Lower Klity children). Send it to Mrs Kusuma Mintakhin, Editorial Manager, 136 Na Ranong Road, off Sunthorn Kosa, Klong Toey, Bangkok 10110. Tel 2403700 ext 3224-5.

Please include your name and address with your cheque so that we can send you a receipt.