Women of the Himba, Otjomazeva, Kunene Namibia

“If you educate a boy, you educate an individual. If you educate a girl, you educate a community.”

-African proverb.

It was the United Nation’s “Day of the World’s Indigenous Peoples” on Tuesday, August 9th. This year’s theme was a subject dear to my heart: the right to education.

Article 14 of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples states that: “Indigenous peoples have the right to establish and control their educational systems and institutions providing education in their own languages, in a manner appropriate to their cultural methods of teaching and learning.”

Sounds easy enough. But, how many nations actually provide education in indigenous languages? And, to be fair, even if they tried, how many poorer nations could afford to utilise indigenous languages as the primary means of instruction?

And, who determines “a manner appropriate to their cultural methods of teaching and learning.” Better yet, who determines appropriate content?

Last year, I had the wonderful privilege of spending time with some Himba people in Northern Namibia (see: Mother and Child; Model Shoot). The Himba are a beautiful, proud tribe who have deliberately resisted integration into the modern world.

Linguistically and ethnically related to the more populous Herero, the Himba have wandered across what is now Northern Namibia since the early 16th century. After the crippling bovine epidemic of the late-1800’s, they forged a separate cultural identity, barely surviving attempted genocide under the colonialist German South-West Africa Government (the Herero Wars of 1904–1908), repeated severe droughts, and the guerrilla warfare that was part of Namibia’s war of independence and neighbouring Angola’s civil war.

Today, roughly 50,000 Himba remain, eking out an existence in semi-nomadic villages. While their tribal structure and traditions help them live in one of the most extreme environments on earth, these same strong traditions may be preventing them from forging a bridge with the modern world. At the moment, their only ‘integration’ means earning money from tourists who visit the villages for quickie-tours, and who may buy a few trinkets: money which often gets spent by the men on alcohol in nearby towns (e.g.: Vanishing World). Getting an education means having to dress in western clothes and being exposed to non-traditional values, and often leads to a lowering of pride in, and attachment to, one’s own culture. “Today, traditional Himba culture in Opuwo seems less highly esteemed by other tribes and by Himba youth, and traditionally-dressed Himba are often mocked.”

Unsurprisingly, Austin Cameron, the author of the previous sentence, is referring to male youth. In his Master’s study submitted in 2013 (The Influence of Media on Himba Conceptions of Dress, Ancestral and Cattle Worship, and the Implications for Culture Change), Cameron reports an ongoing widespread belief that females should adhere to traditional dress – except while they were attending school – whereas it was acceptable for men to wear some western clothing at all times.

So where does this leave the Himba with respect to the UN Article 14? Under German and British rule, the Himba associated schooling with Christian missionaries who undermined traditional worship of cattle, the ancestors, and the God Mukuru, for whom a sacred fire is kept lit at all times. Under Namibian law, ten years of schooling is free and compulsory. Schools in Opuwo, capital of the Kunene region and the major urban centre, are modeled after British elementary schools and curriculums, and therefore quite foreign to Himba values. Mobile village schools, originally funded (from 1998) by the government of Norway and Iceland, were taken over by Namibia in 2010 and converted to permanent buildings. According to Wikipedia, Himba leaders have complained that the “culturally inappropriate school system… would threaten their culture, identity and way of life as a people.”

But then, who makes these choices? It is regularly documented that Himba women do much of the day-to-day work: “Women take care of cooking, gardening, milking cattle, looking after children, caring for livestock in the kraal and making clothes, ewellery and otjize.” The men care for the cattle, and are “more involved in political and legal matters.” How much say do individuals – especially females – have in determining whether or not they attend school? In the absence of understanding the broader socio-cultural context, how informed can this decision ever be? And, what – as much as I’d like to promote education – are the unintended negative consequences of educating one’s children in a culturally foreign system?

These were some of the questions running through my mind when I interacted with the girls and women in the village of Otjomazeva.

Everyone wins when children — and especially girls – have access to education. An educated girl is likely to increase her personal earning potential and prepare herself for a productive and fulfilling life, as well as reduce poverty in the whole community. Investing in girls’ education also helps delay early marriage and parenthood. Our booming economies in Africa need more female engineers, teachers and doctors to prosper and sustain growth.”

– Angelique Kidjo.

I have no idea how – or if – the Himba will leap that gap between making porridge in a tin and being engineers and doctors.

I also don’t know if a change would make them any happier than they seem to be now.

I wish them luck.

Pictures: 16-18August2015