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I had a brief interaction with these girls just before. They were quite amused to find visitors and particularly a photographer. Later, I caught them curiously waiting outside their classroom. Their stories are no doubt immensely interesting and I had certainly wished I had more to tell about them. All the same, they were battling it out against the odds to create a better life for themselves.
Our journey began at a cozy coffee shop, the place where Manuela and I first crossed paths. Earlier, we had exchanged emails where she extended an invitation to join an exciting project. Her vision was to document the foundation's impactful work at its core: getting to know the real beneficiaries beyond the statistics. She wanted to immerse herself in the lives and stories of these young girls, and my role was to capture these stories through the lens of my camera.
Manuela's dedication was directed towards 60 million girls, a foundation that had its origins in a casual dinner conversation among eight remarkable women. It was a testament to the incredible power of initiative and unwavering commitment. It didn't take long for me to realize that this entire journey was a tribute to resilience, a story of people striving to make the world a better place. This was true for the eight founding members and the countless individuals we encountered in the camps. Theirs was a narrative of selflessness, and I found myself fortunate to be a part of this extraordinary tale.
My words fall short in expressing the incredible strength and character of the people we met. They embodied a mix of tragedy, hope, witness, and unyielding determination. I came to deeply admire them and cherish their outlook and humility in the face of the world's challenges.
Margaret Achieng is 14 and in grade 6. She is one of the younger girls in the Girl Child Education program and there was something about her posture that I found very inspiring. She was a little shy but portrayed a degree of strength that was quite comforting. She says she has 6 siblings out which 5 are girls.
For many of us, our exposure to refugees is often limited to what we see on television, read in reports, or encounter through statistics. Just like the global media, we may start to feel a sense of fatigue or even become desensitized to the plight of refugees.
The politics surrounding refugees are indeed quite complex. A convention dating back to 1951 outlines the rights of refugees and the obligations of governments to provide protection. While this convention and its subsequent protocols set out crucial standards for protecting vulnerable refugees, they fall short in requiring nations to provide them with opportunities for personal development. Refugees often face restrictions on their ability to travel outside of camps, seek employment, or access education. This can lead to a situation where they become dependent on various forms of aid.
Challenges in securing funding for essential services and the lack of prospects for growth and development among refugees make it a particularly challenging issue to address.
In 2009, I had the opportunity to meet Mr. Emmanuel Nyabera, the attaché of UNHCR in Nairobi. He described the operational challenges faced by the agency, especially in an environment where their responsibilities had increased due to the tense situation in Somalia and the overwhelming population in the Dadaab Refugee camp. However, the global financial crisis had resulted in significant budget cuts of 24% as governments were focused on domestic financial concerns.
Massive resettlements of refugees from Dadaab to Kakuma had occurred, and today, Somalis make up the majority of the population in Kakuma, even though the camp was originally intended for Sudanese refugees.
Funding for maintaining refugee settlements has always been a tough sell to governments. During difficult financial times, a disproportionately large percentage of the budget for non-emergency operations is often cut, as it seems more practical. Unfortunately, this means that camps like Kakuma bear the brunt of such cuts, subjecting them to various political and financial pressures that have adverse effects on the lives of the people living within them.
Finally about to board the plane but not completely trustful of the situation until we were well inside and seated
UN Town - A convoy of UN cars outside the Ethiopian restaurant, popular among aid workers
Education in the camps
Despite the efforts and focus of UNHCR and LWF (Lutheran World Federation) on prioritizing education as a crucial service, educational facilities still fall short of national standards. During my visit, I noticed that classrooms were often quite dimly lit. While I only interacted with a few students attending remedial classes on Saturdays, various sources informed me that these classes were often overcrowded.
As a result, the educational experience for refugees is notably more challenging. It's commendable to witness students graduating from high school and pursuing further education despite these obstacles.
During our meeting with Mr. Joseph Mutuamba, who oversees LWF's education initiatives in the camps, he highlighted the specific challenge of girls dropping out of school, emphasizing the need for more attention in this regard. The program funded by 60 Million Girls played a vital role by providing remedial classes, helping these girls catch up, and offering resources such as textbooks and support materials that LWF couldn't consistently provide.
Initially, girls and boys enrolled in grade 1 in roughly equal numbers. However, as the years went by, the dropout rate for girls skyrocketed. In 2011, for instance, we were told that only 11 girls took the final secondary school exams, and just 3 of them passed. This statistic is alarming for a camp with a population of over 100,000. Fortunately, many of these girls manage to secure funding to pursue further education, either in Nairobi or even Canada. For many families, this opportunity represents a silver lining that could lift them out of poverty, resulting in an overall value for education in the camps. Yet, overcoming these challenges remains a complex and arduous endeavor.
Joseph highlighted one of the key challenges: many of the girls leave and don't return, often due to the lack of role models within the education system. Teaching is not commonly seen as a viable career choice, raising questions about improving the quality of teaching and providing guidance to these girls.
Portraits of Girls
We set out to photograph the beneficiaries of the project initiated by Windle Trust Kenya with financial support from 60 Million Girls. The rest of this section is focused on them.
I met Hellen Ayol in Kaduguli Primary School and found her to be quite cheerful. I can't quite decide which of the two photos that I like more but both of them show a certain depth that I find quite captivating. Above, her look is almost melancholic and below, she exudes such a deep expression of happiness that many people have highlighted as their favourite image in the entire set.
A hole in the wall of Horseed Primary, one of the typical cases that represents the lack of adequate infrastructure for education in the camps. This was a saturday but typically, you would find these classrooms rather packed and far beyond capacity. As a photographer, I was also challenged with the poor lighting that was particularly a problem in Bhar-el-naam. Kakuma had recently received a large amount of money from from both the Queen of Qatar as well as UK government. One would hope that these problems would be solved and infrastructural obstacles taken care of.
Amo Sentino is 15 years old and tells me that her favourite subject is Mathematics. She is one of the few girls that will finish their primary education before 18. Many families in Kakuma are quite large with hers consisting of six siblings in total.
Kama Osman, 17 looks away as one of her classmates walks out with a curious look. Kama said she particularly like English and will be finishing her Primary school in the coming year.
Bishar Mwinyi Hamisi was a delight to meet and photograph. In my brief interaction with her, I could tell her virtuousness and general comfort with meeting a perfect stranger. She is only 12 years old - significantly younger than many of her classmates, one of the few that have had an uninterrupted education. My wish for everyone in Kakuma is to see more of these scenarios in the hopes that they will create a better life for everyone as the prevailing norms change.
Isra Yahye had a very honest smile about her. She is 14 years old and says she loves Science.
LEYLA AHMED IBRAHIM
I first met Leyla during a portrait shoot. My initial impression was not that she was particularly shy in front of the camera, but rather that she carried an air of quiet self-assuredness. There was something about her that commanded respect, and a sense of tranquility.
Engaging in conversation in such a setting can be challenging. Not only do you aim to capture artistic portraits, but you also seek to bring out the stories behind the faces, delving into a somewhat investigative process. This was my first experience with a shoot of this magnitude, and despite having dreamed of such work many times, it came with several unknowns. Perhaps the most daunting aspect of any time-constrained shoot is gaining people's trust to a point where their true personalities shine through in the images. They must feel at ease to be themselves, and I'm well aware that, as a photographer, I'm privileged to be trusted and accepted.
We chatted briefly, during which Leyla shared her love for science, her passion for learning, and her appreciation for the environment around her.
Fortunately, I had the opportunity to meet Leyla once more, this time at her home and in the company of her family. The setting was simple yet beautiful, with a veranda where her shy little brothers played, their smiles lighting up the place. Leyla's mother warmly welcomed us.
As Leyla began to share her life story, it became apparent that her mother had left Mogadishu about three years prior and had made her way to Dadaab. However, the camp was full, so they were redirected to Kakuma. When I inquired about her father, Leyla hesitated before saying, "He is still in Mogadishu, with another woman."
There was a palpable sense of unhappiness in her voice, hinting at an untold story. I didn't feel comfortable probing further, but what was evident was the deep love and bond between Leyla and her mother. It was clear that Leyla provided emotional support for her mother, who, in turn, offered her wisdom, experience, and unwavering support. Their lives were marked by considerable struggle as they strived to move forward. It was a delicate balancing act that many in Kakuma could relate to, with the risk of falling off having severe consequences.
Leyla's family heavily relied on rations from the World Food Program and sold some of them to cover expenses such as electricity. She paid KSH 1,000 (about $13) a month to power a single bulb, and it provided electricity only between 7 PM and 11 PM. Reflecting on it, $13 a month for just one bulb is quite excessive – a classic example of the poverty premium.
Leyla's typical day was a daily test of strength, shouldering the responsibilities of a homemaker while pursuing her dream of creating opportunities for herself and those around her:
- 4 AM: Wake up, fetch water, prepare breakfast, and get ready for school.
- 5 AM to 7 AM: Schoolwork.
- 8 AM to 4 PM: Attend school.
- 5 PM: Return home, complete household chores, and do laundry.
- 5:30 PM to 7 PM: Study with a classmate using the available daylight and four hours of electricity.
- 7 PM: Prepare dinner.
- 8:30 PM to 10:30 PM: More study.
- 11 PM: Lights out – electricity only runs from 7 PM to 11 PM. Time to sleep.
- 5 AM to 7 AM: Schoolwork.
- 8 AM to 4 PM: Attend school.
- 5 PM: Return home, complete household chores, and do laundry.
- 5:30 PM to 7 PM: Study with a classmate using the available daylight and four hours of electricity.
- 7 PM: Prepare dinner.
- 8:30 PM to 10:30 PM: More study.
- 11 PM: Lights out – electricity only runs from 7 PM to 11 PM. Time to sleep.
When asked about her aspirations after completing her education, Leyla expressed a remarkable goal: to become the President of Somalia. She believed that many of their problems stemmed from a lack of effective leadership, and she was determined to make a positive change.
Leyla excelled in her studies, and both Manuela and I were deeply moved by her resilience. We couldn't help but think of the incredible bond between Leyla and her mother, their mutual dependence, and how Leyla protected and cared for her brothers, nurturing them into men of character. She was her mother's source of strength, carrying their family forward during challenging times.
A portrait of Leyla's family
VERONICA PANDA
My initial impression of Panda was her extreme reserve. She kept to herself and wasn't particularly expressive, which limited our conversations.
The following day, we visited Panda and her family, gaining a deeper insight into her life. Her story echoes the experiences of many other refugees, a narrative shrouded in insecurity, where each day is a struggle to move forward.
When we entered, Panda remained silent, and we were greeted by her sister, Flora, who welcomed us with a warm smile. Their mother hurried to offer us something to drink, adhering to the cultural norm of ensuring guests are as comfortable as possible. It was incredible, given they had so little and relied on food rations from the World Food Program, to witness their hospitality. We insisted it wasn't necessary, and after much urging, Panda's mother returned to join us, sitting with her son and two daughters. Since Panda's mother didn't speak English, our communication was primarily through Flora, who proceeded to share their story.
Agok, their mother, had left South Sudan in the early 1990s. Her husband had promised her family a customary dowry for their marriage, typically a herd of cattle. However, he couldn't fulfill this promise and was tragically killed by Agok's brother. Carrying her infant child, Agok embarked on a journey to the refugee camp in search of safety. It was here that both Flora and Panda were born. Agok's brother, still unmarried due to his inability to provide a dowry, devised a plan to have Flora and Panda married off to obtain cattle for his own wedding. He frequently visited the refugee camp, pressuring Agok to make this choice, but they always resisted, living in constant fear. Eventually, they enrolled in a refugee protection program with hopes of being relocated to the United States, far away from Agok's brother.
Panda remained extremely quiet during our encounter, rarely uttering more than a "yes" or "no." Flora played a supportive role in the family, much like Leyla in her family—strong in character and a pillar of support for everyone. The deep pressures in such situations are hard to fathom, given the time constraints and agenda, and it became evident that we needed more time to truly understand Panda's story. Currently, she benefits from remedial classes for girls, while Flora had to drop out of school.
