Sometimes, in the line of duty, we servants of God and
servants of others are required to stretch our knowledge and capacity in ways
that we neither expect nor intend. And while for some this means going without
food and water, or for others it means leaving behind family without ever
seeing them again, for me this means one peculiar thing: teaching computer
classes. And though nobody has ever accused me of being tech savvy, I have learned
the material, begun to teach it alongside my other classes, and have seen how
it represents some of the great problems and opportunities offered in this
region.
As most of you know, I came here primarily as a teacher to
focus on English, Maths, Civics, and whatever else I could as I became more
familiar with the language and the community. When we arrived, the Grade 9
students were preparing for their final standardized examinations that would
determine whether they are allowed to go to Grade 10. When we met with the
headmaster and with students, they asked only for one subject again and again:
computer proficiency classes. You see, in an effort to launch an entire
generation of students into the modern world, the Zambian government just added
a computer portion to the Grade 9 standardized exams. Students across the country
now had to learn (and be taught) facts about computers and some basic tasks
like word processing.
Though this goes without saying, in America we have the
luxury of taking computer access for granted. From the youngest age, I remember
gradually learning how to use a computer from the Macintosh box in 1st
Grade, to the Windows 95 hulk in my mom’s classroom, to the XP Desktop in my
parents’ house, to the MacBook Pro that I am typing on now. For many in my
generation, computers evolved alongside us and, in turn, became an extension of
our bodies. Even for our parents, the transition has been adaptable even if not
quite as seamless. And even if a computer does not sit in someone’s home, they
have access to those at America’s great public library network.
It is understandable, then, that the Zambian government
wants to try to catch its students up to the Global North’s level of
proficiency. As with much of the world, the Zambian government’s initiatives
strive resolutely to improve science and technology education, whether as a way
to keep up with global education standards or simply to maintain their vast
mining sector. As technology changes at what seems like an ever-increasing
rate, it is both responsible and necessary for the national government to take
this great leap forward now in requiring students to learn how to use
computers.
Nevertheless, as always, the storm of progress hits the poor
with the most fury. This is especially true when policy is made by those with
wealth, power, and access to vast and diverse resources. Most students in
Lusaka and the Copperbelt will not be unduly phased by this new requirement.
Wireless internet streams across the larger cities, and Lusaka even opened an
Apple store recently. Many Grade 9 students in those regions have computers in
their homes or have used them for years.
On the other hand, in the rural areas, very few students
have ever even seen a computer, much less used one personally. They are
generally too expensive; they are difficult to maintain; they require
electricity; they are a luxury. This list is repeated at the rural schools
themselves, which generally do not have electricity and certainly do not have
their own computers. In fact, only three weeks before the Grade 9 exams, our
local primary school received a dozen laptops so that the ninety students could
take their tests (thankfully, I was able to use one to teach the students
during that short time). The students would be tested on basic definitions as
well as using Windows 7 and printing a typed page from Microsoft Word. The
computers we received in Fimpulu did not come with a printer, were mostly XP,
and did not all already have Microsoft Office loaded. But in their frantic and
honorable work, the teachers hooked up their diesel generator, loaded the right
software, and acquired a printer from town. How other schools individually
solved their systemic problems, I do not know. How other underprepared students
completed the demands placed before them by their distant directors, I do not
know. Such is life in the periphery.
But with all of these difficulties faced in the rural
areas—all of the inefficiencies, all of the setbacks, all of the roadblocks,
and all the demands of those in power, there is no question that computer
access is important not only to fulfill a requirement but also because—even
more now than it was 10 or 20 years ago—the computer offers a real tool for
revolution in rural Africa, and specifically for the type of revolution
required today in the neocolonies. The laptop especially is a profoundly
democratizing and empowering tool, both for education and practice after the
fact. Though its benefits are still not entirely in reach, logistical
roadblocks to laptop access are slowly wearing down. Cellular phones are in
almost every person’s hand here, as is a 2 or 4 GB MicroSD in that phone that
provides a foundation for using and sharing information on a large scale. Electricity
has gradually become less difficult to access, as solar panels become cheaper,
easier to purchase, higher quality, and much more efficient. Despite the fact
that the national electric grid has not reached Fimpulu, a laptop computer can
get its 6 hours of charge off of an hour or two of sunshine. Along with
cellular towers has come passable internet connectivity, so that you can buy an
internet dongle and periodically reload it with data. Finally, as we all know,
laptops themselves are becoming a better value. Although a laptop computer is
still inaccessibly expensive for the average working person in a village, it is
possible to purchase one only a short car or bicycle ride away. A netbook in
Mansa costs about $300, which equals somewhere between two and six months wages
for the average rural worker before they subtract the cost of raising a family
and sustaining oneself. Largely, this cost problem is addressed through
internet cafes that offer paid computer, downloading, and copy/print services.
However, as access and knowledge about computers improves, it also opens the
possibility of socialized ownership of one computer that can be divided like
any public utility. One laptop or netbook, spread among twenty or fifty users,
can still provide the amount of the resource needed by people in the village.
Structured like a library, such access could, theoretically, help to spread the
benefits of computers wide enough to make it both affordable and convenient.
With these hurdles on the way out, what then are the
benefits of computers in the village? They are ones we all know, yet they have
become much clearer to me here. For experienced users, the internet offers the
whole world at their fingertips, whether for research, communication, or
entertainment. While some material costs money, and all of it costs data, the
extensive free material online offers an opportunity akin to the invention of
the printing press in Europe. This is equally true for documents and essays
already downloaded. I have an extensive collection of African, Africanist,
philosophical, and religious books and articles on my computer and hard drive
that can be copied for free forever. Though even in America I believe that
intellectual property is public property, here it does not have to be defended
so stridently; piracy is such a harsh word for social uplift. Thus, while books
here are comparatively expensive and almost always must be imported, downloads
are free and endlessly reproducible. When I held up a Micro SD, pointed to the
bookshelves in the back of the room, and told my students that they could fit
all those books on their phones, they were appropriately amazed, as we all
should be. Especially for classroom materials and curriculums, digitization can
(and will) profoundly improve the state of education in rural Zambia and other outlying
places. Finally, digitization, like automation, offers the chance to
significantly improve business and accounting abilities even on the village
level. Whether for small businesspeople and shop owners or for farmers and
co-ops, access to programs like Word and Excel or to internet research about
farming practices clearly improves quality of life; shared communally, these
benefits only increase.
With this in mind, I have eagerly accepted that strange
responsibility that I did not expect or intend. For my own part, I tutored the
Grade 9 students to the best of my ability with the resources we had available
in our academic triage environment. I plan to teach them over the next year in
more formal computer classes at the school, hopefully using both English and
Bemba to better explain the concepts and controls. Currently, I am offering
informal classes for both school-age and adult learners at Choshen Farm’s
Learning Resource Center. These have been a pleasure to hold, especially for
the adults who would have no other convenient and free opportunity to learn
about and use a computer. The lesson on “how much data you can store in what”
is equally amazing for the 15-year-old and the 50-year-old. I also already have
a queue of requests for book downloads about Africa or by Kenneth Kaunda, their
first president.
In the midst of all the negativity and fear coming out of
Africa, or all of the false optimism that covers over the real struggles of the
poor, there are some genuine moments of inspiration and opportunity. I will not
pretend that there is not a hard long road ahead—Grade 9 students in poor
communities will continue to struggle for lack of resources and time as they
become the unsuspecting vanguard for development; technological progress,
national policy, and the neo-liberal fight to privatize the commons will
continue to erect new challenges. But as this technology and its benefits
spread through the continent, those on the continent are increasingly better
enabled to fight back and push forward.
