An Introduction to Computers in Fimpulu

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 1^st 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.