As a child, John and the other children had no access to school. The Karamojong people were long opposed to the state education system. In 1948, they buried a pen in a symbolic protest against formal education introduced by the colonial authorities. Schools were seen by many as a threat to the group's cultural values and way of life, and for decades, only a small number of children in this part of the country attended school and learned to read and write.
In the late 1990s, Save the Children launched a groundbreaking mobile education program targeting nomadic pastoralists in Uganda. Over the past 25 years, this program has transformed the lives of thousands of children.
“Sending children to school wasn’t an option when I was young. Children were needed as labor in the daily struggle for survival.”
John Bosco Loit sits under a tree outside a school in the Karamoja region, in northeastern Uganda. The 36-year-old reflects on his own childhood, which was anything but easy. John belongs to the Karamojong ethnic group. Traditionally, they were livestock nomads, moving from place to place in search of water and grazing land for their herds. They live in Uganda’s poorest and least developed region, infamous for violent conflicts, often over cattle.
“My father died in a conflict over cattle when I was young, and I was left responsible of our animals,” says John.
As a child, John and the other children had no access to school. The Karamojong people were long opposed to the state education system. In 1948, they buried a pen in a symbolic protest against formal education introduced by the colonial authorities. Schools were seen by many as a threat to the group's cultural values and way of life, and for decades, only a small number of children in this part of the country attended school and learned to read and write.
A Different Kind of School
But in the late 1990s, something happened that would change the lives of John and many other children. Save the Children developed the Alternative Basic Education for Karamoja (ABEK) program in collaboration with local communities and the Ugandan government. The program was specially designed to meet the unique needs of the nomadic population. Education was provided where the children where, in makeshift classrooms under trees. John was 12 years old when the program was introduced.
"The teachers came to us in the morning and taught under the trees. After 9 a.m., we could go home to tend to the cattle, and then there would be more lessons in the afternoon".
Under an acacia tree, John learned to read and write. He loved the lessons, and for him, the hours spent in the unique classroom, with the ground as the floor and the sky as the roof, became a break from the hardships of everyday life.
“When school arrived, I felt a joy I hadn’t experienced before.”
He vividly remembers sitting cross-legged, repeating the teacher’s words, with the sounds of lowing cows and birds calling to each other in the background. It was in this outdoor school that John began to dream of becoming a teacher himself one day.
Giving Children a Better Life
It’s been 24 years since John sat under that acacia tree and dreamed of becoming a teacher. He achieved his goal, and today the 36-year-old works as a teacher at a primary school run by Save the Children. The school has several classrooms and around 400 students.
In one of those classrooms, where John is about to teach a lesson on children’s rights, 14-year-old Lomuria* prepares for her exams. She lives just a stone’s throw from the school with her mother, grandmother, and six siblings. Like most other children in the village, Lomuria has grown up in extreme poverty, with a single mother struggling to provide for her children.
“Before the school came to our village, I worked tending my uncle’s cows. If it weren’t for the school, I’d still be working,” says Lomuria.
Karamoja is known for its rich mineral deposits, including gold, limestone, and marble. Poverty drives people to the mines, where both adults and children work in dangerous conditions, digging, sorting, and washing minerals. Lomuria’s mother, Apeyo*, works in one of the region’s marble mines. Apeyo wants all her children to receive an education, but the harsh realities of life make it difficult for her to send all of them to school.
“It’s hard not to be able to read and write, especially when you need to see a doctor. That’s what motivated me to send Lomuria to school. When my children have knowledge, my life becomes easier,” says Apeyo.
She explains that she was initially against schooling, but now she’s convinced that education can change lives. Today, three of her children attend school.
“I was married off as a teenager and have struggled my whole life. Now I hope education will give my children a better life,” she says.
Her daughter Lomuria says that many of her friends still try to persuade her to work in the mines, but she refuses.
“I’ve decided to become a nurse. We struggle with malaria, tuberculosis, and many other diseases, but there’s no healthcare,” says Lomuria.
The Ripple Effect of the School Revolution
The alternative education program that Save the Children introduced over 25 years ago has had significant ripple effects throughout the region. Today, the makeshift learning centers have become locally-run primary schools, spread across Karamoja. Most children now have a school building to attend, but due to local conflicts that force many to move and a lack of space in classrooms, lessons are still occasionally held under acacia trees in some areas.
Moses Lokwii, who is in charge of education for the Moroto district, says that almost no one in the area could read or write before the program was introduced.
“Today, thousands have received an education. People have changed their views on schooling,” says Lokwii.
Lokwii himself attended one of the ABEK schools in the district and says the program has been especially important for girls.
“Girls were traditionally seen as a source of wealth, and many were married off as early as age 11. That still happens, but much less often. Today, people understand the importance of education,” he says.
At a government clinic outside Moroto, midwife Clementina Longora (26) welcomes patients at the entrance. Like Lomuria, Clementina dreamed of becoming a nurse, and after many years of hard work, her dream came true.
“My parents didn’t want us to get an education. My father wanted to marry me off, but my brother was able to stop it,” says Clementina.
Her brother Mark, who also attended an ABEK school in the district, now works in the agricultural sector for the government. When the family and neighbors wanted to marry off Clementina and her sister, Mark took them away from the village and hid them.
“Early marriage was never in my plans. Thanks to my brother, I could focus on school. Most of my friends are in the mines. I’m so glad I worked hard for a different future,” says Clementina.
Local Ownership
A key part of the ABEK program has been that the schools are run by the local community. In Nanyidik, village leader Luka Lokalei gathers key figures under a large tree for a meeting on children’s rights. This tree is where the village’s first learning site began many years ago, and the place has become a symbol of change. Here, women, youth leaders, and elders meet to discuss education, children’s rights, and other important issues.
“Children are the most vulnerable here, especially since we live near a huge marble mine. I often talk to parents about why we must prioritize education and protect our children from child labor, abuse, and forced marriage,” says Lokalei.
He never went to school himself but works hard to encourage parents to send their children to the village’s primary school, which Save the Children opened four years ago.
“Large mining companies come in and trick us into giving away our land. I want the children to get an education so they can read the contracts carefully and make sure we aren’t cheated,” says Lokalei, adding:
“People now understand the importance of education. You can’t change mindsets overnight, but we’ve come a long way.”
Maybe I Wouldn’t Be Alive
In John’s classroom, the lesson is nearing its end. The students follow him with their eyes as he walks quietly between the desks. He stops by Lomuria, crouches down, and gives her an encouraging pat on the back.
For John, teaching is deeply meaningful, and he feels he’s making a real difference for Lomuria and the generation now growing up. During his lessons, he’s constantly reminded of his own childhood when he sat under the acacia tree dreaming of a better life.
“I was lucky to have the chance to go to school, and I’ve often thought that if it weren’t for ABEK, I might have become a cattle warrior like my father. Maybe I wouldn’t even be alive.”