Samuel Ebei Ekitela is the programe manager at Turkana Needy Childrens CBO

Echoes of Resilience: Overcoming the Barriers to Education in Kakuma

Growing up in the vast, arid lands of Kakuma often feels like being forgotten by the world. Here, the sun rises harshly over dusty plains, and children do not wake up to prepare for school. Instead, their mornings begin with long, gruelling walks in search of water, firewood, or pasture for livestock. For many families, both within the local Kakuma communities and the neighbouring refugee settings, education is rarely viewed as a pathway to a better future. Under the weight of daily hardships, it is often seen as a luxury or a distraction from sheer survival.

In many households, systemic poverty and deeply entrenched traditions shape a child's destiny long before they are old enough to dream. Boys are expected to herd and protect family livestock, while girls are raised with the expectation of an early marriage in exchange for cows, goats, or camels. Too often, a young girl is viewed as a financial asset for her family rather than an individual with unique talents, dreams, and potential. Her societal value is unfairly measured by the wealth she can bring home through a dowry.

For a young girl in Kakuma, pursuing an education means fighting against the current of her entire culture. Not only is she denied the right to learn, but her fundamental human rights are compromised as well. Caught between systemic neglect and the visible resources allocated to humanitarian aid, she is sometimes left feeling so marginalised in her own birthplace that she wonders if life would be easier if she were a refugee just to access the schooling and basic support available within the camp borders.

Many parents deeply question the value of educating daughters. Believing that a girl will eventually leave to join another family, investing in her schooling is often dismissed as a loss. As a result, instead of carrying books, girls carry heavy water containers. Instead of sitting in classrooms, they spend their days managing households, caring for younger siblings, and preparing for forced marriages.

Geographic and institutional isolation compound these challenges. Villages are scattered far from educational centres, separated by rugged terrain and persistent insecurity. Some children walk for hours under a scorching sun just to reach a classroom, while others are entirely cut off from the opportunity. The few schools that do exist are heavily under-resourced and overcrowded, leaving both refugee and local children to face severe shortages of teachers, learning materials, food, and safe spaces.

Furthermore, parental support for schooling is limited by a generational cycle; many parents never had the chance to attend school themselves. Formal education is an unfamiliar concept. For generations, pastoralism has been the sole blueprint for survival. When devastating droughts strike and livestock perishes, families are forced to prioritise immediate needs like food and water over school fees, uniforms, or books. During these crises, children are the first to be withdrawn from classrooms to help support the household.

For girls, this pressure is uniquely heavy. Rates of early marriage, teenage pregnancy, and school dropout remain critically high, with many forced to leave school before completing their primary education. Their personal aspirations quietly fade into adult responsibilities they were never prepared to bear, perpetuating a painful cycle of poverty and illiteracy.

Yet, amidst these immense struggles, the resilience of Kakuma’s youth shines through. There are still children who dare to dream. Some walk barefoot to school every day, driven by an unwavering belief that education can transform their lives. Brave young girls continue to resist early marriages, fighting for their right to remain in the classroom. Concurrently, community organisations, humanitarian agencies, dedicated teachers, and local leaders are working tirelessly to shift perspectives, demonstrating that education does not erode culture, but rather serves as an investment in a stronger, more resilient future.

True transformation requires patience, sustained awareness, and a collective commitment. The narrative must change so that communities begin to see young girls not as financial commodities, but as future leaders, educators, healthcare professionals, and peacebuilders. Parents must be supported and empowered to understand that educating a child does not diminish a family's wealth it elevates the entire community.

Ultimately, the story of education in Kakuma is a powerful testament to human resilience. Behind every child sitting in a dusty, overcrowded classroom is a quiet, heroic battle against poverty, isolation, and harmful traditions. With sustained investment and dedicated support, we can break these systemic cycles and ensure that the future of Kakuma’s children is no longer defined by the limitations of the past.