A world with universal access to education

I have a dream. A dream in which all kids have an education. A dream where all girls around the world are allowed to go to school. A dream that empowers communities to lift themselves out of poverty through education. This year I’m taking the first steps in fulfilling this dream. A dream I have dreamt since the day I realised that education saved me.

I had one of those childhoods that people write memoirs about. The kind of childhood you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. The kind that leaves scars so deep in your soul that no matter how old you grow they continue to bleed. But I also had an education. I was told I could be whatever I wanted to be if I worked hard enough. And most importantly, I was given the tools to succeed.

For years I grappled with depression. The terrors of my younger life tormented me on a daily basis. Whilst others in similar circumstances turned to alcohol and drugs, I chose success as my drug of choice. But no matter how successful I was, I was still not happy. My past still chased me everywhere I went. It lurked in the dark corners of my mind and strangled my heart whenever I got too comfortable.

That is, until I was travelling through Cambodia. We landed in the beating heart of Phnom Pen in the darkness of night. After haggling for a fair price, we jumped in a tuk-tuk and raced along the highway, weaving in between the large volume of seemingly out of place 4x4 vehicles. The driver finally dropped us off at our hotel, a lush green paradise nestled down a narrow alleyway in the middle of the bustling city.

We had come to Phnom Pen specifically to learn about the Khmer Rouge regime. I had only briefly read about the Killing Fields, and we had never been taught about the atrocities committed at school, so I was completely unprepared for what I was about to learn the following day.

During Pol Pot’s four-year reign, over 2 million Cambodians were killed. A quarter of Cambodia’s population! As I walked through the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Choeung Ek Killing fields, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I couldn’t help but feel the devastation and suffering that lingered in the air. Pol Pot had wanted to achieve an agrarian socialist society. A country that could be completely self-sufficient. All the cities were evacuated, and everyone was put to work in the fields.

Worried that he would be challenged, he executed anybody that could potentially disagree with him. It started off with those linked with the former administration or with foreign governments. It then progressed to those linked with Buddhist or Christian religious ideologies and those of different ethnicity. However, professionals and intellectuals were also a threat, so they were killed too, as was anybody associated with them, including friends, family, kids, and babies. Pol Pot’s motto was: “Best to kill an innocent than miss someone that is guilty”.

As we drove away from Phnom Pen towards Siem Reap, I couldn’t help but feel an extra weight in my heart. I hadn’t been prepared for what I had learnt during our stay. The devastation had happened only 40 years before our visit which meant that the majority of people we met along our journey had been directly impacted by the events, either because they had lived through them, or because they were the kids of someone who had.

I watched the sun-scorched flat countryside speed past as I lost myself in my thoughts. Their suffering was so much greater than mine, yet they weren’t wallowing about the past. They were embracing the now and were grateful for what little they had. Yet here I was, a whole world at my fingertips, and I was bathing daily in self-pity.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed we had turned off the main road and onto a narrow dirt road. It wasn’t until we hit a big pothole that slammed my head against the window that I came to my senses. We were heading for the small, stilted village of Kampong Khleang. Nestled on the shores of the Tonle Sap Lake the locals live a harsh life here. Although it is Cambodia’s greatest natural resource and the principal source of fish for the country, inhabitants need to navigate the varying water levels which grows and shrinks by up to 40 ft between the dry and wet season.

We arrived as school kids were in recess, running around in the red dirt barefoot, uniforms progressively getting dirtier as they played. Loud shouts of “hello” echoed as they shot past us. We left them to their games as we went to explore the village on foot. Peeking into the homes I was once again reminded of how lucky we are to have a life we take for granted. There was little more than 4 walls and a roof to these homes. Many no larger than our sitting room, yet served as the living quarters for families of up to 10 members. Large glassless windows encouraged airflow during the stifling hot months.

An old woman sat perched at the top of the ladder leading to her home. She watched in silence as we walked past. I wondered what she made of tourists like us that were dropped off for no other reason than to stare at their way of living. There was no commerce here for us to contribute to, we were simply taking a peek at how others lived. I felt uncomfortable. Just as I was about to tell my husband it didn’t feel right we heard a BANG!! And then another!!

We turned around to see a group of kids running towards us, make-believe stick guns in hand as they shot at us. I pretended to be hit but quickly took my invisible weapon and shot back! They laughed and ran for cover. My husband and I did the same, crouching behind an overturned boat. We could hear them approaching. We looked at each other and counted to 3 before standing up in unison and opening fire with our fingers! The boys ran away giggling. As we dusted ourselves off, I looked back up at the old woman. A big toothless grin was plastered on her face. She winked at me and waved.

Those kids with whom we had shared our moment of fun were not lucky enough to go to school. They would never get an education because their parents couldn’t afford it. This was common throughout Cambodia. Over a quarter of a million of children do not have access to education there. It was whilst I thought of these facts that I realised how egocentric I had been for so many years. I had focused on everything I hadn’t had instead of focusing on everything I did have.

Kids undergo similar and worse abuse than what I had to endure all over the world. Yet many of those kids are never given the tools to leave that life behind. My education allowed me to leave home, move to a different country, pursue a university degree, and ultimately to build a career and a life that I wanted. Those kids in Cambodia would never have that same luxury. They would grow up unable to read and write with nothing but the skills needed to fish the dwindling resources in the Tonle Sap Lake.

It was this trip that made me realise that one of the most powerful tools we can offer is universal access to education around the world. It is because of this experience that I signed up for the Street Child Marathon that takes place in Sierra Leone. The pandemic put a stop to running it in 2020 and 2021, but in May of 2022 I will be stepping onto a plane at London Heathrow Airport bound for Freetown in Sierra Leon. My first step towards my dream. The dream in which all kids have an education. A dream where all girls around the world are allowed to go to school. A dream that empowers communities to lift themselves out of poverty through education. And this year I am taking the first steps towards that dream.