The human story of Tanzania’s elite education struggle

Among them was Aisha, her suitcase bulging with the arsenal of a scholar – books, notebooks, and 12 toothbrushes to conquer an army of plaque. Her family, their faces etched with a mixture of pride and trepidation, had emptied their pockets to equip her for this moment. The school had stringent requirements: a missing item, no matter how absurd, could send Aisha back home.

This school, an island of excellence in the sea of mediocrity, offers a tantalising glimpse of what education in Tanzania could have been. Spacious dorms shielded by mosquito nets, a library packed with books, and the whispered promise of trips to distant lands. Finally, above everything, the toilets are clean – relatively clean – thus sparing students of the assaults to the senses that we are used to whenever nature calls.

The school has multiple streams and covers all the required subjects. But it also provides classes in French, additional mathematics, Bible studies, and martial arts, thus its appeal among middle-class Tanzanian parents. Performance is competitive – many parents are happy, but given the quality of students they admit, the school can do much better. Overall, this is part of the package that has given the school its reputation, creating pressure among parents looking to give their children an edge in life.

But the price paid is steep. The interview, which includes a gauntlet of English words that would baffle many a university graduate, had claimed its share of hopefuls. Some, heartbroken but not defeated, turned to other paths. Thankfully, this isn’t the only mountain for them to climb.

I talked to Aisha’s father – his eyes gleaming with ambition. To get Aisha a chance here, he had to shell out a sum that was enough to buy a car in a year or two. He spoke of a pact he made with his daughter, with his voice thick with the unspoken fear of failure.

Another family, which had fallen short of paying the required sum by Sh200,000, had their child relegated to a waiting list. The school is ruthless – if you wish to join, they demand absolute compliance. The situation around the principal’s office was tense as anxious parents were pleading for their children to be given a chance.

Witnessing this scene, I couldn’t help but recall my articles about elite schools in Tanzania. I argued then that elite education implies cutting edge-instruction, advanced curricula, smaller class sizes, and greater access to resources, aimed at producing exceptional graduates with the tools to propel Tanzania forward. These schools would lift not just a privileged few but a significant portion of Tanzanian students. With the proposal of establishing or repurposing at least five such schools in every region, a force of 25,000 ambitious Titans can be produced annually.

Critics scoffed, calling the idea exclusive, that it builds walls instead of bridges. But the real wall stands already, and it is the fact that most Tanzanians have no chance of seeing their children enter a school like Aisha’s. Elite education isn’t meant to keep people from joining them but to recognise their talents and give them a shot at excellence.

Seeing the many cars pulling away from that school that day, each one a symbol of sacrifice and hope, the stories they told were engaging. The kids they left behind weren’t your average kids, they were the chosen few, the ones whose families could afford to gamble on a dream. Some may see exclusivity, but they should see desperation: the desire for a chance to break free from their circumstances.

The elite education proposal is a pragmatic recognition of limited resources and the urgent need to make a difference. Tanzania runs a risk of allowing another generation to be left behind again, and to lift even 10 or 20 percent of candidates out of the mire is an opportunity we cannot afford to ignore. The impact of adopting the proposal will be unlike anything we have seen before.

The answer, I believe, lies not in tearing down the gates of schools like Aisha’s, but in building more of them. The experience of that day shows that while there is a significant demand for elite education, supply is quite limited. Launching a network of affordable elite schools, even through PPP, will be a godsend.

Excellence is not a privilege but a discipline that we must cultivate in all our children, not just a select few. Only then can we build a nation where excellence is the norm, and the gates of opportunity swing open wide for everyone.

What’s stopping us from doing that?