Serene Assir finds out how literacy can dramatically improve women's lives Unlike many classrooms run by the UNICEF- supported Integrated Care Society (ICS) in Ain Helwan, Cairo, the one I attended did have a ceiling. But even in the ones that don't, each student gets a desk to herself. Every now and again Hussein Mustafa, the teacher, turned to the blackboard to replace the notes being copied into books. But there was constant, energetic interaction between him and the students. The topic being history -- these students, who take a national curriculum, are in their third year of thanawiya amma -- Mustafa would fire a question, out of the blue, "who carried out the 1952 Revolution?" And the answer would come promptly, in similarly loud tones: "the Free Officers!" Once again: "Economic inequality was one of the primary catalysts of the revolution. What systems does economics comprise?" To which Neamat Sayed confidently responds: "industry, agriculture and trade." It is like any thanawiya amma class at a low-income school anywhere in Egypt -- except for the age of the students. Aged 54, Sayed did not learn to read properly until she was well into her 40s: "when I was a child, I attended school for six years. But my parents were poor, and they decided to pull me out, fearing my continued education would cost them too much. I forgot everything I learned. More importantly, I forgot how important it was to have an education. I lived most of my life not knowing how to read street signs, let alone the country's history." Her decision to enroll in adult literacy classes run by ICS came almost fortuitously. She and her family moved to Ain Helwan following the 1992 Cairo earthquake, which destroyed her home. "The classes were offered to us for free, and I had seen how the lives of other women living near me improved. Economically, they were better off because they could make extra money." Literacy classes and vocational courses offered to men, women and young people are largely geared towards the economic empowerment of the family, providing it with a greater chance of living with dignity. Aside from teaching adults and young adults to read from scratch, with the choice to continue all the way to thanawiya amma, the ICS also hosts daily workshops in a wide range of professions from leather making, sewing and knitting to community business management. As Sayed puts it, "I did not realise what the lack of education was depriving me of until I started getting an education. You see, if you've been a non-active member of your family or your community, only by becoming active do you feel the difference." She went on to explain: not only has she been able to make a greater contribution to household decisions and so take control of her family's future, but she also managed to save money now that she was able to tutor her children through school rather than relying on extortionate after-school tuition (regular lessons alone are not enough to guarantee passing success at exams). "Supervising my children's education has meant they are not tied own by the poverty of their family," Sayed smiled. "We may not be well off, our circumstances have been far from ideal. But now one of my sons is a lawyer, the other a chemist. I really doubt whether they would have made it had I educated myself." It is in the context of this all-round approach that education works like magic in Ain Helwan. In the light of entrenched poverty and relative deprivation, the confidence participants attain is a reward in itself. According to Safaa Mohamed, who teaches at the centre, when students make such progress their lives are transformed: "when they first come in they are quiet, almost ashamed to be here, and they are reluctant to take part because they are embarrassed of the fact they can't read. But it takes no more than a few sessions before changes set in. It is one of the most admirable endeavours in humankind to seek learning, and once they discover its beauty, they seize the chance. Indeed, whenever I take days off for whatever reason, I have adult students knocking at my door, begging me for the lesson right there in my living room!" For each, of course, the nuance of improvement remains unique. Yet empowerment through education is almost always tangible. For instance, Nadra Abdel-Aziz, a divorced mother of six, finds time to steer and supervise the socio-economic, health and educational affairs of her neighbours, in a bid to ensure that families living in her building are guaranteed access to their rights. Meanwhile, she has set up a communal system of trading in beadwork and embroidery. "In this way, not only have I found a decent income and made sure my children have time to learn, I have also been able to help other women make money." By and large, pride is still greater than financial benefit in what continues to be a deeply unequal national economy. Like so many other suburban areas skirting the capital, Ain Helwan is a bleak place with precious little economic, let alone social or cultural, activity beyond the boundaries of the ICS compound. Identical yellowing tower blocks match the colour of the sand that covers the roads, wherever roads exist. Nevertheless, the dignity and creativity of the participants fill an otherwise stagnant space with hope. For, in the end, contrasting even more, perhaps, with the atmosphere of Ain Helwan, is the crude reality that overshadows the whole country. Though literacy and school enrolment levels among children have improved considerably, overall statistics tell a grim tale. According to the Human Development Report for 2005, issued jointly by the Ministry of Planning and Development and the United Nations Development Programme, no less than 45 per cent of girls and women above the age of 15 are illiterate. The overall level of illiteracy, estimated at approximately 35 per cent, puts Egypt among the world's 10 worst countries for illiteracy -- though by no means the worst. According to the CAPMAS National Census for 2006, seven million people who can read and write have no official proof of being literate. In this context, there is no doubt that the provision of opportunities can go a long way in setting the foundations for positive self-improvement. Without such opportunities, indeed, the continuing trend to justify illiteracy and disempowerment economically will further perpetuate the existing vicious circle, with the children of the disenfranchised growing up to be just as marginal as their parents, whether or not they can read and write. "It is a sad irony and indeed a telling one, that in a country that deems itself so deeply religious," says teacher Ibrahim Ashour, "the first word in the Quran -- iqraa, meaning 'read' as well as 'recite' -- is so pervasively ignored."
