New arrivals at IDP camp in Mogadishu, Somalia. Photograph: Islamic Relief/Assed Baig
People continue to pour into Mogadishu every day. Some have found their way to the camp they call "Unicef", although it's been a while since Unicef has been able to operate from this building. For now this area of Somalia's capital is temporary home to internally displaced people who've walked miles from rural communities. There's been no rain, their livestock have died and, without the wealth animals represented, people had no choice but to leave their homes and come to a city where they have to rely on the generosity of those already eeking a living. Islamic Relief is supplying rice, beans, cooking oil and dates. There is food here, it's just that no one can afford to buy it.
Longer-term Mogadishu residents are doing what they can – those arriving here are met with generosity, not animosity. But conditions at the camp are grim for the thousand or so living here. It's crammed with people and there is hardly any room to move. The mayor of Mogadishu, Mohamed Ahmed Noor, wants to close the camp and move people to another part of town.
Part of the camp is a derelict building; the lower walls no longer exist – pillars are the only thing holding it up. It's a wreck, but for people without a home it offers some protection. There are flies everywhere.
I move through the camp, seeing many cases of malnutrition, measles, chest infections. At the mobile clinic I visited earlier they had run out of medicine. Without vaccines and without access to treatment, measles poses a serious problem.
There is a constant hum of children crying. It becomes normal until the odd sharp, high-pitched cry reminds you that it is not. These are cries of hunger, suffering and pain.
Abdul Qadir isn't crying. He clings to his grandmother, Mumin, tucks his head neatly under her breast and looks intently at her face. The one-year-old is malnourished. After the death of his mother he is being looked after by his grandmother and father, Ma'ani.
"We lost our animals and had to leave our farm, we have no hope," says Mumin. She now has five children to look after, and Abdul Qadir is the weakest. The family travelled for three days on foot to reach Mogadishu. They received a small amount of rice from the local communities they passed.
The stories of loss are many. Abdi Ibrahim Yunus has lost five children to measles in the space of three days. He looks malnourished, he tells me he is 48 but he looks like a little boy. With little flesh on his body, his skinny arms and legs reveal the extent of his weakness. He has one child left, who lies on the floor covered in a flowery cloth.
The camp is a maze of tents, little igloo like structures, made out of wooden sticks that bend and are tied at the top. The tents are tiny; you have to get down on your hands and needs to crawl inside. They offer little protection from the rain. There is no sanitation here, no toilets. The camp stretches across the road and up a hill, and the stench of human faeces hits us as we begin walking around.
Gabo is sitting on the side of the path in front of her tent. Crouching on the floor, her face rests in her hands. She looks at me, I recognise that look in her eyes, I've seen it before. "My son died, they have taken him to be buried," she tells me without moving. Gabo had four children, she has two left. Another son died of hunger on the way to Mogadishu. "I buried him on the way," she says before solemnly settling back into her mourning state.
• Assed Baig works for Islamic Relief
• This article was amended on 8 August 2011 to clarify that Unicef does not operate in a specific building being used as an IDP camp
However, Mr Mubarak's lawyer will tell the court that the ex-president is too
unwell to attend when the trial opens on Wednesday, according to sources.
If Mr Mubarak attempts to delay the trial on medical grounds, it is likely to
incense protesters who have continued to mass in Cairo's central Tahrir
Square.
Mr Mubarak, 83, is in a hospital in the Red Sea resort of Sharm el-Sheikh but
many Egyptians see this as a ploy so that the ruling army can avoid publicly
humiliating their former commander.
"In God's words, if you are to judge people, you must do so with justice,"
judge Ahmed Refaat, who is presiding over Mubarak's case, told a news
conference.
Mr Mubarak is charged with a range of offences, the most serious of which is
conspiring over the killing of protesters during the uprising which led to
his overthrow in February. If convicted, he could face the death penalty.
Protesters accuse Mr Mubarak, who ruled for 30 years, of leading a corrupt
system that routinely tortured people in detention and crushed opponents.
They blame him for killing about 850 people in the uprising.
Mr Mubarak will stand trial with his sons Gamal - who was once viewed as being
groomed for the presidency - and Alaa, along with former Interior Minister
Habib al-Adli, a business executive and confidant Hussein Salem and six
other police officials.
Alongside court officials and lawyers, those allowed to attend the trial
include close relations of the accused and journalists, Mr Refaat said. Only
the Egyptian state broadcaster would be allowed to set up television cameras
in the hall where proceedings will be held.
Some members of the public will be allowed to register beforehand to attend.
Family members of victims of the uprising and activists had crowded in to
hear previous court hearings for the former interior minister and other
senior officials.
"The court is fully convinced of the Egyptian people's right to follow
what happens in the courtroom in terms of legal procedures," Mr Refaat
said.
Egyptian trials were not traditionally broadcast, but high-profile cases since
the uprising that ousted Mr Mubarak on Feb. 11 are now televised after
protesters demanded more transparency.
After the initial chaos at the news conference, Mr Refaat asked that "the
honourable attendees" allow that "justice and the law be
thoroughly followed and (allow) the court and defence team the ability to
complete their duties".
The police academy on the outskirts of Cairo was originally named after Mr
Mubarak but his name in big concrete letters was torn down after the
uprising.
Mr Refaat also said the court had a right to convene at dates that had not
been previously scheduled, suggesting the court would have greater freedom
than normally permitted to proceed with the case and associated hearings.
The international effort to bring humanitarian relief to 3.7 million Somalis
who need urgent help to beat drought and famine is being hampered by
al-Shabaab's refusal to let most agencies into their territory.
The al-Qaeda-inspired insurgents backtracked on an earlier promise to allow
access.
But the United Nations said it was planning to fly food into areas held by the
Islamists despite the ban.
"There are 2.2 million people yet to be reached," said Josette Sheeran, the
head of the agency.
"It is the most dangerous environment we are working in in the world. But
people are dying. It’s not about politics, it’s about saving lives now."
WFP was one of the many organisations that al-Shabaab effectively forced out
last year after imposing strict conditions of operation including no foreign
female staff.
The group also taxed aid convoys.
Regis Chapman, the head of WFP's operations in Somalia, said that food
deliveries would soon start into the limited parts of Mogadishu controlled
by the internationally-backed government.
He added that "within a week to 10 days" WFP would be sending food into areas
controlled by the Islamists.
The Red Cross on Sunday said that it had delivered 400 tonnes of food to
24,000 people in Gedo province, the first time it had taken supplies into
al-Shabaab's territory since 2009. More than 2 million Somalis in the worst
affected areas, including two famine zones, live in al-Shabaab territory and
cannot be reached by international aid.
They are among more than 11.5 million people in Somalia, Kenya and Ethiopia
who need urgent help to keep them from starving after at least two years
with no rain.
The UN's Food and Agriculture Organisation will meet with the heads of most
major charities in Rome to draw "the political attention of leaders of the
world" to the crisis, Cristina Amaral, the FAO's head of emergency
operations said
No one doubts the army will ensure a free and fair vote, nor do most question
that it wants to quit day-to-day government.
But many protesters believe the army, with its vast business interests and
which provided Egypt’s
rulers for six decades, will seek to keep a hand on the levers of power.
This has fuelled tension on the streets and sometimes violent clashes.
Coupled with that are tensions between groups who initially galvanised
protests against Mubarak by putting nationalism above religion and the
Islamists like the Muslim Brotherhood who have shown they can also mass
supporters on the street.
Here are some of the main political risks ahead:
* ROLE OF THE MILITARY
The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, which took control when Mubarak was
driven out, has seemed eager to transfer government back to civilians.
It has set a timeline for a parliamentary election, with voting expected in
November, with a presidential election afterwards, possibly early next year.
After a new parliament is elected the process of drawing up a new
constitution will start.
The army was the only pillar of the establishment to survive intact after
Mubarak’s party collapsed. It controls a big chunk of the economy, possibly
between 10 and 30 per cent according to some analysts. In future, it may
seek a role as guardian of national security, which could provide a broad
remit to intervene.
That could lead to tension with protesters and, in the longer term, civilian
governments as it has in Turkey, whose military ousted four governments
since 1960 although the power of Turkish generals has now been reined in.
* FALTERING ECONOMY
One reason the army may be keen to get out of day-to-day government is to
avoid taking the blame for the tough decisions needed to revive confidence
in the battered economy. Those policies will deflate the wild expectations
of many about a rapid improvement in living standards with Mubarak’s
downfall.
The budget deficit has ballooned after tourists packed their bags and foreign
investors fled, shaking two pillars of the economy.
The previous finance minister negotiated a $3 billion loan package with the
International Monetary Fund, but after a deal with few strings attached was
agreed, Egypt turned it down, in part because the army said it did not want
to build up debts.
The move followed a revision of the 2011/2012 budget, cutting the forecast
deficit to 8.6 per cent from 11 per cent. Economists say this is optimistic
and leaves Egypt more dependent on handouts from Gulf Arab states and others.
The economy contracted in the first part of the year and will struggle to
register significant growth this year. Before the uprising, the economy was
heading back to the six per cent-plus growth reached before the world
financial crisis.
* COUNTDOWN TO ELECTIONS
With a parliamentary election expected in November, there is little time for
groups to organise in the vacuum left by Mubarak, who crushed dissent,
blocked new parties forming and ensured legal opposition parties posed no
serious challenge.
Youth groups who galvanised protesters against Mubarak and put national pride
before religion have yet to show they can create a coherent political
movement - or whether they want to. They have been effective in pushing the
army to concede ground in purging the system of officials from Mubarak’s era
and over other demands, suggesting that whatever the colour of the new
government, these groups will continue to hold it to account.
Tensions with Islamist groups have grown. Groups of Salafists, who follow a
strict interpretation of Islam, put on a show of strength in demonstrations
on July 29 with chants such as "Islamic, Islamic, we don’t want secular."
The Muslim Brotherhood criticised groups who withdrew from the July 29 in
protest at the religious slogans used. The Brotherhood, which takes a
conservative but less strict line than Salafists, has formed a political
party and remains Egypt’s most organised group.
But the level of support for Islamists is unclear and there are signs it is
not overwhelming. A study by the Abu Dhabi Gallup Center, showed nine out of
10 Egyptians surveyed planned on voting in elections. But the Brotherhood
won the support of just 15 per cent of respondents.
Protesters have voiced concern that the remnants of Mubarak’s now-disbanded
National Democratic Party (NDP) could regroup in another form. In the Gallup
poll, the NDP secured the support of 10 per cent of would-be voters.
That suggests there will be a fragmented political landscape, with no single
group able to sweep up a clear majority in any vote, although Islamists - if
they join ranks - may still be able to muster a big voice.
The Brotherhood has not outlined its policy plans, although it has said it
will not force Islamic law on Egypt and is not opposed to business.
The outcome of the presidential election is just as unclear. Contenders
include former Arab League chief Amr Moussa, retired diplomat Mohamed
ElBaradei and a range of other candidates, less well-known abroad but some
with extensive campaign networks. An online poll conducted by the army put
ElBaradei first with a quarter of 270,000 votes registered.
In this environment, the army may find it easier to influence the direction of
debate, should it wish, once it has handed over the day-to-day government to
others to take the blame for any policy shortfalls.
Pupils sharing textbooks at the Msingi Maji Matito primary school, Masaki, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Photograph: Hiroki Gomi for The Guardian
When any of Zainabu Musa's older brothers receives a letter, they ask her to read it. Zainabu's brothers did not go to school and are illiterate. But the 13-year-old can read and write and hopes to be a lawyer.
Millennium development goal 2: Achieve universal primary education
Ensure that all children, both boys and girls, are able to attend and complete a full course of primary schooling. The goal looks at the net enrolment rates and the proportion of pupils starting in grade 1 and reaching the last year of school.
Great strides have been made in increasing school enrolments, with almost 90% of countries making progress. Countries in sub-Saharan Africa have made the biggest leaps, with all but one of the top 10 performers in absolute terms found in the region – Ethiopia recorded the largest absolute increase. However, poverty continues to be a barrier to education. Some of the countries that have performed well on enrolment have high drop-out rates among the poorest households, usually found in rural areas.
No. Despite major gains in enrolment, the pace of progress is too slow to ensure all children complete primary school. High drop-out rates are making the goal unachievable.
"My father didn't want to take my brothers to school," she says. "Now they feel bad – when they get letters they call me, even though I'm young, to read for them."
Zainabu's brothers were discouraged by primary school tuition fees of 10,000 shillings (£4.28) per year, with additional contributions, that many parents could not afford. But Tanzania'sdecision to abolish the fees in 2002 and make school compulsory for all seven to 13-year-olds removed the barrier for many.
Enrolment at primary schools nationwide has leapt from 59% in 2000 to 95.4% today, putting the impoverished country well on course to achieve the second millennium development goal (MDG) of primary school education for all by 2015. Zainabu is living proof of an African success story.
But it's not quite that simple. Campaigners say the true figure is lower than the official statistics suggest, especially in remote rural areas. They note that half of pupils will fail to qualify for secondary school, with 3,000 girls a year dropping out due to pregnancy.
The progress has come with a lesson in the law of unintended consequences. Enrolment has grown so fast in Tanzania that the school system is creaking with overcrowded classrooms, shortages of books, teachers and toilets, and reports of corporal punishment being used to keep order. In short, it seems that quality has been sacrificed for quantity.
Zainabu, for example, is in a class of 93, though she doesn't seem to mind. But she does have complaints: "We want food at school during the day because some of the class are too young to deal with hunger a long time. They can't concentrate on lessons."
No meals are provided here at the 873-pupil Kizuiani school in Bagamoyo. Its annual intake doubled instantly when fees were abolished. There is now a ratio of more than 100 pupils per teacher and a shortage of 90 desks. New toilets were constructed with the help of ActionAid.
Among those struggling to cope in the bare, painted concrete buildings is 32-year-old Grace Mayemba, who teaches English, Swahili and social studies. "It's so hard because there are so many," she says.
"They are noisy and can do anything. To make each child understand is very difficult but you have to try your best.
"When I was at school, the classes were about 42, sometimes 48. It's disappointing that I have to deal with twice that number. Teachers, classrooms, toilets and books should be increased according to the number of pupils."
Across town there are similar headaches at Mbaruku primary school, which has 463 pupils. Ismaili Jackson, 15, has 10 brothers and three sisters, and all go to school. "It would be difficult with fees," he says. "My parents were pleased when they were abolished."
Salima Omari, 36, a science and maths teacher, faces classes of 76 pupils. "It's difficult to cope with when you want to give one-to-one support. There are only four toilets for the whole school and two for the teachers, and there is not much water. The MDG has been good for Tanzania overall, but it was rushed."
With significant donor support from Britain and others, the government has allocated more than 2tn shillings (£856,000) for education in 2010-11, about double its spending on health. But most schools still lack electricity or water – nine in 10 children cannot wash their hands after using the toilet. Education activists warn that Tanzania, where half the population is below 18, still has a long way to go to achieve the MDG in spirit.
A survey for the umbrella NGO the Tanzania Education Network found enrolment at 76% rather than 95%. It argues that impressive numbers are easier to establish in cities than remote rural areas, where attendance is lower and drop-out rates higher. Girls in particular are vulnerable to long-held cultural expectations and can be told to stay at home if the long walk to school is deemed too dangerous.
"Students will be enrolled, but in a few months, because of no shoes or textbooks, they can easily drop out," says Anthony Mwakibinga, its acting co-ordinator. "Boys often drop out for child labour near diamond mines. Girls drop out because of early pregnancy or marriage in some areas."
Globally, the picture is clearly mixed, but there are similar themes. Though a succession of countries have made efforts to broaden access to education, the NGO ActionAid warns that 72 million children still get no primary education, and at the current rate the figure will be 56 million in 2015. Eight African countries still have a participation rate below 50%, according to Unicef. Clearly the MDG has encouraged progress, though not enough.
In Tanzania, parents are still expected to contribute to teaching materials, uniforms and even classroom construction. Still, it's not enough. Mwakibinga says he has come across classes of 200 pupils where quality inevitably suffers. "What do you from expect from a classroom of 200 children, even if the teacher works like a donkey? What if the 200 children have no books?"
The national teacher-pupil ratio has climbed from 1:41 in 2000 to 1:51 today. New teacher training colleges, including some in the private sector, have opened in a bid to meet the demand, but some trainees are allegedly rushed through in three or four months. The profession also suffers from low public esteem.
One teacher, Florence Katabazi, 37, says: "I chose teaching and to this day people think I'm a failure. People say, 'I want my son to be a doctor or lawyer, not a teacher,' It's shameful to be a teacher. Everyone runs away from the profession. If they want to be an accountant, they just use teaching as a bridge. At the end of the day we've got 10,000 half-baked teachers and only 400 good ones."
Struggling to maintain classroom discipline, some of the country's 160,000 primary school teachers resort to corporal punishment. Noel Ihebuzor, Unicef's chief of basic education and life skills, says: "They see it as controlling children and don't feel they are doing anything wrong. They were brought up that way. We've had stories where parents take children to the head and say, 'He's stubborn, cane him for me.'"
But Unicef believes that, for all the problems, school is the best means of ensuring child protection. Ihebuzor praised Tanzania's commitment to the goal – but says the big test is yet to come. "The MDG focused the government to realise there were so many children out of school. It made them see children's rights as a governmental imperative.
"They're doing very well on the numbers. They're doing very badly when you look behind the numbers. They got it without being fully aware of the logistics and they've now been overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of it."
He asks "What counts more now: the defence budget for going to war or a schools budget for educating the population? That's the decision African leaders have to make."
To its credit, the government does not deny the scale of the challenges ahead. Dunstan Mally, principal planning officer for primary education, says: "The government is like a father with many children. When you try to give to each, the share becomes very little."
He concedes that whereas the target was one textbook between three children, the ratio is still one between five, and in some subjects one between 25. Whereas the budget target was 10,000 shillings (£4.20) per pupil, it is stuck at only 4,735 shillings (£2) per pupil. "We are below the target by half. We can't meet the targets because of scarce resources.
"Another problem is the provision of decent training services to teachers. The ministry has tried to develop a management strategy this year but it has not been implemented because of scarce resources. It's good to have a target, but a target without resources is a problem."
Tanzania has been reminded of the old saw: be careful what you wish for. The gap between ambition and reality is revealed by a stark statistic: the pass rate for the primary school leaving exam is just 49.4%. But Tabitha Friday is determined to be among them. After her father died, she went to live with her aunt, and now at the age of 18 is determined to get the primary school education she never had.
"My aunt decided to send me to school because without education you can't do anything," says Tabitha, a pupil at Maji Matitu primary school in Temeke, Dar es Salaam. "Otherwise I would have got married by now. The fact it's free made a big difference. I'm very happy to have a second chance."
The school has 3,800 pupils, up from 2,100 a decade ago. One teacher has a class of 166, with some pupils forced to lie on the bare concrete floor during lessons. They keep up spirits in the dusty, tree-lined central courtyard by playing steel instruments on the bandstand. In headteacher Abdallah Mgomi's office, a typed sheet of paper on the wall reminds anyone who reads it: "Quality is never an accident."
