How this research changed the way I see myself and my community
“If there is one thing I want readers to take away, it is this: teachers, whether refugee or national, are the foundation of the future. But you cannot build a future on a foundation that is ignored, underpaid, and kept in the dark. We need transparency. We need information. We need to be valued.”
My name is Abraham Bashombana Aganze and I am a refugee teacher living and working in Uganda, in Nakivale refugee settlement. I have been teaching for five years now in my host country.
When I was asked to be a peer researcher for this project on refugee teacher inclusion pathways, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. I didn’t know what I would find by asking my colleagues to open up about their lives.
Honestly, what I found shocked me. It also changed how I see myself, my community, and the system we all navigate as teachers.
Right from the start, collecting data was not easy. The research took place during the holidays, and I quickly learned that for many teachers, a “holiday” does not mean resting. Most teachers had left the settlement to look for other jobs of any kind just to survive because many are not paid during holidays. The people I needed to speak with were scattered, working hard in distant places just to put food on the table.
Then, when it was time to organise the Focus Group Discussions, another challenge appeared. Teachers live in different villages, spread far apart. Bringing everyone together in one place required money (money for transport refunds so they could afford to come and share their stories). I had to invest my own resources to make it happen. It was a logistical puzzle, and there were moments I worried we wouldn’t be able to do it at all.
Despite the difficulties, when we finally sat down to talk, the conversations were worth every effort. The biggest eye-opener was this: most refugee teachers have no idea what their rights are. I listened to colleague after colleague describe their struggles, and I realised that nobody had ever told them what they are entitled to. I kept asking myself: Why do stakeholders keep us ignorant? It feels like being left in the dark on purpose. We don’t know where to go for help, who to ask for support, or how to access the services that could fully include us in this country.
Before this research, I carried a heavy feeling that I was the only one who was not satisfied with my life. I thought my frustration was personal, something wrong with me. But sitting across from other refugee teachers, hearing their stories, I realised we are all struggling with the same dissatisfaction. Even more surprising? Some national teachers shared those same feelings. That moment revealed a hard truth: it isn’t just abongaged constructively with questions and suggestions from government representatives, responding with clarity and confidence.
I also learned about the obstacles that keep us stuck. Many refugee teachers told me about trying to get their documents equated, only to wait years for a result. The process is so long, it makes you wonder if corruption is pulling the strings behind the scenes. How else do you explain a system that moves so slowly that it keeps people from working legally in their profession?
Even with all these challenges, this experience gave me something invaluable. The training we received as peer researchers has truly empowered me. I gained knowledge and skills that will remain relevant for the rest of my life; not just as a researcher, but as a teacher. I learned how to listen more deeply, how to ask questions that matter, how to solve problems that affected both my students and myself using the research methodologies and skills I learned and and how to see the bigger picture behind individual struggles. That training is a gift I will carry with me forever.
And the benefits keep growing. The gadget I was given to conduct this research, to record interviews and take notes, is now helping me in my classroom every day. I use it to find and prepare materials for my lessons. The skills I learned during the training have also improved my teaching practices. I find myself engaging with my students differently, asking better questions, and really listening to their answers. What started as a research project has made me a better teacher.
I always use the tablet to access French and Kiswahili courses on different online platforms (Alison, YouTube,..). I started using this teaching strategy after realising that many pupils in my secondary school don’t like the above mentioned languages. I had to use the research knowledge and skills I learned during Jigsaw trainings to find out the reasons behind their unjustified abhorrence. After conducting interviews with my learners, I realised that the content in the syllabus book is what scares them since they do lack basic knowledge. This made me look for French and Kiswahili lessons for complete beginners. Now my class is full of pupils who have taken French as an optional subject.
This research has reached deep into my awareness and brought things to light that I never saw before. I thought I was alone in my frustration, but I am part of a crowd. The challenge now is figuring out how we make our voices heard; and how we finally get the information and rights we deserve.
If there is one thing I want readers to take away, it is this: teachers, whether refugee or national, are the foundation of the future. But you cannot build a future on a foundation that is ignored, underpaid, and kept in the dark. We need transparency. We need information. We need to be valued.
This Think Piece is part of a series, featuring 18 refugee teachers from Chad, Uganda and Zambia. You can read the full publication here.
The contributors are peer researchers on a GERE study exploring refugee teacher inclusion, agency, and wellbeing. Read more about the study here.
Funding
This work is supported by the Global Partnership for Education Knowledge and Innovation Exchange, a joint endeavour with the International Development Research Centre, Canada. The views expressed herein do not necessarily represent those of IDRC or its Board of Governors.
