José de Mesa y Teresa Gisbert: Riegl Andino

Kwesiga’s (2002) interrogation of women’s access to HE in Africa rests on a call for consideration and appreciation of all (women and men) in terms of resources and accessibility within their given democratic society. She postulates that, although divergent theories, concepts and approaches have been outlined regarding the causes of exclusion and inequality, as well as their remedies, women and men are still being treated differently in African society, particularly at higher education institutions (Kwesiga, 2002: 8). She further argues that such “theories were formulated or generated outward the sub-Saharan Africa”, which is the context of her book. The premise of her argument is that the proposed theoretical frameworks were designed for Western economic contexts and were inconsistent with the needs and aspirations of Africans. In her view, this established inconsistence is expressed in both theory and practice, and has effects on all those involved in HE, namely pupils, educators, parents, entire communities, as well as states, international agencies and donors. Most importantly, these effects are more detrimental to women than men in AHE, due to a lack of access, exclusion and inequality.

Furthermore, despite numerous policies and initiatives those were developed to address past inequalities in many Africa countries (in sub-Saharan Africa), women’s access to HE remains a delusion (Kwesiga, 2002: 24). Most importantly, her critical interrogation of the theories and concepts is coupled with the strengths and weaknesses of the central social themes, such as human capital and investment, gender inequality, and women and development. In her analysis of women’s access, she shows that, in terms of human capital for economic returns and investment in industrialised countries, women are more capable of finding mechanisms for succeeding in waged employment, trading and coping with housework (Kwesiga, 2002: 11-13). Nevertheless, she notes that minimal information is available on the challenges women face in accessing HE, earning and their rates of return. Specifically, the average return for women with secondary and HE is lower than for men. This attests to the dilemma of exclusion in HE, where women’s lower return is blamed on their reproductive role, as it is viewed as an alternative occupation to paid employment.

Kwesiga notes, for example, that besides women’s status in the home, reproduction is seen as an alternative occupation. At the same time, employers may decide to pay women less than men, since they are most likely to go on leave to bear and raise children. She further points to the dilemma facing girls and women regarding the state of gendered schooling – from primary to tertiary education – in sub-Saharan Africa. Her argument that women lack access to education (at all levels), especially in Uganda, is clear and convincing. She shows that different factors, complexities and dynamics contribute to unequal access to education in Africa, using Uganda as a case study. Her study highlights the problem of achieving equal access and adequate inclusion, as well as developing a just society on the continent.

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4.3.1.1 The connection between girls’ schooling and women’s access to higher education

The fact that Uganda, like a few other African countries, acquired independence in the 1960s shows that the impasse that inhibits women’s access to HE is undeniably a problem to the developmental agenda of the continent. The presupposition is that the women’s access to HE in countries that experienced early independence should have been fully attained. Nonetheless, Kwesiga argues that the lack of access is provoked by the absence of girls from schooling, which ultimately undermines women’s inclusion in HE and in other aspects of society (2002: 8). Kwesiga reflects on her first-hand experience of the journey in her quest for access to education as an African (Ugandan girl and woman). Her interest in examining the lack of women’s access to education could be tied to her encounters as a girl growing up in the rural areas of the South-west of Uganda. She acknowledges her good fortune of being one of the first girls in her district to complete elementary schooling and continue to the secondary level (Kwesiga, 2002: 8-12). I could identify with her narrative as evidence of the challenges experienced by girls and women on the continent, just as in my story and those of many others from other parts of the continent. Writing on women’s access to HE in other African countries, specifically in Ethiopia, which is a multi-ethnic and traditional society and one of the least developed countries in the world, Wondimu (2004: 1) also notes that the participation of girls and women in education is a critical issue.

Although the country’s participation rate of girls is lower than that of boys at all education levels, in HE it stands at approximately 1%. Considering the overall participation rate in the country and the position of girls, the development and percentage of women accessing HE become questionable.

Teferra and Altbach (2003: 9) argue that, as in other African countries, the stagnation of change and the effort to remedy the gender and regional imbalances in Ethiopia are due to subtle resistance, implicit and explicit oversight, a lack of serious recognition, and ignorance. This point proves that the crisis of a lack of female access to HE is not peculiar to Uganda per se, but is a continental problem. Therefore, I would argue that a call for women’s access to HE needs to specify the type of access ─ either formal or epistemological ─ in order to formalise the type that contemporary AHE urgently requires. Morrow’s (2007: 39-40) illustration of these two forms of access that HE may offer, that is formal access and epistemological access, is apposite here. As underlined in Chapter 1 of this study, formal access emphasises expanding the university to the externally excluded by using various means, such as affirmative action and quota systems, in order to enable women’s statistical representation.

Through formal access, HE has made major strides in addressing external exclusion. However, those included are concomitantly experiencing subtle forms of exclusion by being denied

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epistemological access – in particular their lack of opportunity to contribute to knowledge production, engage in deliberation and contribute to decision making and policy formulation, what I refer to as exercising voice. In my view, only epistemological access can lead to the substantive inclusion that the current AHE requires. Only when women, like men, possess the skills and cognitive ability that will make their voices heard will a robust inclusion be engendered. The problem lies on having women in HE (formal access), but actually lack opportunities to make meaningful contributions (epistemological access) to decision makings and policy formation, and articulate their views on issues that might concern them. The point I am making is that creating enabling opportunities for women to grow intellectually and make a contribution to knowledge, which is affording them epistemological access, is indispensable.

Regarding women’s inclusion in AHE, staff members and researchers connect to the limitation in girls’ access to schooling, which shows the challenges confronting women in accessing HE, not only in Uganda, but in the entire sub-Saharan Africa. Again, Kwesiga’s personal access to schooling and eventually to HE placed her in the position of being a highly knowledgeable, experienced female scholar, faculty member and female activist who is able to engage in issues related to women’s marginalisation and oppression in her university and state. She acquired an education which shaped her position as Dean at a University in Uganda, and her current status at a different institution as one of the few African women to hold the office of Chancellor.

Again, Kwesiga’s experience and contributions to regional and national initiatives justify her role as a champion of ways to mitigate the plight of women in HE and other levels of society. In other words, her narrative and extensive experience of the crisis give evidence of the crises experienced by women in accessing HE. She suggests that access is an approach that could transform the unfavourable and exclusive nature of African (higher) education systems. In other words, access ought to be a first step by which women could experience inclusion. Thus, without access, plans to transform university education become worthless. Her argument triggers a question, “why educate women?” In response, Kwesiga (2002: 8-12) offers two reasons to justify the need for educating women. Firstly, permitting women to access HE will help them to make an intensive and meaningful contribution to their own well-being, as well as to the economic development of their communities and country. Secondly, women’s access to HE could enable them to contribute to the health of their families. It is important to note that Kwesiga’s call for female access to education is connected to the idea of capability as a mechanism to attain inclusion and equality. In terms of access as inclusion based on gender, her advocacy for girls’ access to schooling as a means of enabling women’s access to HE in Africa is worth noting.

However, I find her view inadequate, since her advocacy tends to be biased towards external inclusion. In my view, her call for equality in accessing education seems secured within a traditional gender categorisation of woman and man. This makes sense because the call for

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schooling on the continent, which also favours boys more than girls, is gendered. She argues that access to education based on gender has been established as, and remains, a national concern.

Her analysis focuses on the traditional categorisation of gender, that is, woman and man, but it says less about other groups within the category of woman, namely those with disabilities, single mothers, widows, divorced women, and so forth. Likewise, she is silent on the groups within the woman category that transcend the traditional category and who ought to be able to access HE, such as homosexuals, bisexuals and so forth. These include lesbians, transgendered, bisexuals and intersexed. In my opinion, the approach of grouping all women into one category may place the call for equal access in jeopardy. I contend that Kwesiga's advocacy for women’s access aims to achieve inclusion. However, her approach is limited in engendering equality. If gender is employed as a yardstick for achieving equality, then all groups within the category of woman should be considered. If not, then the call for women’s access might not help contemporary AHE to attain substantive transformation.

Thus, girls’ and women’s access to education points to the “value of education as a tool to reduce these barriers” (Kwesiga, 2002: 152). It is on the basis of this background that she advocates for girls’ access to schooling, claiming that, as a strategy for “enabling Ugandan women to move through the system to HE [it] is without doubt the most sure way to consolidate the gains made so far and to open up new horizons” (2002: 152). The underlying assumption in her argument is that, as soon as girls access schooling, women would invariably achieve access to higher education as a way of inclusion. Although one would agree with Kwesiga’s view here, in current HE a mere call for access to HE does not guarantee internal inclusion to achieve gender equality. The fact that gender is used as a benchmark for inclusion towards equality shows that African universities could be promoting further exclusion of other groups that fall out of the traditional gender category of man and woman. Thus, African institutions provoke exclusion when using gender to determine access to (higher) education, which induces inequality in women's access to education through course offerings, types of secondary school (for instance gendered schools, i.e. girls’ or boys’

schools), and the restrictive nature of the system (Kwesiga, 2002: 248). These factors lead to the absence of educated women who could be role models, mentors and guides to girls and young women in Africa.

She has rightly noted that education should be a human right and resource for every citizen (both women and men) to enjoy. This makes sense because access to education confers benefits on individuals, families, communities, and society at large. The essence of the argument is that

“educating women provides a crucial escape the route from poverty traps that places the continent at the tail end of those with access to the essential resources of modern development” (Kwesiga, 2002: 249). Further, the restrictive nature of the education system in which schools and courses

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are gendered can be substantiated with the observation by Ajayi et al. (1996), which affirms that, even three decades after women were granted equal access at independence in most African countries, women made up only 6% of the professoriate. One can regard Kwesiga’s championing of women's access to HE and the call for gender mainstreaming and holistic approaches as a framework for bridging the gap of inequality between genders on the continent. Even though there are clear links between access and inclusion, her focus is rather on women in HE who are not afforded the opportunity to make meaningful contributions to democratic processes. This is what Morrow (2007: 40) refers to as access in two forms ─ formal and epistemological ─ which was already mentioned in Chapter 1 of this study. Formal access entails granting students (i.e. women) access to HE, whilst epistemological access occurs when those represented are no longer denied the opportunity to make meaningful contributions to decision making, policy formation and knowledge production.

From the above understanding of access, Kwesiga’s perception of women’s access to education appears to promote formal access without considering the possibility of epistemological access.

Indeed, formal access is the first step in women’s inclusion in HE, but there is a need for women to contribute to the democratic educational processes for equality to occur. Similarly, from Young’s (2000) idea of exclusion inherent in inclusion (internal and external), as alluded to Chapter 3 (section 3.3.1) of this study, one could say that women require both forms of inclusion to achieve equality. The focus on formal access can be seen as a step forward in mitigating external exclusion, where groups that were not represented are brought in through various strategies.

However, if the focus of HE is to achieve formal access, which seems to be case, epistemological access may not be achieved. Thus, addressing exclusion would become mere lip-service. Young’s analysis shows a high interest in gender mainstreaming, which is linked to the gender dichotomy of woman and man in the educational setting, particularly in HE. The concept of access is a related meaning and can be seen as a first strategy in promoting inclusion, such that women in Africa presumably may experience inclusion in accessing HE.

However, accessing HE formally does not guarantee inclusion, as a result of subtle ways in which exclusion is further perpetuated. The mission to address women’s exclusion can be traced from different contexts that are local, regional and international. UNESCO made an urgent call for greater access at the World Conference on Higher Education in 1998. The conference centred on

“equality of access” (UNESCO, 1998a). It is clear that HE discourse on the notion of inclusion as transformation has tended to revolve around the idea of access. It also has been noted that African studies advocate the idea of access as an approach to inclusion. Hitherto, I have argued that mere access (formal), which I refer to as external inclusion, is limited and the use of gender as a means to achieve equality may not help to engender substantive inclusion.

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4.3.2 Making women partners with but not cheerleaders for men in African higher