Turning Learning Under a Tree Into an Opportunity

The other day, I noticed member of parliament Job Amupanda ‘exposing’ children being taught under trees at the Ndama school at Rundu, Kavango West.

This practice isn’t new; I’m a product of tree education from before independence.

The reaction of many Namibians is usually anger and outrage when they hear that children are learning under a tree.

Rightly so.
It’s seen as a sign of government failure and neglect. 

Many people say, “In this day and age, how can children still be learning under trees?”

I understand where this feeling comes from. We all want our children to have the best.

But I also want to offer another perspective: maybe learning under a tree is not as bad as we think.

In fact, maybe it holds something we have forgotten – that learning is not about the walls around us, but about the minds and hearts within us.

DECOLONIAL QUESTIONS

What is a classroom, really? Is it just a four-walled building with desks and a board, or is it a space where curiosity is born, where knowledge is shared, and where young minds grow?

This is a deeply philosophical and decolonial question.

Western education systems have told us that learning must happen in a certain way, in a certain type of building, with certain tools.

But before colonialism, our ancestors were learning under trees, in open spaces, through listening, observing, and doing.

They learned how to read the land, how to track animals, how to speak with wisdom, how to live in harmony with others.
There were no whiteboards or projectors – but there was real education.

In many of Namibia’s rural areas the reality is that there are not enough classrooms.

There are not enough teachers. There are not enough textbooks or learning materials. That’s the truth.

But instead of seeing this as the end of the road, we should see it as a challenge to be creative. We need to do more with less.

ROOTED IN REALITY

A tree can be a shelter. It can be a meeting place. It can be a space where pupils and teachers come together.

Of course, we must still push for better infrastructure.

Of course, we must hold the government accountable. But while we do that, we must also remember that learning must continue – with or without walls.

Some of the most powerful learning experiences happen outside the traditional classroom.

Think of the child asking their grandmother for stories under the stars.

Think of young boys learning to care for livestock in the fields, or young girls learning traditional songs and dances around the village fire.

That is education too. It is rooted in our culture, our history, and our land.

It teaches values like respect, resilience, and community.

We must not lose that just because someone says the only “real” education happens in a building.

SYMBOLISM AND SURVIVAL

That said, I am not romanticising tree education. I am not saying we must accept poor conditions forever.

Children should not have to sit on the ground in the sun, or in the cold wind. They deserve dignity.

What I am saying is that we must also change our mindset.

A tree should not automatically make us feel embarrassed.
It should not be seen as a symbol of failure.

It can be a symbol of strength. A symbol of survival. A symbol of a people who continue to teach and learn, no matter the odds.

And perhaps there is something that modern classrooms can learn from the tree.
The tree does not separate us from nature, it places us in the middle of it.

It reminds us that learning is not only about passing exams, but about understanding the world we live in.
Under a tree, learning can be more relaxed, more open, more connected to the earth. It can be more human.

Children are not just sitting silently in rows; they are engaging, questioning, imagining. This is not a weakness, it is a gift.

BEGINNINGS

In Namibia, we must create our own definition of education. One that fits our context, our challenges and our strengths.

In general, we must stop copying systems that were never made for us in the first place. Instead of feeling ashamed of our trees, we should feel proud of our resourcefulness.

A tree as a classroom is not the end of the story – it can be the beginning.

A beginning of rethinking what learning really means.

A beginning of reconnecting with our roots. A beginning of doing more with less, and doing it well.

So next time you see a picture of children learning under a tree, take a moment to pause before you form a judgement.

Ask yourself – are they learning? Are they growing? Are they being guided by someone who cares?

If the answer is yes, then that tree is doing more than many buildings ever will.
And that, in itself, is something to honour, not to hide or condemn.

– Ndumba Kamwanyah (PhD) is a public policy and governance expert focusing on the interplay of social welfare policy, development and democracy. He is also a peace and reconciliation scholar, and a certified mediator with a masters in conflict studies.

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.