Kyrgyzstan: Short-Changed by Education

Monday, 21 February, 2005

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Alla Pyatibratova

Fee-paying universities are a booming business in Osh, the main city in the south of Kyrgyzstan, but many people find themselves paying their way through college only to receive a substandard education which won’t land them a job.

Osh has 11 universities catering for more than 100,000 students, with a new one opening just about every year. More students attend local departments of these universities spread across the south of the country.

There is fierce competition for paying students – even in this particularly poor part of the country – and universities advertise the benefits offered by their courses. But education experts say that only a small percentage of graduates are properly qualified. Some of the course on offer appear pointless, while others seem reputable but fail to live up to expectations.

Osh resident Baktygul Osmonova, who has two nieces paying fees to attend university, thinks the burgeoning number of university departments is no more than a ploy to attract potential students.

“One of my nieces is a student at a department for municipal administration,” she said. “No one – and that includes her, too - knows what that is. What can they teach young people?”

According to Osmonova, foreign language courses are particularly poor, and students often have to private tutors to fill the gaps in their education.

One recent graduate, who gave his name as Rustam, is a qualified orientalist – on paper, anyway. In fact, in five years of study he managed only one conversation with a speaker of his chosen language, Japanese.

“If there’d been a Japanese volunteer at the exam as promised, I wouldn’t have passed at all,” admitted Rustam. Taught by a lecturer who was himself a recent graduate, he knows little Japanese and even less about the country. “That’s what sort of specialist I have become,” he said.

Employers are less than enthusiastic about graduate entrants. IWPR was told by staff of the the regional police department, which recruits qualified lawyers, that only one in ten of the people they interview knows anything about the subject. “When trainees start work here, it’s dark days for us,” said one staff member.

Erkin Dosmatov, who runs a commercial company in Osh, said part of the problem was that many students simply bribe their way through examinations. “It’s easier for them just to pay for everything and get their diploma,” he said. “But why do they need a diploma? Only a handful will get a job in their field of study.”

Dosmatov blames the education system for churning out large numbers of economists, lawyers and interpreters with few real skills and little chance of getting a job. “Some 40,000 lawyers alone graduate in our country every year. Universities today are just a machine for making money. Young people graduate, and no one needs them,” he said.

The practice of paying bribes to pass exams is widespread, though understandably, few students will admit to doing so. Sajida, who has two sons at university, told IWPR that she paid 1,500-2000 soms (40-50 US dollars) for each one’s pass marks.

“No one is interested in how students study or what they learn – they only want them to pay up,” she said.

Her son Farkhad, a law student at the law faculty, continued,“Many teachers simply lecture on a subject out of a book and are unable to explain the terminology.” He has now shifted to another university, affiliated with one in the capital Bishkek, saying, “At least they teach properly there.”

Alisher Mamajanov, who heads a youth-oriented non-government organisation, NGO, called Golden Goal, said students are exploited from the moment they enrol, when they have to sign a commercial contract which effectively allows the university to hike up its fees arbitrarily.

“They usually warn us that course costs may change,” said Mamajanov. “But the system for changing the fees is very vague, and it’s impossible to work out how much a course of study is likely to cost. All in all, the university’s obligations are set out in very vague terms in these contracts.”

Economics student Sardor constantly faces unanticipated costs, including extra money collected to fund new books, sports equipment and special events for his university. “Not only did I have to pay 600 soms more for my fourth year than for previous ones, they also ‘fined’ me for missing classes, although there was no such clause in the contract,” he complained.

Mamajonov said the 150 applications for help his NGO has received from students in the past year have all been about payment problems, and not one person has complained about the quality of teaching.

Japanese graduate Rustam has an explanation: anyone who complains will be expelled.

“We only complain out loud if there is an unexpected rise in fees,” he said, adding that students always pay up in the end.

Alla Pyatibratova is an independent journalist in Osh.