Articles

This article, by GSF’s Regional Coordinator for Africa Naitore Nyamu Mathenge, originally appeared in The Star.

Across conflict zones, one question is rarely asked: what does justice look like for a victim?

You may have read this and thought of an adult. But now, think of a child. For adult survivors of conflict-related sexual violence, the conversation around reparations has slowly begun to take shape internationally.

But for children affected by sexual violence — those who survived it themselves, those born of it, those who witnessed it, and those whose caregivers were subjected to it — the topic remains invisible in national discussions and in frameworks meant to help them. Under international law, survivors of gross human rights violations have a right to reparation.

This includes rehabilitation, restitution, compensation, and guarantees that the violence will not happen again. While these are widely understood as the necessary basis for rebuilding lives, reparation programmes lack a crucial element for survivors in general, and for children in particular: education that can genuinely help them move forward. Why? Because access to education is often the first thing to disappear during or after conflict.

Children and teachers are displaced or taken captive, schools are attacked, destroyed, or used for military purposes, and classrooms are replaced by the daily realities of war and instability.

Those affected by conflict-related sexual violence face an uphill battle to start or resume learning during and after conflict. They often face discrimination, bullying, fear, and trauma, which lead them to drop out — if they are able to attend in the first place.

Some live with serious physical and psychological consequences of the violence they experienced. Others return from captivity or displacement after years without schooling and cannot re-enter the education system because their age no longer matches their grade level.

But education as a form of reparation can become an all-rounded answer to addressing children’s needs if it is designed to acknowledge and truly repair the harm caused by conflict.

This means:

• Quality education with trauma-responsive pedagogy;
• Flexible education with accelerated, mobile, and informal learning pathways that respond to children’s needs wherever they are;
• Accessible education with financial and social support to remove barriers to attendance.

Education as a form of reparation rehabilitates by rebuilding emotional stability and confidence, restores access to schooling that was violently interrupted, and helps prevent the long-term economic damage suffered by survivors and their families. It also protects against future harm by reducing children’s exposure to exploitation and further violence.

Not a luxury

On the African continent and elsewhere, survivors consistently name education as a priority for themselves, their children, and their grandchildren. They see this not as a luxury but as a necessity and, in many cases, as the restoration of a key part of life that was taken from them.

They want education in order to reclaim their dignity, restore independence, and break cycles of poverty and conflict. Practical examples already exist. In northeast Nigeria, children affected by the Boko Haram insurgency have been supported through flexible, trauma-responsive education that treats learning and healing as inseparable.

The model begins with a simple premise: rigid academic structures are not designed for children emerging from captivity or crisis. So instead of demanding that a 15-year-old sit in a classroom built for 10-year-olds, progress is assessed across a six-year window. Children move at their own pace. Confidence is rebuilt gradually, not demanded all at once.

The curriculum is values-based, centred on peace, integrity, respect, and tolerance — values that violent extremist groups sought to destroy. Financial support, psychosocial care, and medical assistance are also provided to students. Teachers are trained in trauma-informed methods so that learning itself becomes reparative.

This is what education as reparation looks like when children’s needs are placed front and centre — and it can be expanded elsewhere. In 2025, the African Committee of Experts on the Rights and Welfare of the Child adopted its General Comment on the right to education, reinforcing states’ obligations to ensure educational access even during times of conflict and crisis. Governments across the continent now have not only the legal framework but also guidelines to help ensure children can access education.

Kenya has its own history of conflict-related sexual violence and efforts to provide reparations for survivors. The horrors of these atrocities, and the deep scars they leave on victims, are felt by survivors of all ages. But for children, the trauma is particularly deep, and many are cast out of society before they even have a chance to enter it.

In April, organisations working on reparative education convened discussions on the margins of the 47th ACERWC Ordinary Session in Lesotho on how education can help transform the lives of children affected by conflict-related sexual violence. Kenyan officials highlighted the importance of ensuring that the right to education is fulfilled in practice.

Our call is simple: establish reparation programmes that prioritise education for children affected by conflict-related sexual violence, and recognise it as the strategic investment it is. Like any survivors who can access reparations, children who regain stability, skills, and opportunity can grow up to become the people who help stop cycles of violence and support their communities’ recovery from conflict.

Reparation is, ultimately, the responsibility of states. But the evidence of what is possible already exists. The question is: is there real political will to make it happen for all survivors?