
Low-cost appropriate distributed learning for isolated, nomadic, rural communities
In 2004, I worked on a major project, mainly in Mongolia, for the World Bank. I had previously some strong connections with the World Bank. Debra Beattie was a leader of the World Bank Institute, an in-house training group. Under Debra’s leadership, several World Bank employees had taken the Technology-Based Distributed Learning Certificate that I had developed at UBC. Another good colleague of mine, Michael Foley from Ireland, was the head of distributed learning at the World Bank. As well as sharing several conference platforms, he, my wife, and I had toured the bars on Bourbon Street during a conference in New Orleans in 2001. I had also in 2003 been on a panel of experts at a World Bank workshop in Washington, DC. The World Bank had approached me on account of the research I had been doing into the costs and benefits of different technologies for distributed learning (later published in Bates, 2011).
The World Bank project in Mongolia was particularly spectacular. The World Bank had secured funding to support rural distance education in Thailand, Vietnam and Mongolia. The mission, led by Robert McGough, was to help governments in developing countries to assess and plan low-cost, appropriate distributed learning approaches for isolated, nomadic, rural and district communities. With some input from me, the World Bank wanted to develop a toolkit for planning rural distributed learning The main project was in Mongolia, but with stops in Hanoi and Bangkok on the way, to run workshops.
The project team consisted of Robert McGough (the team leader), Peter Mook (a World Bank economist), Elisabeth Leon-Jones (a World Bank researcher) and myself. Much to my surprise, the World Bank team had indicated that as long as I paid her expenses, my wife, Patricia, was welcome to travel along with us.
This was a a challenging project with respect to travel. We were all going to meet up in Japan, first to fly to Vietnam and Thailand for workshops, then to China, where we would then connect with flights to Ulaanbaator, the capital of Mongolia. As well as visas, Patricia and I had to have invitation letters from the governments of Vietnam and Mongolia, plus both entry and exit visas from China. Most of this was handled by the World Bank, who also booked our flights.
After a brief stop-over in Japan, we all flew together to Hanoi, where we met our first problem. The Vietnamese pulled Patricia over. She was missing a specific document that was needed for entry. The immigration officer threatened to put her on the next plane back to Canada, but Robert McGough intervened and smoothed things over.
The next challenge was Beijing Airport. If you hate Frankfurt or Heathrow or Pearson, you’ve seen nothing compared to the main international airport in Beijing. It is vast. Fortunately, going in we were all together, and the World Bank team had been through the airport several times, so knew the process, which required finding and filling in numerous forms and wandering around the airport finding the right places to get our papers stamped before getting to the boarding area. At that time there was little or no signposting in English.
When we got to Ulaanbaator, we were booked into the Chinggis Khan, a reasonably comfortable hotel in the middle of town, where we were to spend altogether 20 nights. The World Bank team needed time to collect data and meet with key ministry people, and to finalise the planning for a five day workshop and visits to nomadic families in the interior. The city is very quiet compared to most Western cities, with wide streets and little traffic. Mongolia was part of the Soviet Union until 1990, and the streets and major buildings in Ulaanbaator often reflected the influence of communism, as well as did the education system, as we were later to find.

For some reason the Ministry of Education decided to hold the workshop about an hour outside the city in the surrounding steppes, where they were building a training centre. Unfortunately, by the time we got to Ulaanbaator, the building was not completed, so instead, they had erected a large, traditional tent which made an excellent classroom. We were driven to and from the training centre each day, but the participants were housed in nearby yourts.
The World Bank team really wanted to get a first-hand experience of the rural learning context, and had decided to do a five day safari to visit small rural schools and find and interview nomadic families about their learning needs. So following the workshop two large trucks with Mongolian drivers who could navigate by the sun and stars were hired, because once we left Ulaanbaator, there were few roads as such. We would be looking for hotels in small towns, where they existed, but often we would have to camp out in tents under the stars. The young female researcher came from a high ranking diplomatic family in Washington DC and had never before been on a rural field trip, and Patricia had to help her with dealing with toilet facilities in an open field at night. Even when we found a hotel, it would be more like a wooden shack with fairly primitive facilities.
However, the scenery was absolutely stunning and unique. Empty rolling hills as far as the eye could see; wild flowers everywhere; the occasional wild horse, or horse and rider; here and there, some sheep or camels grazing; a few yourts grouped together, indicating an extended family; but most of the time it was just empty.

Eventually we were taken to visit a nomadic family, arranged by the aimag, the local government for the region. Although nomads, they had an area through which they traditionally travelled with their animal stock, a mix of sheep, cattle and goats. Their children would normally go to a school in the region, some of which were boarding schools. We found that there was a very high literacy rate, the result of the Soviet system, where all children were expected to attend school on a regular basis, even (or especially) the nomads.

We were invited to have a meal with the family. We were offered strong but excellent vodka (Ghengis Khan was the brand), which was passed around in the same glass to drink, and roasted marmot, a local delicacy that tasted like dried rat. (This could have been a joke at our expense.)
We also discovered that there were itinerant health visitors/nurses on motor scooters that kept in touch with nomadic families, and also delivered and collected mail. I also discovered that one of my colleagues at the UK Open University, Bernadette Robinson, had spent several years in Mongolia, advising on distance education. In fact, I recommended Bernadette instead of me for the trip, but for some foolish reason, the World Bank decided to stick with me.

Lastly, after visiting a local school in a small, isolated town, the headmaster asked if we could do a favour in return. There was a young German tourist who had found his way to the town somehow, but had been stuck there now for three weeks, trying to find a way to get to Ulaanbaator. Could we give him a lift? Of course, we were happy to do so.
As usual, the project was partly successful (after all, we rescued a German tourist) and partly unsuccessful. One aim was to develop a planning toolkit for rural distributed learning. This part was successful. Resulting from this project, the World Bank developed the toolkit which was used in over 20 countries to further the development of rural distributed learning.
The other goal was to implement the toolkit in Mongolia. Our data analysis and visits to local schools and families had established that there was a potential market of 800,000 adult learners in rural Mongolia and the most economical and effective way to deliver adult rural education to nomadic families was through the provision of low cost battery-operated CD players, with the teaching materials on compact discs, prepared by the local university or aimag, making use of the itinerant rural health workers to deliver and collect the learning materials. The World Bank team developed a fully costed program for this, in consultation with the Ministry of Education, but there was a change of government after we left, and the new government had other priorities. Also, the nomadic way of life was under threat. As with the family we visited, some of the younger people were drifting off to the major towns for further education and more stable work, and often not coming back to the nomadic way of life.
Mongolia is an amazing and unique country, with both a tremendous history and geography. The Mongolian people we met were delightful, with a wicked sense of humour and, once again, so kind and hospitable to strangers. Of all the many countries my wife and I have visited, Mongolia stands out. It was a privilege to have had the opportunity to travel across at least a small part of such an amazing country.
References
Bates, A.W. and Sangra, A. (2011) Managing Technology in Higher Education San Francisco: Jossey-Bass
Previous posts in this series
Here is a list of the posts to date in this series:
A personal history: 1. The start of the Open University
A personal history: 2. Researching the BBC/Open University broadcasts
A personal history: 3. What I learned from Open University summer schools
A personal history: 5. India and educational satellite TV
A personal history: 6. Satellite TV in Europe and lessons from the 1980s
A personal history: 7. Distance education in Canada in 1982
A personal history: 8. The start of the digital revolution
A personal history: 9. The Northern Ireland Troubles and bun hurling at Lakehead University
A personal history: 10. Why I emigrated to Canada
A personal history: 11. The creation of the OLA
A personal history: 12. My first two years at the Open Learning Agency
A personal history: 13. OLA and international distance education, 1990-1993
A personal history: 14. Strategic planning, nuclear weapons and the OLA
A personal history: 15. How technology changed distance education in the mid 1990s
A personal history: 16. NAFTA, video-conferencing and getting lost in Texas
A personal history: 17. Innovation in distance education at UBC
A personal history: 18. Developing the first online programs at UBC – and in Mexico
A personal history: 19. Some reflections on research into the costs and benefits of online learning
A personal history: 20. Identifying best practices for ed tech faculty development
A personal history: 21. Open and distance learning in Japan and South Korea
A personal history: 23. Open and distance learning in Australia and New Zealand – and 9/11
A personal history: 24. A ritual in borrowed clothes
A personal history: 25. Why I was fired at UBC and a case-study of university mismanagement
A personal history: 26. How to be an independent consultant in online and digital learning
A personal history: 27. Working and playing in Mexico
A personal history: 28. Croatia and Chile
A personal history: 29. Strategic planning for e-learning: a personal case-study






Dr. Tony Bates is the author of eleven books in the field of online learning and distance education. He has provided consulting services specializing in training in the planning and management of online learning and distance education, working with over 40 organizations in 25 countries. Tony is a Research Associate with Contact North | Contact Nord, Ontario’s Distance Education & Training Network.

