Estimable lives in a very small earth-walled home near a drainage channel running along a dirt road. The land around her is almost all mud and the road is under a foot of water in places. Floods plague her village, called Lameau, in the community of Grande-Saline in Haiti’s Artibonite River valley.

This is one of Haiti’s most productive agricultural areas, and over the years, the government and international donors have built a network of canals and channels, to divert water to dry areas, and drain out the wet ones. Small villages line these channels. Just after the harvest, many are drying their rice crop on tarps on the side of the road, near their small homes, some of which are quaint wooden houses that resemble gingerbread cottages. Others are more modest earth-walled dwellings. Children play and swim in the channels, laughing and splashing in the sun.

It looks idyllic but the Artibonite River valley can be a tough place to live, Estimable says. “When there’s too much water in our houses, in our fields, we get upset stomachs. It’s very hard to live here with so much water.” The lack of clean water in 2010 after one particularly rainy period coincided with a cholera outbreak which killed 300 people in this area, according to local officials.

Working for cash

Grande-Saline’s mayor, Erole Romeus, drew up a plan to clear out the mud and vegetation choking six kilometers (3.75 miles) of the secondary channels like the one near Estimable’s house. He’s also hired heavy equipment to widen them to handle more water flow. The project is employing two 132-member work teams in a cash-for-work program that provides much needed wages of about five dollars a day for 12 days. The project prioritizes hiring people living near the channels. About 2,000 people in 400 households live in this area and will benefit from better flood control.

Sansion Morisette is one of the workers; she has just spent the morning raking weeds out of the narrow channel running along the road next to Estimable’s house. “It’s about time we started this work,” she says. “I’m out on the street now because water destroyed my house in Rossignol. Take a look around you, we’re lucky if we can get two bags of rice out of our harvest sometimes, the water just eats everything we grow.”

Mayor Romeus says the project in Grande-Saline should take the community a long way towards reducing flooding, especially during the annual hurricane season. “Every time it rains, we can have 200 to 300 small houses destroyed,” he says standing on a flooded road next to the drainage channel, where scores of workers in white t-shirts are clearing away plants and other debris.

“We started talking about rehabilitating these channels as a means to deliver a durable solution to the people here,” Romeus says. “We came to Oxfam America because it is an organization that is interested in helping vulnerable people reduce the risks of disasters.

“Since we cleared all this out, people will probably have an opportunity to harvest. But if we did not, in another week we would have been in danger: the people, crops, and animals.”

Oxfam is devoting $20,000 for this project, which is covering about half the costs and supports the cash-for-work component, wages for heavy equipment operators, and fuel. It’s part of a larger program to reduce vulnerability to disasters in the countryside, and make it easier for people to make a living in farming, an alternative to the overcrowded conditions in Port-au-Prince.

Sancion Morisette is optimistic that the newly rehabilitated channels will help them. “Now I know that when it rains, the water will flow in the channel and go directly to the sea.”

Teklehaimanot  is part of an Oxfam America program called HARITA, or Horn of Africa Risk Transfer for Adaptation, that has designed a way for the country’s poorest farmers to get weather insurance for their crops, allowing more than 13,000 this year to buy themselves and their families a rare bit of security. For 1,810 farmers in seven villages hit hardest by the drought, each will now get a share of the total $17,392 in payouts.

“Last season the rain was bad and we didn’t produce what we had hoped for,” said Teklehaimanot. “So the payment is good for us. We know it won’t cover all our losses, but for me, at least, I can cover the loan I took to buy fertilizers.”

Launched in 2008 with a host of partners including the Relief Society of Tigray, the program aims to build the resilience of farmers by offering not only insurance, but increasing access to credit, encouraging savings, and reducing the risk of climate change through improved land-management practices.

“The project is beyond giving emergency aid. It increases the confidence of farmers and encourages them to take risk to improve their productivity,” said Gezachew Gebru, a representative from Ethiopia’s Ministry of Agriculture. “We need to do more to encourage others to join this effort and make insurance available to all farmers.”

Celebrating a milestone

The payout announced on Saturday, Nov. 12, represents an important milestone for the initiative which, in partnership with the World Food Programme, is set to expand into Senegal and two other countries. Triggered when rainfall dropped below a pre-determined threshold, the payout is the first participating farmers have received since the program began, proving the value of investing in the future.

For Haile Selasse Negash, a 48-year-old farmer from the village of Getskymilesily, the payout has meant he can look ahead and plan—something that might not have been possible had he lost all his assets to drought, as so many have in recent months. Across East Africa, more than 13 million people are ensnared by the drought and food crisis.

“Last season it started raining and it stopped all of a sudden. We didn’t get rain for a full month and that damaged our crops,” said Negash. “With the money I get I am planning to buy seed for the next season.”

Work for insurance

And it’s not just the payout Negash is happy about; it’s what the program is doing for his community.

“For me, the major benefit is not the money we receive but the work we are doing to recover and protect our environment through those paying for the insurance with labor,” he said.

A key innovation of the initiative is making it possible for the poorest farmers—those without cash—to trade their labor for their premiums. Of the 13,195 farmers now insured, 91 percent of them, or 12,064, are working on projects that can strengthen their communities in the face of climate change, such as planting trees and improving irrigation.

“What we really like to see is farmers increase productivity through climate adaption and improved production technologies,” said Mandefro Nigussie,  deputy regional director  of Oxfam America’s Horn of Africa office. “The biggest actors in this are the farmers and the insurance companies. The two have to work together to determine the best working conditions that will benefit both. We all know that insurance by itself is not the answer, but it plays a big role on contributing towards the growth of the country’s economy.”

This story was reported by Selome Kebede.

The forecast predicts this short wet season will bring an average amount of rainfall to Kenya, Ethiopia, and Somalia. Coupled with humanitarian assistance and anticipated decreases in locally produced cereal prices, the rain means that the food security situation in Kenya and Ethiopia is likely to improve over the next few months. But in southern Somalia, the situation remains dire, with an estimated four million people in crisis and 750,000 men and women experiencing famine.

In many areas of the region emergency conditions are expected to persist well into 2012. Households remain extremely vulnerable to additional shocks as the severe drought has depleted herders’ assets and reduced crop production. Several good seasons are required to rebuild herd sizes, improve harvests, and reduce debt levels.

The trouble with rain

In some areas flooding and mudslides are common during the rainy season. For example, in Ethiopia’s Somalia region localized flash floods have already been reported in areas along the Wabishabelle river, affecting an estimated 18,000 people with damage to crops and livestock.

The rain and a drop in temperature are also likely to kill cattle that have already been weakened by a lack of food and water—further undermining the ability of herding families to earn a living and recover from the drought.

In addition, the rains and the risk of contamination of water sources can lead to an increase in water-borne diseases such as typhoid fever, acute watery diarrhoea (AWD), cholera, and hepatitis A. Outbreaks of vector-borne diseases, particularly those spread by mosquitos, such as malaria, dengue and Rift Valley Fever are likely during the rainy season, and increases in cases of pneumonia and respiratory tract infections are common. More than 1,200 cases of dengue have been confirmed in Kenya’s Mandera District since Sept. 23. Flooding in Turkana and Pokot, areas in northwest Kenya, has caused a spread of malaria in the Upper Rift Valley, with outbreaks in Turkana, Kakuma, and surrounding districts.

Displaced people within Somalia and those who have crossed into Kenya and Ethiopia are particularly vulnerable as many of them are living in overcrowded conditions, with limited access to water and sanitation facilities and inadequate shelter. Outbreaks of measles, acute watery diarrhoea (AWD), cholera, malaria, and pneumonia have already been reported in camps in Mogadishu. In Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya five measles-related deaths and 113 cases were reported during the last week of September.

But as people’s needs increase, the rain makes it harder to reach them: Rivers flood their banks, bridges break or get washed away, and roads become impassable. In Ethiopia, access to refugee camps in Dollo Ado is already challenging as the rains make airstrips and roads impassable.

Contingency planning

In Kenya, Oxfam is mapping the accessibility of certain areas and working with partners to devise contingency plans to meet the needs of people there. Public health promotion teams are doing environmental clean-up and awareness-raising campaigns. Boreholes are being rehabilitated and chlorine kits and water purification tabs have been distributed. In the areas where Oxfam has been distributing cash to vulnerable households which will be cut off during the rains, a double payment was made to cover the period between October and November so people do not go without.

In Ethiopia Oxfam has expanded its public health promotion and acute watery diarrhea preparedness activities, with a particular focus on women who manage water and sanitation at the household level. Oxfam teams are working with aid groups and other local partners to ensure a strong response to any outbreaks of acute watery diarrhea. As the rains commence, water trucking is being reduced and teams are supporting regional and zonal authorities to ensure emergency stocks and water treatment kits can be mobilized. Cash for work activities and market-support activities are ongoing and animal health interventions, such as vouchers for veterinary visits and vaccinations, have started up.

In Somalia Oxfam partners have been preparing for outbreaks of acute watery diarrhea by setting up distribution posts in camps for displaced people. The posts contain oral rehydration sachets, sugar, salt, soap for washing hands, and chlorine bleach. Partners have also increased the frequency and methods for public health messaging and are working with committees to oversee the water and sanitation services.

Concerns ahead

In Kenya, Ethiopia and Somalia, the UN, government, and non-governmental groups have prepared contingency plans to respond to any increase in needs: Strong coordination and monitoring is essential.

The delivery of food aid remains a key concern. In Kenya the World Food Programme (WFP) has reported delays in food aid distribution in Wajir, Garissa and Mandera as roads are impassable. Roads in Garissa and Hola, key entry points into the Dadaab refugee camps, are completely cut off.

Ongoing conflict, insecurity, and restrictions on the delivery of humanitarian assistance in Somalia are the key factors which will hinder a more effective response to the increased needs caused by the rains. For example, armed groups in many parts of South Central Somalia are not allowing mass public immunization campaigns despite outbreaks of deadly diseases like measles.

The recent military incursion by Kenyan forces into Somalia, as well as insecurity in refugee camps on the Kenyan side of the border, is also impacting on the humanitarian situation in certain areas of Kenya and Somalia. Fighting in Somalia is likely to cause further civilian displacement and casualties at a time when thousands of people risk imminent death due to famine.

A long trek from the outskirts of the Baidoa in Bay Region brought the family here—to a new camp for displaced people called Booli Qaran, which, ironically, means “looted wealth of the state.”

It’s here that Oxfam’s partner, SAACID, has opened another center for community therapeutic care, or CTC, one of 14 the organization is now operating across the city. And it’s here that Sahro’s son, Ahmed, has been receiving care following months of sickness that left him increasingly weak.

“I really don’t know exactly what is wrong with him, but I think the problem is linked to hunger,” says Sahro. “This nutrition center is extremely important for us. Without it, hundreds of children would have already died from malnutrition.”

Implemented in partnership with Oxfam, the CTC program has been treating children since 2009. It is now admitting more than 3,000 malnourished children, like Ahmed, every week.

“We were displaced after drought killed all the animals we had. We had goats and some cattle; we also had a small farm which we cultivated in order to sustain our lives; but unfortunately there has been no rain at all, and this caused everything to die,” says Sahro.

“We endured a very difficult trip from Bay to Mogadishu, because we traveled on foot for almost 155 miles. I was carrying my sick child on my back, while my husband was carrying another child who is older than my youngest. We begged from Bay to Mogadishu—from district to district and from village to village, for food and water. In reality, we were very lucky to survive. We know of so many families who have lost relatives or children. We thank Allah, who has allowed us to come to Mogadishu together and survive.”

Opened on July 12, the Booli Qaran camp was established for rural families flooding the capital in search of food, services and employment. More than 5,000 people now live here in difficult conditions. The day after the camp opened, SAACID set up a CTC center, which, like the others it operates across the city, have been working hard to save lives.

Care for triplets

Ambiyo, a mother of triplets, knows well how important the centers are. She brought her triplets—daughters Qaali and Naciimo, and son Abdirisaq—to one of them recently. Qaali was immediately referred to the SAACID’s outpatient therapeutic program section at the clinic, when she was found to be severely malnourished and in need of immediate treatment. Ambiyo notes that her daughter was in a state of complete frailty back then.

Her other 2 children—Abdirisaq and Naciimo—were placed into the supplemental feeding program section, which treats moderately malnourished children. As treatment has continued over two months, they have all been recovering.

“All of my triplets were weak, especially Qaali, who was so weak and sick and refused to breastfeed at all,” says Ambiyo. “The other two were weak and thin, but still breastfeeding. I was so worried that Qaali wasn’t going to make it. We were well received when I first came to the clinic and the nurses immediately said that they could help us.”

“Our daily life depends on what my husband earns with his work as a barber, and that is not enough for such a large family,” says Ambiyo. “I hope my triplets will recover from the sickness arising from malnutrition problems, especially Qaali who is the weakest. So far, so good.”

SAACID’s senior staff and management lived through the last great Somali famine of 1991-1992, and find this new crisis heartbreaking.

SAACID-Somalia’s Country Director, Raha Janaqow, said, “I had hoped to never see such a hell in Somalia ever again. Yet, here we are, 20 years later, having endured 20 years of statelessness and anarchy; having to see another generation of Somalis suffer and die of starvation. I have seen so much suffering, and still I weep. I no longer know where my tears come from. All we can do is keep helping as much as we can with the resources we have, and hope for a better time.”

Following a series of death threats and a poisoning attempt, he lives with 24-hour police protection at his home in El Salvador. He worries about the safety of his wife and three children. He can name friends and colleagues who haven’t been so lucky: Ramiro Rivera, shot in 2009. Francisco Duran Ayala, college student, murdered earlier this year. Dora Sorto, eight months pregnant when she was killed in 2009.

But Pineda, who visited Boston last week during a US speaking tour, takes this violence—as well as the honors he’s received—in stride . Good or bad, all are part of the fight that’s dominated his life for the last seven years: a battle, now playing out on the international stage, to protect Salvadoran communities from the harmful effects of a gold mine.

When a river runs dry

This year Pineda won the Goldman Environmental Prize, a prestigious award honoring grassroots heroes worldwide. His all-volunteer organization, the Environmental Committee of Cabañas (CAC), includes members from 26 different towns in the Cabañas region. He’s partnered with Oxfam America to take his fight to the national and global level.

But before Pineda became a leader, he was a farmer. His fight began in his cornfields in 2004, when the river that irrigated his crops suddenly ran dry.

Much of El Salvador’s surface water is polluted, and in rural areas few people have access to municipal water. So Pineda and other farmers were outraged to discover pumps draining the clean water from their local river to construct the Pacific Rim gold mine. They took their concerns to their mayor, who told them that the Canadian mining company was too big to fight.

“That’s when we said ‘fine—we’re going to organize, and we’ll be responsible for getting these people to leave,’” Pineda recalled.

Their efforts convinced Pacific Rim to take down the pumps. Meanwhile, Pineda began to study and talk with others about the long-term environmental consequences of gold mining, including toxic chemicals in the local water supply. Company representatives denied locals' concerns in a series of public meetings. “They even tried to convince us that cyanide was safe to drink,” said Pineda.

With support from Oxfam, Pineda and others traveled to communities affected by mining in Honduras and Peru. There, they documented severe environmental damage, increased poverty, and human rights violations. “We brought this [evidence] home and said ‘look what’s in store for us,” said Pineda. “That helped convince local people they didn’t want this mine in their community.”

The fight of their lives

CAC’s local and national demonstrations against the mine helped achieve a major victory: The Salvadoran government denied Pacific Rim’s mining permit in 2009, citing potential environmental hazards. Pacific Rim has since scaled down their operations in Cabañas. They also filed a $77 million lawsuit against the government, arguing that the denial violates the Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA). The US supported El Salvador in the trade dispute, currently being heard by an international tribunal at the World Bank.

“This is a key case for determining whether mining will take place in El Salvador, and it has broader implications for countries’ right to decide what kinds of development are most appropriate for them,” said Keith Slack, manager of Oxfam America’s Right to Know, Right to Decide campaign.

Meanwhile, Pineda and other leaders in the anti-mining movement have become targets.

“No one has been prosecuted for these actions,” said Pineda of the murders of his fellow CAC members. “The police say they were killed because of ‘personal matters’, but all of the people who died were environmental activists.” Oxfam America is working with international civil society organizations to increase global awareness of the human rights violations in Cabañas, and has raised concerns with members of Congress and the Obama administration.

Pineda said the media attention he’s received since winning the Goldman Prize has helped protect him from further attacks. But with the honor comes an increased sense of personal responsibility.

“You feel the weight of trying to help all of the people who have put their faith in you,” he said.

Still, Pineda remains committed to his goal of stopping mining in El Salvador for good.

“This is our responsibility as parents: to protect our land and water for our kids,” he said. “We’ve been in this fight for years, and the mining company has tried frightening us and diminishing our movement. …  All of us are volunteers, but we’re still ready to give our lives for this.”

Balcha, a 36-year-old widow, has brought us to her home here in the Ethiopian community of Mallima Bari as a sort of bench mark—a way for us to understand where she is in her life at this moment and where she’s determined to go now that she has access to irrigation and the support of a network of other small farmers like herself.

“I will reconstruct my house and show you a better house,” says Balcha firmly. “When I change my house, I will make you coffee.” In Ethiopia, ceremoniously serving guests coffee—three piping hot cups per person—is an important social tradition.

Recently, Balcha joined a group participating in a project launched by Oxfam America’s partner, Sustainable Environment and Development Action, or SEDA. Tapping a well that they helped dig and that SEDA and Oxfam outfitted with a pump and pipes, Balcha and 34 other farmers are funneling water to nine hectares of  land--about 24 acres, or a little more than half an acre each. Now, at last, they are free from worry about whether the rain will come on time and in sufficient quantity to guarantee their harvests. With a flick of a switch, they have water on demand—water to feed their crops and build their dreams.

Sitting in front of a field crowded with tall corn, Balcha beams with a surety that would not have been possible a year or so ago. Grief consumed her then: Her oldest child, a 9-year-old boy, had drowned one day while she was away working as a laborer. His dream had been to go to school and he had begged her to send him. But Balcha didn’t have the means.

“He asked me, ‘please, my mom, buy me an exercise book,” she recalled. Her answer? “Next year I can buy you an exercise book and clothes, but this year we don’t even have food.”

Two months later, she said, the terrible accident happened.

In the year that followed, burdened by needs that she could barely meet, Balcha said she thought about leaving her family and running away.

“I was confused,” she said softly.

It was around then that she learned of the irrigation project and the opportunity to join it.

“I was suffering before I joined this project because I didn’t have my husband. I didn’t have any support,” said Balcha. ”Now I have clothes for my body, food for my stomach, and my field is in good condition. When you are hungry, you can’t think of getting satisfied. When you are thirsty you can’t think of getting enough water. But now I’m satisfied.”

A voice for many

Balcha’s story speaks for others in a district where many rural residents make their living by raising animals and cultivating crops on fields fed only by rain. But it’s a hard life—and sometimes an impossible one. In this Central Rift Valley, severe food shortages are a frequent problem.

Without money to put into better production—fertilizer for plants, and infrastructure for irrigation—farmers can’t easily coax much from their land. Instead, like Balcha, they rent their fields to investors who can afford the technology to reap bountiful harvests. And sometimes, small farmers become day laborers on land that is theirs, working for someone else’s profit instead of their own.

But for the group now tilling this 24-acre plot, a reliable source of water could change their lives and the lives of their families. The project is part of a broader Oxfam America water program, set to run through 2020, that works with communities and local partners to help some of the poorest Ethiopians in moisture-stressed regions access water for their fields and animals and manage the resource in a sustainable fashion. With water comes food—and resilience.

Here, in Mallima Bari, the hope is that farmers will begin to cultivate valuable market crops—onions, tomatoes, green peppers, cabbages—that could boost their incomes. From the sale of their harvests, participants, who have formed the Mallima Gale Small-Scale Irrigation Co-op, will pool 10 percent of their earnings toward keeping the irrigation enterprise running. One of the biggest costs is fuel, now running at about 17 birr per liter—close to $4 a gallon. It takes about six liters of fuel each time a farmer pumps water through a half-acre field.

Strength in community

But it’s not just the pump and water that have brightened prospects for Balcha, it’s the deeper connection she has made with her neighbors in the irrigation group and the spirit of cooperation.

“We have very good collaboration,” says Balcha, noting that she had her fields plowed with the help of co-op members and their oxen. Ethiopians measure their land in hectares. One hectare is nearly equal to 2.5 acres. Balcha’s irrigated plot of corn measures a quarter hectare. In addition, she has a half-hectare of rain-fed corn and a quarter hectare of Ethiopia’s staple grain, teff, which is also dependent on the rain.

New agricultural techniques she learned through SEDA could help her crops do better than they have in the past, and the results so far have made her optimistic. She is planting her corn in rows now instead of broadcasting it loosely, and expects the December harvest will produce enough to feed her family as well as some to sell.

“Physically, it looks healthy,” says Balcha. “When you look at it, you get encouraged.”

And with that feeling of encouragement comes the taste of possibility: For Balcha, that means school for her children—an opportunity she never had.

“Had I had an education, I would have been someone better than I am now,” says Balcha. “I’m in darkness myself. I want them to be in light.”

“We took eight mules for two hours into the mountains and crossed three rivers, one of them nearly up to my waist,” says Emilie Gassier, the Oxfam cholera response coordinator in southern Haiti. “When we returned, even the mules were exhausted.”

The mission of the Oxfam team that day: deliver supplies to help a rural Haitian community in the province of Nippes prevent and prepare for cholera outbreaks.

Cholera is a treatable disease, but in the southern province of Nippes, there have been too many opportunities for it to run its deadly course.

“Nippes hasn’t had the most cases of cholera,” says Oxfam public health specialist Myra Foster, who analyzes health data from the epidemic as it emerges.  “But the mortality rate there tells us that people who catch the disease aren’t getting the urgent care they need.”

The list of likely reasons for that is long:  contaminated water sources, fierce terrain, and all the things that are missing – information, transportation, water systems, sanitation, and enough government, aid agencies, and funding to make public health a reality.

So, as the rainy season of 2011 approached – and with it, the expectation of a resurgence of cholera – Oxfam stepped in.

Clean water from a tap

A tap that won’t turn on – sign of a water network that has fallen into disrepair – is a common sight in this part of the country. It represents more than an inconvenience: a community that once drew water from a spring-fed tap may now be collecting it from a more hazardous, cholera-infected source.

When Oxfam launched its program in Nippes, the team quickly tackled defunct water systems in four towns, repairing and replacing taps, pipes, and other hardware. But they made an important addition: a simple chlorination system. The chlorinator – provided by aid agency International Action -- is an upright length of PVC tubing attached to a water pipe that secures a stack of fat chlorine tablets in the flow of rushing water. As the lowest tablets dissolve, gravity draws fresh ones into place. The result? Water safe enough to drink straight from the tap.

“The water has improved,” says Eliese Javer, a young mother living in the town of Mathurin, as she washed a basin of clothes at an outdoor water tap. “Where we used to take the water from was bad. The water was not clean, and there was a risk of cholera. Now, it’s safer for the health of the people.”

Not only that, she says, but the tap gives people access to running water in a convenient place. Instead of hauling five-gallon buckets up from a stream three or four times a day, she carries home a gallon now and then.  “If anyone is thirsty, they can just come here. It doesn’t even take a minute.”

A measure of security

But for many at-risk communities - including remote mountain villages - the town water system isn’t so much broken as non-existent. Here, women and children have always drawn their drinking water from rivers – rivers that now carry lethal doses of cholera and other infectious bacteria.

In the village of O’Rouck on the banks of Rivière Froide, there are two new arrivals: sturdy metal stands holding three-liter plastic containers. They are chlorine dispensers – known locally as bwats a clowoks. With the turn of a handle, a bwat releases a measured dose of chlorine solution. One dispenser is designed to disinfect a gallon jug of water; the other is for five-gallon buckets.

Oxfam has placed chlorine dispensers like these in 30 rural communities, and the results have been cleaner, safer drinking water.

“Now, we are less scared about cholera, because with the bwat we treat the water and we know it will bring health,” says resident Louisimene Occean.  “My children have stopped having bellyaches.”

From the porch of her tiny house near the river, eighty-five-year-old Saintalia Denis tells visitors about how losing a neighbor to the disease sharpened her focus on risks her community faces.

“It’s really important to use treated water to avoid microbes and disease,"  she says, and to use good hygiene practices. "After putting in the bwat a clowoks, Oxfam explained to us how to protect ourselves from cholera. Now, after coming from the latrine, I wash my hands. Before eating, I wash my hands. And I drink treated water.”

“The cholera epidemic is still very serious, and chlorine dispensers alone can’t stop it in its tracks,” says Kenny Rae, public health engineer in Oxfam’s Boston office. “For that, people need strong water, sanitation, and health care infrastructure. But the bwats a clowoks are making a difference.”

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The companies in PREP are: Calvert Investments, Earth Networks, Entergy, Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, Inc., Levi Strauss & Company, Starbucks, and Swiss Re. Other partners in PREP include BSR and Ceres. Oxfam America serves as PREP's secretariat. Read the PREP Mission Statement.

The goals of the Partnership are to:

• Promote practices and economic growth that help both vulnerable communities and business adapt to the impacts of climate change ; and
• Promote public policies that facilitate adaptation efforts to prepare for and respond to the consequences of a changing climate.

Managing risk

From extreme weather events to glacial melt, from water scarcity to rising sea levels—the effects of climate change on global economic stability and global security can no longer be ignored. Even with aggressive mitigation efforts to reduce emissions, the consequences of climate change on communities across the planet are significant. For many, the results are more severe weather-related disasters, increased food and water insecurity, scarce natural resources, and health problems.

Community risks are business risks. On a functional level, the impact of climate change on companies’ global supply chains is already visible. For example, changes in weather patterns affect growing conditions for crops like coffee and cotton. Climate change threatens the global operations of some businesses, such as when severe floods displace families and workers in areas where manufacturing facilities are located. Such climate-related risks, and their links to broader community needs, are just beginning to be understood by the private sector.

Businesses are also just beginning to identify adaptation growth opportunities as the demand for certain products and services increases. For example, increasing water scarcity will necessitate improved and more efficient irrigation technologies. As companies anticipate and respond to these shifts in demand they should look to partner with communities with an aim towards investing in local jobs and improving livelihoods.

PREP partners

It's the Gurracho River, tumbling through boulders and swelling across the lowlands below, its roar muffled to a whisper-a whisper of possibility—by the brush climbing the steep banks.

In this drought-plagued corner of Ethiopia's West Arsi Zone, the river has long called out to small-scale farmers scratching a living from land fed only by rain. Without resources—money, engineering skills, heavy machinery—families in Dawe kebele had no easy way to tap the river's potential as an irrigation source even as they hungered for what it could bring them: reliable harvests, food on their tables, and desperately needed income for household essentials, like medical care and school fees.

But now, from the head works deep in the brush above where Magarsa and Saworo live with their nine children, a new network of pipes, concrete-lined canals, and earthen channels is funneling the precious Gurracho River directly to 404 farmers tilling 200 hectares of land, or 494 acres. The water is changing their lives.

With support from Oxfam America, the Rift Valley Children and Women development Organization, or RCWDO, began working on the Ejersa small-scale irrigation project in 2007 to help local families increase the income from their farms and expand their employment opportunities. Fed entirely by gravity, the new system is allowing farmers to cultivate their fields year round—whether it rains or not—and to grow food not only to eat but to sell.

"We are encouraging farmers to engage in the production of high-value crops for the market," says Hussien Dalecha, a program manager for RCWDO. "If you simply depend on traditional practices and growing maize and wheat one time a year on small plots, that's not sufficient for household consumption and expenses."

But with access to fertilizer, improved seeds, and most important of all, water, farming families can make their land highly productive—in some cases more than tripling the value of their yields. Coupled with the infrastructure, farmers have also received training in new growing techniques and the importance of diversifying their crops. At a neighborhood nursery, managed by the farmer's cooperative, neat rows of onions, peppers, kale, and tomatoes-among a variety of other edibles-serve as examples of what's possible. And farmers are taking the lessons to heart.

"We have farmland but lacked knowledge," said one farmer, Obbo Bshura. "As a result, we often couldn't feed our family on the meager yield of crops...Through the project we were taught irrigation methods and diversification techniques that were previously unpracticed in our community. Our production increased."

A new outlook

For Magarsa and Saworo, irrigation has brought their family a new sense of certainty, a feeling that, with hard work, their dreams do stand a chance of materializing.

"I have the confidence hereafter I can easily keep my children in school,"said Saworo, 45, who longed to be able to continue beyond the ninth grade himself. "I was eager to be a nurse or a doctor before. But it was a problem for me to continue my education. I didn't have any support from anywhere. If I can't achieve my ambitions, my child should go."

And one of them has. The couple's oldest son, Guta Bati, 22, graduated in July from Kuyera College with a nursing degree.

To help pay for his schooling, his parents sold a cow in December, one of the few that remained from their herd of 30. In recent years, drought has taken a toll on their livestock: Some of their animals died and they sold others when their crops failed and the family needed money to buy food.

But now, with river water promising more bountiful harvests, education for the rest of the children may not require selling valuable assets: their crops may be profitable enough to cover school fees.

The family has access to one hectare of irrigated land. By August, the corn Saworo had planted earlier was ready for harvest at a time when few other farmers around had any. In a bowl passed among visitors, a snack of roasted kernels—sweet, smoky, and a little crunchy—disappeared quickly. Saworo sold a quarter hectare (.62 acre) of corn for 7,592 birr, or about $446—a sizable sum during a season of the year when normally the family has little cash available.

"It's a good income for me," said Saworo. "This is really big money."

And he wasn't going to let it lie idle. He planned to buy improved seeds—tomatoes, beets, and cabbage—for his next crop.

Magarsa, too, has had significant success with the corn she's cultivated, seeing the yield from the half hectare (1.2 acres) she works climb from 12 quintals ( 2,645 pounds) in 2009 to 32.5 quintals (7,165 pounds) this year.

"I am totally in a different life," she said, "being able to feed my children and selling the remaining (corn) to support the children in education, planning for reinvestment."

Spreading the good

Nearby, at the home of Bushura Tasho and Jaware Aliyi, the irrigation project has helped boost income enough for the family to plan on putting a new roof on their hut. This one will be made of corrugated metal.

"Water can make a difference," said Aliyi. And not just for the farmers.

As the couple discussed the progress they were making, a woman with two donkeys wandered into their yard. She was there, she said, to purchase some of the surplus corn. Her plan was to buy about 150 birr worth (just shy of $9), load up the donkeys, port the corn to a distant community that had none, and sell it there for a slight profit of between 40 or 50 birr, or a little less than $3.

"The irrigation has already made a market here," said Dalecha, the project officer, noting how the benefits were reaching beyond farmers. Food, grown right here, was finding its way into the broader community—a community that in the past has had to depend on food aid during times of crisis.

"Relief food is aid is very expensive," said Dalecha. "Instead of feeding the people, this kind of [irrigation] scheme is very recommendable."

Oxfam America has been collaborating with communities and a variety of partners on projects like this since 1994, helping to provide families with water for their fields, for their animals, and for use in their homes. Oxfam's new long-term water program, set to run through 2020, is now focusing on three regions: Amhara, Tigray, and Oromia, of which the West Arsi Zone is a part. The program aims to strengthen the resilience of communities in the face of climate change by helping people access water and manage it sustainably for crop and livestock production.

The Ejersa small-scale irrigation project in Dawe is also part of a larger undertaking called the Global Water Initiative, or GWI. Funded by the Howard G. Buffett Foundation, it's a coalition of seven international organizations, including Oxfam America, working on the challenges of providing clean water to some of the poorest people in the world for their homes and livelihoods.

In a country where most farmers depend on rain to feed their crops and guarantee their harvests, that question is omnipresent: It's about survival. And there's no sure way to answer it.

But there is a way to manage the uncertainty it breeds, and Biru, with steady steps, is slowly freeing herself from the constraints of an increasingly erratic climate. Her tools? An entrepreneurial drive and—now—weather insurance for her crops through a program that has grown to reach more than 13,000 farmers in Tigray since its launch in Adi Ha in 2009.

Biru, a 50-year-old mother of six children, was among the first farmers in this rocky northern region to invest in the insurance when Oxfam America, together with the Relief Society of Tigray and a host of partners, began offering it as a way to help families build resilience in the face of repeated drought. If there is insufficient rain during a critical period of the growing cycle, farmers will receive a payout for the crop they have insured.

And even those too poor to have cash on hand can get insurance: They can pay for their premiums in exchange for working on projects that help their communities reduce the risk of future disasters , such as by planting trees to preserve the topsoil. Of the 13,195 farmers now insured, 91 percent of them, or 12,064, are trading their labor for their premiums. And many of the households that have bought insurance are headed by women—3,610 of them.

Biru has been able to pay for her insurance with cash. This year, she bought a package for 200 birr, or about $11.75. It will cover her teff, a tiny grain and a staple of the Ethiopian diet used to make a bread called injera.

A smart investment

In Adi Ha, the weather has not been severe enough—yet—to trigger a payout. But Biru is convinced that investing in insurance is a smart move and that the program should be scaled up to reach farmers in other parts of Ethiopia. Without the cushion insurance provides, families who lose their harvests and have nothing to fall back on could be forced to migrate far from their homes or to sell precious household resources—like a cow—to buy food.

"This insurance is very good," said Biru. "It's saving our assets in a bad year."

And perhaps it's that confidence that is also helping her take other well-considered risks that are allowing her to build a more secure future for her family.

In 2009, the first year weather insurance was available, Biru joined a group of 10 farmers and together they bought a pump to irrigate some of their crops. Her contribution was 4,000 birr—or about $235. In 2010, with the proceeds from an abundant harvest of peppers, Biru was able to pay off the loan for her share of the pump.

Soon after, she took an even bigger plunge: With a new loan, she invested 14,000 birr, or about $823, in her own pump, available to use whenever she needs it. In August, she had already reaped 2,000 birr-worth of peppers from her field, and was looking forward to continuous harvests in the future.

"This is more productive compared to maize," said Biru. "Maize you harvest once. This you harvest every week."

Peppers won't be her only cash crop from this newly irrigated land. Scattered amidst the plants are 60 orange tree seedlings and 30 mango tree seedlings.

"If we manage it very well, we can start the first harvest (from the trees) after four years," Biru said.

Challenges, still

For all Biru's progress, farming in Tigray is not an easy undertaking. And one of the biggest challenges, she said, is the cost of fertilizer. The price keeps climbing.

"It's 1,000 birr per quintal (or about $58 for 220 pounds)," said Biru, recalling when it was a fraction of that price two decades ago. "Our land can't perform well without fertilizer, but fertilizer is very expensive…Most of our money is invested in fertilizer."

But most of her pride is invested in her children: all six of them have been able to attend school. Her oldest son has a degree in accounting and a daughter has a degree in engineering. Three of the others are still making their way through, while a middle son has decided to stop his education and assume—eventually—responsibility for his parents and the land they have worked so hard to cultivate.

Weather insurance may make his job, and the job of countless farmers like him, easier in the years ahead. The initiative is now set to expand into three new countries with the help of the World Food Programme. And its focus has broadened to promote a variety of tools that will help rural families build their resilience including access to credit, the encouragement to save, and steps to reduce the risks of disaster.

For days, a small team of local aid providers has been delivering essentials like tanks of clean water, sanitation and hygiene supplies, and cooking equipment to the shelters, expanding and complementing the National Civil Protection System. Their initial action was so swift that by the time the president declared a national state of emergency, thousands of displaced people were already benefiting from their work.

The aid workers are members of Salvadoran organizations, groups that are willing to put all their other work on hold when disaster strikes. And they are not just foot soldiers—they are experts, able to survey a shelter in the midst of an emergency and within hours get key relief materials delivered and water tanks installed that meet international standards for quality.

“There is this core of ten or fifteen people on the team who are working day and night,” says Karina Copen, Oxfam’s humanitarian program officer in El Salvador. “They’re so dedicated."

The core team on the ground is never entirely alone.  All across the country, they are supported by community leaders who have been trained in the basics of caring for the public health needs of their people during emergencies. And they are backed by Oxfam.

The power of knowledge

For the past four years, Oxfam has led an effort to build the capacity of local Salvadoran communities, municipalities, and aid groups for handling emergencies like earthquakes and floods. Multi-day seminars and hands-on disaster simulations have helped transform the desire to help into hard-core expertise.

“In some ways, it would be easier to bring in a team of Oxfam specialists to do the work in emergencies,” says Copen. “But it wouldn’t be nearly as effective.”

“In a disaster, communities are the first responders,” she explains. “Before local or international aid agencies or government officials arrive, the affected communities need to make decisions and act.” So, training community leaders in the basics of public health—organizing shelters, maintaining sanitary conditions, and making sure people are drinking clean water—has been a top priority.

Training a core team of water and sanitation specialists has been even more labor-intensive, but everyone has benefited.

“In this emergency, team members have been able to come up with accurate technical assessments and then implement the response,” she says.

Confident in the team’s ability to handle the work on the ground, Copen and colleague Enrique García, Oxfam’s regional humanitarian coordinator, are able to focus on coordination.

The result: an effective and smooth-running disaster response that draws energy from its own success. “The people we’ve trained are not sitting around waiting for someone to tell them what to do,” says Copen. “They know how to help their communities, and they are stoked.”

The most pressing need: potable water

Now that the rains have eased and the sun has appeared, everyone in the shelters is eager to go home.

But the emergency doesn’t stop here. In the region known as the Bajo Lempa, the floods struck harder than anyone had seen in many years. Towns and villages are still deep in muck, their wells contaminated and their latrines flooded.

Now, Oxfam and the team are turning their attention to making home communities safe. The most pressing need, says Copen, is potable water.

There’s more to face: food shortages may threaten the recovery. Forty percent of the corn crop and 77 percent of the bean harvest have been lost to the floods, and prices are shooting up already. Oxfam is exploring ways to address the most urgent needs.

After days of ceaseless work, Copen sounds tired but hopeful.

“I’m always moved by the commitment of our partners, but this time I was also moved by the communities. They’re organizing themselves. They haven’t slept. They’re tending to each other’s needs. And they’re going back to their homes to start again.”

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Concerns about human rights and the environment are constantly swirling around the community and mine.

• As the mine was being established in 2005, the community of Sipakapa organized a referendum: The majority voted against allowing mining in their community. Neither the government nor the mine company Goldcorp respected the results. (In 2007 Guatemala's Constitutional Court ruled the referendum was non-binding.)
• By 2008, four different pension funds in Canada and Sweden requested a "human rights impact assessment." This independent report found that the company had not carried out adequate consultation with communities prior to establishing the mine, a violation of the International Labor Organization's Convention 169 Concerning Indigenous and Tribal Peoples, and the right to "free, prior, and informed consent."
• E-Tech International carried out a water study in 2010 that recommended more aggressive management and monitoring of water sources, as well as for a bond to cover cleanup costs after the mine is closed.
• A 2010 environmental health study by experts from the University of Michigan, University of Illinois, and Physicians for Human Rights found heavy metals in rivers downstream from the tailings dam, and called for ongoing monitoring.
• In 2010 the Inter-American Commission for Human Rights issued a set of "precautionary measures" that ask the government suspend mining at Marlin while the government carries out investigations into the pollution and human rights violations.
• The United Nations recently confirmed that the mine did not adequately discuss its plans with local people when it was established: "…the Marlin project was not subject to consultation with indigenous communities," says James Anaya, a special rapporteur appointed by the UN to look at the human rights situation of indigenous people in the country. His report was issued in June of 2011.
• A new cost-benefit analysis by the Tufts University Global Development and Environment Institute finds that the government of Guatemala is getting a relatively small share of profit from the mine: 42 percent of total mine revenues, which is "substantially below best practice in global mining operations." The bulk of revenues and earnings "flow overseas to the company and its shareholders." Local communities, the report says, "bear 100 percent of environmental risk." The conclusion: "...the economic benefits of the mine to Guatemala and especially to local communities... are meager and short-lived."
• Fifteen members of the US Congress sent a letter to the President Colom of Guatemala, urging him to immediately suspend operations and address the concerns of the indigenous communities affected by the mine.

The Marlin Mine now produces more than 300,000 ounces of gold a year.

Conflict and Violence

Critics of the mine in Guatemala and international experts are calling on the government and Goldcorp to accept the precautionary measures issued by the IACHR and suspend operations at the mine. It's a risky stance for local people to take: Amnesty International has noted cases of beatings and death threats against members of the San Miguel Defense Front(known by its Spanish initials, FREDEMI). Community members also report shootings and attempted shootings against mine critics. Aniceto López, a coordinator who works for FREDEMI was beaten in February 2011, along with Miguel Ángel Bámaca, a farmer and public health promoter.

The insecurity is "the worst thing affecting our community now," says Bámaca, who was also shot at late at night in July 2010, just outside his home. Like many other FREDEMI members, he is not comfortable publicly identifying his attackers. He says those who wish him ill "know what we do, where we live, when people meet...they know everything," Bámaca says."Who will help us?" The government, the courts, the police, they are not helping."

Adding to concerns about the environment and security, the ethnic Maya Mam people living in the area consider industrial mining as a form of disrespect for their religion and culture, which worships nature and Mother Earth. "Our spirituality, our vision is that there is harmony between nature, people, and God, we are together and there is balance in our lives," says Maudilia López, an indigenous woman who works for the Catholic church in San Miguel Ixtahuacán. "This mining activity puts our cultural values in danger."

Action in defense of indigenous rights

After the IACHR issued its precautionary measures urging the government to suspend operations at the Marlin Mine, the government initially agreed to do so, then later claimed it did not have enough evidence of environmental damage and human rights violations. Oxfam America has been collecting signatures on an electronic petition urging the government to suspend mining at the Marlin Mine and investigate the human rights violations and environmental problems linked to the mine.

The agriculture ministry reported that there are now 1,070,384 farmers—about 70 percent of whom are women—applying the System of Rice Intensification, or SRI, on 185,065 hectares (457,110 acres) of their rice fields. The number of farmers using SRI practices in Vietnam has tripled since 2009.

SRI is a package of good agricultural techniques for hand-planted rice that helps farmers reduce their costs. And the innovative techniques are helping the poorest rice producers on the smallest rice paddy areas boost their rice yields: When compared to traditional rice growing techniques, SRI producers can increase rice production by as much as 500 kilos (more than 1,000 pounds) per hectare. (A hectare is about 2.5 acres.) This typically increases income by about $130 per hectare, enough money to cover food costs for a month for a family of four, or invest in five piglets to raise and sell.

“There is significant evidence that lives are changing at the village level,” said Le Minh, Oxfam Associate Country Director in Vietnam. “I give most of the credit to the collaboration amongst our farmers. When they are successful, they want to share their success with families and friends.”

Less expense, more rice

SRI farmers generally use less seed, sometimes as much as 70 percent less. They do this by transplanting fewer rice seedlings, and spacing them farther apart. This reduces competition for nutrients and allows the rice plants to have more room to grow stronger roots, which makes them more resistant to pests and diseases.

Inspired by their own success, farmers like Le Ngoc Thach are committed to help others. Thach attended an SRI training and visited a few demonstration fields. He gave SRI a try in 2006 and was convinced that these growing techniques would improve the lives of farmers in his cooperative. He started to spread the word. Now 2,000 families, his entire grower cooperative in northern Vietnam, are part of a network of over a million farmers who employ SRI and earn extra income.

Vuong Hoang Kim, a cooperative member in Yen Bai province, has volunteered to teach other women farmers about using SRI. “We all are very happy to see our rice plants grow very quickly and we gain a lot of benefits from these simple techniques,” she said.

Oxfam has been working with several partner organizations to promote SRI to small-scale farmers as a means to help poor farmers in Vietnam. One partner is the Plant Protection Department in the Ministry of Rural Development, which has been training farmers in SRI techniques in northern provinces of Vietnam with support from Oxfam since 2007. SRI training is part of a larger effort to help build the ability and confidence of smallholder farmers to develop agricultural innovations as a way to earn more money. The program is especially important for women in rural areas, who normally depend on agriculture for income and food.

“It’s a great achievement for small farmers because they are the ones leading the SRI innovation,” said Ngo Tien Dung of the Agriculture Ministry’s Plant Protection Department. “We need to build momentum for SRI extension over the coming years. It’s a smart investment needed to lift people out of poverty and to boost the national economy.”

Vietnam is the second largest rice exporter and accounts for one fifth of global rice supply. In 2010 the country exported 6.6 million tons, worth about $2.8 billion. Oxfam’s collaboration with the Plant Protection Department is helping small-scale farmers, who are usually the poorest, to increase their share of this business. SRI farmers now represent about 10% of all rice growers in Vietnam.

“I’m using this mandate,” Addo announces, like a seasoned politician, and starts ticking off her issues. Most of them are related to problems with water, funding for education, jobs for young people, and compensation for the damage and loss of land from a large gold mine established near Akatekyeso.

It’s a village of dirt paths, and cracked, crumbling, concrete structures. There is one well near the main road with a large group of women and children pumping water, filling buckets, and carrying them off.

“We had a hill over there,” Addo motions behind her home. “That was our water shed, but they blasted it and destroyed it. We had streams flowing out of it and there was no water scarcity. But it was all destroyed and now there is no water.” The mining company, AngloGold Ashanti, drilled two wells for the community, only one of which is currently functioning and now serves hundreds of people in the area.

To some, Addo may seem an unlikely leader: she’s a woman with little formal education. But she has the training and knowledge she needs to be effective, thanks to her work with the local human rights and environmental organization Wacam.

“Formerly, nobody consulted us,” Addo says of the mining company. “After we got training from Wacam, we understood our rights. Now they know if they want to work here they need to come and ask for our consent. Now they recognize we know our rights, and that is why they are respecting us.”

Addo is part of a growing group of village advocates in rural Ghana trained by Wacam that is bringing their concerns to companies and government bodies, and pushing for changes. Wacam has been building this network for 16 years, and it is now gathering momentum.

Addo is aware of her responsibilities to effect change, and knows she has to do it honestly. “I am always very concerned about the truth,” Addo says, walking down a path near her home. “Whatever I say, I investigate it, and double check to make sure I come out with the truth.”

“The main problem here is blasting”

Addo believes blasting rocks with explosives in nearby mine pits caused the cracks visible on so many of the buildings in Akatakyeso. She says the blasting near her home was quite violent: She was actually in her kitchen (a wood-frame shelter next to her home where she did all the cooking on an open fire) when it nearly collapsed on top of her and her family after one particularly large explosion. They just made it out from under its metal roof before the entire structure came down.

Even the best trained community representatives negotiating compensation from a mining company for blasting damage require hard, indisputable information and facts. Several hours to the north of Akatakyeso is a community called Dormaah Bypass, which worked with Wacam to close the information gap and get a commitment from another mining company, Newmont, which runs the Ahafo mine, to repair the community’s buildings.

Dormaah Bypass is just on the other side of the bypass road built for the excavation of Ahafo, less than a mile from the pit. Emmanuel Kuduah, 62, lives just off the bypass road, where he farms citrus fruit and leads a small evangelical church. “The main problem here is blasting,” he says, sitting in the shade of a tree outside his house. “The pit is so close, it is cracking our buildings, and in one case a building collapsed on someone and he died.”

A brief walk around Kuduah’s house, where he lives with his wife and eight children, showed more than a dozen cracked areas, many of which had been repaired. But some of the repairs were opening up again, and Kuduah says the continued blasting makes it look like some areas were never repaired.

Wacam’s trainers helped people from this community to hold meetings with Newmont to discuss the building damage but the company was reluctant to accept responsibility in all cases. The company did however offer to pay for an engineer to survey the buildings and make a recommendation.

Kuduah says Wacam warned villagers that an engineer hired and paid by Newmont might not be independent enough to make a fair analysis. Wacam recommended that the community members press Newmont to pay for the study, but to allow community members to pick the expert engineer. “Wacam helped us find an engineer.  We held a meeting at the assembly hall to present the expert’s report, and that was when the company accepted responsibility for the cracks in the buildings and said they would repair them.”

Kuduah says this engineering study is just one of the ways Wacam has been able to help his community negotiate with Newmont. “They have consistently provided us with knowledge and ways to organize and lead our struggle, so we have the strategies and leadership we need. Whenever we have asked for ideas and knowledge, Wacam has helped us.”

The main training is in Ghana’s Minerals and Mining Act, which accords citizen’s rights to fair, adequate, and prompt compensation for land lost to mines. Activists also learn how to monitor the negative environmental effects of mining, particularly pollution to water bodies by cyanide (used to separate gold from rocks), which is shockingly frequent in Ghana. “Wacam has carried out investigations in water bodies in mining communities,” says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng, while riding in a van from Ghana’s second city Kumasi to the capital Accra, just one of the scores of trips she makes every year to train local activists. “Out of the 400 water bodies we tested, 250 were polluted. We presented the report to the Environmental Protection Agency and they are doing an investigation. It also helped inform a recent assessment in which the EPA rated the mining companies, and all the mining companies in Ghana were scored poor or unsatisfactory.

“This has all emerged from the communities, where activists identify pollution sources, and we contract researchers to analyze the water bodies and come out with findings we present to the government.”

Informed communities now know what to do if they find dead fish in rivers and streams: collect and preserve samples to verify the presence of cyanide contamination, contact the Environmental Protection Agency, and negotiate compensation from the company responsible for the spill. Local activists are also trained how to communicate with the media, in cases where government and company responses to such accidents are slow or non-existent.

Oxfam also supports the legal aid organization the Center for Public Interest Law, (CEPIL), which assists communities pressing their grievances through the courts. CEPIL’s work has helped several communities get compensation for cyanide spills, including a $250,000 development fund from mining company Goldfields Ghana, agreed in an out-of-court settlement for the community of Abekoase in 2007. CEPIL is also helping plaintiffs in Dumasi press for compensation from Bogoso goldmines for a cyanide spill. This case has been in and out of court since 2004, and further delaying tactics by the defendant are trying the patience of community members.

A leader emerges

It was in Dumasi where one of Wacam’s most energetic local activists emerged: Joanna Manu. Manu was one of the local farmers who learned about the cyanide spill in the nearby Aprepre Rriver in 2004, and went there immediately to collect dead fish and warn people not to touch or drink the water. She and her fellow activist Nii Anyetei pressed the case for compensation with the EPA and mining company.

Manu had also previously suffered the indignation of being arrested for farming her own lands, but successfully stood up in court and invoked the Minerals and Mining Act, pointing out to the judge that as she had received no compensation, the land did not belong to Bogoso . “I am farming that land still,” she told this writer in 2007.

In the meantime, Manu has pursued her studies, finishing high school in her mid-30s. She is now pursuing her ambition to become a member of Ghana’s parliament. She recently achieved a significant milestone on that road: she was elected to the District Assembly of the Western Region.

There’s a saying in the local Twi language in western Ghana, Adwem anu balofo tirmuI: knowledge is not only in the head of one person. “Wacam has taught me about the basic rights of people, their rights to own property, to information, to live as a human being. And that a leader has to listen to people, be humble before them, understand their issues, and that I have to have the courage, commitment, and confidence to represent them,” Manu says during a brief networking visit with other activists in the small city of Prestea, a gritty mining town near Dumasi.

For a community leader, especially a woman, to speak truth to power in Ghana, like many parts of Africa, is a challenge. Criticizing or challenging elders, or those in power, is risky – not only is it considered rude by many, it can lead to isolation. However in Ghana, there is a polite way to do this: one must seek permission to raise something publicly that might not be pleasant. This permission, called sebi, is a crucial way of working. “Wacam taught me how to do that,” Manu says.

In between villagers in her voting districts, Manu says she is setting her priorities for her work in the District Assembly. Chief among them is to ensure communities understand their rights in the face of industrial mining. “I know from my experience that when your land is taken from you, you will be jobless,” Manu says. “You will not get money to feed your family. I want the assembly to know about this so they will help people negotiate well, so they can get something for themselves.”