Planted long ago by a French worker from a nearby farm, jatropha was unknown to Maluleque. He’s since become one of the most experienced local cultivators of this unusual plant, now prized for its seeds used to produce biodiesel fuel. In 2006, when an international company approached Maluleque about managing the nursery for its 27,000-acre jatropha plantation in his town, he leapt at the chance.
“I was so happy,” he says, sitting beneath the jatropha bush. “I wanted to get a car and build a nicer house and educate my children at a higher level.” The company, called ESV Group, piped water into the village. It hired doctors and teachers to work there.
Right now Mozambique is devoting millions of dollars and more than 200,000 acres of land to growing biofuel crops for ethanol and biodiesel. The country is encouraging foreign investors to use its land in exchange for jobs and fuel to reduce its dependence on oil imports.
The diversion of agriculture from food production to biofuel crops represents a significant contribution to increasing food prices. Between 2005 and 2008, global food prices spiraled up more than 80 percent according to research by Oxfam and others. This has been a significant burden for poor people who often spend more than half their income on food. The food price increases pushed more than 100 million additional people into poverty globally. Some studies show that increased production of biofuel is responsible for 16 percent of that food price increase.
Small-scale farmers increase their vulnerability when they commit to biofuel projects. Things were looking good in Inhassune that first year, but then ESV started to have financing problems. When it abandoned the venture, local government officials ordered all the workers to stay on the job. Not all have, but for those like Maluleque who have continued to work, 14 long months have passed without pay.
Maluleque says he’s kept farming his own land but has been unable to afford to plant all of it. He planted on several acres, and cut back to one daily meal. In November 2009, Maluleque reported that he had practically exhausted his resources and was considering going to South Africa to look for work.
About four hours south of Inhassune, farmers in Nzeve face a different problem. This village of 137 people—located in the rolling, coastal hills near the resort town of Bilene—was told by the government that farmers each had to release about 80 percent of their land (usually about six acres) for a 49,000-acre jatropha project led by a foreign company. Locals were told that working on the plantation would offset any loss of food production. The government said that since the soil in the area was sandy, it was better for growing jatropha than corn anyway. It seemed reasonable until the company ran into cash flow problems and laid off workers.
Violeta Sithole, 47, lives in Nzeve and worked in the jatropha nursery until she lost her job. “They were going to give us a school and electricity … but we are not seeing any of it,” she says. “Now that I am no longer working, we need more money and we are not growing enough in our field. All we eat is cassava.”
Reports from communities about pressures on farmers have prompted Oxfam to begin studying the effect of biofuel production on farmers in southern Africa. Preliminary findings show that small-scale farmers are the ones caught in the middle of these global trends. They welcome jobs because it’s hard to earn cash in poor communities, so people in Inhassune and Nzeve want local plantations to succeed. But, the government and companies gambling on jatropha, also put local farmers at risk when they demand land and make no plans in case the scheme fails.
Fans of the jatropha plant rave about its potential: they say it can grow almost anywhere and needs little water. And—although jatropha is a weed and poisonous, known as “bellyache bush”—in 2009, Air New Zealand flew a jet powered in part by the plant’s oil.
Sound too good to be true? It may be. Dutch researchers say jatropha needs good soil and more water than corn or sugar cane for optimal growth. Repurposing land without local input can be disastrous because communities risk losing areas valuable for hunting or grazing livestock. Poor countries must move forward carefully and ensure that local communities are made aware of potential costs and benefits and have a voice in decision making.
Editor’s note: ESV announced in late November 2009 that it had sold its jatropha venture in Mozambique to an Italian partnership for $4 million—contingent on payment of all back wages and taxes by ESV.
]]>Achieving farm resilience requires building up the resilience of vulnerable farmers by developing their skills, expertise and voice while supporting their use of agro-ecological farming practices. Building resilience depends not just on how farmers manage resources, but on how well local, national, and global institutions support farmers. Agro-ecological practices can empower vulnerable small-scale farmers, offering them both greater control over their lives and an accessible means of improving their food security, while decreasing their risk of crop failure or livestock death due to climate shocks. Vulnerable farmers can use agro-ecological practices to build resilient farms and improve their livelihoods, achieving multiple benefits: 1. improved food security; 2. adaptation to a changing climate; and 3. mitigation of climate change.
People-centred resilience consists of five principles which should guide how investments in vulnerable farming communities are designed and implemented. They are:
Following these principles ensures that investments support farmers in their efforts to become food-secure and adapt to climate change. Four institutions central to delivering people-centered resilience are: secure land rights; dynamic farmer associations; responsive agricultural advisory services; and public support for environmental services.
]]>The domestic violence bill, championed by a coalition of women's organizations, seeks to make domestic violence a crime, calls for increased penalties for offenders, and places an obligation on the state to assist victims.
"This is a very important step to protect women from violence and ensure that this is seen as a public crime and not just a private affair," said Professor Isabel Casimiro, president of the board of the Women's Forum and a member of the commission that drafted the bill. "Hospitals, courts, and the police will also have a duty to act and help victims of domestic violence," she said.
"Our research shows that many cases of domestic violence are not reported and there is often no action when they are reported. As a result, women have no protection or support at present. An important aspect of the proposed law is that anyone, not only the victim, can report a case of domestic violence," said Casimiro.
At present there is no law that specifically covers domestic violence in Mozambique and it is currently dealt with as assault under the 19th century penal code inherited from when Mozambique was a Portuguese colony.
Since 2001, Oxfam has supported the Women's Coalition that has pushed for legal reform to advance the rights of women in Mozambique. The coalition played a key role in lobbying for the 2004 Family Law which provides for a wide range of women's rights. The six organizations that make up the coalition continue to support the implementation of the new laws and bring awareness of the legal rights they provide to women and girls throughout the country.
"This is a great achievement for the women of Mozambique," said Michael Chimedza, Oxfam America's program officer in Mozambique. "It shows that our partners have become strong actors in pushing legal reform that promotes the rights of women, as this process took them a shorter time than the Family Law."
The bill was passed unanimously and will now be considered by a committee before a final vote in parliament in mid-July.
]]>These, and many more lives and livelihoods are at risk unless urgent action is taken to protect poor people from the triple threat of the economic crisis, rising food prices and climate change. Sub-Saharan Africa alone is expected to lose $245 billion this year as a result of the global slump but will receive only about $5 billion in additional aid.
Yet rather than delivering on his own aid promises and encouraging other countries to meet theirs, Silvio Berlusconi, G8 chair and Italian president, is attempting to wriggle out of his commitments to the world's poorest. He has cut aid and pushed the G8 to adopt a new "whole of country" approach that would use creative accounting to hide broken promises.
Max Lawson, Oxfam senior policy advisor, said: "Like a modern day Nero, Berlusconi is fiddling while Africa burns. G8 leaders must get serious and ensure this summit delivers a concrete plan to get aid promises back on track, and to protect poor people from the triple threat of the economic, food and climate crises."
According to the OECD, G8 leaders will fall short by as much as $23 billion in their 2005 promise to increase annual aid by $50 billion over five years. Oxfam calculates this money could be used to pay for HIV treatment for 500,000, services for mothers and newborns that would save a further 2.5 million, child health services that would save a further 600,000 lives.
On average, rich countries outside the G8 give more than twice as much of their national income in overseas aid (0.54 percent), as G8 members (0.23 percent).
Farida Bena, Oxfam International Italian spokesperson said: "It is time that G8 countries paid their fair share of aid to reduce poverty in Africa and elsewhere. Why can other rich countries put their hands in their pocket whilst most of the G8 refuses to do so? A G8 that refuses to keep its word, a G8 that fails to meet the unprecedented challenges facing the world's poor—that is a G8 in crisis."
Far from showing leadership in its role as G8 chair, Italy is cutting its aid to poor countries. Last year Italy cut its aid through the Foreign Affairs Ministry by a staggering 56 percent. France too has barely increased aid despite promises to do so, and other countries are not bringing the ambition needed to the table this year—when it is most needed.
The "whole of country approach" promoted by Berlusconi could allow countries to count money charities, philanthropists, companies and trade links deliver to developing countries as part of their assistance to poor countries. Adding these disparate elements to produce a large cash figure of little value would allow countries like Italy and France to deflect attention from their lamentable performance on aid.
Instead of muddying the waters with creative accounting, Oxfam is calling on the G8 to agree an emergency plan to get their aid commitments back on track ahead of the 2010 deadline. The need for increased aid is shown by the $245 billion economic black hole facing Africa as a result of a reduction in expected growth from 6.7 percent to 1 percent. By contrast, aid will only increase by $4.6 billion this year. IMF special drawing rights and other measures agreed at the G20 add only another $16 billion. This falls way short of what is needed.
Lawson said: "The world has a triple crisis on it hands. The economic crisis is destroying jobs, reducing remittances and forcing cuts in health and education services for some of the world's poorest people. Africa is set to lose $245 billion this year alone yet the response from rich countries remains pitifully small.
"The food crisis has pushed another 200 million people into hunger. More than one in six of the world's people now do not have enough to eat. The climate crisis contributes to severe weather that forces people from their homes and destroys their livelihoods every day."
Bena said: "Over the next few days, the G8 must show the leadership the world needs. There won't be any second chances to save these 3 million people later. The G8 cannot turn their back on the poorest people now. This must be a week of bold action."
]]>My gift, according my father, is that while most people look at a 15-hour flight as torture, I look at is a time to get some rest. And he is right. My flight went by in a flash. I got some reading done, some work done, and slept the rest of the way curled up in my seat with my neck pillow and noise-cancelling earphones (best birthday gift ever).
My first hours in Zimbabwe were filled with contradiction. As I walked out of the airport in Harare I was greeted by clean, cool evening air. I was then welcomed by Oxfam's humanitarian program coordinator, Ransam, with a hug and a joke. But as we drove to my hotel the empty streets were shocking. It was only 10 pm, but there were almost no other cars on the road and very few people walking. We pulled into the hotel and as we walked up to reception the crickets were singing. I could tell, even in the dark, how beautiful the landscape was. But as a sign of the times in Zimbabwe, when I checked in I learned the hotel wanted me to pay cash—in advance—for my room and it preferred US dollars or Euros.
After checking in, I met up with Lyndsay, Oxfam's public figures liaison. She worked to put this trip together and I could tell she wanted it to go well. She has a lot of respect for Emile after their trip to the Congo last year. He gets it, she said, and really wants to learn. As for me, I couldn't wait to meet him and made her knock on his door at 10 p.m. to introduce us. He was tired but cheerful and very excited about the trip. We kept the meeting short: tomorrow would be the car ride to the rural area and we could get acquainted then.
I am always so tired at the end of the day in Mudzi, a region in the northeast part of the country where Oxfam has been working on the cholera outbreak. After a two-hour car ride from Harare we arrived at the Pumpkin Hotel—the only hotel in this region. We settled in (Emile got the suite with the waterbed, and I got the one next door) and had some lunch: Eggs and sadza—a finely ground cornmeal boiled in water.
After lunch, we headed out to look at a bore hole—a narrow well drilled deep into the ground. Mudzi has hundreds of them. They're the source of drinking water for many people in this rural region. This one was a half-hour-drive away on a bumpy, dry road—and when we arrived, we found hundreds of community members waiting for us.
Sitting in two large groups, they had prepared a speech and gifts: beautiful hand-crafted baskets and several large bags of fresh peanuts tied in large burlap bags with "product of USA" stamped on their sides. These bags had been recycled from earlier food distributions. The villagers wanted to show their gratitude for the work Oxfam and our local partner, Single Parents Widow(er)s Support Network, or SPWSN, had done together: teaching communities about hygiene , providing them with basic goods like soap, and repairing their bore holes.
Emile confessed to me that he thought the word was "boar" hole. And why not? if you were not a water engineer or public health person or someone dependent on these holes for water, how would you know what they were? It made me realize how little the developed world knows or understands about those who still fetch water by hand and don't have access to flushing toilets—or even pit latrines.
Back at the meeting, Emile addressed the village, thanking them for their hospitality and acknowledging their strength as a people and as a community. He was nervous and I could tell he had really thought through what he wanted to tell his hosts.
That is why this trip is so important: To get the word out. Yes, the number of cases of cholera might be less each week, but what about next year? How do we stop an outbreak from happening again? This year in this village this outbreak left 25 orphans. This is a staggering number of children who have lost their stability—all because they and their families could not access clean water.
As we drove back to the Pumpkin Hotel, I thought again, with amazement, about how so much devastation can happen in such a beautiful setting, and how the people can keep going with such optimism and positive attitudes. I realized it had been an important day for Emile, too: He was beginning to understand the context of people's lives, how they cope, and the importance of supporting them when their options run out.
We spent another long and dusty day in the field. Today we watched as nearly 2,000 people gathered to learn about cholera. They sang, laughed, and watched plays all about a deadly bacterial disease that can kill a person in a matter of days with diarrhea and vomiting. We listened to health promoters from Oxfam and SPWSN as they talked and sang about feces, and watched as they faked illness and dying—all to teach the audience about cholera.
Emile was amazed at the teams' drama and acting capabilities and at the community's ability to laugh about something so devastating. My favorite part was the singing—so lyrical and powerful. I found myself singing along (not nearly as well, of course) and envious that they could make such beautiful music with nothing but their voices.
We spent the second half of the afternoon driving to a cholera treatment center. The number of cases had finally started to wane but it was hard to know if it was just because the rains had stopped or if all our hard work was paying off. I am sure it was a combination of both—but we will know for sure next year when the rains come again. That is why we are going to continue our work after the outbreak is over: We'll introduce clean water at the level of the household using sand filters. We are going to try and break the cycle of yearly diarrheal outbreaks—lofty goal, but worth shooting for.
The day started out with a 9 a.m. meeting at the local hospital and a report on new cases. Yesterday, the cholera early warning surveillance system Oxfam put in place with SPWSN detected new cases. For the past several weeks there were only sporadic cases, but yesterday, following a funeral the day before , 19 cases were detected. It was amazing to be there and see our early warning system working—and to learn about the response. All 19 patients were brought to the health center and the response featured bore hole repairs, the delivery of supplies to the health center (including a salt and sugar solution for oral rehydration, disinfectant, tents, and beds) and the launch of a public health education campaign for the affected community. Amazing! By getting the patients to the health center so fast the hope was to avoid more deaths—and more funerals.
As we were listening to the report, I looked over at Emile, who was absorbing all the details and asking thoughtful questions. I was glad he was there so he could return home and share what he had learned about the seriousness of the situation in a way other people might be able to understand.
Oxfam had jumped in to supply ever-scarce fuel and supplies for the response. While everyone hopes this epidemic is winding down, no one was surprised that that there were still cases erupting. The infrastructure in Zimbabwe is so broken down it will take years to build a safe water system for all to use. Our biosand filters—a water treatment method that is used in the household—will provide more long-term protection for families and hopefully prevent diarrhea for them in the coming year.
The filters arrived the other day—thanks to UPS, who shipped them from the US for free—and we swung by the warehouse to look at them: large blue buckets with very little tubing. Their simplicity is amazing. I had drawn a picture for Emile the night before and explained how they worked. When he saw them in person, his eyes lit up: it all came together. I was happy to see someone who was just as excited as me about these blue plastic buckets and their potential to save lives.
We spent the night talking about the trip—all the things we saw and experienced. I pulled out my computer and we had a discussion, using a power point lecture, about the role of evidence in humanitarian response: How do you set up an early warning surveillance? Why is it so complicated? Why is it so important? I could see that Emile was synthesizing all the things he had learned over the past week, putting them together and grasping the complexities that make up Zimbabwe.
I am looking forward to reading what he writes. I am sure I will learn something from him and can't wait.
]]>Tacked to the outside wall of a government office building in Zimbabwe, the warning served notice to all who could read English that Mudzi district is in the throes of a major public health crisis.
Like wildfire, hot spots of cholera—a waterborne diarrheal disease that can kill quickly if not treated properly-- continued to erupt in late January in this rural northeast region on the border with Mozambique. I heard about the spikes—and the challenge of stopping their spread—at the morning meetings at Kotwa hospital, where aid groups and government health officials gather to coordinate each day’s attack on the disease. Oxfam and its local partner, Single Parents Widow(er)s Support Network, or SPWSnet, are among those responding to the crisis.
Fanning out from the hospital grounds, a small team of nurses, water engineers, and public health promoters hit the road each day, traveling up to two hours to reach the more remote areas where people need everything from clean water to basic information about cholera prevention. And they return each night—sometimes long after dark—to prepare their reports for the next morning.
The news they deliver, along with their statistics, is often unsettling: Reports of people drinking from a stream in which others are washing dirty clothes and dishes; shortages of oral rehydration salts and disinfectant; an ox cart toting a patient who died before reaching a clinic. All of it paints a picture of a country crippled by hyperinflation and failing water and sanitation systems. In Mudzi, less than a third of the households have access to proper latrines, according to one estimate.
Already cholera has sickened close to 85,000 people across Zimbabwe, killing more than 3,900 of them as of Feb. 6. The World Health Organization has called it one of the largest outbreaks ever recorded. And Mudzi, poor and far from central areas of commerce and government activity, has been one of the hardest-hit districts.
Here, in Mudzi, fear of the disease is palpable. Fist bumps have replaced handshakes as people worry that palm-to-palm contact could transmit cholera. Some people are even afraid to eat, though of course they must, one man tells me.
“We are not settled,” says the man, Wonderful Nyatsuto, as he helps a SPWSnet engineer repair a deep well, known as a bore hole, about a mile and a half from his home. About 15 people in his village have contracted the disease, he says, and a third of those have died. Cases of cholera started to erupt when people began fetching their water from a nearby river after the bore hole stopped functioning. Across Mudzi, many of the region’s 600-plus boreholes no longer work and communities are too poor to repair them. But without a supply of clean water, residents face a growing danger from the disease.
“We are trying to maintain the rules they tell us,” Nyatsuto adds. “Boil water. Clean hands before you eat. Clean the toilet.”
Still, in a region where many locals supplement their meager incomes by panning for gold in a network of streams and drink the contaminated water as they labor, people are continuing to get sick.
But getting to a clinic is no easy matter. Functioning ones are few and far between. Some have no medicines. Others have no medical equipment. And so sick people trudge great distances to get the care they need. Roads are rough, sometimes barely more than tracks through the bush, cars are scarce, and fuel is both dear and hard to find—even for aid workers who have access to outside resources to buy what they need. Sometimes, aid groups have to send vehicles all the way back to Harare, the capital, a two-and-a-half hour drive from the Kotwa hospital, to scrounge for a small supply of fuel that they can port back to keep their trucks in Mudzi running.
One day in late January, 49 patients packed a clinic in Makaha, a ward in Mudzi where cases of cholera were suddenly spiking. A series of tents and one dimly lit concrete room served as wards for people stretched out, limp and mostly silent, on cholera cots—beds with large holes cut in the middle beneath which buckets are placed.
Snaking between the tents and the out buildings was a narrow path of mud bricks powdered, here and there, with flecks of white—the remnants of the dried lime-chloride used to disinfect contaminated surfaces. Mixed with water, a jug of it sat at the exit of the clinic, a reminder to all visitors to give their hands a thorough dousing.
As she finished hosing down an empty cot with the chloride solution, a nurse, her face flat with exhaustion, described some of the misery she had witnessed in the last few days. A mother, six months pregnant and very sick with cholera had managed to get herself to the clinic only to lose her baby. The next day, her husband arrived with their five-year-old son whom he had carried more than 16 kilometers from their home in search of help. Weak with cholera, the boy had died en route. And now the husband was gravely ill, too. The nurse was uncertain whether he would survive.
Behind her, on a shelf, stood a plastic barrel—a mini storage tank for the mixture of oral rehydration salts that were helping to keep the clinic’s patients alive. But the barrel had barely two inches of liquid left in it—nowhere near enough to sustain all those who desperately needed the sugar-and-salt mixture. And there was no more solution anywhere else in the clinic. Fortunately, we had a small supply of rehydration packets in our Oxfam truck and immediately gave them to the nurse. But that’s not all she needed. The clinic had just two doses left of ciprofloxacin, an antibiotic used to treat a variety of bacterial infections including severe cases of diarrhea.
Beyond the tents, was the observation area—a patch of dirt in the shade of a large tree. Here, patients waiting to be admitted slumped on the ground and those who had improved continued to rest before making the journey home. Outside the gate to the clinic, family members huddled around small cooking fires, the smoke curling around them. They were preparing food for the patients inside—a kindness that was also a cause of concern to nurses who feared cholera could soon sweep through the family support network.
Compounding the challenge of treating cholera is the widespread hunger many people in Zimbabwe are now confronting in the months leading up to the next harvest. Hunger has left people weak and more vulnerable to the disease.
The World Food Program plans to feed more than five million people in February, the greatest number in a single month since 2002. But because more people need food, the program is reducing ration size so that it can stretch its stocks far enough to accommodate everyone.
For some families, even coming up with the basics to fight cholera—such as sugar for a rehydration solution—can be daunting. Dutchman Matika tells of having to borrow sugar from a neighbor to make his wife the solution when she came down with cholera. As he speaks, two of his young sons listen intently, their hair tinged with orange—a sign of malnutrition. With 11 children and three wives in his household, Matika says mealie meal—a local staple—is in short supply.
“When you walk around, you see it,” says an aid worker about the malnutrition that has followed on the heels of several poor harvests and that’s affecting people most acutely in the interior of the country. “Poppy tummies. That’s one of the very clear indications. It’s mainly in kids. And you get wasting away in adults.”
But this year, in Mudzi, there are signs the next harvest may be better. While there is never enough fertilizer to guarantee robust crops, the rains during the current wet season have been unusually plentiful. Where corn and sorghum, millet and ground nuts have been planted, green shoots abound—slivers of hope for the future.
]]>On this day, it seemed highly symbolic: a clean sweep. It was a day which many Zimbabweans were praying would bring them change, after months of political deadlock, an ever-worsening economy, and a humanitarian crisis as the country battled its worst-ever cholera epidemic and serious food shortages.
It was the day Morgan Tsvangirai, the country's main opposition leader, was to take office as the country's prime minister in a new unity government.
Tsvangirai won the first round of last year's presidential elections by a small margin. But he withdrew from the run-off, citing violence against his supporters. In September, though, he agreed to a power-sharing arrangement with Zimbabwe's president, Robert Mugabe. However the deal had been stalled for months amid political disagreements.
While there are skeptics who say the new political arrangement is a sell-out and unlikely to achieve much, many Zimbabweans beg to differ. They view the new political arrangement with optimistic caution. Many told me things couldn't get any worse, and that the formation of a new unity government gave them cause to hope again. They believed it could mark the start of change in their country, which has seen thousands killed from cholera—a curable and preventable disease—and where up to seven million people, more than half the population, are dependent on food aid.
Later in the day, after being officially sworn into office, Zimbabwe's new prime minister addressed thousands of supporters at a packed showground in Harare.
Some attending told me they'd sold household goods—a TV set; an iron; some clothing—to get enough petrol to come to Harare to listen to Tsvangirai address the crowd as the country's new prime minister.
He promised to end political violence and Zimbabwe's culture of impunity; to work for a society where people were no longer living in fear of reprisals or repression for their views. He said Zimbabwe would not be a pseudo democracy, but a functioning democracy, where the rule of law could be re-established.
A second top priority of the new government, he said, was to tackle the humanitarian crisis, to stem the cholera epidemic which has gripped the country, and to ensure that those who needed food got help—regardless of their political or tribal affiliations.
He also promised to appoint a senior cabinet member to coordinate humanitarian efforts; to remove tax duties for humanitarian food aid, and to organize a food summit to try to ensure that in the future, Zimbabweans would not go hungry again.
And he vowed to stabilize the country's economy—characterized by crippling hyperinflation; to get children back to school, hospitals to reopen, and civil servants to return to work.
All music to the ears of the crowd and—possibly good news for international governments that have said they will carefully monitor change in Zimbabwe before making serious commitments of financial help.
The crowds in the stadium cheered, danced and waved flags. Even a reporter from a government-controlled newspaper seemed happy.
"We used to be dead," he said. "Now we are alive. This is the start of change."
]]>"We hope the government of national unity can prioritize the humanitarian crisis and mobilize all the resources it can to make swift recovery possible while working to bring broader stability to the country," said Oxfam's country director in Zimbabwe, Peter Mutoredzanwa.
Oxfam also urges the new government to create the space for the active engagement of civil society in partnership to rebuild Zimbabwe. Civil society has a critical role to play in the current humanitarian crisis and the longer-term development of the country. Oxfam also asks the new government to ensure that beyond access to basic needs, people's rights to freedom of expression, movement and security are respected and protected.
"We're calling on the new government to remove all constraints and enable our staff and staff of other civil society organizations to be able to carry out their work on the ground freely and effectively" Mutoredzanwa said.
As a direct result of the deteriorating socio-economic conditions in the country, Zimbabwe is currently struggling to control the worst- ever outbreak of cholera in its history, fuelled by the collapse of the country's public health and water systems. The cholera epidemic has claimed more than 3,000 lives, and infected more than 69,000 people. In addition, nearly seven million people, more than half the population, are relying on food hand-outs because of serious food shortages. Seriously weakened, they are more vulnerable and therefore unable to fight cholera.
Hyperinflation and the dollarization of the economy has meant millions have been unable to access basic food staples, increasing the number of people needing food aid in both urban and rural areas.
This year's harvest is predicted to be even worse than last year's and food shortages could continue into 2010. As well as dealing with immediate needs, Oxfam believes the new unity government and donors must examine ways of providing longer-term help, including inputs for farmers to prevent future food emergencies and food insecurity; and ensuring communities have access to clean water.
Oxfam calls for specific attention to be paid to the impact of this tragedy on women and girls—who bear the brunt of the HIV epidemic—are most affected by the deterioration of basic services and the lack of farm inputs.
While several governments have said they will only restore substantial aid to Zimbabwe when there is concrete evidence of political and economic reform, Oxfam urges donors to explore innovative ways to channel emergency resources to people who urgently need help and for existing pledges of aid to be translated into funds on the ground.
Oxfam supports calls for the creation of transparent mechanisms with clear benchmarks, supported by regional bodies like the African Union (AU) and Southern African Development Community (SADC), to monitor the implementation of the power-sharing agreement and policies of the new government. One key benchmark will be an open environment where civil society organizations can freely engage in a wider dialogue with the government as part of longer-term efforts to seek a resolution of Zimbabwe's problems.
]]>The song,"Cholera—Chenjerawo," which translates as "Cholera—Beware," will be played on radio stations across the country every 30 minutes. Performed by a group of musicians calling themselves Artistes for Health, it's the brainchild of some of Zimbabwe's top performers including Tanga Wekwa Sando and Oliver and Sam Mtukudzi who wanted to do something to help stop the rapid spread of the epidemic—the country's largest recorded outbreak. Cholera has now affected every province in Zimbabwe. More than 33,000 suspected cases have been reported and the disease has taken more than 1,600 lives.
The first cholera case was reported in August in a suburb of Harare. This week, at a meeting attended by government ministers, provincial governors, traditional chiefs, health experts, the commander of Zimbabwe's defense forces, diplomats, and the media, the government announced what it called a nationwide blitz to control, cure, and eliminate the disease.
"Information is the greatest tool in fighting this epidemic," declared Dr. Edward Mabhiza, permanent secretary at the Ministry of Health and Child Welfare.
The plan is to recruit as many as 20,000 volunteers to help spread messages about good hygiene. Radio jingles and messages in the papers and on television will be used in the campaign. Pamphlets and posters carrying information on how to prevent cholera are to be distributed everywhere, from beer halls to church entrances, and everyone, from provincial chiefs to soldiers, is being urged to play a part in the national effort.
Theatre groups will be also enlisted. Oxfam is already using drama groups to promote key health messages as it distributes hygiene kits to vulnerable communities across the country.
Using music, theatre, dance and humor, the groups entertain the crowds. But it's entertainment with a message, as the shows also highlight the need for careful hand washing and food hygiene.
Yet even the government, which acknowledges there is still some way to go before it can declare the epidemic under control, concedes that it needs more than educational messages to fight the cholera epidemic.
The country's sewage systems have broken down. Rubbish is no longer collected and piles up rotting on streets. Hyperinflation has caused many health workers to stay away from work, unable to live on their salaries which are paid in rapidly devaluing Zimbabwean dollars. More boreholes need to be drilled to provide clean water sources for communities. And many Zimbabweans are struggling to feed themselves.
There are worries that the epidemic could spike with the approach of the peak season of heavy rains which could spread contamination to shallow wells. There are also concerns about flooding and the movement of infected people within Zimbabwe and to other neighboring countries.
Education, though, can go a long way. And the call for action to mobilize the nation is an important step forward.
]]>2008 was an especially grim year in Zimbabwe—and prospects for the coming year seem little better. The fact that Zimbabweans were celebrating the new year at all might seem surprising. But many people, or at least those with some money living in the cities, were in the mood to party, if only for a night and to forget their worries.
Zimbabwe is gripped by economic collapse. Hyperinflation, the worst in the world, has seen prices skyrocketing, making it hard for many to access food and fuel. Last month, the country's central bank introduced a 10 billion Zimbabwean dollar banknote, but its actual worth, about $10 US dollars on the black market, is rapidly decreasing day by day. Most shops now only accept foreign currency not Zimbabwean notes.
On top of the economic meltdown, which has seen doctors, teachers, and most government staffers staying away from work because their pay in local Zimbabwean dollars won't even cover their crippling transport costs, there is a serious and worsening humanitarian crisis.
A cholera outbreak in August has now affected more than 30,000 people, and claimed the lives of more than 1,600 people, with cases now being reported across every province in the country.
Cholera is an easily preventable and treatable waterborne disease. But its spread in Zimbabwe is being fuelled by the collapse of health, sanitation, and water services. There are limited medical supplies and many don't have access to clean drinking water or proper sanitation. The onset of heavy rains this month is worsening an already alarming situation.
A second humanitarian crisis, still under-reported, is the worsening malnutrition and food shortages. There have been several years of failed harvests; a serious shortage of seeds and fertilizers; and driving hunger is forcing many to eat seeds instead of planting them for next year's crops.
The UN has warned that around five million people, more than half of the population, will soon rely on food aid.
The country is also facing political deadlock. Efforts to form a power-sharing government between the ZANU-PF party of President Robert Mugabe, who has been in power since 1980, and the opposition Movement for Democratic Change, have stalled.
I got a somber insight into many of the problems the country was facing as I visited Kadoma city in central Zimbabwe, about 112 miles west of the capital, Harare.
Oxfam has been working in the area, drilling wells so that communities can access safe drinking water, distributing hygiene kits, and undertaking health promotion work.
The health authorities have reported nearly a thousand cholera cases since mid November, with 29 deaths. Unofficial statistics put the figure even higher.
Two people had died that day; and I was shown a tent containing the wrapped corpses of seven bodies, several of which had lain there for several days and were swelling. Fuel shortages and rocketing prices meant that there were no vehicles available to take the bodies to the local cemetery.
"Things aren't stabilizing," said one nurse. "They're getting worse. We're seeing more patients every day."
With early access to treatment—intravenous fluids and oral rehydration—patients can recover quickly and be discharged within days.
But a visit to a nearby housing estate—described as a cholera "time bomb" by a senior health official—made clear why the epidemic is sweeping across the country.
The sewage system had broken down, and residents were disposing of human and other waste in the narrow lanes around their homes.
Those images haunted me as I sat in the jazz bar that night. Zimbabweans might have little to celebrate, other than surviving another difficult year; but they are still pinning their hopes that the coming year might bring some change for the better.
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