The water running through the northeast highlands of Cambodia was brown and muddy, but she was hot and needed to cool off. Later that night, Ranh woke up scratching at a rash on her hands and legs. Several months pregnant with her second child, she traveled hours by motorbike to find a medical clinic.
Weeks later, her scabs still covered in purple ointment, Ranh said she was worried her skin condition might hurt her baby. But, like so many others living downstream from the Yali Falls dam who reported rashes, stomach illnesses, and diarrhea since the dam's construction, she feels like there's no alternative to using the river to bathe and drink.
"I don't have a well at home," she said. "Even if the water looks dirty, I have to wash."
Built upstream in Vietnam and Laos, hydropower dams are rising up on the Sesan, Sekong, and Srepok Rivers that flow through Cambodia's northeast provinces, Ratanakiri and Stung Treng. Dams, such as the Yali Falls, have changed the water quality, killed whole species of fish, flooded villages, and wiped out large fields of rice.
These problems are compounded by what's happening in the nearby forests. There, armed guards stand in the thicket, threatening to arrest anyone who enters. The guards hack ax-cuts into the tree trunks, marking off ancestral land the government has sold to the highest bidder—usually a foreign company looking to start a lucrative plantation. The forests have traditionally served as a safety net for the indigenous people, providing a source of income during the "lean months" when the fish aren't spawning and the rice is too young to harvest. But when the government sells off the land, the safety net goes with it.
These dangerous circumstances threaten the very existence of the more than 66,000 people who live in these remote hills. What's worse, the indigenous people here lack any real political power. Many feel marginalized by the mainstream Khmer, who dominate the government and still associate the rural minorities with the genocide of the 1970s, which began as an agrarian revolution.
"The people here, they feel very isolated. They feel like no one from the outside will come to help them," said Kim Sangha, coordinator of the 3 S Rivers Protection Network (3SPN), an Oxfam America partner.
As the scorching sun sets on the Sesan River, the people of Taveng Lou village get to work. Men take out their fishing boats and pull in their nets. Women fill their watering cans and irrigate their gardens and rice paddies. Families wade into the shallows, bathing and collecting water for household use.
Vietnam's Yali Falls dam disrupts this daily routine. Since it became operational in 2001, the Cambodians living downstream have noticed dramatic changes. Unexpected water surges have eroded the shoreline, depositing silt, sand, and rocks in the deep pools where fish live. And the fluctuating water levels have either swept away nets or left them high and dry.
All in all, villagers here say they've seen a 70 percent drop-off in their fish catch.
"Before, you used to be able to put a pot on the fire, walk down to the river, and catch some fish—all before the water boiled," said Em Vuthy, deputy governor of Taveng District. "Now you can spend a whole day and get one fish."
Beyond reducing the number of fish, the dam has altered the way people farm along the Sesan River. Traditionally, the villagers depended on the overflow of the river to water their plants and rice during the wet season. During the dry season, they would plant different crops that could handle the heat and scarcity of water. But now people like Mean Trosh, a mother of seven who grows cabbage, watercress, pumpkins, red chilies, eggplants, and rice along the water, can't plan around the seasons; the dam creates unexpected floods. Trosh says she tries to plant on higher ground, but even those gardens and rice paddies have been destroyed.
"When the water level changes, it rises quickly and goes down quickly," she said. "Last year, I tried to grow rice along the river, but it was damaged by the floods."
According to the villagers and Oxfam partners, the Yali Falls dam was built with no formal assessment of the environmental and social impacts downstream in Cambodia. And right now, more than a dozen dam projects like it are already in the works along the "3 S Rivers"—the Sesan, Srepok, and Sekong—that flow from the central highlands of Vietnam and southern Laos downstream to the northeast provinces of Cambodia.
Last August, a huge flood along the Srepok River inundated at least 15 villages in Stung Treng and Ratanakiri. More than 650 families were affected. Months later, sitting on the wooden floor of their village pagoda under a cascade of prayer flags, Dae Low villagers shouted over each other as they recalled what happened.
Villagers reported hearing a bulletin on the radio that one of the dams under construction would be releasing water for a few days. But by the time the bulletin aired, the Srepok was already rising. Many of the villagers didn't have access to radios. Those who did, lost time warning family and friends. When they returned home, their chickens, pigs, and water buffalo had drowned. Their vegetables had been washed away. More than 1,300 rice fields were destroyed—an entire year's harvest.
"We are very worried about the future," said the village chief, Prom Phally. "We don't know how to prepare for these floods."
The people of Cambodia's northeast highlands depend primarily on fishing and farming to make a living. But they have always looked to their forests as sacred places. They supplement their income by collecting local plants there and gather herbs for traditional medicines. During the dry season, when the green grass turns to yellow straw, they let their livestock wander into the woods for food and water.
At 67, Seth Gnal makes the three-mile trek to the woods near the Srepok River every three days. Together with family members, he collects tree resin to repair and maintain his fishing boats. He uses what's left to fuel the torches that illuminate his home in Kbal Romeas village.
Gnal feels threatened by his new neighbors: foreign-funded, Cambodian-fronted land concessionaires. These are the companies that make use of Cambodia's weak land titling laws to buy up what indigenous people consider their land. Even before these companies clear the land to plant single crops like teak—a hardwood requiring at least a decade to mature before it can be logged—they pay armed guards to prevent the local people from coming through.
"Before, the indigenous people in the village always went to the forests to gather vines, resin, rattan, and honey to sell," said Kim Deung, another villager. "Now, if we go into the forest, the guards will catch and arrest us. We're afraid to go in."
According to locals, the plantation owners have promised to give them work. But it's usually people from the larger towns who get hired. And even then, the pay is poor: less than $2 a day.
At the same time, the concessions often encroach on land the indigenous people use to grow rice. This situation forces them to remain on the few parcels of land they already occupy. For farmers and fishers who typically move every 15 years to allow the soil to regenerate, it threatens the farmers' ability to feed their families. Many people end up producing so little that they must sell the rice they grow and borrow the rice they eat.
"The Forest Administration tells us we can't clear some of the forest for more rice fields, yet the concessionaires are permitted to clear the forest and sell the trees," Gnal said.
To make matters worse, the land concession sales slowly strip the local people of their culture. As Estela Estoria, a program officer in Oxfam America's East Asia office explained, the 15-year interval of farming is so engrained in the highlanders' way of life that they use the Khmer word for these farms—chamka—to measure the ages of their friends and family members. A 15-year-old is one chamka. A 30-year-old, two.
"The indigenous people don't know why this is happening to them," Estoria said. Animists and Buddhists, "they feel like God or their ancestors are angry with them."
The work of Oxfam's partners begins here, teaching the local people about the outside forces impinging on their lifestyle and working with them to advocate on their own behalf.
Local o rganizations like 3SPN, the Culture-Environment Preservation Association, and the NGO Forum on Cambodia encourage the highlanders to use their indigenous knowledge to keep written records about the changes in their environment. The records describe which species of fish are dying off, how quickly the water is rising or falling, and which plants have been eliminated by the clearing of the trees. Then the partners train members of the communities to form local networks. Through these networks, the network leaders, called "focal people," teach the villagers to consolidate their research, write petitions to land concession companies, and even speak out at stakeholder meetings of dam developers and governments.
As a result of this work, officials of Electricity of Vietnam, the agency behind the hydropower dams in that country, met to discuss the environmental and social impacts on the Srepok River basin this past January. It was the first time in more than a decade that the Cambodian indigenous people affected by these projects could speak directly with the Vietnamese government, the Cambodian government, and the donors funding the construction.
The indigenous people used the opportunity to ask for compensation for their lost livelihoods, fishing boats, and equipment. They asked for a share of the benefits of the dam, such as electricity transmission lines for their community. And they asked that no new dams be constructed without their consultation.
According to news accounts, the Vietnamese government agreed to "implement dam projects with bilateral agreements, follow international treaties, look to having the citizens of Vietnam and Cambodia gain income," and reduce environmental impact. The Cambodian government said it would work on reducing the impact of the dams on local people and the environment.
Having accomplished this much already, Oxfam's Cambodian partners hope to increase the participation of indigenous people in dam projects and land concession disbursements. It's a slow path to success, but in a country working to overcome so much, the progress is historic.
"It was amazing to realize that the ministries were all raising the same issues as the local authorities and villagers. Everyone was just waiting for a legitimate platform to speak out," said Sangha of 3SPN. "Now we need to follow up with the national governments to make sure they come through on their promises. That's the biggest challenge."
With additional reporting by Brett Eloff.
]]>"Cambodia needs a very good new petroleum law and expertise from Oxfam and World Bank would be very interesting," said Than Sina, chair of the National Assembly's planning and investment commission, at the first national public forum on extractive industries in April.
Oxfam America organized the event in Phnom Penh, which was attended by more than 130 members of the public, media, government, the private sector, and diplomatic missions.
"It would be a big opportunity for the government to draft a good law. We can't do it by ourselves, but with the help of Oxfam and other groups we have a good chance of making it work – other wise, Cambodia will be like Chad," Sina added. In Chad, a much vaunted plan to direct oil revenues towards poverty reduction, backed by the World Bank, has unraveled and the population has seen few concrete benefits from the oil boom there.
Chevron and other companies are currently exploring oil fields in Cambodian territorial waters. It is possible that oil production could begin in 2010, although the probability of finding significant oil reserves is not known. Sina said that oil and gas exploration represents a great opportunity for Cambodia because other natural resources such as timber and fish are quickly depleting.
Oxfam welcomes and supports the government's intention to work with other organizations to make development that supports poor communities part of the agenda. Our work centers around helping civil society and the wider population engage with the government before the new law is created. The current Cambodian Petroleum Act regulations were adopted by the Council of Ministers in 1991.
Oxfam's extensive extractive industries program in South America, Central America, United States, West Africa, and East Asia seeks to ensure that oil, gas and mining projects are designed in ways that respect the rights of the poor, and contribute to the long-term reduction of poverty.
In several countries, Oxfam has supported local groups to influence the development of new petroleum and mining laws. In Bolivia, for example, the new government's hydrocarbons law increased the rights of local communities to be consulted before oil and gas projects moved forward, and gave the National Assembly the ability to approve individual projects.
"The promise of oil wealth for Cambodia presents an opportunity to reduce poverty. But, experiences from other countries show that, on a variety of economic indicators, those that become dependent on oil as their leading export have often performed worse than countries without oil," said Ian Gary, extractive industries policy advisor for Oxfam America.
"While no country is perfect, there are positive elements of particular country experiences that Cambodia could draw upon. Nigeria, for example, has completed three audits under the "Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative," Gary said.
Oxfam also highlighted the experience of the joint government and civil society Petroleum Revenue Oversight and Control Committee in Chad. While the Chad experiment with oil revenue management has largely unravelled, this Committee formed in 2002 and tasked with approving social spending projects using oil revenues, made some strides to provide checks and balances in government spending. "In many countries, local civil society organizations have played a crucial monitoring role to try to ensure that oil, gas and mining revenues are used for beneficial purposes," Gary said.
Cambodian civil society could draw upon the experiences of other national level coalitions involved in the global Publish What You Pay campaign, which is a coalition over 300 NGOs worldwide who calls for the mandatory disclosure of the payments made by oil, gas and mining companies' to all governments for the extraction of natural resources. Publish What You Pay also calls on resource-rich developing country governments to publish full details on revenues.
After a preliminary meeting in August, Oxfam brought together a number of key organizations in January, including World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS), and PACT Cambodia. The groups reviewed proposed oil and mining projects and discussed ways to ensure that future revenues contribute to sustainable development in the region.
In recent months, companies from the US, China, and Australia have scrambled to obtain mining rights in Cambodia, a country rich in untapped resources. BHP Billiton, Southern Gold, Oxiana, Chevron, and other companies have signed deals with the government to explore indigenous lands, including protected forests, for minerals such as bauxite, gold and copper and offshore areas for oil and gas.
"The rapid pace of the development means that we might not have a say about if it happens, but more how it happens," said Warwick Browne, a program officer in Oxfam America's East Asia office.
The future revenues from the extraction of resources could add up to several billions of dollars a year in the near future, according to estimates by local organizations. That amount is expected to dwarf Cambodia's current economy, which is currently based on foreign aid, agriculture, and garment manufacturing.
With that sort of cash influencing the government's actions, Oxfam and other non-governmental organizations say they will have to act as watchdogs over the burgeoning extractive industries, making sure that the affected indigenous people get a say in the whole development process—and if and when oil and mining projects should even move forward on their ancestral lands.
"Now they're just exploring, but it's important to get people involved early on. By participating, we want to avoid environmental, social, and cultural impacts," said Chhith Sam Ath, executive director of The NGO Forum on Cambodia, an Oxfam partner. "We also want to empower communities to have some decision-making power."
NGOs have long played an important role in advocating for Cambodian people and their rights over natural resources. Back in the early 1980s, when the country began rebuilding after the devastating reign of the Khmer Rouge, groups like WWF and WCS began their campaign to conserve the forests of the northeast highlands, those threatened then by a sudden influx of illegal logging, and now by the extraction of minerals.
The organizations made the issue a zero-sum game, said Joe Walston, country program director for WCS. There was little conversation about how logging revenue could help Cambodia, only about how it would hurt the affected ethnic communities and biodiversity. With mining, the groups need to think more broadly and consider how mining could actually fuel the economy, Walston said.
The biggest challenge for Cambodia will be avoiding the "resource curse." when countries rich in resources are essentially cursed by their bounty instead of blessed by it. Unable to translate their resources into a strong economy, some countries actually become poorer when large-scale mineral, gas, and oil companies generate export revenues that are either squandered or misused.
"Oxfam and its partners need to engage with the government and corporations to make sure that affected communities are not left worse off," Browne said. "At the same time, Cambodia needs to follow best practices and international standards so that oil, gas, and mining can be managed in a just and equitable way."
]]>Now, "the field" may sound like an exotic place, full of adventure and intrigue. As a Boston-based writer for Oxfam, that's usually what I've experienced during visits to mountain villages in China, rice farms in Cambodia, and coffee farms in Guatemala. Then I spent a week with Estela in late January, traveling to the northeast highlands of Cambodia. The trip gave me a whole new understanding of the sort of challenges Oxfam's dozens of program officers face.
People like Estela work full-time while finishing their PhDs. They leave their home countries—the Philippines, China, Australia, Vietnam—to live in poor communities. They develop not only specialized knowledge but also the people skills to share it. But beyond the impressive credentials and the wealth of experience, theirs is hard, hard work – and it requires a good deal of patience and flexibility. Luckily for Oxfam, program officers like Estela seem to genuinely enjoy what they do. In fact, it's the messy, uncomfortable, generally stressful work they like the most.
It was a Monday morning, and we were flying north in a chartered plane no bigger than a minivan. Estela was chaperoning photographer Brett Eloff and me during a trip to interview the indigenous people who live near the Sesan and Srepok rivers. We were on our way to Ratanakiri and Stung Treng, Cambodia's least populated provinces, which sit along the Vietnamese and Laotian borders. Brett sat in front with the pilot, Estela and I sat in the middle, and two other passengers sat in the back.
We passed over the snaking Mekong River, the source of life and livelihood for so many Cambodians. Dry rice fields blanketed the ground below.A thick expanse of trees gave way toa patchwork of square fishing plots on the Srepok River.
As we climbed higher, the small plane caught the wind under its wings, skidding a bit atop the clouds. Clutching my seat, I looked over at Estela who gave me an encouraging smile. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once.
Two hours later, the plane touched down on a red-dirt runway doubling as a playground. We loaded our sleeping bags and backpacks into a waiting SUV, and traveled a few miles to the local office of our partner, 3SPN. After a quick PowerPoint presentation and lunch, we were back in the SUV, four of us crammed into the backseat for the two-hour ride to a village in the Taveng District. As we nodded in and out of sleep, our driver artfully navigated the dusty roads, slowing down to maneuver around holes and bumps. By the time we arrived at the village, it was late in the afternoon and the sun was dipping in the sky.
Like many Cambodian villages, Taveng Lou was overrun by livestock. Roosters, chickens, pigs, and water buffalo wandered freely. Giant stilts held up wooden homes with thatched roofs. Children huddled in clusters and stared at outsiders, the smallest kids running around in the buff. Dirt was everywhere, except in the homes, which mothers and daughters meticulously swept clean.
With the light fading and the mosquitoes emerging, we set out on a trek to interview and photograph the villagers. I wanted to talk with the indigenous people who are struggling to maintain their lifestyle despite the construction of a dam upstream in Vietnam. The dam has polluted their drinking water, decimated their fish catch, and wiped out their rice fields.
We hiked to the Sesan River, crossing a suspended bridge rickety enough to test anyone's sense of balance. But when we got to the water, we couldn't find any fishers or farmers. The local people used to depend on the river for their livelihoods. Now, many villagers have simply moved away. Others are spending more and more time trying to supplement their incomes, going deep into the nearby forest to collect honey and rattan to sell.
Kim Sangha, the executive director of 3SPN, told us we'd have to look for people by boat. Getting to the boat, however, required scaling the muddy banks of the river. Estela and I held hands to make it down together. As we stepped into the small fishing canoe, we worried aloud about capsizing it. Before we knew it, though, we were in and on our way. The sun reflected off the water as we motored past sandbars and fishing traps.
Spotting a riverside gardener, we brought the canoe ashore and got to work. Sangha, Estela, and I interviewed the woman, who depends on the natural flow of the river to irrigate her vegetables. The water flow has been erratic since the dam construction. Her gardens have sometimes been flooded and destroyed.
After the interviews, we headed back to the village chief's home to eat and spend the night. When we got there, covered in dust, I remembered what Estela had told me before the trip. No running water in this village. No wells. No pumped water of any kind. We'd have to bathe in the Sesan River.
We walked down to the water. As I leaned against a canoe to balance myself while changing into a sarong, I realized that Estela had no intention of getting in the river. The villagers had told her too many times how dirty the water had gotten since the dams were built. Some reported getting skin diseases.
Given that this was my only source of water, though, I felt like I had no other choice. As I entered the water, Ame Tandem, another 3SPN staffer, warned me that the rocks were slippery, covered with the algae growing uncontrolled since the dams had changed the water's flow. I grabbed her hand as I slithered in. Estela watched us from the shore, using her handiwipes to clean up.
I was cold and feeling ridiculous. Then I looked up. Before me, a sky full of stars. Behind me, the sunset cast an orange glow over the horizon. It was a good way to end a very long day.
Our pocket flashlights guided us back to the village chief's house. We were tired and ready for our beds – sleeping bags under mosquito nets. But Estela informed us that the district chief and his deputy were waiting to speak with us. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But it was the culturally appropriate gesture. So, I did what Estela does every visit. I sat down and listened.
The next couple of days were more of the same, long car drives to dusty villages. Somewhere along the way I ate something I shouldn't have, maybe an undercooked vegetable, maybe something else. It was my second bout of food poisoning in five days. On top of that, I was exhausted and irritable. I told Estela I didn't know how she did this all the time.
That Thursday, CEPA, another partner organization that works with river communities, took us on our next trip. By this time, I'd had plenty of experience with the rough, unpaved roads we'd need to travel to get to the next village. So I was surprised when our driver showed up not in a four-wheel drive, but a 1980s Toyota Camry with no air conditioning. As the driver flew down the road, much faster than felt safe, we sat quietly in the backseat, sweating through our clothes. What else could we do? In these situations, Oxfam staff have to just go with the arrangements made for them.
Finally, our driver's recklessness led to the inevitable. While trying to cross a dried-up riverbed too fast, we got a flat tire. We were 11 miles from the village and in the middle of a forest. The driver had a spare, but after changing the tire, he announced that he was leaving us and would like to be paid for the gas required for his trip back home.
My patience exhausted, I started to argue. But Estela stopped me. There was nothing else we could do, she explained. It was better to just pay the man and move on. We ended up laughing in disbelief at our situation as we waited a few hours for another car to pick us up.
And, making the best of things yet again, Estela pulled her hammock out of her backpack, tied it to a tree, and took a nap.
By the time we made it back to Phnom Penh on Friday afternoon, I was cranky and feeling weak. All I really wanted to do was stumble into my hotel room, take a shower, and go to bed.
It took the weekend to get over my food illness. When I arrived at Oxfam's Phnom Penh office Monday morning, I was still shaky, and quite itchy from mosquito bites. But there was Estela, bustling about, neatly dressed in a pretty linen skirt and blouse.
She told me she was getting ready to leave for Vietnam the next day. Watching her run around the office, trying to secure her entrance visa and finalize last-minute details, I was astounded. A week in the rough had worked me over. Estela seemed invigorated by it, and eager for more.
"Going to the field keeps me energized," she explained. "I love talking to the local people, hearing their stories and experiencing their culture. No matter how difficult their situations, they always seem to not only survive, but live happily. The trips inform my work – and they remind me why I came to Oxfam in the first place."
]]>They want to sidestep outside lenders who charge exorbitant interest rates.
They want to put their savings somewhere safe, instead of hiding it in a suitcase or cupboard.
And they want to keep their money in the community so they can make loans to villagers, and pay for health care, education, farm tools, or extra help. For countless poor people around the world, having a safe place to save and access to that savings when a need arises means a way out of poverty.
"I want to use the money to buy a rice mill," says Ros Dy, a rice and vegetable farmer. "A rice mill is very good to keep in the group."
While an estimated 60 million of the world's self-employed have access to small loans from NGOs or private lenders, at least 200 million more are too poor or live in areas too remote for such services.
Oxfam America is working with local partners in Cambodia, Mali, and Senegal to develop a community finance approach that trains poor people to save what they can and distribute it within their villages—for an investment of about $20 per savings group member.
Oxfam and its partners use this methodology to combat poverty on a large scale with low costs, local control, and an easy-to-replicate format, said Jeffrey Ashe, the manager of the Community Finance program.
"What you want to do is drop that pebble in the water and see the ripples spread," he said.
How do you to teach the world's poorest people to save when many cannot read or write? Through active participation, Ashe said.
When Oxfam staff traveled to Mali in February to train Senegalese and Malian partners on how to form savings groups, they learned that some Western methods—like drawing on paper with markers—didn't really work too well.
"But if you drew in the dirt, people understood because they could do it themselves," Ashe said.
In May, that theme carried through to Cambodia, where Oxfam staff watched its local partner, the Centre d'Etude et de Développement Agricole Cambodgien (CEDAC), trade stories with villagers as a way to get them talking.
By asking questions and responding through stories, savings groups could decide who got a loan and at what interest rate. And they could establish rules for when money should be repaid.
"It's all very discussion-based," Ashe said. "You ask, ‘What would you like to do with your money? Well, how much would that cost?'"
By June, Oxfam staff and local partners were watching their simple, accessible approach take off.
In West Africa, partners Conseil et Appui pour l'Education a la Base (CAEB) and Le Tonus reported forming more than 200 village savings groups with an average of 24 members each in just six weeks. Some planned on divvying up the cash to individuals at the end of the saving cycle, while others focused on using the money to benefit the whole community—purchasing a grain mill or cultivating vegetables for sale at local markets.
In Cambodia, CEDAC reported plans to retrain its current base of 700 savings groups and add 300 new groups in just one year of using the new methodology. Ashe said CEDAC is in a position to actually accomplish it.
They have plenty of experience pulling communities together. Many of their savings groups are actually farmer associations that focused on specific high-yield agriculture techniques. Others had formed to work as self-help groups. Transitioning intosavings represents a natural progression.
But it can work in the other direction, too. Once a savings group is formed, it can take on other goals, like agriculture, health issues, or literacy. First though, the partners have to build up trust with villagers, said Vincent Wierda, the Community Finance Specialist in Oxfam's East Asia office.
"When it comes to saving together, it's a test of leadership to manage and protect the money jointly," Wierda said. Partners like "CEDAC allow a community to get used to the idea before pooling their money like this."
This is the first step in a long process of community finance, Wierda said. "Within four to six years, most of these villages should have the resources to effect change in their communities."
]]>Over a week in August, the river rose and this season's flood threat began. On Aug. 21, the swirling waters leapt over the banks at Thakhek, Mukdahahan, and Pakse in Lao PDR. The water continued to move closer to Cambodia, further downstream.
Last week, Oxfam America partner, Culture-Environment Preservation Association (CEPA), reported the water reaching emergency levels in Kratie province, Cambodia. Water levels were as high as 72 feet in some places. And, at one point, the Mekong was just three feet short of the flood warning level in Phnom Penh.
In Stung Treng province, officials issued flood warnings. About 250 acres of rice fields in Stung Treng were soaked in the flood water for more than a week. Farmers who depend on agriculture now fear losing their crops if the water takes much longer to recede.
Further along the river in Kompong Cham province, officials declared a state of emergency Aug. 20. Emergency workers set up sandbags along the river close to Kompong Cham town. Some families were evacuated to higher ground.
Though Oxfam cannot deter the water, we hope to reduce losses through the Community Based Flood Preparedness Project. Three years ago Oxfam Great Britain, supported with funding from other Oxfam affiliates including Oxfam America, started the Community-Based Flood Preparedness Project in Takéo province.
Villagers were taught how to raise their homesteads by building up the ground above flood level. This way their lives and belongings can be safe at the time of flood and storm.
They received training in first aid and public health education.
And safety was made a top priority. Life jackets, water containers and water filters for safe drinking, family boats, and a shared safe evacuation area for five or six villages are now available.
Since most Cambodians living in the flood-risk provinces are subsistence farmers and fishers who live below the poverty line, those who do not prepare have little capacity to recover. The preparation project helps people live as normal a life as possible during the floods, said Sau Si Samuth, Oxfam humanitarian program officer.
For example, women in Takéo can use the family boats to collect water plants. "At two in the morning they take what they have gathered to the market. They cannot afford to be without this lifeline for one day. Oxfam supports these women to maintain their family boats. Wood is taken to the community where the carpenters fix it. For each tree cut down, new trees are planted," Sau Si Samuth said.
A Village Disaster Management Committee encouraged the communities to be prepared for the coming flood. At the time of flood, the committee again helped their own people prevent any accidents that might occur. Because of the relative success in this province, Oxfam and its partners, Care Cambodia, World Vision and the National Committee for Disaster Management have visited other parts to increase the range of the flood preparedness project in the future.
Oxfam already has an assessment team in place for this approaching flood. They closely track the water level in all the provinces along the Mekong River, and in other flooded areas in Cambodia. A situation report will be drafted to inform the wider Oxfam humanitarian team based in Bangkok and Oxford, other Oxfam affiliates, and donors. The National Commission for Disaster Management and interested NGOs will be consulted on plans to assist the affected communities if the need arises.
Once the rain stops in early October, the people living along the Mekong might sleep easier, without the threat of floods at the back of their minds. But at least now they are better prepared.
]]>Five men from the Community Cooperative for Rural Development, or CCRD, an Oxfam partner organization, stood along the mill's perimeter, watching it work. Serious and proud, they admired their prize: the only certified organic rice mill in the country.
Cambodian rice farmers, long vulnerable to fluctuating prices and heavy regional competition, are looking to organic rice to help them carve out a niche in the market. As eating healthily has become more popular around the world, so has organic food. Organic products sell for a higher price than conventionally farmed food. In a country where more than a third of the population lives on less than $1 a day and more than half depends on agriculture, the organic advantage could translate into a reliable and steady income.
"The momentum is really growing," said Le Thi Nguyet Minh, an Oxfam America program officer in the East Asia office. "We need to maintain it."
Maintaining the organic momentum requires establishing farming cooperatives, which are equipped to work in the organic market. This transition represents a huge practical and emotional leap for many Khmer farmers.
The bloody civil war and subsequent genocide that ravaged Cambodia left many Khmer people distrustful of both their neighbors—and any sort of collective work, said Yann Omer-Kassin, an Oxfam Quebec field advisor supporting CCRD.
Even the words "farming cooperative" pose a problem. In Khmer, they translate into "work camp," a term that conjures up painful fears or memories of Khmer Rouge death camps. Many of the people Kassin talked to in Pursat said they were wary of joining a farming coop "because it's linked to a horrible past."
Because of these cultural sensitivities, CCRD staff work slowly and patiently to convert farmers to organic production. They spend much of their time simply building trust in the cooperative concept. They point to the tangible benefits of organic production.
Farmers are encouraged to use animal manure instead of chemical fertilizers—a requirement of organic certification. The resulting savings can be used—to grow other crops, or send children to school. If farmers use natural fertilizer, they can also prevent illness. Many farmers and farm workers get sick because they can't read the labels on the chemicals they use. Many of the chemicals are so dangerous they're prohibited in other countries.
Tang Eum, 47, a rice farmer in Pursat, said she began farming organic rice three years ago. She said natural fertilizer doesn't always produce as much rice as chemical fertilizer. But she's willing to accept that tradeoff if it means her family and friends won't get sick.
CCRD has converted at least 75 of the 1,500 farmers in its collective to farm organic. Their support is crucial. Many of the rice farmers face the same challenges organic and fair trade coffee farmers saw when they first learned about the new model. Many have farmed small plots with chemicals for generations. They need help learning new agriculture techniques so that they can someday grow as much rice as they had before.
Then they need help getting the experience, technical assistance, and market access to pull it all off.
It is a challenging task, CCRD workers said. But knowing what they do about the potential benefits keeps them motivated. Eventually they want to help local farmers not only farm organically, but take the next logical step, and sell to the fair trade market.
Fair Trade Certified™ products are high quality and grown through practices friendly to the environment. Farmers receive a minimum price even when the market price is low. According to a 2005 market study, if farmers made the transition from conventional growing to fair trade organic they could see their profits more than double.
Sitting at a wood table outside her house in Pursat, Tang Eum said she knows what she wants to do with that extra money. A mother and a businesswoman, she would use it to support her family and sell her rice.
"I want to use the money to send my children to school," she said. "And I want to buy a moto to go to the market in town."
]]>Some live along the lakeshore in small shacks built on stilts. Others live on the water in moored houseboats, rafts, and barges. From these simple homes, the fishers hurl out their lines and pull up their baskets, hoping to catch enough to feed their families and satisfy the middlemen in the fish trade.
According to the Fisheries Action Coalition Team (FACT), an Oxfam-funded partner organization in Cambodia, the fishers help support about 1.5 million people.
"The Tonle Sap is very, very important, not only for the people who live on and around the lake, but for all of Cambodia," said Pen Raingsey, project officer at FACT.
Each year, monsoon rains and melting snows from the Himalayas feed the Mekong River, swelling the Tonle Sap Lake. This yearly pattern nourishes a diverse underwater world of flooded forests and more than 100 species of fish.
But because the Tonle Sap is not only a source of food, but also a route for transportation and commerce, it faces increasing risks. Neighboring countries, corporations, and regional finance institutions want to blast rapids, develop hydropower dams, and build harbors on the Tonle Sap and its connecting waterways.
For fishers accustomed to picking up and moving with the changing tides, it's a difficult process to learn about these threats, let alone do anything about them. Water nomads as they are, fishers don't always meet up with their neighbors, or feel comfortable voicing their opposition to the government.
That's where the Fisheries Action Coalition Team comes in. The group navigates the Tonle Sap, networking with fishers and bringing them to shore to meet, exchange information, and tell decision-makers what effect their developments will have. Then FACT compiles the research into a database and uses it to refute claims that certain developments would have no negative impacts.
Because of this work, fishers on the Tonle Sap say they feel empowered to protect their way of life.
Sitting on a small motorboat in the middle of the muddy waters of the Tonle Sap, Ly Saloeun, 53, said FACT trained him to write reports, and work with his neighbors to advocate for change.
He is one of many key fishers, each learning how to protect their community.
"We want to encourage the local community to raise their concerns to the decision makers," Raingsey said. "Before, people had no time or rights. Now, when a problem occurs, they can find a way to resolve that problem."
]]>Amid cheers from a throng of enthusiastic supporters and international media, Make Trade Fair won the day.
Oxfam's trade campaign was launched.
Within hours of the Hong Kong debut, events were held in 25 cities including Brussels, Dublin, Geneva, Mexico City, San Salvador, and Washington, D.C. These events ranged from press conferences and symposiums to a rock concert in London’s Trafalgar Square.
Oxfam's trade campaign seeks to unite concerned citizens around the world in calling for fair trade policies that will help move millions of people out of poverty.
Nobel Prize Professor Amartya Sen, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, and musician and social activist Bono were among those who endorsed the campaign. "Oxfam has got it right," said Bono. "It wouldn't cost much to change the rules of trade so that poor countries can work their way out of poverty. But the world's leaders won't act unless they hear enough people telling them."
Also in this issue of EXCHANGE, writers Frances and Anna Lappé discuss their book Hope's Edge: The Next Diet for a Small Planet, and we bring you updates on Oxfam's work with water and sanitation, drought in Ethiopia, and indigenous women in the highlands of Peru who are speaking out after decades of violence.
]]>Oxfam's innovative approach to community finance breaks with that of traditional microfinance institutions. Saving for Change trains large numbers of savings and credit groups in the poorest regions of the world to save together and make loans to each other with their own resources instead of taking out a loan from a bank, credit union or microfinance institution.
"The first Saving for Change group was trained three years ago. Today, over 150,000 villagers in Mali and Cambodia have already joined savings and lending groups," said Raymond C. Offenheiser, president of Oxfam America. "With the support of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, we will reach close to 550,000 villagers in the next three years."
With this growth, Saving for Change will become the largest microfinance program in these two countries and the only one reaching the rural poor at this scale. Village groups act as their own community banks, providing villagers with a place to save and easy access to loans. As a result, poor people living in remote areas with little or no financial institutions can access self-managed financial services to build assets, increase incomes, and improve the livelihoods of their families.
"Not only is Saving for Change different because it is based on saving instead of borrowing, it also relies on person-to-person training and relationships instead of technology. This helps build trust and ultimately makes the savings and lending groups more sustainable," said Offenheiser.
Oxfam will use this grant to replicate its community finance model in communities throughout Mali and Cambodia. In addition, it will allow the organization an opportunity to explore further program growth in Latin America.
Millions of people in Asia and Africa live on one dollar a day or less, and few have access to savings or other financial services that can help them increase their financial security and improve their lives. Without places to save, it is difficult for families to build savings to pay for educational fees, medical bills, or emergencies. Others have little or no access to micro loans that could improve their incomes through investments like setting up a small sales kiosk, buying crop fertilizer, or acquiring an animal for breeding.
Funding to expand Saving for Change comes from the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation's Financial Services for the Poor initiative, which works with partners to make savings and other financial services available in developing countries so the poor can better manage life's risks and take advantage of life's opportunities.
"The innovative savings and lending approach has been successful at bringing affordable financial services to people with very low incomes living in remote communities," said Bob Christen, director of the Financial Services for the Poor initiative. "We believe that Saving for Change's groups will open the door to opportunity and increased household financial security for many poor people."
The grant also supports program evaluation and research that will help document and fully measure Oxfam's impact on communities. Researchers will be asking key questions on the affect participating in Saving for Change has including:
"The research component of this grant will help us fine tune our program so that it best meets the needs of the poor," concluded Offenheiser. "Documenting Saving for Change's success will also help build momentum for expanding savings-led community finance programs around the world."
Saving for Change is implemented by Oxfam America in collaboration with Freedom from Hunger and Norway-based Stromme Foundation. Freedom from Hunger's support includes developing training manuals, and contributing technical assistance for the planning, implementation and evaluation of the program. Stromme Foundation, along with The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, underwrites the costs for the teams training savings and lending groups in Mali.
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