More than 6 million farmers across the country grow teff, but it’s here, in rugged Adi Ha, where rocks litter the fields like confetti, that this new kind of insurance may take root and spread. An initiative coordinated by Oxfam America and supported by more than a dozen partners, its goal is to help some of the world’s poorest farmers bounce back when drought destroys their crops. And the payout isn’t only in cash. It’s in confidence—the kind that may help propel people out of poverty.
“Without insurance, poor farmers who experience drought might run through all their savings, fall into debt, or sell their livestock and other valuables—often to ruinous results,” says Mengesha Gebremichael, the micro-insurance officer at the Relief Society of Tigray and one of the project’s managers. “In contrast, insured farmers will be more resilient to those shocks. They’ll be in a better position to take out small loans that could help them make big improvements in their next harvest—loans for things like high-yield seeds. They’ll be more confident that they can pay the money back knowing they have insurance to support them if trouble strikes.”
June to October marks the main rainy season in Adi Ha, a critical time for local farmers who depend on the skies to water their teff fields. For poor families living close to the edge, where even a $20 or $30 loss can push them over, there is no room for mishap. Without rain, they face disaster. That’s where the weather insurance comes in. If a certain amount of rain fails to fall at a certain time, farmers who have purchased the insurance can receive a payout to help cover their losses.
In Ethiopia, families have always had traditional ways of coping with extraordinary expenses. If they lose their livestock in a disaster, such as drought, those who are better off will contribute an animal or two to help them rebuild their herds, for instance. Families may also share seeds for planting, or food when it’s in terribly short supply.
But with climate change—and the erratic weather that it brings—the traditional means of surviving bad times may no longer be enough.
“Climate change is dramatically increasing agricultural risk across the planet,” says Marjorie Victor Brans, a senior policy advisor at Oxfam America. “The frequency of droughts and other shocks in Adi Ha is likely to increase, and poor farmers will be among the hardest hit. It’s a hugely challenging phenomenon.”
With 85 percent of Ethiopians employed in farming, much of it rain-fed, the need for new tools to manage the risks is huge. But the market for insurance is miniscule: only about 300,000 people in a country of nearly 80 million now have it. Extending the option to rural areas is loaded with challenges, not the least of them being the concern that poor farmers simply don’t have the money to pay for premiums—even the smallest one.
This new program has solved that problem with a simple solution: It has arranged for the poorest farmers to use their labor to buy insurance, tapping into a new social security initiative the Ethiopian government launched a few years ago. Called the Productive Safety Net Program, or PSNP, it helps about 8 million of the country’s most vulnerable residents by providing them with food or cash in exchange for work. Through the PSNP, 130 Adi Ha farmers are now working extra days on community projects, such as planting trees and grasses to promote soil and water conservation, to pay for their premiums. In this pilot year, Oxfam provided funds to the PSNP to cover this part of the project.
The option to trade labor for insurance has substantially boosted the number of farmers able to participate in the program, nearly doubling the enrollment that was expected.
“It’s good for me to have the insurance as long as I can work and pay with labor,” says Medhin Reda, a single mother who will be working 24 days for her premium. “That is the only asset I have.”
For Selas Samson Biru, who is spending 192 birr on insurance, it will help address the uncertainties that have always been part of farming, especially now that global warming may be altering familiar weather patterns.
“Our season is changing. We don’t know when there will be a bad year and when there will be a good year,” she says. “I believe, after taking the training, this insurance will be helpful during the bad season. This will pay me.”
And the insurance may be extra helpful because it was tailored specifically for farmers like Biru. In fact, she was one of five community members chosen by villagers to join the insurance design team. Twenty-one other farmers participated in a series of test workshops on climate change and financial literacy. Focus group discussions and economic risk simulations carried out in the community helped the design team understand what kind of insurance product would work best in Adi Ha. And on the day of enrollment, about 600 farmers showed up for a host of activities explaining the offerings, including musical performances, a play, peer-to-peer outreach, and financial training.
“Today is a historic day for the farmers of Adi Ha,” said Brans as the activities wound to a close that day and organizers counted the final tally of takers. Among the 200 were 75 women, which represents about 22 percent of all female-headed households in Adi Ha—one of the most vulnerable groups the project is aiming to help. On average, farmers are paying 138 birr for their premiums—or a little more than $12 each. Some chose packages that allowed them to pay as little as 76 birr, or about $6.75. The maximum premium was 288 birr, or just over $23.
“We are experimenting,” said Gebru Kahsay a few months after investing 192 birr into an insurance package. “We started with teff. If we find the insurance is good, we’ll continue. If we fail, we will take a lesson from it.”
Lots of learning has already taken place during the 18 months Oxfam and its partners spent in preparation for the launch of this project. And each of those partners has been contributing its own expertise. Besides the Relief Society of Tigray, or REST, one of the largest aid groups in Africa which has worked closely with the people of Adi Ha, other partners include the Nyala Insurance Company, an Ethiopian firm that is providing the insurance; Swiss Re, one of the world’s largest insurers which has helped fund the launch and is providing technical expertise; and the International Research Institute for Climate and Society at Columbia University, which is providing research on climate data. Additionally, the Dedebit Credit and Savings Institution, or DECSI, the primary provider of loans to families in Adi Ha, helped both to design the pilot and to educate farmers about the pros and cons of insurance.
“We had to work very hard to design a risk management package that was affordable and attractive to farmers, while still being potentially profitable to the insurance industry,” says Bekabil Fufa, an agricultural expert in Oxfam America’s Horn of Africa regional office. “And we had to make it compelling to government and donors who feel it will address the threat of climate change.”
With a solid model now in place, Oxfam is planning in the coming year to expand the initiative into four new villages in Tigray--the region where Adi Ha is located—and into one village in Amhara, another drought-prone region to the south. Eventually, the project partners would like to see weather insurance offered to poor farmers throughout Ethiopia.
It will require a leap of faith by farmers across the country as well as support from the government, donors, NGOs, and the private sector,” says Gebremichael. “But given the long lead times required to build resiliency to climate change, we can’t afford to wait until tomorrow to try.”
]]>Reda, 45, is a farmer in Adi Ha, a collection of small villages in Tigray, a rocky region of northern Ethiopia. Here, rainfall is becoming increasingly unpredictable, and for the farmers who depend on its regularity to ensure their fields will produce food for their families, the change in weather patterns is deeply troubling. Without rain, the crops of hundreds of farmers in Adi Ha won’t grow.
Already this year the rains were six weeks late, coming in mid July instead of early June. That meant the corn got a late start and some farmers didn’t bother with sorghum at all. Still, hopes were high for teff, the tiny grain that is a staple for people here—and across Ethiopia where 6 million farmers grow the nutrient-rich cereal. Reda is one of them.
But this year, she and 199 other small farmers in Adi Ha weren’t taking any chances. When Oxfam and its partners suggested a way to buffer the hardships Mother Nature might bring, the farmers embraced it—even if few had ever heard of such a thing. The proposal? Weather insurance designed for their teff. If the rain failed to fall in certain amounts at certain times, farmers who bought the insurance would receive a payout to cover some of their losses. The insurance is being offered by the Nyala Insurance Company and Swiss Re. Other organizations partnering on the project include the Relief Society of Tigray, or REST; the Dedebit Credit and Savings Institution, or DESCI; and the International Research Institute for Climate and Society at Columbia University.
“Because of repeated drought, which really affected me, I joined the insurance with the understanding it might solve my problems,” said Reda.
For a long time, most people in the insurance business thought that poor farmers, like many of those in Adi Ha, were uninsurable. Where would they get the cash to buy the insurance? This pilot program has answered that with a simple, and ingenious, solution. Reda is paying for her premium—like she does for other important things in her life—with her labor.
Reda, along with 65 percent of all those who have signed up for the insurance, is a participant in Ethiopia’s Productive Safety Net Program, an initiative that provides cash and food for some of the country’s poorest people in exchange for their work on community improvements. She’ll work 24 extra days this year on projects that benefit Adi Ha—such as planting trees and grasses to promote soil and water conservation—to cover the cost of her premium.
“It’s good for me to have the insurance as long as I can work and pay with labor,” says Reda. “That is the only asset I have.”
A single mother and head of an all-girl household at the moment—she lives with three of her daughters; a fourth daughter lives in a nearby town; and a son is away studying—Reda works hard to keep together all the pieces of a difficult life. With one of her daughters, Abbadit Girmay, who is now 19, Reda hauled to their hillside site every stone of the hut they now live in. And to build it, she hired a mason to mortar the rocks together—paying him with a summer’s worth of weeding in his fields.
To get her own fields plowed—she has two, totaling a half hectare of land--Reda hires herself out each planting season, working three full days for the man who owns the oxen, in exchange for one day of his plowing.
Work is Reda’s currency.
"That’s why I’m thin," she says, with a wry smile.
In the corn patch just below her house, Reda stands bent at the waist , her hands flying over the weeds as she yanks and clumps them swiftly into small piles. Close behind, and weeding nearly as fast, Tekleweini Girmay, 7, follows her mother through the stalks. Reda—and necessity—have taught her well.
But a farmer’s life is not what Reda envisions for her youngest child—or any of her daughters. She wants them to have what she never had: an education.
“The season is not good enough for agriculture. Our soil has become poor and they need fertilizer,” she says. “I don’t want my children to be farmers. Those who have started their education I want them to continue and have jobs. And those who haven’t started, I want them to start.” Tekleweini will be among those newly enrolled when the next session of school begins.
And Reda will be, too.
She has signed up for an adult literacy program that REST is offering.
And though Reda can’t read, her mind is filled with news of the world beyond Adi Ha that she absorbs from a small radio she keeps tucked on a shelf in her hut. Voice of America in Tigrinya and Dmitsi Woyane or the voice of the ruling party are among her favorite stations. Sometimes, Reda will stay up until 11 p.m. listening—when there are working batteries, that is. They are expensive, about 10 birr each, or about most of what she would earn for a day’s labor.
There’s no electricity in this stone-walled compound, and few creature comforts. At night, light in Reda’s cramped hut comes from a hanging bulb hooked to a flashlight battery. She also has two small oil lamps. Household wares hang from the ceiling beamed with logs and storage vessels stand in the shadows in the corners. Two mud seats built into the walls near the door serve as beds.
In early August, green washes the hills that stretch below Reda’s hut, a sign that the rain—now that it has finally come—is ample enough for the moment. Her corn is doing well, she says with satisfaction.
And her teff?
The seeds have been in the ground for just a week and years of experience have left her circumspect.
“It’s too early to say if it’s good or bad,” says Reda.
]]>In a pilot program coordinated by Oxfam America along with a host of local partners, these farmers have bought weather insurance designed for their teff, a staple grain here and across Ethiopia. If a certain amount of rain fails to fall at a certain time—and their teff does poorly—the insurance will cover some of their losses. Partners in the initiative include the Relief Society of Tigray, or REST; the Nyala Insurance Company; Swiss Re; the Dedebit Credit and Savings Institution, or DECSI; and the International Research Institute for Climate and Society at Columbia University.
The rain gauges, like the one in Biru’s yard, measure the precipitation in different spots across Adi Ha where rainfall is becoming increasingly unpredictable, making it ever harder for farmers to eke a living from this rocky part of the world.
“Our season is changing. We don’t know when there will be a bad year and when there will be a good year,” says Biru. “I believe, after taking the training, this insurance will be helpful during the bad season. This will pay me.”
Biru, who has bought 192 birr—or about $15—worth of insurance has become an expert at managing the vicissitudes of life in Adi Ha and together with her husband and six children, they have built a measure of security for themselves.
Now 48, Biru was married at 15. But unlike some of her peers at the time, she had managed to attend school through the fourth grade, and when the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, or TPLF, took control of the area, Biru stood out. Perhaps it was because of all the questions she asked, she says.
She joined the organization in about 1979 and soon assumed a leadership role among other women—a twist of fate that allowed her to develop the confidence that continues to feed her successes today. Biru is not afraid to try new things—including insurance, a concept few in her community knew much about before this pilot was launched. Biru became a member of the local team that helped design the project.
But before that, she had other experiences that allowed her to see the advantages of managing household money in different ways. Through a local microfinance institution, Biru has taken out a series of loans that have helped her to build a herd of livestock that now includes goats, oxen, and donkeys. She has used the proceeds from the sale of some of those goats to support two of her children as they make their way through university.
Income from the goats, which at one point numbered about 70, also helped the family finance the construction of a new house with a metal roof a few years ago. It consists of a long, rectangular room with perimeter seats built into the walls, two beds at the far end, and a high ceiling that helps the interior stay cool on hot days.
And though the hungry season is inching closer—the time before the harvests when the food supply of many families runs low—Biru still has a supply a grain. In a shed separate from her house, tall vessels stand against the back wall. As she uncorks the bottom of one of them, the grain makes a satisfying rush as it streams out Baskets on the floor brim with corn, finger millet, and teff.
Biru’s family has another source of bounty as well: the Tsalet River, which feeds an irrigation system constructed about 10 years ago by the Relief Society of Tigray with funding from Oxfam. More than 400 households now benefit from it. Water funneled through a series of channels connected to a dam across the river irrigates a quarter hectare of land from which Biru harvests green peppers, bananas, melons, guava, and coffee beans. That regular supply of water may free her from some of the worry about rain.
But the irrigation system doesn’t water her teff. Across Adi Ha, farmers depend on the rainy season for that job. The main one, the kiremt, stretches from June into September. A shorter rainy season, the belg, runs from February to May. This year, the kiremt started late: the rain didn’t really begin to fall in substantial amounts until mid July, making it hard for farmers who plant sorghum and corn.
“For maize, the rain is not good. There was no rain early,” says Biru.
With her rain gauge, Biru keeps careful count of exactly how much rain falls, recording the precipitation on a small chart. Pulling it out to show some visitors one day in early August, she notes the range from half a millimeter the day before—barely a sprinkle—to 40 millimeters in a downpour on July 3.
Her crops aren’t the only thing Biru worries about when it comes to water. Her family also needs a steady supply for drinking and cooking. And often, the job of fetching it falls to her. Potable water is about an hour’s walk away, and someone in the household makes that trip once a day, sometimes with a donkey to haul the heavy load home. But a less reliable source that the family uses just for cooking, is a good deal closer—a 15-minute hike from Biru’s home.
Grabbing a jug, Biru heads down the path from her house, slowing her pace so the city slickers who are visiting can keep up. She’s going to show them what’s required to keep a family hydrated in Adi Ha, where there’s no municipal system pumping water through every household tap.
The walk includes a scramble down a steep ledge—and the knowledge of a return hike up, lugging the jug heavy with water. On the way, Biru stops at a mound of stones, bending to kiss one reverentially: below them, in an oasis of trees and thick bushes—one of the few forest-like spots still standing in the area—sits a local church. Tradition demands that the woods around the church be left alone. They’re sacred. And that may account for the small spring that still gurgles at their base.
It’s here that Biru stops to fill her jug, scooping cupfuls of water from the shallows while trying to leave the silt behind. Ten minutes later, she stands and heads home under a gray sky full of the promise of rain.
Will it be ample enough to guarantee a harvest?
“For teff, currently it’s good,” says Biru. But if it doesn’t last, she now has insurance to fall back on.
]]>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."
]]>I flew into Mogadishu in a plane full with nine tons of Oxfam aid. We took blankets, mosquito nets, medical supplies, and plastic sheets for families to build temporary shelters. We also took 3,500 buckets: Many of the families who have fled the fighting have lost everything they had, so they can use the buckets to carry clean water and store milk for their children.
At Mogadishu airport, I was met by some of our local Somali partners who quickly unloaded the aid for distribution. We carry out all of our work in the country through partners like them.
People are still fleeing the capital. Every day more buses, vans, and donkey carts carry families out of the city along a road called the Afgooye corridor. In the past few weeks, tens of thousands of people have fled down this road to escape the violence. They are settling in camps nearby, where about 400,000 people have taken refuge in the past two years.
The living conditions in the camps in Afgooye are some of the worst I have ever seen. Families are sheltering in tiny huts, pieced together from plastic bags and sticks. When the rains come, the huts are washed away. Oxfam is about to provide 10,000 new shelters, which will improve the lives of about 70,000 people.
The most urgent need is for shelter, but people also desperately need clean water, food, and medicine. The fighting has had an enormous impact on children's health. One doctor told me that there is so much gunpowder in the air in Mogadishu at the moment that it is making children sick.
When people leave the city and arrive in camps—which are so basic and overcrowded—diseases can quickly spread, and there are few health services. I saw young children lying on the floor of the shelters, too ill to move. Many children are suffering from diarrhea and cholera. Oxfam has helped set up an oral rehydration treatment center where mothers can bring their children for help. Oxfam has also distributed mosquito nets to mothers to help them protect their children from the spread of malaria.
To help address the critical need for water, Oxfam recently expanded its water system—which features large, circular holding tanks—to reach an additional 78,000 people. In total, we now provide water to more than 200,000 people in Afgooye—and we hope to increase the supply in the coming months. Despite these efforts, the need for water remains huge. People line up for hours to get clean water.
But it was the terrible condition of people's shelters that struck me most.
"Our biggest problem is shelter," Halima Abdi, a mother of six children, told me. "If people see this house and the conditions that we live in they will be shocked. It is raining heavily during the nights. Without shelter it is a disaster for us. My children are sick and I'm worried what will happen to them. They don't have enough water or food either.'"
]]>"War, drought, and malnutrition are thrusting Somalia towards even greater catastrophe. Tens of thousands are on the move, hundreds of thousands are displaced, and more than three million are in dire need of aid," said Hassan Noor, Oxfam's humanitarian coordinator for Somalia. Noor just returned from Afgooye, a town several miles south of Somalia's capital, Mogadishu.
Many of the 70,000 people who have fled Mogadishu in the past few weeks are now sheltering in Afgooye, as part of the approximately 400,000 people made homeless by years of conflict who are now taking refuge in Afgooye. Working through local partners, Oxfam is providing shelter and mosquito nets to recently arrived families, and has expanded its water and sanitation system to aid an additional 84,000 displaced people. Oxfam is now supplying water to over 200,000 people in Afgooye, and plans to increase its efforts further in the coming months. Additionally, the agency's local partner organizations will soon begin providing specialist care and food to 9,500 of the most severely malnourished children and mothers in Mogadishu itself.
"Living conditions in Afgooye are some of the worst I have ever seen," said Noor. "I couldn't see a single shelter fit for human beings, and thousands of people have nothing to sleep under or protect them[selves] from the searing heat and heavy rains. I saw sick children lying on the floor with diarrhea and disease. I saw a young girl who had been shot in the head, fleeing with her family. People told me they expect the situation to get even worse in the next few weeks—more people are going to be killed or forced to flee for their lives, and the humanitarian need here is going to keep rising."
Oxfam warned that if the newly erupted fighting continues, it will become even more difficult for aid agencies to respond to the escalating needs. Somalia is already one of the most dangerous places in the world to deliver humanitarian assistance, with 40 aid workers killed since the beginning of 2008. The agency called on all parties involved with the conflict to comply with international humanitarian law, and allow for the safe provision of aid to all who need it.
"Local Somali aid workers, who are working tirelessly to get help to thousands of people, need support from the rest of the world. The recent fighting has made the humanitarian crisis in Somalia even worse, at a time when nearly half the country's population is already in desperate need of aid. Families are struggling to cope with a lack of food and basic services, and the worst drought Somalia has seen in more than a decade," said Noor.
]]>With some champions in Congress and support from the White House, we're hoping to see domestic legislation that not only fines companies who pollute, but also uses some of these funds to help affected communities build their resilience. If we are successful domestically, we can lay the groundwork for a global deal at the UN Climate Change Conference this December—an agreement that will create a more hospitable climate for us all.
Also in this issue: A force of peace in Peru; Rebuilding in Bangladesh; Oxfam America's new role in Darfur.
]]>More than 200 participants, including government officials, academics, and representatives from UN agencies and non-governmental organizations attended the panel discussion on climate change. Featuring panelists from the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development, the international Livestock Research Institute, and the African Union, among others, the talk touched on a broad array of topics including population, health, gender, adaptation and mitigation, upcoming negotiations, and Ethiopia’s current position on climate change.
Participants were invited to join the Green Generation—a movement to help build solutions to the problems of climate change through activities that will help conserve the environment.
"For the first time I realized the urgency of this issue, and the magnitude of the problem," said Misrak Aklilu, project coordinator for Facilitator for Change Ethiopia, following a question-and-answer session on accountability and the pros and cons of urbanization and commercialization. "It is very relevant we all join this campaign realizing this issue requires our individual commitment."
But it was Dawit Basayee, a herder from the Borena zone in the southern part of the country, who gave the problem of climate change a human face. He talked about his day-to-day struggle he faced to keep his family and animals alive during the recent drought. He shared his story about the shortage of food and water that killed most of his livestock; his inability to send his children to school due to the fact that his resources had been depleted; the increasing number of health problems because of scarce water; and the threats of conflict caused by limited water and feed in the area. An exhibition that tells his story was prepared by DanChurch Aid and viewed by the participants.
]]>The agency has had to hand over its laptops and communications equipment to the government. This will adversely affect its ability to carry out its work, which was reaching some 600,000 people across Darfur, in Khartoum state and the east of the country.
Oxfam GB estimates that its supply of clean water and other programmes can continue to be run by local communities and Oxfam-trained volunteers for a number of weeks but if its appeal to the government fails then its programme will have to close.
Oxfam GB's work in Darfur is its biggest emergency program in the world. It has operated in northern Sudan since 1983 and currently has 450 staff, 90 percent of whom are Sudanese. Oxfam is an independent, impartial non-governmental organization, with absolutely no links to the International Criminal Court. Oxfam does not have an opinion on the Court's activities, and our sole focus is meeting humanitarian and development needs in Sudan.
]]>In early 2003, two rebel groups—the Sudan Liberation Army (SLA) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM)—both from Sudan's western region of Darfur, launched major offensives on government bases there. The rebels claimed that Darfur had suffered decades of political marginalization and economic neglect from the Sudanese government in Khartoum. Government forces responded and the fighting escalated. Arab militia, commonly known as Janjaweed and widely believed to be supported by the government, attacked villages, forcing inhabitants from their homes—particularly in those villages and among ethnic groups thought to be sympathetic to the rebels. Now, those rebel groups have splintered into numerous factions and the situation is growing increasingly complex.
Estimates of the total number of people killed vary widely. The Government of Sudan pegs the figure at 10,000, while many activists say the true amount is up to 400,000. Most reports say around 200,000. Violence is one cause of death. Many people have also died from illness and malnutrition—particularly early in the crisis. Since then, the enormous humanitarian response has stabilized conditions in the camps, but renewed insecurity is threatening this progress, and the large-scale displacement of people across Darfur is continuing. Already this year more than 200,000 people have abandoned their homes in the face of ongoing attacks.
Some of Darfur's camps for displaced people are the size of small cities—teeming with tens of thousands of people, many of them having been there so long that they have replaced their makeshift shelters with homes of mudbrick.. But unlike cities in the western world, these dense settlements have no modern conveniences. Pit latrines and water faucets are all communal. Food is cooked over open fires. At night, it's dark. There is no electricity.
Shortages of basic necessities add to the tedium of days spent with little for people to do. For many stranded in camps far from their villages, fields, and pastureland, life has become one long wait—for food rations, for limited amounts of water, for peace. Because of attacks on its convoys, the World Food Program, which helps to feed more than 3 million people in the region, cut rations in half in May and threatened again in early September to suspend some deliveries. In July,2008, about 50,000 people got no food aid at all because of ongoing insecurity. And now, there are fears that malnutrition is rising again.
But leaving the camps is not an option. Many people no longer have homes to return to: The fighting has reduced their villages to ashes. And venturing beyond the perimeter of the camps exposes people to attack. There are continual reports of women being beaten or sexually assaulted when they leave to collect wood for their cooking fires or fodder for their animals.
Almost daily attacks—including vehicles being hijacked, aid workers assaulted, offices robbed—have made it increasingly difficult for humanitarian groups to meet the needs of some of the more than four million people across the region who need help. Darfur is a dangerous, and deadly, place to work.
More than five years after the conflict first erupted, millions of people continue to live in fear without adequate protection—even after the United Nations Security Council passed a resolution more than twelve months ago approving the deployment of the largest peacekeeping force in the world. Known as UNAMID, the force is meant to have 26,000 military officers, police officers, and civilian personnel. But by September, 2008, only a little more than a third of that force is now at work in Darfur—less than 10,000 troops—and they are short of not only things like helicopters, but some of the most basic equipment, too. Troops have been painting their helmets blue—the color the United Nations uses—because there are not enough UN helmets to go around. And forces can't go out on long patrols because they don't have enough ration packs to support those missions.
The international community has failed the people of Darfur by not giving UNAMID the support it promised. Countries around the world are responsible for the delays in deploying the troops and providing for their needs. The ongoing violence—perpetrated by the Sudanese government, rebel groups, and militias—is also hampering deployment. The logistical challenge is enormous in bringing large numbers of troops and equipment from Port Sudan across 1,000 miles of rough terrain—some of it without roads. And the UN's own lengthy procedures slow the works down, too. But Sudan has agreed to the force and it?s up to the international community to work with the government to ensure the troops are deployed.
UNAMID, however, is only part of the solution. A ceasefire and a return to peace talks are also essential.
The crisis in Darfur can't be resolved in isolation from other conflicts and tension roiling the region. There is violence in Chad and the Central African Republic. The peace in South Sudan is fragile. UNAMID is not the only peacekeeping force in the region. It needs to coordinate closely with others as any change in security in this part of the world could trigger large movements of people across borders. The peacekeepers must plan together to address the safety of everyone.
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