Oxfam organized the event as part of the global climate change campaign, Tck Tck Tck, which has seen similar grassroots events around the world in the last few weeks, including the formation of a human hour glass outside of the UN General Assembly in New York City and a climate hearing attended by 10,000 people in Ethiopia last month. Each event has been designed to build momentum and attract attention to the needs of poor communities in the remaining weeks before the UN Climate Change Conference of Parties (or CoP 15) to be held in Copenhagen this December.
"We're doing this because we want the public to pay more attention to climate change," said Brian Lund, regional director of Oxfam America's East Asia office in Phnom Penh, when speaking to the Cambodia Daily, the country's leading newspaper. "The developing world is taking the lead in discussing what should be negotiated in Copenhagen, and Cambodia has positioned itself extremely well as a leader in that discussion."
Lund explained that climate change contributes to the growing number of natural disasters in Southeast Asia -- such as the typhoons in the Philippines and Vietnam, also last month, which have displaced hundreds of thousands. Predictions forecast that weather-related natural disasters will only multiply and worsen in the future.
"As developing countries move to cope with climate change, they are drawing on their limited resources; they really do need the commitment of the rich countries. We need to see them put some money on the table now," Lund said.
]]>Many gave up on farming, but others, like Yacouba Savadogo, chose to stay and fight, slowly reclaiming land from the encroaching desert. Thirty years later, their work—which has secured 13 million acres of farmland and fed three million people—offers some hope for tackling world hunger.
How did Savadogo and others restore the land? By rediscovering and improving simple, low-cost methods for managing soil, water, and trees.
In 1979, Savadogo, a farmer and community leader from the village of Gourma, Burkina Faso, observed fellow farmers using innovative growing techniques as part of an Oxfam project. He began to experiment with using planting pits and stone embankments to produce more sorghum and millet on his degraded land.
These efforts yielded surprising results when trees began to grow spontaneously in the planting pits he’d dug for his crops. By digging deeper pits and adding manure, Savadogo found that he could bring dry land back into production. As the trees grew, he began to protect them, turning his barren land into a diverse forest of useful tree species.
In the years since, Savadogo has organized events to exchange seeds and ideas and to train other farmers in these techniques. He’s worked with experts like Mathieu Ouedraogo, a Yatenga-born technician who later became the director of Oxfam’s project in the region, to improve methods, conserve water, and reduce erosion.
Once-barren landscapes in the Sahel are today home to farmland, wells, and livestock. Millions of acres of restored farmland reveal a complex landscape of crops and trees, interlaced with stone embankments and terraces.
These changes have stimulated local markets, supported an ever-growing population, and diversified people’s ways of earning a living. And despite growing populations and the threats of climate change, food security has actually improved in the Sahel region.
This week, Oxfam is hosting Savadogo, Ouedraogo, and other innovators from the Sahel in Washington, DC, for discussions with US legislators about local solutions to food insecurity and climate change.
“With over one billion people worldwide now facing chronic hunger—and climate change further threatening the global food supply—our leaders and aid providers can learn a lot from the efforts of farmers like Savadogo,” says Oxfam trade policy advisor Emily Alpert.
“Africa’s agricultural future rests on broad partnerships and alliances, catalyzed by farmers,” says Alpert. “US Congress can help replicate these successes by passing the 2009 Global Food Security Act (HR 3077), which calls for a coordinated and comprehensive US global food security strategy that leverages partnerships with the private sector, NGOs, and universities. If we’re going to build people’s resilience to poverty, climate change, and conflict, we must work together to invest in agriculture and to conserve our natural resources.”
You can help: Join our online community and tell legislators to stand up for the millions of people around the world who face hunger on a daily basis.
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Coston admits that co-leading a group of local volunteers takes time and effort. But it’s worth it, she says, because of the great people she’s met—and the feeling of shaping world events as they happen.
“I believe so strongly in the fact that people en masse can make a change, so why not let it be us?” she says. “That’s what keeps me going every day.”
Meet the Oxfam Action Corps: grassroots activists, based in 13 US cities, who play an increasingly crucial role in Oxfam’s climate change campaign. With climate legislation in Congress and the Copenhagen UN talks fast approaching, these volunteers are calling on leaders to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions and help vulnerable communities here and abroad respond to the catastrophic effects of climate change.
I first met New York Oxfam Action Corps co-leader Winnie Lee, a Manhattan-based legal clerk, during the Human Countdown event in Central Park. “It’s amazing that over 1,000 people were willing to give up their Sunday to be here,” says Lee of that day’s turnout. “We proved that there are a lot of people out there who actually care about this issue and want to learn more about it.”
Lee says that many New Yorkers already feel connected to the human side of the climate crisis. “We have lots of immigrant communities here, so people can tie the effects back to Bangladesh or the Dominican Republic, to rising sea levels or hurricanes. They realize it’s their family, or other people they know, who are living in affected communities.”
To get people mobilized, the Oxfam Action Corps taps into the city’s vibrant music scene, organizing benefit concerts and setting up tables at events like the All Points West music festival.
“If a band [supporting Oxfam] plays four shows in a week, we can get 500 signatures for a petition,” says Lee, who first encountered Oxfam at a concert by the band Bell X1. “Or we have people at the tables call or write their member of Congress. That’s democracy in action … empowering people to contact their elected officials, who are supposed to represent them.”
The volunteers also reach out to elected officials in person at legislative meetings. Thanks to their efforts, New York Senator Kirsten Gillibrand recently signed on as the first US senator to become a Sisters on the Planet ambassador.
Next up? An Oxfam America Hunger Banquet® on the New York University campus, which they hope will bring in 150 to 200 participants.
The day after the Human Countdown, the Austin Oxfam Action Corps organized a “Climate Wake-up Call” on the local University of Texas (UT) campus. For the attention-grabbing stunt—which coincided with similar events worldwide—25 volunteers, students, and residents set their cell phone alarms to go off simultaneously. Amid the din, participants formed the shape of ticking clocks with their arms, symbolizing that time is running out to negotiate a global climate deal at Copenhagen.
“We held the Wake-Up Call in between classes in the middle of campus, so we got a lot of traffic,” explains Coston, who coordinated the event with the UT-Austin Oxfam Club and Oxfam CHANGE Leaders. The high-profile location led to dialogue with students and an article in the daily campus paper.
Meanwhile, the Oxfam Action Corps is working with environmental groups to organize a climate change rally in Austin later this month, where over 200 people will walk a half-mile from the UT-Austin campus to the state capitol building.
“We definitely want our negotiators [at Copenhagen] and President Obama to know that there are a lot of people in Texas supporting a global deal. It’s important for them to know that people in our state have gathered together for this purpose,” says Coston.
She adds that in an eco-conscious community like Austin, people respond to Oxfam’s message about the human cost of the crisis.
“We’re trying to help people adapt to climate change: something that is really necessary. We’re getting [poor communities] the resources they need,” she says. “People grasp that fact—instead of going in after a disaster and spending millions of dollars, you can go in before.”
]]>Historically, studies about climate hazards and social vulnerability have been conducted in separate silos. The Social Vulnerability Index (SoVI) is the first study of its kind to examine both the potential impact of natural hazards and which populations are most likely to be negatively affected. The SoVI statistically examines the underlying social and demographic characteristics of the population and how they impact certain segments of the population in disabling ways when it comes to climate change-related hazards.
This research, commissioned by Oxfam America, includes a series of layered maps that depict social and climate change-related hazard vulnerability. The maps assist in identifying hotspots in the US Southeast, which are at significant risk in the face of four particular climate change-related hazards: drought, flooding, hurricane force winds, and sea-level rise.
The specific region of focus is the 13-state region of the US Southeast: Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia. Roughly 80 percent of all US counties that experience persistent poverty (defined as a county in which at least 20 percent of the population experiences poverty for three decades or more) lie in this region.
For more details and to view interactive maps, visit oxfamamerica.org/adapt.
]]>"Climate change will impact everyone, but not everyone will be impacted equally," said Oxfam America President Raymond C. Offenheiser. "Social factors like income and race do not determine who will be hit by a natural disaster, but they do determine a population’s ability to prepare, respond, and recover when disaster does strike. This report will serve as a critical tool to help us identify especially vulnerable communities and invest wisely in their climate resiliency and preparedness."
The study covers 13 states in the US southeast from Arkansas to Virginia, measuring the underlying social and demographic characteristics of populations and how some of those characteristics negatively affect their ability to cope with climate change-related hazards, such as flooding, drought,hurricane force winds and sea-level rise. Poverty is deepest in the rural South where more than one in four people live in counties with persistent poverty, and it is therefore one of the country’s most socially vulnerable regions to climate change.
"We have already seen that climate-related disasters hit some populations worse than others," said Benjamin Todd Jealous, President and CEO of the NAACP. "From drought in western Alabama to hurricanes in Louisiana, this research is instrumental in helping to identify those areas that are most vulnerable, so that we can better prepare and help before disaster hits."
The study was conducted using the Social Vulnerability Index and overlaying it with data of climate change-related hazards. The tool was developed by Dr. Susan Cutter and Dr. Christopher Emrich at the Hazards and Vulnerability Research Institute at the University of South Carolina.
"While the USGS was not involved in the Oxfam report, our recent work revealed very similar findings about vulnerability hotspots in the Southeast," said US Geological Survey scientist Virginia Burkett. "It is vitally important that we understand vulnerabilities at a regional and local scale so that they can be incorporated into future risk assessments and adaptation planning. Our decisions today will determine the severity of climate change impacts in the future."
"Climate change is happening and it’s affecting the poor—socially and economically vulnerable communities—first. As climate change increases and intensifies floods, storms, and heat waves, many of the world’s poorest communities, from Biloxi to Bangladesh, will experience unprecedented stress," said Offenheiser. "Congress must act now to address climate change and invest in the resiliency of poor communities on the frontlines of climate change at home and abroad."
]]>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.
]]>But for Kahsay, a 52-year-old farmer in the Adi Ha area of Tigray in northern Ethiopia, a good deal has changed in the quarter century since so many of his neighbors lost all their crops including teff, a staple grain.
More than a third of the families in Adi Ha grow the tiny seed. It’s rich in nutrients and serves as the base for a pancake-like bread—injera—that many people eat. The hay left after threshing is also nourishing for animals. And for families that have some to spare, the grain commands a good price in the market.
Still, for those who depend on rain to help their teff thrive—it’s the second most widely cultivated rain-fed crop in Adi Ha—growing this cereal can be an iffy proposition, especially as global warming may be forcing a change in weather patterns. The rain came late this year to Adi Ha, preventing some farmers, like Kahsay, from planting early crops of sorghum—and heightening the need for a hearty harvest of teff.
But this year, Kahsay has a back-up plan if the rain doesn’t cooperate: weather insurance. He’s one of 200 farmers in Adi Ha who decided to participate in a pilot program organized by Oxfam America and carried out with the help of numerous local organizations, including the Relief Society of Tigray, or REST. Other partners include 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 farmers—some paying with cash, others with labor—have bought varying amounts of insurance designed specifically for their teff. If the rain fails to fall in certain amounts at certain times, farmers will receive a payout to cover some of their losses.
“According to my belief, this insurance is important to protect us from migrating in a drought in search of food,” says Kahsay, who has bought 192 birr—or about $15—worth of insurance. “It saves the lives of the family during drought.”
Irrigation is also insurance
Kahsay has a large family to be concerned about. He’s the father of nine children, the youngest of whom is just 2. But the weather insurance he is trying out isn’t his only defense against bad times: irrigation also serves as a cushion.
Kahsay is among the more fortunate farmers in Adi Ha who have access to an irrigation system constructed by REST with funding from Oxfam a little more than 10 years ago. With concrete canals and a dam across the Tsalet River, the system has made major improvements to the traditional watering network that would clog with debris during heavy rains. In the month that it would take farmers to clean out the mess, their crops would often die.
For Kahsay, the modern system has been a boon. Though he irrigates just one quarter of a hectare of land, it provides him with an array of produce—oranges, coffee, papayas, tomatoes, onions—that he can sell. In fact, 95 percent of what he grows on his irrigated plot goes to market and the income buffers his family from the hard times that farmers, who depend only on rain-fed harvests, have no choice but to grapple with as best they can.
But Kahsay also tills two hectares of land that rely solely on rain. He sews them with corn, finger millet, sorghum, and teff—and most of the harvests from these fields get consumed by his family.
Wrapping a shawl about his shoulders and tucking an umbrella under his arm—it’s early August and it’s been raining, off and on, for several weeks—Kahsay strides down the slope from where his compound sits atop a rock ledge. Though he’s been battling malaria, he moves fast toward his fields, with a string of visitors straggling behind.
Soon, he reaches an expanse of sandy soil, dusty on the surface. Shoving up through the plowed ridges are shafts of green, so delicate they could almost be a trick of the eye in the brilliance of the afternoon sun. This is Kahsay’s teff field, well-guarded by his seven-year-old grandson, Aregawi Mulugeta, standing with a stick under the shade of a tree. Kahsay greets him heartily, and together they trek to the middle of the field to examine the shoots.
The teff is doing well, he reports.
But Kahsay says he would have liked to have had weather insurance that covers too much rainfall, not too little. In this region of sandy soils, heavy rains that come too fast can be as much of a hazard for teff as drought, and 1997 is still vivid in his mind because of that. That was the year flooding destroyed 70 percent of the teff he had planted.
Despite the water-logging, Kahsay has also seen a troubling trend toward increased dryness over the decades. Like all farmers, he watches the weather closely and analyzes the conditions.
Drought used to strike every eight years or so, he says. But now the cycle seems to be speeding up. And with drought comes the hardship of food shortages—for both people and the animals that help farmers plow their fields and provide them with milk.
With those trends becoming ever clearer, the purchase of weather insurance may turn out to be one of the best adaptations the people of Adi Ha can make.
“We are experimenting,” says Kahsay. “We started with teff. If we find the insurance is good, we’ll continue. If we fail, we will take a lesson from it.”
]]>“Oxfam extends our most heartfelt congratulations to President Obama for such a great honor. In these difficult economic times, with war and conflict ever present, President Obama's leadership has succeeded in setting a new tone that has instilled hope for a better future and spirit of cooperation. Now it is most urgent that the US and all nations work together to secure the necessary results.
“We hope this recognition builds momentum for the US to use diplomatic leverage and conflict response capacity to prevent mass atrocities around the globe. US civilian agencies must be organized and resourced to prevent and mitigate conflicts and protect civilians when violence does occur. Oxfam also hopes that this recognition will strengthen US resolve to use US leadership and resources for a better world.
“As the President heads to Oslo for the award ceremony in December, we also hope he will join thousands of negotiators and world leaders in nearby Copenhagen to hammer out a global deal on climate change. President Obama’s direct involvement in the negotiations can shift the momentum towards a deal. Global investment in climate change solutions and adaptation can help pave the path towards food security, disaster preparedness, and prevention of disease and war.”
]]>The economic crisis arrived as poor countries were already struggling to cope with high food prices and floods, droughts and food shortages linked to climate change.
“Green shoots of economic recovery have not reached the poorest countries which are now suffering severely in the global downturn,” said Max Lawson, Oxfam senior policy advisor.
Oxfam analysis of economic data has discovered that governments in Sub-Saharan Africa will be $70 billion worse off this year as a result of the global slump. Unlike rich countries they cannot borrow their way out of trouble. Without outside help governments will find it increasingly difficult to respond to the climate, food and economic crises and to avoid cutting spending on schools, clinics and other anti-poverty programs.
“Despite feeding their own economies a much-needed stimulus, the G20 has not yet provided even half the $50 billion bailout it promised poor countries in April.”
Oxfam is calling for a $290 billion package of measures to ease the burden on developing countries without hitting ordinary taxpayers. The package includes a ‘Tobin tax’ on currency transactions, a debt moratorium and a crackdown on tax havens.
“Existing aid levels are not enough to protect the status quo never mind reduce poverty in the face of the economic crisis, climate change and rising food prices,” said Lawson.
“The G20 has the chance to change the bad habits of the past and come up with new solutions to the problems facing poor people. A currency transaction levy on the banks that helped cause the global slump could bring in $50 billion to help those suffering in a crisis they did nothing to cause. It is time bankers paid a bonus to the world’s poor.”
Oxfam is also calling on G20 leaders to fulfill a promise made by President Obama in July to deliver new funds to help poor countries cope with climate change. This funding is vital to break the deadlock in climate change negotiations leading up to the make-or-break UN Summit in Copenhagen in December. Oxfam calculates that $50 billion per year is needed to help poor countries cope with climate change and another $100 billion is needed to help them control their emissions.
“The clock is ticking on the chances of a fair deal to prevent misery for millions at risk from climate change. It is time for G20 leaders to stand up and deliver the money needed to protect poor people,” said Oxfam climate change advisor David Waskow.
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Contacts:
Taylor Royle, 1 202 258 3508, troyle@oxfamamerica.org
Laura Rusu, 1 202 459 3739, lrusu@oxfamamerica.org
Natalie Curtis, 44 7824 503108, ncurtis@oxfam.org.uk
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