The reservoir is at the base of large, steep hill, more like a small mountain really. At the top is a spring, from which water flows through pipes to the pond. It was constructed three years ago by a nearby organization called Action for Development with support from Oxfam America. Before then Jarrso's clan members had to herd their cows up the steep hill, the only means to get water in the dry season. Every day cows would expire on the path up to the spring.
"During the dry time there is no grass to eat," Jarsso says. "They could not climb, so we pushed them up, and some would die." There were years in which more than 10 a day would die on that hill.
Piping the water down the hill helps tremendously. More cows can access the water, the herders and their families can retain more of their wealth and can better survive the dry season, and they get clean, fresh water to drink and cook with, and wash their clothes in.
But the reservoir does not help one ongoing problem: herders are reporting that good pasture for grazing their cattle is harder and harder to find, and not just in the dry season. Jarsso and others in his clan say there are three main reasons for the disappearing pasture:
"The Borena people have many different methods for coping with drought," says Abera Tola, director of Oxfam America's program in Ethiopia. "But some of these bushes are new to them, and the increase in tick infestation may both be related to changes in the climate. We want to research this to find ways to help them."
Bilalo Jarsso said the Borena are trying to survive despite these challenges, and are accustomed to traveling two to three days at a time looking for decent pasture.
"We used to find grass somewhere," he said. It is becoming more and more difficult now.
Oxfam America's partner AFD is helping herders take a more active approach, teaching the Borena to manage their range land more aggressively and actually clear away the encroaching bushes to improve the pasture for grazing. This would be particularly crucial in the dry season, says Tolusa Kemaio, a project officer for AFD.
"The dry season is a very serious time here," he says. "People really struggle, and they can't just slaughter their animals to survive."
]]>The next day another farmer nearby will have a turn, but there is enough to go around. Dalacha says that he now has no water worries—even in January, a dry time of year. "We used to have to wait for rain, but now we use water whenever we want, and there is no difference between the rainy and dry season." Dalacha, 40, is well over six feet tall and rail thin, but still looks powerful and projects an energetic attitude. He is married to Safiye Bediya, and they have eight children between the ages of four and 20.
Dalacha says his income has increased and he is more secure now. He built a new concrete house next to their traditional mud and thatch round house with the money now coming in from vegetable sales. And Dalacha says all his children can now go to school. "Before, I had a shortage of income. Now it is no trouble to keep them in school with everything they need."
A steady supply of water for the families in Shasha Korke has been a big improvement. It came about through a project by the Ethiopian agency Center for Development Initiatives (CDI) funded in part with a $75,000 grant from Oxfam America starting in 2005, when dry weather in the scenic Rift Valley south of Ethiopia's capital, Addis Ababa, was causing serious hardship for farmers, who were growing primarily sugar cane for a cash crop. Sugar cane is difficult to grow: it needs a lot of water and does not contribute to the nutritional needs of small-scale farmers like those in Shasha Korke. This left many families there suffering from malnutrition if their crop yields were low, and income fell off.
Before the irrigation system was improved, the community had traditional earthen canals that fed water from the Dedeba Tina river to the farm plots, but it was inefficient. "There was a lot of water loss," says Dalacha. "It seeped into the soil, and could not reach the fields. Sometimes it would get clogged with grass and silt, so we could not irrigate our fields properly." CDI's proposal was ambitious, but straightforward: with help from the community famers, it built new irrigation channels lined with cement and gravel, with outlets leading directly into the small farms. CDI also built foot bridges over the channel, and gates to manage the flow of water to the different members of the community. The 1.8 kilometer channel (1.2 miles) was finished in 2006 and is now directly helping 68 households cultivating 25 hectares (61 acres) of farmland.
Woya Shakule, the 34-year-old chairman of the Shasha Korke water user committee, says all the farmers played a role in the project. Each bought shares in the irrigation system to help maintain it. The water users agreed on guidelines for sharing the water and maintaining the system, and helped CDI ensure the new channels would meet their needs. The committee organized training for the farmers, and distributed seeds to help them transition from growing sugar cane to vegetables, which they could eat as well as sell. "Most of them produced a crop once a year, but now they are harvesting twice a year," Shakule says, while standing next to one of the main irrigation channels, thought which water quietly gurgles "We see big changes here, and they are really life-changing."
Mekonnen Koji, CDI's project manager in the Shashamene area, says it is easy for him to see an improvement in the health of the children. They used to be malnourished, and the mothers looked worried. Now he says the children are healthier looking and more active. "It is vivid, the changes in the faces of the children," he says.
Safaye Bediya, wife of Dedefi Dalacha, agrees. "My children would catch cold easily," she says, noting that before the irrigation system was improved they could not grow enough food to eat and had to buy vegetables from the market. It was expensive and the quality was not as good as the fresh produce they now grow themselves. As their diet improved, so did the health of her children.
"Now they are healthy and happy," she says.
]]>His list of products is impressive. He grows cabbage, beets, carrots, onions, as well as coriander, fenugreek, and basil.
Like many others in the area, Mulugeta used to grow sugar cane, and was struggling to make it work. "The first year I had a good harvest," he says, "But after three years I could see it was declining every year." He switched to raising cattle, but had trouble keeping his herd healthy. Financial pressures pushed him to raise khat, a mild stimulant that can be harvested three times a year that is always in demand. It looked more attractive than sugar cane, which could only be harvested annually. Growing khat meant much-needed income for his family, but he was determined to find a way to grow food crops that are nutritious, but also bring a decent profit.
"I was just wondering what to do when CDI (Center for Development Initiatives) came and gave me seeds for carrots, beets, onions, and carrots," says Mulugeta. CDI also helped him start growing enset—nicknamed "false banana"—a starchy staple in a neighboring southern region of Ethiopia that looks like a large banana tree.
Although Mulugeta and many others harvested their first crop at the same time and had trouble finding markets at first, this has improved as has his income. Thanks to the steady water supply and hard work, his farm is prospering. He now believes he can increase his monthly net revenues from 6,000 birr to 20,000 birr ($640 to $2,100).
Mulugeta's next big move is to grow apples: he is one of six farmers in the area working with CDI experimenting with trees from Spain. Apples are a rare fruit for Ethiopia, and could fetch a handsome price. "If I can transform my farm into an apple farm it would be good for me and the community," he says. "I want to be shoulder-to-shoulder with other big apple producers in the world economy. This would be good for the economy of our country."
Mulugeta's ambition arises partly from a sense of responsibility. He says that since CDI and Oxfam America were able to help him, he feels obligated to put in a good effort for the opportunity. It's his personal philosophy: "If someone gives me something, I have to match it nine-fold," he says, making sure that his own labor and other contributions are worth nine times any aid he receives.
"I know that others want us to have a better life," Mulugeta said sitting under the shade of a tree near his enset field. "I will plant everything they give me so I can prove the money for this project did not go to waste."
]]>Oxfam America was selected as one of only three organizations in the campaign based on input from the eBay Community. Funding from the campaign will support Oxfam?s work to: increase the number of people in rural areas of Ethiopia and Zambia who have access to clean water and sanitation; provide access to new, safer water supplies through upgrades to existing water sources; provide latrines for communities and schools; and train communities on how to manage the equipment and sustain the water supplies.
?The Community Gives campaign is an exceptional opportunity to raise awareness of Oxfam?s work in bringing clean water to poor communities,? said Raymond C. Offenheiser, president of Oxfam America.
?This initiative will make a significant difference in the communities Oxfam serves. Most of us take for granted the easy access we have to clean, safe drinking water and basic sanitation. In the communities we are working with, clean water and basic sanitation can prevent disease?it could mean a child makes it to her fifth birthday and gets to go to school.?
The goal of Community Gives is to encourage the eBay Community to make a donation to the nonprofit that inspires them, and then spread the word about the campaign. eBay Foundation kicked off the campaign by giving Oxfam a grant of just over $325,000. To help encourage giving, eBay Foundation will also give an additional dollar for every person who gives and waive all donation-related fees, so 100 percent of donations will go directly to the nonprofits.
?We are proud to launch the Community Gives campaign and work with an excellent organization like Oxfam,? said Julie Vennewitz-Pierce, program manager for eBay Foundation. ?The campaign will help Oxfam supply clean, safe water to tens of thousands of people in Zambia and Ethiopia.?
Through Community Gives, Oxfam is tapping into the power of online philanthropy thanks to a critical resource eBay Foundation is providing?an engaged Community eager to support concrete, on-the-ground projects that help solve critical social issues.
Anyone who wants to get involved in Community Gives can by donating through PayPal or buying or selling through eBay Giving Works. They can also join Oxfam America?s eCommunity and help spread the word about the campaign by using some of the tools on the website.
]]>And they're exactly what Oxfam America and its local partner, the Gayo Pastoralist Development Initiative, hoped to spot when, together with the Harvard Humanitarian Initiative, they piloted an innovative early warning system for the region. Now just beyond its first six-month trial period, the system is designed to track changes in local conditions that could signal the advent of hardship for people—and get them help before the problems spiral out of control. The program is targeting 21,346 people scattered in the villages of Tuka, Arganne, Danbii, and Mudhi Ambo.
Oxfam and its partners started this initiative following a devastating drought in 2006 that left more than 60 percent of the livestock dead in some pastoral areas. The drought was accompanied by conflict that forced the displacement of many people.
How does a disease with no name in a remote and dusty part of Ethiopia find its way onto the radar screen of an international aid group a third of the way around the world? Through a lot of hard work.
It starts with data collectors—four of them, hired by Gayo—with strong legs and the commitment to make a monthly trek to five far flung households in each of the four villages. Sometimes, the data gatherers, who are all women, will walk a full day to reach the households that are participating in the program. Selected by Gayo, the households represent a range of prosperity, with some better off than others.
And it's the women in those households that the data collectors have come to see—because they are the ones with the hard facts about the well-being of their families. The women are available most of the time while the men are away, traveling with livestock in search of pasture and water. Out and about in their villages, the women have been keeping mental tabs on what's been happening with others, too.
How much water seems to be in the ponds and streams this season compared to last? Are there more cases of diarrhea in the village this month—or less? How many meals a day are children getting? And how about the adults?
"Women know it all," said Miriam Aschkenasy, Oxfam's public health specialist who helped to develop the program, including those questions. They are designed to reveal critical information that can paint a comprehensive picture of a community's health. And they give the women a way to voice the knowledge they have of their community and local environment.
"The women make sure they're informed about what is happening in their villages. They talk to other women in anticipation of the data collectors' arrival," said Aschkenasy.
"The community saw this program as having a lot of value," added Emily Farr, Oxfam America's deployable humanitarian officer who, with Aschkenasy, recently made a field visit to Ethiopia. "Never before has someone come to their houses to collect information on them. It makes them understand people are concerned about what's affecting them. It makes them feel valued."
The data collectors spend 20 to 30 minutes at each of the five houses on their list, and plot the answers to 24 questions on a visual analog scale—a tool that gauges attitudes and perceptions that cannot be easily measured. And in this case, it's particularly useful in gathering data from people who may not be able to read. It's also easily convertible for charting on a graph—from which the trends then become visible.
"We are using scientific methodology to convert feelings into comparable data," said Aschkenasy. "That's what makes this cutting edge."
Once the collectors return home with their data—about malaria and milk production, plantings and harvests, livestock deaths and births—Gayo compiles it, along with anecdotal comments gleaned from the villagers as well as statistics gathered from district markets and health posts, and from the Oxfam office in Addis Ababa the material gets emailed to Boston.
"One of the things important to me is that this early warning system is based on evidence," said Aschkenasy. "That increases your ability to do monitoring. It also lets you know that the programs that follow are based on real information, rather than conjecture, and can be sharply focused."
For instance, said Farr, if there is a problem with food availability, this kind of tracking system will help aid groups, local partners, and the communities themselves develop solutions that address that problem very specifically.
In meetings with community elders about the early warning system, they told Oxfam staffers that changes in local conditions occur seasonally—or every three months. They agreed that it would be useful to analyze those changes on a quarterly basis. Regular analysis would allow them to pool their resources and develop timely solutions to their problems.
Community elders also said that they could use the data to address ongoing issues, too, such as with the quantity and quality of water available for villages.
"One solution is to reduce the distance to water by digging more ponds and building cisterns," said one of the elders. "We can contribute the manpower and may ask for small inputs like cement."
But for now, what about those camels?
Nazareth Fikru, Oxfam America's regional humanitarian coordinator based in Addis Ababa, said that data gathered from the communities around Moyale show that about 189 of these highly prized animals have died in the last six months.
"The disease was initially reported in May, 2005 in Afar—eastern Ethiopia—some two years ago and gradually expanded to other pastoral areas like the Somali region and the Borena area of Oromia," said Fikru. "Some research is going on by the ministry of agriculture and rural development together with the Food and Agriculture Organization, but so far, no information about the causes or controls has been shared."
Oxfam is not planning to address the camel illness itself, but the fact that it has showed up in the data-gathering will help the organization and Gayo stay alert to the problem and the effect it could have on the overall health of the communities they are working with.
]]>That's the lesson Tadesse Meskela, an Ethiopian coffee activist, offered to a crowd of Boston University during a stop on his Oxfam-sponsored seven-city tour to raise awareness about the gross inequities in the global coffee trade and to promote "Black Gold," a new documentary about that industry.
In a small but packed auditorium, Meskela walked the students through the maze of market factors that cut coffee farmers out of their fair share of profit for a commodity that's worth, by some accounts, $80 billion a year in retail sales.
Converting Ethiopian currency into dollars, one student quickly calculated the true cost of that imbalance: What farmers sell for pennies a pound, large coffee roasters can command $14.
"That's a little more than 100 times what the farmer gets," said the student.
Getting more of those profits into the pockets of farmers is the main objective of the Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union (OCFCU)—a 90,000-member organization with which Oxfam America has worked for four years. Meskela is the union's manager and the "star" of "Black Gold," which explores the links between the multinational coffee corporations and the poverty that plagues so many of Ethiopia's coffee growers.
Across the country, about 15 million people rely on coffee for income. Fluctuations in its global price leave growers struggling to feed their families and send their children to school—a luxury many simply can't afford.
Membership in the union helps farmers tap into the "fair trade" market which guarantees them a higher price for their beans—sometimes three times what local dealers and exporters offer. Fair trade rules also ensure that some of those higher earnings are set aside to improve the farmers' communities through the construction of schools, health clinics, and clean water supply systems.
Founded in 1999, OCFCU has already facilitated the construction of four new schools, 17 extra classrooms, four health clinics, and three new water supply systems. Every cup of fair trade coffee consumers here in the United States drink will help improve even more the lives of farmers scattered through the cool, green hills of Oromia.
But what surprised Meskela most as he traveled from Boston to Madison—with stops in New York City, Washington, D.C., Nashville, Chicago, and Milwaukee—was how little people really knew about the brew that gets them up and going in the morning.
"What I noticed was 95 percent, and above, do not know where coffee comes from," said Meskela. "They don't know the life of the person behind the cup." It's that farmer—laboring hard in an industry dominated by a market that puts the needs of growers last—that Meskela wants consumers to understand and appreciate.
"We have to create connections with producers—and awaken all Americans," he said.
Meskela has a deep affinity for coffee growers and the hardship that defines their days. From the Oromia region himself, he grew up in a large farming family. But unlike many other farm children, Meskela got to go to school—as did every one of his siblings.
"My father is unique," said Meskela with pride. "He has sent all of his children to school. He was the first person to send a girl to school in the 1950s from our Oromo culture. If all of us had stayed on the farm we would have been poorer and poorer because the land would be shared among 13 of us."
Instead, among his brothers and sisters he now counts two engineers (civil and electric), an accountant, two secretaries, a draftswoman, and a high school principal. Meskela himself graduated from college with a degree in agricultural economics.
While some family members are still on the farm plowing fields of a grain called teff, education has offered his brothers and sisters a range of opportunities that Meskela would like to see others be able to take advantage of, too. Making trade fair is the first step in that direction—and educating consumers about the links between their morning cups of coffee and the growers who produce the beans is critical.
"All of them say 'what shall we do?'" said Meskela, recounting the reactions he heard time and again after people watched "Black Gold" or heard him give a presentation. "The first thing you can do is buy fair trade coffee. And the second is support us in campaigning to get a better price."
]]>He'd left his village for the first time to explain why companies like Starbucks should recognize Ethiopia's ownership of its own coffee brands.
"The names Yirgacheffe, Sidamo, and Harar are as unique to Ethiopia as the flavors of the coffees," he said. "Whoever says these names are not the property of Ethiopia is as crazy as someone who would say the name I gave my first-born son is no longer his."
Robe spoke at this coffee ceremony last December as a kind of local celebrity. His face—the gray beard, the unflinching stare—had become the iconic image of Oxfam America's Starbucks campaign. Launched in October 2006, the campaign asked that the coffee giant sign an agreement acknowledging Ethiopia's right to license and distribute its fine coffees. By recognizing Ethiopia's intellectual property rights, Starbucks could give poor farmers a chance to earn a greater share of the profits.
Aware of Starbucks' status as a global brand interested in maintaining its socially responsible reputation, Oxfam used grassroots activism and strategic media to draw attention to the issue. Though initially reluctant, Starbucks entered into serious talks with Ethiopia in May. By June, they had finalized an agreement that could change the coffee industry forever.
"The true victors of this campaign are the 1.5 million coffee farmers in Ethiopia whose lives will improve," said Abera Tola, director of Oxfam America's regional office in Ethiopia."They have given a glimmer of hope to millions more like them all over the world who deserve recognition for the quality products they generate."
At Oxfam, we feel it's important to stop and recognize a victory. But after all the celebratory emails have been sent, what comes next? For an organization interested in creating lasting solutions to poverty, the end of an effort is in many ways the beginning. This is when the real analysis comes in; just what went into this win?
Oxfam began negotiating with Starbucks in 2005 when we first learned about Ethiopia's efforts to trademark its fine coffees. After dozens of conversations between our Boston headquarters, the Seattle home of Starbucks, and Ethiopia's Intellectual Property Office in Addis Ababa, it became clear that high-level talks would not be enough. It was time to enlist the public.
At a grassroots level, Oxfam worked with a coalition of allies to organize members of the Ethiopian Diaspora, students, Starbucks employees, and our own supporter base. By the campaign's end, more than 100,000 people had gotten involved, many of them sending Robe's photo around the world on postcards, flyers, and posters. Robe's face even appeared on web sites and in newspaper ads during a series of global "days of action" in places like Seattle, Scotland, and Hong Kong. The accompanying message to Starbucks remained simple: Honor your commitments to coffee farmers.
Throughout all this work, Oxfam tested creative ways to engage our supporters. We filmed the days of action and posted the video on YouTube. We sent a petition to Starbucks that became the most popular online action in our organization's history. We had supporters participate in a photo petition on Flickr. And we promoted it all on our social networking pages on MySpace and Facebook.
Eventually Oxfam's message reached Starbucks' shareholders. A few sent letters to Starbucks supporting Ethiopia's trademark initiative. And at the Starbucks annual general meeting in April, some joined members of the Ethiopian community in asking pointed questions of both the company CEO and chairman.
With activists combining efforts around the world, Oxfam ramped up the public pressure by focusing on the press. Over the course of the campaign, major media outlets&mdsah;including NPR, the BBC, CNN, Time, Fortune, and The Wall Street Journal—featured the David-and-Goliath struggle of the Ethiopian farmers and Starbucks.
"What might have remained a little-noticed bureaucratic dispute became an international affair when Oxfam, a nonprofit relief and development group, began publicizing it in the fall," wrote The Wall Street Journal in a March 5 article.
Each aspect of the campaign had its impacts. But it just may have been the voice on the ground that resonated loudest with Starbucks. In the end, the company seemed to accept the simple truth: The campaign wasn't about a development agency, a roaster, or a government. It was about people like Robe, the coffee farmer demanding economic justice.
When the old farmer from Afursa Waro village, whose face had launched the entire campaign, made one final appearance, it was in a thank-you video for Oxfam supporters.
Sitting among his fellow farmers in a lush meadow overlooking the Yirgacheffe hills, Robe looked into the camera once again. "We know that Oxfam and many people around the globe are standing by our side in supporting us in this effort," he said. "You, our supporters, have given voice to our cause."
Then Robe stood alongside his fellow farmers and, in unison, offered a series of customary bows. "Gelatoma. Gelatoma. Gelatoma," they said in Oromifa, their region's language. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
]]>"Black Gold" will go to DVD, and air on the PBS show Independent Lens, this April. It's also still playing in theaters and at special free community screenings organized by Independent Television Service.
"Black Gold" follows Tadesse Meskela, manager of Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union, as he travels the world looking for a better price for his farmers' coffee. Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union, an Oxfam America partner organization since 2002, represents more than 100,000 farmers, who despite back-breaking work, watch their profits rise and fall depending on the fluctuating price on the world market.
"There is no coffee which is as quality as this coffee, but we are getting a low price," Meskela says in the film. "Our main aim is to bring more money into the coffee growers' pocket."
Throughout the fall and winter, Oxfam co-sponsored the promotion of "Black Gold" in more than 75 cities and towns across the country. Hundreds of volunteers turned out to support coffee farmers by handing out information at screenings and gathering thousands of signatures for the Big Noise, Oxfam's petition to Make Trade Fair.
With great candor, Meskela uses "Black Gold" as a platform to describe the situation Ethiopian coffee farmers face. When the price of coffee hit a 30-year low in 2001, farmers struggled to feed their children and send them to school. Some quit farming. Others began growing the more profitable chat, a local narcotic banned in the US and Europe. Malnourished and forced to travel long distances to accept foreign aid, some farmers saw no alternative but to bring their families to government feeding centers.
The price of coffee has risen over the last few years, but little has changed in these communities. In Ethiopia, country that depends on coffee for about 40 percent of its export revenue, farmers make as little as three cents for every cup of coffee sold in the United States or Europe. Meanwhile, multinational coffee corporations collectively rake in as much as $80 billion each year, according to the film.
British film makers Nick and Marc Frances use Meskela and the Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union tell a larger story about poor countries that struggle to benefit from global trade. The film highlights the many corners of the coffee industry, from the Ethiopian growers who cultivate the best coffee in the world, to the NY traders who set the price, to the Seattle baristas at Starbucks who try to meet the high demand.
By working with producers in Ethiopia and Central America, and by engaging in consumer education, political advocacy, and corporate engagement, Oxfam seeks to create a world where small farmers are fairly rewarded for their hard work.
"Oxfam seeks to correct the imbalances of power at the root of unfair trade. This film highlights the vulnerability of coffee farmers and the disconnect that exists between poor farmers and huge profits," said Seth Petchers, Oxfam America's coffee program manager.
"'Black Gold' illustrates the gravity of the challenges facing coffee farmers—but those challenges are not insurmountable if people get involved. We're hoping people watch the film and get inspired to take action."
]]>Speaker: Ashenafi Argaw
SHAYNA HARRIS: It is a pleasure to be sharing with you the thoughts and wisdom of a fair trade friend who can not be with us tonight. Ashenafi Argaw and I met just a few months ago in the Oromia Coffee Farmers Union office in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I was in Ethiopia with my colleagues visiting Oxfam's regional office and the partner organizations with whom we work. Sidama Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union, the organization that Ashenafi works with, is one of Oxfam's partners. Oxfam funds Sidama on various projects that the union identifies as important for its communities, ranging from coffee quality and processing, to clean water projects, to capacity building at the cooperative and union level.
Because Ashenafi can't be here himself, I want to give you a better sense of who he is. Ashenafi is an incredibly dynamic individual. Though our meeting was brief, I was immediately drawn to his spirit. He is a young, energetic, and incredibly committed individual.
Ashenafi graduated from Addis Ababa University and worked for one year with the government's Urban Development Office. After a year learning about how the Ethiopia government works, Ashenafi joined Furra College, determined to make a difference in the lives of Ethiopia's population by working on development issues. He completed a thesis on pricing and the coffee commodity, and through his studies became deeply convinced that generations of Ethiopia's farmers deserve more equity and dignity while pursuing their incredible work.
With what Ashenafi calls a "pressing conviction" he joined Sidama Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union and has been serving in different capacities. Currently, he is leading the export division.
With passion and commitment, Ashenafi is working to give a voice to Ethiopia's farmers, who have been silenced for too long.
ASHENAFI ARGAW: Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for this opportunity to share a message with you from Ethiopia's poor and unheard farmers.
The word "crisis" can not sufficiently describe what has happened in Africa. The human tragedy there is so serious, it sometimes defies description. According to the World Bank, the majority of African countries (about 36) have a per capita annual income less than $675. On a yearly basis, Ethiopians typically earn $110 each.
In the face of this bleak poverty, political crisis, and instability, I am happy to see that there are people who are willing and committed to help. Your presence here proves that you want to empower the downtrodden.
The marriage between fair trade and farmers has helped lessen the poverty for my people. Fair trade has saved the lives of poor farmers. And participating in fair trade requires that both buyers and growers are disciplined, honest, and fair.
One of the "Seven Sins" as Gandhi puts it was: "Commerce without morality." In this way, a fair price is a moral price. It should, however, be clear that paying this price is only part of the overall package that will transform humanity.
I believe we are all in the same boat. The circumstances might vary. But in the end, what touches one part of humanity sooner or later affects the rest.
It has been many decades since farmers started to grow coffee in our area. Coffee was originally discovered in Ethiopia in a place called Kaffe. Soon coffee was growing throughout East, West, and South, becoming a necessary source of income for many Ethiopian farmers. Coffee makes up more than 50 percent of Ethiopia's total exports, generating vital income for its population of 73 million, more than half of whom live on less than a dollar a day. But then the price slump began in 1998, and the crisis affected the country in general and the coffee producers in particular.
Sidama Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union was designed to find an alternative ways to get coffee farmers a market for their crops and a fair price that would allow them to maintain their farms and provide basic necessities for their families. Searching for new alternatives in the coffee market, the union empowered cooperatives by creating more direct relationships between the producer and the trader.
Fair trade guarantees a minimum of $1.26 per pound (a living wage) and access to credit at fair prices. These fair payments are invested in food, shelter, healthcare, education, environmental stewardship, and economic independence. Fair trade promotes socially and environmentally sustainable techniques and long-term relationships between producers, traders, and consumer.
But coffee isn't just about farmers. Coffee starts at the hands of producer and ends at the hands of consumer. As a representative of producers, I am close to the crop, where the story starts and as consumer you are close to the cup where the story ends. You get your coffee from supermarkets and I get my coffee from the farm. But the path from crop to cup, and from farm to supermarket is long, and there are many actors involved. Most of these actors are acting unfairly and affecting the lives of many poor and silenced farmers. Today, I kindly request you advocate for fair trade by preaching fair trade, and consuming fair trade.
Although I was unable to make it to your conference, I hope the message I have shared with you whets your activist appetite. I know we face a long winding path and it is mostly uphill. The tasks before us are among the hardest to perform. But I strongly believe that fairness, truth, and justice will shine through and help us win our battle. What it takes is a full commitment from us to the poor, downtrodden, and unheard farmers. Only then can we espouse the noblest ideals of humanity.
Thank you and God bless you!
SHAYNA HARRIS: Ashenafi represents the true spirit of a committed individual who is working on behalf of his country to bring true social and economic transformation to the lives of the over 80,000 farmers Sidama supports.
He is living proof that we all play an important role in the work for a more just world, regardless of where we were born, our social position, and the resources afforded to us. Like most of us here, Ashenafi was not born in a coffee growing community.
However he is an inspiration to us all, as he has found a way to use his education and privilege to form strong partnerships with the millions of coffee farmers of Ethiopia, and help bring their story to you.
To learn more about the Sidama coffee grower's cooperative you can visit Oxfam's website, at www.oxfamamerica.org. Ashenafi reminds us that we all play a role in transforming our world, in promoting a vision and enabling the notion that together, we can end poverty.
]]>But this year, when these rivers spilled their banks, the consequences were severe. A team of local officials who visited 10 districts in the Gambella region in the end of September reported that the floods had displaced 135,721 people. The flooding killed two people and left 970 heads of livestock dead. High water still surrounded more than 19,000 people at the time of the assessment. Some districts were accessible only by boat.
Now, many people are in need of help. Food, shelter, and blankets are top on the list.
Together with its local partner, Envision Beyond Basic Needs Association, or EBBA, Oxfam America has launched a $39,000 emergency relief project to help about 8,500 people, almost half of whom are women. Plans called for the distribution of blankets for warmth and plastic sheets for shelter to 1,693 families in five localities.
"We are prepared to do more if the request comes through," said Dawit Beyene, Oxfam America's deputy director of humanitarian response. "The flooding continues and subsequent information we got revealed much more damage than we initially received." Five health posts, 20 schools, two farmer training centers, and nine clinics were also damaged by the floods.
Most of the people in Gambella, which is a low-lying region along the border with Sudan, make their living by fishing from the rivers, working small farms, or herding animals. Despite the regular flooding, villagers settle on the banks of region's rivers to pursue their livelihoods. Now, Oxfam is exploring more permanent ways of helping people cope with the challenges of their environment.
"We're discussing targeting Gambella for more preparedness work—such as establishing a permanent warehouse for emergency supplies as well as helping to increase the capacity of the local organizations with which we work in the region," said Beyene.
]]>"You cannot compare the peace we got with what I lost," says Sarite Bonaya.
A 35-year-old Guji man, Sarite lives in the Oromia region near the Mormora River about a day-and-a-half's drive from the Ethiopian capital of Addis Ababa. Forced from his home during the conflict, Sarite lost much of his wealth, including 233 heads of cattle.
But under an agreement brokered by a newly formed Peace Committee, Sarite, who is responsible for the care of 25 family members, got something even more important back: the ability to return to his home and farmland.
The agreement, reached during a peace conference among the Borena, Guji, and Gebra in April, settles for good the recent crimes they committed against each other and lays the groundwork for punishing future offenses and settling disputes.
In the Borena and Guji Zones near Ethiopia's border with Kenya, herding is the main means people have of making a living—a lifestyle in which they move their animals in search of pasture and water. Although most of the people in this area share the same background and culture, they are divided along ancestral lines.
Each of the different clans has its own system of governing which is adept at solving disputes and punishing crimes within that particular clan. The problem is that the only justice for a person who has had property stolen from him or a family member killed by someone from a different clan is to take matters into his own hands. In an area where guns are everywhere, retaliation has the potential to get very ugly—and it has.
Scarce resources and greed-driven cattle theft have always sparked minor conflicts between different clans. In the past, however, the various clans had agreements with each other in order to keep conflicts from spiraling out of control. Due to a weakening in their traditional governing systems brought about by the introduction of a more formalized, central governing approach, the clans' old agreements had been undermined, allowing violence to escalate.
In early 2006 a series of killings and retaliations brought on by scarce resources and cattle theft sparked separate conflicts between multiple clans in the area. By August, thousands of people had fled their homes in search of safer territory after losing much of what they owned.
By April of this year, everyone in the area had had enough and they turned to the Ethiopian Red Cross Society for help.
With support from Oxfam America, the Ethiopian Red Cross Society, or ERCS, set up a conference in Alona village which brought together the Borena, Guji, and Gebra—the clans responsible for a great deal of the conflict. At the conference a committee was set up with 10 people from each of those clans. The clans elected the committee members, and they quickly got to work.
The committee reached a few key agreements to bring an immediate end to the violence. The most important of these was that people should not ask for compensation for what had been done to them in the past, and a repayment system was set up for future inter-clan killings and robberies in order to prevent retaliation. The Peace Committee saw this repayment system as the most effective way of keeping people from retaliating on their own.
Since April, the committee has met once a month in order to resolve outstanding issues and ensure that peace holds in the area. It has been conducting these meetings in various places where displacements had occurred. So far, the committee has been able to help people from six of the seven displacement locations return home. The most recent of these meetings was held in August in Darmee village—the place where thousands of Guji, like Sarite, fled from a year ago. A team from Oxfam America was invited to attend.
When we arrived at the village, we were quickly ushered towards the banks of the Mormora River. There, spanning the river, was what the villagers referred to as a bridge?a couple of steel cables, with some sticks tied between them, running 130 feet across the water. After a harrowing few minutes and many small, shaky steps we all made it safely over the rushing river 15 feet below.
After this experience it did not come as much of a surprise when, during the meeting, my translator leaned over and told me that people were identifying a root cause of conflict in this area as a lack of access to each other. Traditionally in this village the Borena live on one side of the river and the Guji live on the other, making casual social interaction a difficult task considering what they had to go through to cross the river. Members of both clans agreed that with more interaction they would act more like brothers and one clan would not have to feel threatened enough to flee the area as had happened last year.
The meeting—200 men strong—took place in the shade of trees in an empty school yard on the Guji side of the river. Soon, everyone had turned their attention to the fate of families displaced by the earlier violence.
A lively discussion took place between members of the Peace Committee, government officials, and those whose futures were being discussed. In the end, the displaced people agreed to return to their lands within the month under protections guaranteed by the arrangements reached in the Peace Committee.
However, they still remained adamant that something needed to be done about the bridge and the shortage of clean water which has led to outbreaks of waterborne diseases. They said that with better access to each other the Borena and Guji would act more like brothers and would not resort to violence in the future.
"I am very happy," said Qumbi Dhoto, 34, with a big smile when the meeting was over. He was one of those who had to flee his home there. "This discussion will help bring peace to the area."
]]>In a conference room far from their native Liben in southern Ethiopia, the men painted a picture of that place—its herders, their hardships—that was so alive those listening to the stories could almost hear the cattle's hooves on the hard, dry earth and sense the struggles of the families who depended on them.
"These marginalized people living in the bush, in the dark, I see some light (for them)," said Kararsa. "I want to expand the light. I can't do it alone. I need people like you."
Their plan was simple: To help local herders by improving the health of their cattle and finding a way to educate their children.
They weren't looking for a handout: They were looking for a partnership. And they had come as community activists armed with local ideas for solving local problems. They even had a small reserve of cash—and livestock—donated by the Boren people to launch their initiative: the Liben Pastoral Development Association.
Less than a year later, this newly formed group now has a two-room office in the town of Negelle—funded completely by the community. It has refurbished a youth hostel so that children will have a place to stay when they attend school in Negelle while their families move off in search of fresh pasture for their animals. And the association has inaugurated its first project with Oxfam's help: a tick bath designed to rid cattle of the troublesome insects that have caused herders extensive hardship.
The ticks have been taking a toll. They cause mastitis in the teats of the cows, blocking the flow of their milk, and depriving herders of an important source of food for their families.
That day in the Addis office, Kote had come prepared with the facts. His fledging development group had surveyed 100 families in the Liben area and found that out of the 700 milking cows among them, 502 of them had mastitis.
"You can imagine the impact of this problem at the household level," said Kote. "This has great impact on food security for Boren families."
But the problem, back then, was that there was nowhere for the herders to take their cows for treatment, and some of the traditional methods of tick control were no longer effective. In the past, before there were permanent settlements scattered around Liben, herders had kept the ticks at bay by burning the rangeland. The government now bans that practice.
Using a long nail, herders collect as many of the ticks as they can off their animals. They rely on chickens and a local bird called a "chiri" to help by feasting on the engorged insects. And in some places, herders also use a mixture of salt and tobacco which they rub on their animals to discourage the bugs from attaching themselves. But more needed to be done. Lots more.
And that's why the Liben Pastoral Development Association's first construction project was the cattle dipping bath located about an hour's drive from Negelle. It's a long concrete canal filled with water and a combination of chemicals. From a steep entrance at one end, the cows wade in and swim to the other side where they walk out into a draining area. Within 30 minutes, the ticks begin to drop off. A committee elected by the local community is in charge of running the bath.
It's an investment the community takes seriously: local families raised more than half the cost of the bath. Oxfam's contribution was $25,794. The project is benefiting about 25,000 people and has been in constant use since it opened.
At a recent inauguration ceremony, Liben residents thanked Oxfam in a way that befits a herding community: They honored the organization by roasting a sheep and placing a piece of sheep skin on the wrists of visiting staffers.
For the people of Liben, this is just the beginning. The same day as the inauguration ceremony, the Liben Pastoral Development Association held a fund-raiser for its next project. Kicking off the event was a well-known elder who donated a camel—which could fetch up to $290 at market. His gift set the tone. By the end of the event, the community had raised about $10,000.
"The self-mobilization of this impoverished herding community was inspiring to see," said Tim Delaney, an Oxfam staffer who documented the day's events and tallied the donations: 55 cows, 73 goats and sheep, seven camels, and almost $2,000 in cash. "These are people whose only assets are their animals. Yet they were willing to give not because they had excess, but because they realize the importance of these projects. And they know they can't sit back and wait for donors to come along and offer money."
What's next on the agenda for the Liben Pastoral Development Association? With support from Oxfam, the group has plans to improve the water supply for about 5,000 people in the village of Hadhesse Korati. The association plans to install a generator, a reservoir, and two-and-a-half miles of pipeline so that the village and its school, health post, and veterinary clinic can all have a clean, reliable source of water.
A year ago, Kote spoke about his dreams for establishing night schools so students could attend classes after they had finished their herding chores. And he stressed the need for more health clinics in the area. For women having difficult labors, the nearest functioning clinic is more than 60 miles away. Carried on stretchers, they often die before they reach it, he said.
"As a Boren man, I feel ashamed," said Kote last year. "I can't do anything for my people. People are suffering from illness. They're thirsty. They're signing (their names) by fingerprint."
But now, Kote—and the herders of Liben—have plenty to be proud of, and a way to keep moving forward.
"Social change could not have been more clearly seen than at the inauguration of the cattle bath that day in Liben," said Delaney. "Everyone in our group was amazed at how motivated this community was and what they are capable of doing."
]]>Alami Bera is one such woman living in Ethiopia's Bacho district, about 50 miles southwest of Addis Ababa. A mother of twelve children, Alami and her husband toil on their farm to support eight of their unmarried children. Sometimes they are elated with their plentiful harvest, but other times they struggle to feed their large family. They work on their field year round to grow wheat and teff, and make the two-hour trek on foot to sell what they have harvested at the nearest open-air market. This is the same market that Alami walks to every week to purchase items for her family's consumption.
Up until the time Oxfam America partnered up with Oromo Self Reliance Association (OSRA) to launch the Sodo Liben Water Supply and Sanitation project, Alami, her family, and the other 3,000 people living in Sodo Liben locality had no access to clean drinking water and sanitation facilities. Waterborne diseases and other illnesses caused by lack of hygiene were rampant.
With heavy clay water pots on their backs, women and young girls traveled great distances on foot to fetch water from polluted streams. The hardship of fetching water increased as the dry season advanced, with the water levels dropping and the streams running dry. Women then would have to trudge down deep gorges and climb back up, lugging six gallons of water—about 50 pounds—on their backs.
For the 80 households living in Alami's village, the only near source of water was an ella, or traditional well, located at the heart of the village. The well, about 82 feet deep, had never been fit for drinking, but Alami had no choice other than to let her family drink from it. When the seasonal ella ran dry, Alami and the other women in her village walked two hours to fetch water from the nearest stream. One trip was never enough to meet the daily water needs of a family of 14. In a society where the burden of fetching water falls on women and young girls, Alami had to travel to the stream two or three times a day to fetch water.
"I knew the water I was giving my children was making them sick, but you have to know that I had no choice," said Alami. "I had only two choices. Either give my family filthy water to drink and bathe in or don't give them any water at all."
Ethiopia is known as the Water Tower of the Horn of Africa—a place with 12 river basins and vast underground reserves of water. Yet, the country has not been able to harness that potential. Countless traditional songs, poems, and proverbs praise the country's great rivers but lament the fact that the children of the mighty Blue Nile go thirsty while the river traverses boundaries to flow to far away lands and turn deserts into oasis. The irony is not lost on anyone.
Oxfam America set out on this project to provide a supply of clean drinking water and sanitation structures to improve health conditions and boost the productivity of people living in10 different sites within the district. Through this intervention, Oxfam America also intended to reduce the toil on women and young girls who had to walk great distances to fetch water. Oxfam and its partner constructed shallow wells, pit latrines, and washing stations and provided training to the communities on how to use them.
"Only a woman can fully appreciate what it means to have clean water near by," said Alami, pointing to the well and hand pump located only five yards from her thatch-roofed hut. "It now only takes me two minutes to pump out 7 gallons of clean water."
The hand-pumped well, which stands proudly in the middle of the village, is available five hours a day and the 80 households each get turns filling their jerricans for their daily use. The community imposed the five-hour limit to reduce wear and tear on the pump.
"What mother wouldn't give up everything she has to see her children's health restored?" asked Alami. "For the first time in our lives, our family is drinking and washing with clean water and using pit latrines."
Women in communities with the new wells are seeing some changes in gender role dynamics as more men are taking the initiative to fetch water for their families. It is a cultural taboo for a man to fetch water from a stream and carry it home on his back, so even the most helpful of husbands would only fetch water if the family owned a pack animal that could do the job.
"Imagine my husband sharing the water fetching responsibility with me," said Alami chuckling. "But he does it now, and I happily let him."
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