The survey report, "In Her Own Words: Iraqi women talk about their greatest concerns and challenges," is being released on International Women's Day to highlight the daily hardships women are facing as a result of years of conflict.

The report also calls on the government of Iraq to begin a 'surge' of investment into reviving Iraq's social welfare and essential services sectors now that the security situation, although still fragile, has improved in recent months. Critical in this effort is robust support from the international community. Such investment would benefit the population as a whole, and perhaps none more than Iraq's at risk women, and in particular, women-headed-households.

"Women are the forgotten victims of Iraq. Despite the billions of dollars poured into rebuilding Iraq and recent security gains, a quarter of the women interviewed still do not have daily access to water, a third cannot send their children to school and since the war started, over half have been the victim of violence. And to add further insult more than three quarters of widows, many of whom lost their husbands to the conflict, get no government pension which they are entitled to," said Oxfam International Executive Director Jeremy Hobbs.

A large majority of women surveyed were not receiving any state support and had become so poor as a result of the conflict that many could not afford to provide their families with clean water, electricity, food, an education and medical treatment.

Oxfam and an Iraqi women's organization, Al-Amal Association, which conducted the survey last year, found that despite security gains some 60 percent of women said that their security and personal safety were was still their number one concern.

The majority of women surveyed also said that access to most services, including drinking water and electricity, was worse or the same in mid-2008 as it was in 2006 when levels of insecurity in Iraq were higher. A quarter of the women surveyed—24 percent—had no access to clean water. Nearly half of those who did have access to water—48 percent—said it wasn't suitable for drinking. Eighty-two percent said that access to electricity had worsened or had not improved since 2006.

"A whole generation of Iraqis are at risk. Mothers are being forced to make tough choices, such as whether to pay for their children to go to school and receive healthcare, or to pay for private power and water services. These are choices no mother should have to make, and they are not only threatening individual families. They are also threatening the future of Iraq itself," added Hobbs.

The survey also found that:

• Income was worse for 45 percent of women in 2008 compared with 2007 and 2006, while roughly 30 percent said it had not changed in that same time period;
• 33 percent of women had received no humanitarian assistance since 2003;
• 76 percent of widows were not receiving a pension from the government;
• Nearly 25 percent of women had no daily access to drinking water and half of those who did have daily access to water said it was not potable; 69 percent said access to water was worse or the same as it was in 2006 and 2007;
• One-third of respondents had electricity three hours or less per day; two-thirds had six hours or less; 80 percent said access to electricity was more difficult or the same compared to 2007; 82 percent as compared to 2006 and 84 percent as compared to 2003;
• Nearly half of women said access to quality healthcare was more difficult in 2008 compared with 2006 and 2007;
• 40 percent of women with children reported that their sons and daughters were not attending school.

The specific hardships that some of Iraq's most vulnerable individuals cope with on a daily basis, as told by them, have overwhelmingly gone unheard.

Oxfam and the Al-Amal Association, the Iraqi partner organization that conducted the survey in the five provinces of Baghdad, Basra, Kirkuk, Najaf and Nineveh, do not claim that the information they gathered from 1,700 respondents represents the situation facing all Iraqis, or even all women in Iraq. However, it does provide a disturbing snapshot of many women's lives and those of their children and other family members. The information presented in this paper was collected over a period of several months, starting in the summer of 2008.

Paso suspected the reason for this neglect, and it became clear when one health official told Paso that he was not fit to wash dishes in their office because he was an indigenous Quechua speaker, an ethnic group at the bottom of the social order in the scenic region of Cusco. Paso was so discouraged that he almost believed him.

"I was lost," says Paso, now 37, married, and the father of three young boys. "I did not know what culture I belonged to."

Racism, and the discrimination it breeds, erodes the self-respect of the highland indigenous people of Peru. They turn away from their culture and slowly drop their traditional ways of living and working that are so well suited to the Andes. As a result, indigenous people are among the poorest in the country. Paso could see it around his village: farmers like him were not following their traditions of helping each other in their fields; they were poor and ashamed of their culture.

To get some perspective, Paso visited the Centro de Bartolomé de Las Casas, known by its initials CBC, because he had heard on the radio that it was running a bilingual education program designed to help indigenous leaders like him reconcile their place in Peru, learn about their human rights, and develop skills to represent their community with government officials. He joined the program and began learning to read and write in his own Quechua language as well as in Spanish, and he is now more confident in his ability to function in his own indigenous world and the official, Spanish-speaking culture of Peru.

With grants from Oxfam America, CBC had just finished a year-long consultation with Quechua-speaking community leaders and had jointly developed a curriculum designed to help young leaders value their own culture while operating in Peru's modern, post-colonial culture. "We have created a way to help people see they are part of one culture, but they recognize the other," says Nicolette Velarde, an anthropologist at CBC. She says this helps the community leaders create a "dialogue of respect and recognition of one culture with the other."

"Both are valuable," Velarde says. "I am different from you, you are different from me, but there is dialogue and respect."

Fruit of Quechua Culture

After developing the curriculum, CBC is now in the midst of training its first group of leaders, which included Paso and 30 others from Cusco and Apurimac.

One of them is Guillermina Mamani Huamán, 53, a mother of four and grandmother of seven. She had a similar experience to Paso's the first time she visited the city of Cusco, 15 years ago. "It was the first time I ever left my village ... Every time I think of it I get emotional," she says, sitting at her loom, staked out on the ground on the banks of the Mapuche River rushing past her father and sister's house.

Huamán went to Cusco to ask a government agency for help in marketing artisan products, but, over the course of four days, she was repeatedly denied the courtesy of even a short consultation. She struggled to find her way in the city, unable to read the street signs, frustrated by her illiteracy, and discouraged by her confrontation with institutionalized racism.

Indigenous women get little help from government agencies whose mission is to assist them. And indigenous women have special problems, even within their own culture, in that men do not always respect the work they do in their homes, and artisan women find that their handicrafts do not fetch a very high price. Huamán intends to learn how to better promote indigenous artisanry and build respect for the work of women. "We need to value fairly what we produce," she says. "This traditional way of weaving is the fruit of our culture, and every weaving has its own character—each woman puts in the way she sees the world."

Paso and Huamán and all the other leaders are planning how they will use their newfound knowledge and leadership skills. Paso is planning to run for public office so he can better represent his community and ensure it gets the schools, health care, and clean water it deserves, without forsaking its cultural identity.

Huamán wants to continue her work to promote the handicrafts produced by women in her community so that they can be more financially independent. "I want to help women educate their children," she says while weaving next to the rushing river, "so they can read and write, and not face the discrimination that I have."

"This is not a typical campaign,” said Janet McKinley, chair of Oxfam America’s board of directors and of the Campaign for Oxfam America. “We're not raising money for new buildings or for a perpetual endowment. The highest return a donor can get is to put money to work now.”

“Oxfam is seeking investors who want to expand our programs over a five-year period, building the capacity of poor communities, particularly women, to earn more, save more, invest in their families, and better manage their risks,” McKinley continued. “And given the increasing frequency and severity of natural disasters, those risks are rising.” McKinley and her husband, George Miller, have already committed $5 million to the Campaign for Oxfam America.

“The show of support we have seen for the Campaign is especially significant since Oxfam, in order to preserve its independence and voice, does not accept funding from the US government. The organization depends entirely on gifts and grants from individual donors, foundations, and corporations to carry out its mission of poverty alleviation and social justice,” McKinley concluded.

To date, individuals have contributed 57 percent of the donations for the Campaign for Oxfam America. Foundations and corporations have donated 43 percent. The Campaign has received commitments for 10 seven-figure and 50 six-figure gifts.

Among the leading institutional donors, the New York City-based Ford Foundation has already committed $9 million to the Campaign.

“The foundation shares Oxfam America’s commitment to reducing poverty, creating economic opportunities, investing in women and families,” said Susan V. Berresford, president of the Ford Foundation. “We welcome these efforts to create lasting, equitable solutions to the most pressing global issues.”

Another major donor to Oxfam, The William and Flora Hewlett Foundation in Menlo Park, CA, has contributed $4.5 million in current grants.

“Oxfam makes canny use of its financial support,” said Paul Brest, president of the Hewlett Foundation. “We share its goals of reforming aid and making global trade practices fairer as an effective way to lift the world’s population out of poverty.”

Funds raised through the Campaign for Oxfam America will support longer-term investment in four distinct areas of work:

Saving Lives

• Oxfam will strengthen its work with communities on reducing the risk of disaster and responding with greater urgency. By gauging the risks communities face, Oxfam can help them map their resources and devise plans that will allow everyone to reach safety in the early hours of an emergency.
• In addition, the Campaign has already supported the launch of Oxfam’s new public health initiative that has helped the organization respond to emergencies in a new way. When an outbreak of acute diarrhea rippled across Ethiopia last fall, sickening 59,000 people and leaving 684 dead, Oxfam was able to track down the likely source of the outbreak, help start an education campaign, and assist in establishing treatment centers.

Empowering Woman and Families

• By the end of 2007, Oxfam expects more than 100,000 women in Mali, Cambodia, and Senegal to have joined an Oxfam Saving for Change group – a savings-led microfinance program that empowers poor women to run their own savings and lending circles while gaining leadership and management skills. The Campaign will support the program’s longer-term goal of involving one million women.
• The organization is also developing new ways to help governments and civil society improve conditions for women who bear the brunt of the HIV/AIDS pandemic in southern Africa and suffer from violence in Central America. In El Salvador, a 2004 public opinion poll showed how pervasive the problem of violence against women is. More than half of those surveyed thought it was normal for a man to beat a woman. Oxfam has joined with six other groups to launch a public education and advocacy campaign calling on the local government and its employees to prevent that violence. The organization plans to build on the momentum started by the participation of more than 500 public officials in discussions on gender violence, women’s rights, and public safety.

Creating Economic Opportunity

• Large-scale oil, gas and mining projects often enrich a few while displacing whole communities and polluting the land and water on which they depend. Oxfam will build on its work to ensure extractive industries design their projects in ways that preserve those vital resources, response the rights of poor people, and contribute to the long-term reduction of poverty.
• Oxfam will continue to strengthen its capacity to campaign for change by tackling unfair trade practices so that poor farmers stand a chance of earning a fair price for their efforts. The organization has a track record on campaigning that has put it at the forefront of the movement to ensure both corporate and government social accountability. Oxfam’s recent work on behalf of Ethiopian coffee farmers is a prime example. Through its public awareness campaign, the organization helped to bring attention to Ethiopia’s efforts to trademark its fine coffee names. The effort led to a historic agreement between Starbucks and Ethiopia on distribution, marketing, and licensing that will help the country’s farmers.

Ensuring Impact and Effectiveness

• To ensure that each of our initiatives has the greatest impact, the Campaign will enable Oxfam to expand its learning and evaluation department. The department’s mission is to help the organization design all of its programs so that their effect on people’s social and economic rights can be clearly measured.

She was also furious. "This should not happen to us," she said later, referring to the residents of her village of Teberebie, which had been relocated to accommodate a new mining operation in the area. "What did we do wrong?"

Mr. Baidoo had been walking away from a confrontation between farmers and a military force when he was wounded. The protest arose after the military began blocking a road the farmers used to travel to their fields where they grow cocoa and palm trees, yams, cassava, and other fruits and vegetables. Having recently been denied this route through the mine property, and tired of the alternative—a longer, 12-mile round trip on foot—the entire town turned out in February 2006 to demand access to the road. Baidoo and one other man were shot, and several people were beaten.

Amoateng immediately called WACAM, the environmental and human rights organization partly funded by Oxfam that had trained her and others in the community. "I reported that Anthony had been shot, and was lying in his own blood," she said. After WACAM's director Daniel Owusu-Koranteng called the head of the AngloGold Ashanti mine company, Baidoo got the medical care he needed to survive at the company's expense. After recovering for eight months in the hospital he is now disabled.

Teberebie is a farming community in the Wassa West District of Ghana's Western Region. The community was resettled in 1991 to make room for the AngloGold Ashanti, Iduapriem Mine, which is now producing over 300,000 ounces of gold per year. It is just one of many scenes of violence over the last several years, as Ghana has thrown open its doors to foreign companies and relaxed its rules on investment to encourage more mining. The shootings in Teberebie were just two of 15 reported by the BBC in 2005 and 2006.

Concerned farmers

Amoateng is now a leader of the Concerned Farmers' Association of Teberebie, which consists of 35 farmers who have worked with WACAM to learn about their human rights under Ghana's constitution and Minerals and Mining Act. She is leading this group in a legal case against AngloGold, alleging non-payment of compensation for their lost farms, which are now buried under piles of waste rock.

Amoateng, 30, said she is now more aware of how the government and mining companies in the area are violating the rights of people in her community—and what to do about it. "Because of WACAM, I now know where to go and who to contact in case of any problem in the community," she said. Her recent activities have included leading a march to the nearby town of Tarkwa, where radio, television, and newspaper journalists interviewed her about the situation facing farmers in Teberebie.

In Ghana, as in many other countries in Africa and other parts of the world, women do not usually lead political struggles. Speaking out publicly is simply out of the question for most women in communities affected by mining in Ghana. Men are normally perceived as the voices of the community. But with the right training and personal ambition, women like Amoateng are showing they are strong leaders.

To more effectively represent her community, Amoateng is presently studying to finish high school and prepare for university. She aspires to be a lawyer and an advocate for women and children.

Her concerns center on basic justice for Teberebie. "The 1992 constitution and the Minerals and Mining Act are my closest friends now," Amoateng said. "I don't want the mining company to cheat my community. And I know my rights as a citizen living in a mining community."

Amoateng's work is a good example of how WACAM uses education as a tool to empower mining communities in their struggle to improve their living conditions. Her training with WACAM has strengthened her community as well as her own ability to represent her neighbors. "This has made me very powerful in the sight of both the mining company, and the men in my community," she said. "I am proud of myself."

Jerry Mensah-Pah is a radio and newspaper journalist based in Tarkwa, Ghana, and has been covering human rights violations related to communities affected by mining for four years. He works for WACAM in the Western Region of Ghana as its assistant programs officer.

Dalla Sissoko is watching this closely. Sissoko is one of the founders of the TONUS organization in Mali in 1995. This social service agency is now one of Oxfam America's partners in the Saving for Change program in Mali, and Sissoko is a micro-finance expert and head of the women's program at TONUS.

"We say that women are at the center of the Saving for Change program," Sissoko said on a rainy afternoon at the TONUS headquarters outside Bamako. "When we go to a village we have to speak with a chief or council, but after these initial meetings we are in contact only with the women. The women run the bank, keep the books, and run the meetings," she said.

It's no surprise that the women also enjoy the benefits of their Saving for Change group, Sissoko says. "We are seeing women have more money for buying things for the family and paying school fees. And many have extra money to buy things for their daughters when they get married, like a bed, and pots and pans."

Having more money to contribute to the family needs and expenses is a change in the role of women in the family. Men can see the benefits of the program, and their acceptance is important because participation in Saving for Change involves a time commitment from the busiest person in the family. "With Saving for Change women have two hours each week to talk among themselves, and they can have a break," Sissoko says, "They enjoy the company of their friends. It's really important to have this space. More and more, the men are allowing this time, and things are changing slowly. Many of the women are starting to wear better clothes, and the families are eating better. The health of children and their families are improving also, and men appreciate this."

But membership in a Saving for Change group goes beyond money and fellowship. "In most cases women do not get much information or training, but with the Saving for Change program they can get training among themselves," Sissoko says. TONUS trains women in managing their accounts, and in preventing and treating malaria, one of the most serious health threats in Mali.

And as with any organized group of knowledgeable people, Saving for Change group members look beyond their own personal concerns and advocate for ways to improve their community. In this case, groups propose ways to prevent malaria in the entire village. "They eventually start speaking in public," Sissoko says, ?and have opinions people respect."

Being involved in public affairs, and actually speaking your mind in public is simply out of the question for most village women in Mali. This is particularly the case in questions about public health, agriculture, access to water, and other crucial issues facing many villages. "Women are not really involved in development activities, these are dominated by men," Sissoko says. "Women just don?t make any of the decisions about development. They are not consulted and they are not heard. Women do not speak out in public. When they are young they are told that if they speak out they will never get a husband."

Minata Konaré, a 24-year-old mother of three and member of a Savings for Change group says that having the confidence to speak in public is one of the biggest changes for her, and it all started at her group meetings. "I never used to be able to speak in public, but now I can talk in public," Konaré says while passing by a friend's house on her way to work selling food in the village of Guily, near where she lives. "I used to always be at my house, but now I come to the village and talk with the other women, so this is opening things up for me."

The positive changes for women seen by Sissoko and others are being documented in a study carried out by Oxfam in late 2006. It looked at the progress being made in 20 villages in Mali, where researchers got numerous comments from women members of Saving for Change groups as well as their husbands and others in the communities. "Women are earning more money, and their new income enhances their status in their households," one researcher commented. "They are purchasing things they couldn't previously afford, they are contributing more to household expenses, and they report helping their husbands more."

Sissoko says women are creating ways for villages to better store their grains and other crops, eliminate mosquito breeding areas, and promote other positive changes they see helping everyone in the community. "Saving for Change helps women build confidence in their ability to do things," Sissoko says. "The entire village benefits from Saving for Change."

Devapiriam is the director of Anawim Trust, a rural development organization that undertook relief efforts when the tsunami struck the coast of Tamil Nadu, India.

“Right after the tsunami," she says, "we provided people in the area villages with food, medical aid, and then temporary shelter."

But while she and her staff labored to get aid to everyone in need, she never lost sight of the particular struggles of women and children.

"Already we were working with women and children before the tsunami, because they were the most oppressed in the community. After the tsunami, initially most rehabilitation aid was given to men, who received fishing boats," says Shanti. "So we focused on the women."

She first helped women form self-help groups—community organizations where members save, lend, and invest money together. She then provided trainings to group members in both job skills and how to run a business.

In one highly successful joint venture with Anawim Trust, three self-help groups of Dalit women have come to own fifteen 30-foot fishing boats, which they rent out to local fishermen. At an impromptu meeting on the beach of Senthilveethi in March 2007, several of the women talked about the impact boat ownership has had on their lives.

"Earlier we used to work as laborers, but now we are the owners of boats," said Devika, who like many people here goes by only one name. "Now men are working in our boats. And we have confidence that we can be the owners of more."

"Now the other boat owners respect us as owners," added Maragatham, another self-help group member.

The police, too, are paying more attention to the rights of these women.

"In the past, the police didn't respect us. They ignored our complaints," said Muthulascmi, an elderly member of a self-help group. But when a motor from one of their boats was stolen, the police responded quickly. "We got it back immediately."

And with past hurts fresh in their minds, the women have taken steps to right some old wrongs. "We feel that we treat our laborers better than we used to be treated," said Maragatham. "Laborers now prefer to work with us because we always give them their fair share."

The experience of the women of Senthilveethi illustrates the impact that gaining access to high-value assets can have on impoverished women, and why gender researcher Chaman Pincha considers it a particularly effective tool for empowering women in the wake of disasters.

In June of 2006, Pincha and a team of independent researchers undertook a study—initiated and funded by Oxfam, and managed by Anawim Trust—to help document how gender affected the experiences of tsunami survivors, the various ways tsunami aid providers have integrated gender sensitivity into their programs, and what impact those programs have had on women and men.

Collaborating with a group of ten non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that share the goal of ensuring gender equity in aid delivery, she and her team carried out discussions with tsunami survivors in 45 villages served by the NGOs in the hard-hit districts of Kanniyakumari, Cuddalore, and Nagapattinam.

The field work revealed aid efforts that had missed the mark, but Chaman and her team put greater attention on practices that can serve as models for NGOs responding to future disasters.

“It was unfortunate that for the sake of avoiding bias, we couldn't hold focus groups in the areas where Anawim Trust works," says Pincha, "because a number of their programs reflect the best practices that emerged from the study."

Training women in nontraditional trades, for example.

In a spacious, well-lit room of the Anawim production center, a young woman named Selvakani sets up a job on a printing press. After two trainings followed by two years of hands-on experience, she handles the tools and equipment with ease—cleaning and installing rollers, positioning the image plate, and then running off a stack of flyers, somehow managing to keep her sari clean throughout. She prefers this work to her other alternative—agricultural labor—and with job offers at printing companies beginning to roll in, she has given herself a foothold in a relatively secure and well-paid line of work. Selvakani enjoys telling people about her job and says they respect her unusual skills. "They say, 'it's a good job that you're doing,'" she says with a smile.

"Training women in nontraditional skills breaks stereotypes and can enhance women's self-esteem. It helps them fetch better wages, and over time helps them achieve positions of leadership," says Pincha. "It's one good strategy for aid providers who are committed to women's empowerment."

The gender study, which is now being finalized, is one of several that Oxfam has carried out in the wake of the tsunami.

"By undertaking studies that draw out the experience and perspective of community members and combining that with the knowledge that aid providers have to offer, we hope to strengthen not only Oxfam programs but also those of the aid community as a whole," says Russell Miles, Oxfam America’s Tsunami Research Program Manager. "Sometimes the results confirm our hunches, sometimes they elaborate on existing knowledge, and occasionally they surprise us."

For her part, Devapiriam is looking forward to the completion of the gender study, whose recommendations she believes will help strengthen her already-impressive array of programs for women. "It's very important to us to have a chance to learn from the best practices of other organizations."

She takes her Oxfam guests to one last gathering before they leave town. In the village of Mangalawadi, a self-help group has purchased a collection of new chairs and utensils to rent out on big occasions, and today they celebrate the launch of the new business. It is a joyful event, where in amongst the formalities, spontaneous speeches erupt.

"Before we founded the self-help groups, we never had confidence in ourselves, and we had no assertiveness," says Alli, an elderly group leader, who has helped local groups collaborate with one another. "Forming a self-help group is not such a great thing in itself. Everyone is doing it. But here we don't just focus on money. Here we have created unity."

Read a summary of the report.

So, three times a week, and sometimes more, women from the Abu Shouk and Al Salaam camps head out on four-hour treks to scavenge for fuel. If they don't come upon any trees, the women resort to clawing through the hard-packed earth to reach bits of root that they can burn instead.

But hard work is only part of their problem. Looming larger for these women is the constant threat to their safety: By venturing even a short distance outside of the camps they could face harassment, sexual assault, or even death. Since early 2003, conflict has wracked this region, forcing more than 2 million people from their homes. Many of them have sought shelter in camps like Abu Shouk and Al Salaam. But the demands of daily living—the need for wood, for jobs, for food—often require them to leave the safety of those camps.

Now, Oxfam America, together with the Sudanese Agency for Environment and Development Service (SAEDS), has launched a $132,000 program that will help thousands of displaced women stay safer in this volatile place. The agency is providing 4, 200 households with fuel-efficient stoves that, in many cases, will completely remove the need for women to hunt for wood. Two thousand of the stoves are kerosene-fueled; another 2,000 are efficient wood-burning stoves; and 200 of them use gas. The project will benefit about 25,200 people.

Women were excited about getting the stoves, said Sahar Ali, an Oxfam America program officer, who paid a monitoring visit to Abu Shouk in late January.

"Traditionally, the provision of firewood and fuel for cooking has been the responsibility of women," said Ali, in a report she filed after the visit. "There are few other sources of cooking fuel available to them."

But with the introduction of kerosene and gas, they now have other options. And the small round stoves that burn wood efficiently—as opposed to open fires—means women will need to make fewer of the dangerous scavenging trips.

Still, convincing women that gas is a smart way to cook has taken some doing, said Ali. They worried about its hazards.

"This is the first time for them using gas, and most of the houses are made from wood," said Ali. "If it burns, it burns all the camp. They said we prefer kerosene—not the gas."

Thinking green

The hesitancy about gas notwithstanding, the new stoves are bringing another important benefit to the region, too: some relief for the environment.

"North Darfur is mostly desert, and the few trees that provided a nearby source of cooking fuel when the camps were first created more than two years ago are all gone," said Ali in her report.

It's a trend that Ibrahim Suliman, a program coordinator for SAEDS, has watched for the past four decades as it's crept across the region.

"When I was a child, most of Darfur was covered in forest—even North Darfur," said Suliman, a native of Dar el Salaam, a small village about 30 miles south of El Fasher. But in the last 30 years, those trees and grasses have given way to desert. Why?

"Because of overgrazing," said Suliman. "Because there is no planning for animal breeding. And the firewood for cooking. And for houses—people build their houses from wood. And charcoal traders."

But with the introduction of the stoves, some of that degradation can be slowed since less wood will be needed for cooking. Suliman has even convinced his mother to switch to kerosene.

"She's very happy. It's clean," he said.

Planting projects

SAEDS is taking its concern for the environment a step further: It has launched a replanting project in Dar es Salaam and plans to begin a similar effort around the camps.

"Our philosophy is to restock the forest and all these things will be improved," said Suliman. "If we try to stop cutting trees and every year we try to plant many new trees, within four to five years we will be able to restock a big amount of trees. And we'll be able to at least make the environment more attractive than before and people can find grasses for their animals and be able to cultivate again. It might take a long time, but we have to start."

In Dar el Salaam, thanks to SAEDS, about 4,500 new saplings are now growing.

"In five to 10 years, I'm sure it will be green," said Suliman.

Near El Fasher, trees might also grow again. Oxfam's project with SAEDS calls for the planting of 10,000 seedlings around the camps. Families who have recently received the fuel-efficient stoves will be mobilized to do the planting.

Mamadou Diedhiou, the school's director, takes the high enrollment as a compliment. "Our school district has one of the highest levels of attendance in the country," he says proudly. "And we are building schools all the time."

Four of Diedhiou's teachers have been using the Oxfam-funded GRA-REDEP peace education curriculum for the last three years, and others are learning about it and integrating it into their classes also. The teachers are seeing a real difference in the behavior of the students at Basembo Diandy: fewer fights, more tolerance, and more engagement with the faculty on school issues. The students understand what it is to be a citizen, says Pathé Diatta, one of the teachers. "When we used to raise the flag here most students weren't interested,"" he said in the school library. "But after we taught them about citizenship, they attend the flag raising every morning."

Citizens enjoy certain rights, and this is a key lesson taught in Professor Djibril Faye's class, held in one of the concrete block buildings, where there is a charcoal outline of the African continent on the back wall. The students, roughly 40 kids between 10 and 15, can name their basic rights: the right to live in peace, the right to medical care, the right to food.

And then the big one comes up: the right to an education. The discussion revolves around why some families don't let their girls go to school, just the boys. Many students don't understand the issue completely. When asked for reasons why a father might not allow a daughter to attend school, some think it might be because there is no money for clothing, transportation, or school fees.

But that is not it. Professor Faye wants them to discover the gender dimension of this human rights issue—a basic injustice based on the roles society imposes on females. "Maybe the father wants his daughter to work around the house, so when she gets married she will know what to do," one boy suggests. The unfairness comes out clearly to the students. Now they see why girls might be more likely to be kept home from school—a violation of their right to an education.

Seynabou Sène, a slim 13-year-old student, took the lesson to heart. "Girls need to go to school," she said after the class. "If my father told me I could not go to school, I would force him to take me so I can have a better future. I want to be a teacher."

Tato Boru, 48 and the mother of five children, is a peacemaker. She leads the Moyale area women's peace council which Oxfam's local partner, the Research Center for Civic and Human Rights Education (RCCHE), helped to found.

Here, near the Kenyan border, many people make their living as herders. Droughts plague the region, and their consequences—shriveled pasture and water sources sucked dry—are particularly severe for families of herders and their animals who depend on those resources for survival. Tension over shortages can trigger disputes, as can concern about land demarcation lines drawn by the government. Add guns to the mix, and conflicts quickly turn lethal. Over the years, fighting in the area around Moyale has taken many lives.

One of several similar committees, the council Boru heads advocates for peaceful coexistence among the different ethnic groups in the region and helps mediate between them when conflicts start to simmer. There are also councils for young adults and village elders.

Giving an example of how her group works, Boru told about a recent dispute that erupted when a group of Somalis settled in a nearby village predominantly occupied by Gabra.

"There was a stone attack and there were a few gun shots, but no one was hurt. We felt it was time for our intervention," she said. "We went...and told them that land is the gift of God and we all can share it."

Accompanied by members from the other two councils, the women urged the sparring groups not to resort to violence, but to engage in discussions first, and if that didn't work, to take the matter to court. In the heat of disputes like this, council members try to visit the troubled village at least once a week. As things cool down, they cut back their visits to once a month.

Raising awareness is one of the key objectives of the peace council, and something its members take on regularly in both formal and informal settings. Occasionally, the women will ask community officials to organize a gathering of local people at which the council will then make a presentation. Other times, community events, such as weddings, can serve as an opportunity for peace teachings.

Recovering traditional roles

Peace initiatives like these are helping women reclaim a degree of authority that was once theirs—an authority that gun-fueled violence has severely eroded. With RCCHE's help, women are now speaking out about the suffering armed conflicts shower on their families. They are finding a voice and sharing their burdens of loss and sadness.

"Before this, we weren't in a position to disclose our feeling about conflict. We simply suffered with it. But now, we've got a chance to speak on peace and work on it. Our awareness and participation bring change," said Boru.

"In the late '90s, there was an awakening to the value of traditional conflict resolution methods," said Muthoni Muriu, Oxfam America's director of regional programs. "That's when the role of women in peace building really came on stage."

The toll armed conflict takes

It's a role that is rightfully theirs: Women bear the brunt of hardship when violence rips through a community, leaving husbands dead, homes in ashes, livestock looted.

"They lose fathers, brothers, and sons," said Boru, seated on a low stool in the cocoon-like quiet of her tukul. "They take care of the wounded, the children, the animals. Even if they don't die, they have to shoulder so many of the burdens...the horror."

There is acknowledgement among men in this patriarchal culture that women bring something unique to peace work.

"They are better than men," said Boru Roba, a man and the leader of a peace committee for elders.

"Women can play both a fueling role and a cooling role in conflict," added another man, Galma Roba, a representative for traditional leaders. "If men get initiated for conflict and women interject, the men might change their minds."

Highlighting the awful consequences of conflict—the death, the destruction—against the broad benefits of peace is at the core of the women's strategy. It's an argument few can refute.

"When we try to sensitize them on the importance of peace, there is no man who opposes us," said Mako Dalecha, a mother of five children and a member of the peace council. "Peace—and rain—are the basis for life in our area."

The 25th anniversary of the AIDS epidemic has come and gone, and after all the UN meetings, the hand wringing, and the finger pointing, there remains one key element that has received little press: In the epicenter of the AIDS epidemic—in southern Africa, home to one of every three people in the world living with HIV—it is women like Leona, in Mozambique, who are shouldering a disproportionate burden of the disease.

The problem here is lack of respect for women's rights. In some places in southern Africa women are prohibited by law from owning or inheriting property, and so have few financial assets. This limits their independence, putting them at risk financially, emotionally, and sexually. It is not surprising that more than half of the world's HIV-infected women, more than nine million of them, live in southern Africa, according to the UNAIDS report released in November 2006. With little power to negotiate their sexual activity, females in some areas of southern Africa now represent three quarters of HIV and AIDS infected people aged 15 to 24. When people say AIDS has become a "feminized" epidemic, this is what they mean. In 2004, UN Secretary General Kofi Annan appointed a task force to study the problem. The experts urgently recommended the development of non-discriminatory laws and policies designed to help women protect their rights and reduce their vulnerability.

The countries of southern Africa lack adequate resources (not to mention a vaccine and access to drugs) to care for the millions with HIV and AIDS. Yet unlike the scientific barriers to ending the epidemic, it is well within our power to support women's rights—an essential means to cutting down the number of women infected and affected by HIV and AIDS.

Creating equal rights for women in Africa, like everywhere else, is a challenge. Last May, I saw it for myself. Within an hour of my arrival in South Africa, I heard on the radio that the African National Congress's Deputy President Jacob Zuma was acquitted of charges that he had raped an HIV-positive woman, the daughter of an ANC comrade.

Violence against women is endemic in South Africa, where a woman is raped every 26 seconds. But women's rights experts I met said that the Zuma trial itself said a lot about the country's attitude toward women. There was intense scrutiny of the victim's sexual past, while Zuma's was not considered. Zuma, a potential presidential candidate, arrived at the courthouse in a motorcade with body guards and enjoyed vocal supporters in the streets as he proudly invoked his Zulu culture to explain why he'd had unprotected sex with the woman. By contrast, attempting to ensure her safety and preserve her privacy, the accuser crept into the court through the back door. The discrepancy in power and access to justice was remarkable, especially since the country was just celebrating the 10th anniversary of its progressive constitution, which has very clear provisions guaranteeing equality for men and women before the law.

But for every Zuma trial, there is progress too. The day I encountered Leona in Mozambique, she met with a legal advisor at a women's rights organization in Maputo to learn how to defend her right to stay in her house. Accustomed to claiming a dead relative's assets, her in-laws did not realize that Mozambique had a new Family Law that protects the right of widows to inherit property. "He never had another wife," Leona said, "so no matter what his relatives say, I have the right to inherit the house and things."

In addition to changing laws, proponents of women's right also need to work with cultural leaders to help encourage long-term changes in customs and traditions that discriminate against women. Women themselves are taking this on, sometimes at great personal risk. Cecilia Reis, an elderly traditional healer and guardian of culture and tradition in her community, told me that she is committed to teaching women about their rights under Mozambique's new Family Law to counter the exploitative customs that put them in danger of poverty and abuse. "You have to stand up, face men eye to eye," she told me. "This is the only way for them to see the power of women."

In one of the most notable successes of legal reform in the region, a coalition of five women rights and development organizations in Mozambique, funded by Oxfam America, researched and advocated forthe new Family Law. They showed what strong organizations and committed women can do with the right kind of assistance.

Governments, the UN, international NGOs, and other donors need to expand their horizons in the fight against HIV and AIDS, and address the gender dimension of the crisis. We all have a responsibility to ensure that women like Cecilia have the support they need to create solutions to their own problems. For the most heavily infected and affected part of the world, it is an essential component in the fight against AIDS and the fight for our future.