In the area near Dubluq, Borena clans have wells with earthen ramps leading their cows down to flat areas with mud troughs so their animals can drink water passed up, bucket by bucket, by teams of men in a vertical chain, all singing to keep rhythm. These traditional eela wells, also called singing wells, are crucial in the dry season, and the clans have a schedule for which herds can access the wells on different days.
One of the wells near Dubluq is a bit special. The Negelle well has a wider entry ramp leading to a large flat surface surrounded on three sides by concrete troughs and a large reservoir. Dida Ollo, leader of the Maleu Gida sub clan, stands next to the Negelle eela and smiles, showing his impossibly straight, white teeth. "My clan and my community are overjoyed," he says as his clan members pass water up to the troughs in preparation for several herds expected that afternoon. "Imagine," Ollo says. "We can water up to 1,600 cattle in a day. With our old eela we could only take care of much fewer cattle."
The contrast with the older traditional wells is clear: In some of the older wells the herders stand precariously on a rickety, makeshift wooden ladder, passing the water up to an earth trough about 15 feet long. Each day they must create a mud out of water and dust from a termite mound to line the trough to reduce seepage. It is more work to serve fewer cows: About 15 cows can drink at one time. The neighboring Negelle well can serve 70 cows at one time, and has a steel ladder and platform system on which the herders stand securely passing the water buckets up and down.
Dida Ollo's clan asked Oxfam America's partner in Dubluq, Action for Development (AFD), to help them rehabilitate their traditional eela. Clan members donated their labor, sold cows to buy materials, and worked with AFD to optimize the design. Oxfam America contributed a grant for part of the cost.
Just enlarging the entry ramp made a huge difference, decreasing the angle and widening the width from two to 13 meters. Nasir Tonea, the construction foreman for the project with AFD, says "Before we leveled the entrance, it was really steep. And only one cow at a time could enter. After they drank, they big cows had trouble getting out, we would have to get behind and push. Now we can have 70 cows leaving to one side so they can let another herd of cows come down—they let them in because they can see they are thirsty," he says. "They have better manners than most people on the roads nowadays."
Dida Ollo says the rehabilitation made a huge difference. "The difference between the old and new well is like night and day." He says they sometimes allow other clans to water their cattle at the Negelle well when the other nearby traditional wells can't cope with the demand in dry times.
Next to the Negelle well there is a plaque that reads, "Dubluq well rehabilitated with the partnership of the local community, Oxfam America, and Action for Development." Now 68, Dida says this is part of his legacy: "When I pass away future generations will know we accomplished this together." It's important to him because it enshrines his participation in important Borena traditions. "There are two sacred things in Borena life," Ollo explains later at his house. "The first is to raise a girl and give her hand away in marriage. The second is to bring the clan together to work on our eela."
]]>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.
]]>In 2002, Bogoso Gold Mines, a subsidiary of Golden Star Resources, acquired the mine concession and started to aggressively expand the mine pit towards the town. Use of explosives in the mine pit damaged homes in the Krutown neighborhood, and repairs effected by the company were not adequate, according to homeowners. In the neighboring village of Dumase there have been two cyanide spills in the Aprepre River in 2004 and 2006.
"In 2004 we could see the surface mine approaching the town, so we complained to the government but no one came to our aid," said Dominic Nyame, a burly 43-year-old former miner turned community organizer with the Concerned Citizens Association of Prestea. Community members said the encroaching mine pits brought blasting too close to nearby neighborhoods and houses were being damaged. "In 2005 we demonstrated against the company, and the military came to town and shot seven people—fortunately no one died." There has never been an independent investigation of this incident.
The communities of Prestea, as well as Himan, and Dumase that neighbor the Bogoso/Prestea mine, are requesting a comprehensive evaluation of the impact of the first phase of the Bogoso/Prestea project and for the company to respect their right to free, prior, and informed consent regarding the planned Prestea Southern Project.
The community of Dumase is also seeking damages in court from the 2004 and 2006 cyanide spills, and has formally requested that Golden Star Resources commission independent health investigations, but the company has not acted on this either.
Community members attended training sessions with Oxfam America's partner WACAM in 2005 to learn about their human rights, and how to teach others about their right to live in a safe environment and be consulted about the effects of the expanding mining operation. Community members went to Accra and met with reporters and got their grievances into the media, after which Bogoso Gold said they would reduce their blasting activity and form a joint committee to oversee future blasting.
But the issue of pit expansion is still a problem for people living in and near Prestea who fear being involuntarily relocated, or living too close to mine pits and blasting. The proposed pit expansion would also be within several hundred meters of a school, so many parents in this area are concerned about the safety of their children. In two prior incidents in 2006 security forces have moved people off of mine property by force, and the Concerned Citizens Association has had to use some of the training they received from WACAM to resolve these conflicts peacefully. "With WACAM we can calm the waters," Nyame said.
Bogoso Gold is currently suspending all mining activity and expansion while it negotiates with the citizens of Prestea, who are exerting their right to be consulted about how the mine operates, how it could possibly expand its operations into the southern part of Prestea, and the way it carries out any future blasting in the mine pits.
]]>"Life is water," says Oxfam's Brahim Abdel-Madjid. "Without water there is no life at all—enough water, sufficient water, good quality water."
Here at Koloma, that is what Oxfam is helping to supply to some of the 180,000 Chadians chased from their homes by recent waves of violence between rebel forces and government troops. About 7,400 displaced people have settled at Koloma, one of seven sites in and around Goz Beida in which Oxfam is now providing emergency services for a total of 52,000 people.
And for some, the help aid groups have offered, coupled with the advantages of being near a town like Goz Beida with its new hospital, mosque, and market, hold enough promise for a better life that home no longer beckons them.
"Some will not go back—even with security," says Abdel-Madjid, who is the team leader for Oxfam's public health education programs in the Goz Beida area. "Most of the people living in the temporary sites had never traveled to Goz Beida to see that there's a big market. You can trade. You can start a new life."
Clean water is certainly one of the lures—a benefit that has helped to soften the hardships many have experienced as their family members have been killed, their homes ruined, their villages abandoned.
In the mottled light inside a mat hut at Koloma, a crowd of women—and a baby or two—has gathered. These are the sushies—the female leaders of their communities. Sitting on the ground, folded in their colorful wraps, they talk about their lives since fleeing their villages and coming to this sandy sprawl of makeshift shelters. Abdel-Madjid translates.
Food is in short supply, they say. And they have no land to farm. To earn money to buy extra food, they gather wood in the bush to sell in the local market.
Many of them have lost everything in the conflict. Fatouma Sosal tells of the four huts that once belonged to her family in Tiero. All of them were burned down. She talks about the millet she used to grow in her fields and her lost self-sufficiency.
Kadjidja Mahamat says the days here at Koloma can be long, filled only with the chores of trying to keep her temporary household in order: cooking food in the morning—if there is food—washing her children's clothes, patching her hut.
But at least there is water—clean and ample—and for that the women are happy.
In their villages, says Abdel-Madjid, families used to drink from the same source in which they bathed and also shared with their animals, which left their droppings nearby. People were sometimes sick and their children would have "blajose," or bloody urine. But with clean water supplied from a large Oxfam storage tank erected at the edge of their settlement—and a new understanding of waterborne diseases and the importance of good hygiene—problems like diarrhea have disappeared.
"A lot of these people are coming from huts in the middle of the desert. They get to Goz Beida and suddenly they get clean water, schools, health care," says Sarah McHattie, an Oxfam program manager. "I don't think we'll see a big return."
The question of when—and if—displaced people will return to their villages is a complex one, says Poul Brandrup, Oxfam's country program manager in Chad. There are many factors people weigh in making that decision.
"They need to be convinced that they will be able to re-establish sustainable livelihoods," says Brandrup. "Safety is important. So are primary health services and water. And we are increasingly hearing their strong wish for their children to be able to attend school."
One of the realities is that the temporary settlements in which people can now access those essential services are, in fact, "artificial," says Brandrup. They offer limited possibilities for people to establish and maintain themselves over the long-term. For instance, without Oxfam?s assistance, communities could not sustain the kind of water systems—with deep boreholes and expensive diesel-powered pumps—on which they now rely.
"The displaced understand that it will not be possible for all to stay in the current sites," Brandrup adds. "At the same time, many villages have been destroyed and land taken over by others so return in those cases is no longer an option."
Economic and social development for rural villages may play a key role in some people's willingness to return.
"It is not possible to drill thousands of boreholes to replace the existing water systems," says Brandrup. "But people can learn to develop traditional open wells better and to ensure that water is not contaminated by animals or unsafe practices. This is, in most cases, the way to go when and if the displaced people can return to their villages."
Khadidja Saleh has already made up her mind about that—at least for the moment. She doesn't intend to leave Gassire, a settlement for 16,300 displaced people on the other side of Goz Beida.
Not far from the steady thump of an Oxfam generator pumping water for this temporary community, Saleh welcomes visitors into her home. A collection of three huts for her extended family, Saleh's improvised compound is like many crowded onto this dusty patch of earth, cobbled together from branches, plastic sheets, thatch, and grass matting.
The mother of six children, Saleh, her husband, and their family made it here safely after a three-day walk from their village of Fagatar—a place she does not want to go back to.
"Many, many people have been killed and no one took time to bury them," she says through an interpreter. "There will not be peace there."
Instead, she says, she would like to stay here and possibly farm a little plot where she can grow vegetables such as ochra—if she can get some land. It feels safe here, she added. And the water is close by and clean.
In Fagatar, Saleh spent about two hours each day fetching water for her family, lugging it home on the back of a donkey. Here, water taps are a short distance from her home. She and her children visit them four or five times a day, filling a 20-liter jug each time.
Even though there is not enough food for her family to eat here yet, Saleh is confident that the international aid groups that have streamed into the region to help will do just that—make sure that she, and the tens of thousands of other displaced villagers, will have at least the basics for survival.
"Here, the place is safe, so one day the food can come," she says.
But the challenges, including insecurity and lawlessness, that confront aid groups in this poor and remote region are enormous—and the needs of people seemingly without end.
As Saleh's visitors bounced in their truck away from Gassire, they passed a thin and tired-looking woman slapping the rump of donkey, urging it onward with its heavy load of a child and a battered pair of plastic water jugs. From the bottom of one, a steady drip of water caught the light. It drizzled from a rag plugging a hole—an afternoon's labor draining into the dust.
]]>But when they returned, the full impact of the strongest storm in 16 years was all too clear. Sidr killed at least 2,837 people, destroyed or damaged more than 1.1 million homes, and hurt nearly one and a half million acres of cropland.
"There are so many people without homes or basic sanitation, and who are now likely to be unable to get food, that Bangladesh is facing its most serious humanitarian disaster in many decades," said Heather Blackwell, head of Oxfam International in Bangladesh.
Oxfam is responding with an initial $8.5 million emergency relief effort that will provide up to 153,000 people with clean water and nutritional support. Additionally, the program will offer 15,000 households the means to construct temporary shelters. And as many as 400 latrines will also be built—with a design that will ensure privacy for women.
"People urgently need drinking water, food, and medical support," said Enamul Hoque, a public health advisor working with Oxfam on the response. "Many areas are completely cut off from receiving supplies and markets have been destroyed. There is a need for markets to start functioning properly."
Assessment teams visiting the devastated region have reported that dead animals and debris have contaminated many of the ponds on which most people depend for their drinking, washing, and cooking water. The potential for the spread of waterborne diseases, including cholera, remains high.
Oxfam and its partners are working with communities to clean up the ponds and dispose of the animal carcasses. And though access remains difficult, Oxfam has also started to transport water to some of the more remote areas. We plan to install up to 100 solar desalination stills—as a pilot project—in some of those remote areas to provide drinking water.
Our response plans also call for the distribution of water treatment materials to 15,000 households that will allow them to improve water quality to a satisfactory level. In addition, we will provide up to 200 temporary shallow-tube wells in areas where seawater has contaminated the surface.
Sidr caused massive damage to crops in the coastal region which will have both an immediate and long-term effect on Bangladesh. Severe floods in the north a few months earlier also hit the agriculture sector hard, and with the price of food now spiking, aid workers are concerned that people will not have enough to eat.
Oxfam plans to provide supplemental rations for up to 30,000 households for three months. The distribution, intended to complement food programs undertaken by other groups, will meet about 35 percent of each household's food needs.
In addition, Oxfam will distribute basic goods to 30,000 households. Many families lost everything—clothes, tools, animals—and have no means for replacing them. Our distribution of household goods includes buckets, jugs, mugs, blankets, saris, kitchen utensils, and soap.
]]>I like to sleep. But by six o'clock the first rays of the sun are coming through the holes in the wall of my family's shelter, the cocks and donkeys start their shouting, and the camp starts to come to life. The first thing I do when I get up is pray. I ask God to look after my family, and bring peace to Darfur. Then I get on with the household chores... so many chores! I boil the water on the fire to make tea, I wash my brothers' and sisters' clothes, and then I clean the cooking pans. I don't enjoy cleaning and sometimes I'm tempted to do it very quickly, but Oxfam is always telling us to clean the pans thoroughly and I'm scared of getting sick if I don't!
By 8 a.m. I'm on my way to the community center. It's a short walk from my house and it's run by Oxfam. At the center I take lessons in hygiene and English. I like the hygiene class because I can see how to make changes in our house that keep my brothers and sisters healthy. Now whenever I see a woman not taking proper care of her latrine, or not cleaning her jerry can (for carrying water) I get very upset with her. I like the English class, too, but it's very difficult. Maybe next time we can speak in English, but I don't think so!
I am not married yet. Insha'allah—God willing—I will be soon. But there are few men my age in the camp. Most people here are women, old men, and children. Many younger men are away fighting. Or dead. There was a boy in my village who my friends used to tease me that I would marry, but now I don't know where he is. So for now I live with my mother, two little brothers aged 8 and 9, and two sisters aged 11 and 13. My father is no longer with us. I'm the oldest, which means I get to be in charge, but also that I have to do most of the work while my brothers get to play soccer.
At 10 a.m. it's time to go home and make breakfast. We have two meals a day—breakfast at about 11 a.m., and then dinner in the evening. I like to eat goat meat but here in the camp it is too expensive. My mother taught me long ago to make stew from vegetables, but it would be so much nicer with some chicken in it. I also like assida, which is one of our famous Darfur dishes. It's like a thick porridge made from sorghum. Back in my village, every time there was a celebration—a wedding, a birth, a new visitor—we would have roasted meat to eat and a big party in the village.
After breakfast I head to the Oxfam water point. I do this at least once every day. At the moment there are big queues. Today I had to wait for more than one hour and it was very hot. But the other women have to wait, too, so I get to catch up on all the news while I'm waiting. I usually take one of my little sisters with me to help carry the water home as it can be too heavy for one person.
We use water for everything. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be without it. Every time I eat I need water—to boil the food, to wash the vegetables, to get rid of the dirt and germs. Everything I drink is either normal water or boiled water for tea. I use the water to wash the clothes of the whole family. We don't have any animals but some of my friends' families have donkeys and the water also keeps them alive and healthy.
The afternoon is more of the same. Living in the camp I really notice how life feels very repetitive. I go to school, I cook and do chores, and then I do it all over again. In the afternoon I go back to study at the community center for an hour or so, and then I go home to prepare the evening meal. Even the food is usually the same.
I very rarely leave the camp. Why would I? Here there's a water point, a market, a community center. Outside there's danger—soldiers and guns. My mother goes out of the camp maybe twice a week to collect firewood, which we can use at home and sell what's left over. This is the only money we get. I feel guilty: It's so dangerous for my mother to do this. The women often get attacked or shouted at or shot at. They won't let me go with her. They say only older women should go as young girls are more likely to be attacked. Secretly I'm glad: I don't want her to go alone, but I don't want to go with her because I'm scared of the men.
When I first came here we saw the camp and the aid agencies and felt safe. Unhappy, but safe. Now even the camp is dangerous. At night nobody really goes outside their shelters. When I'm done cooking I stay home and study. I would like to do my English work but I have nobody to practice with. I study until it gets dark after eight o'clock, and then we go to bed and start the day again.
It's difficult for us here. Look at our shelter—it's very basic. This is not home. Soon the rains will come and then some of the shelters will be destroyed. What will happen to those people? I know the aid agencies are doing their best, but there are so many people here and everybody always needs something. I think the only way our lives will really improve is if we go home. But we can't go home because people are still being attacked. I will stay in Kalma until peace comes. I just hope it won't take too long.
]]>The achievements of Oxfam and other aid agencies in Darfur have been truly incredible. Jan Egeland, the former UN Humanitarian Coordinator, described the humanitarian response in Darfur as among the most successful in the world, and he was right. The high levels of mortality and malnutrition that we saw at the start of the crisis have been greatly reduced. Many people now have better access to water, sanitation, and education than they did before the conflict. However, other things have not improved. People in Darfur still live in daily fear of violence. Those living in camps cannot go outside without risking attack. The number of people in need of help keeps rising. There are now four million people in Darfur who rely on aid.
What are the biggest challenges Oxfam faces now in Darfur?
Safety and security is by far the biggest concern for both civilians and our staff. Our ability to reach people in need is decreasing due to hijackings and attacks on aid workers. Early in my time here I drove for hours through North Darfur, from El Fasher to our programs in Kebkabiya, through quite stunning scenery. Now this road is far too dangerous for us to use and we rely almost entirely on UN flights. In terms of security, we are operating at the very limit of what we can tolerate as an organization, and if the situation continues to deteriorate then we may be left with no option but to withdraw from Darfur. The humanitarian impact of this could be catastrophic. It's vital that the world leaders do more to ensure an end to the violence so that aid agencies can continue our life-saving work.
The crisis is now in its fifth year. Is there any sign that Darfur will move on from being a humanitarian emergency and into a development and recovery stage?
Oxfam has been working in Darfur for more than 20 years, carrying out development work with local communities. We all hope that we can resume this as soon as possible. But at the moment Darfur is still an enormous humanitarian crisis and we cannot resume large-scale development work until there is a sustainable political solution to the conflict. People continue to be attacked and displaced by the thousands. We are still seeing people arrive in the camps where we work. The situation in Darfur is incredibly complex and we have to be very careful. For example, many of the villages that people have fled from are now inhabited by other communities, and if we were to provide development assistance to them we would risk legitimizing this.
What has been your proudest achievement in your time here?
The relationship between non-governmental organizations and the Sudanese government has been complicated and at times difficult. Back in early 2004 we just could not get our staff members the necessary visas and permits to get to Darfur and respond to the urgent needs there. It was very frustrating. Our staffers have since done a wonderful job in building a working relationship with the authorities—both in Khartoum and at the field level—and as a result these problems have now been eased considerably. Without this success, we would not have been able to have such an impact on the ground and provide water and assistance to half a million people.
And your biggest frustration?
When I took up the post of country program manager, Darfur was one of the world's largest humanitarian crises. Today the security situation for people there is perhaps even worse, and the prospect of peace seems as far away as ever. It has been incredibly frustrating to see the hard work of our staff thwarted by insecurity in so many places. In Gereida in South Darfur, for example, the team did a magnificent job to set up water supply to 130,000 displaced people. But since then we have had to withdraw from the area because of insecurity. Across Sudan there are still many challenges. Marginalization and poverty are still endemic, and there are increasing threats to the nationwide Comprehensive Peace Agreement.
Finally, what personal memories will you take from working in Africa's largest country?
Outside Sudan, very little is known about the country, its people, and culture. What does get attention is mostly war and human suffering. Despite the enormous problems in the country, the Sudanese people are incredibly friendly and welcoming. I can honestly say that in my years of working around the world, my job in Sudan has probably been the most satisfying and enjoyable. The Sudanese are also extremely resilient people. It is incredible to go to the camps in Darfur or to the harsh deserts of the east and see how people cope in the face of adversity. It makes me feel confident for the future that Oxfam can work closely with local communities to help build a better Sudan.
]]>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.
]]>In a dusty yard under the shade of a mango tree, Abdulie Camara holds out his hands for a visitor to feel. His palms are as tough as leather. He has been cutting trees—countless numbers of them—to sell their wood for cash so he can help feed some of the dozens of people with whom he now shares his mudbrick house.
His neighbors in the Gambian village of Janack are chopping down the forest, too, in an effort to provide not only for their families, but for the refugees who have settled among them. They are from the Casamance region of Senegal.
A push to gain independence for the region, which has pitted the separatist group known as the Movement of Democratic Forces of the Casamance against the government of Senegal, has fueled more than 20 years of fighting. The violence has forced at least 60,000 people from their homes. An estimated 7,000 of them have streamed across the border to seek safety on Gambian soil, heightening the pressure on an already strained land.
As Camara, and residents of other border villages, have struggled with the crush of that refugee flow, Oxfam America and its local partners have been providing emergency assistance designed to help villagers cope. For them—and the land around them—the consequences of the Casamance conflict have been severe.
The tree-cutting deeply worries some environmentalists.
"In 10 to 20 years, all of Gambia will be a desert," said Marcel Badji, marveling at the wood, split and piled, in the yards around Janack. "People are cutting trees for survival. Huge trees are going down."
Badji is the director of St. Joseph's Family Farms center, a local Gambian organization and Oxfam America partner. His words give voice to a grave reality: Poverty is putting intense pressure on the environment here.
Camara leads a visitor into his small mudbrick house. Forty-six people sleep here, sharing beds and straw mats unfurled on the dirt floor. Many of the refugees who have sought safety in Gambia are related to their hosts. Cousins and nephews are among the people Camara is sheltering.
"It's very difficult to handle such a large number of people," Camara says. "Food is number one." As he speaks, a ruckus breaks out in a kitchen hut at one end of the hard-packed yard. A pair of sheep have nudged their way in and are rooting around for something to eat. Alert family members shoo them out and fasten the door.
A farmer, Camara grows millet, rice, peanuts, and corn. But because of increased pressure on the land, it has lost some of its fertility and his harvests have shrunk. The money he would have used for fertilizer to enrich the soil has been spent helping to support the Casamance refugees.
"It's part of the culture. You assist people who need your help," says Badji. "And these people are in need."
In searching for answers to these problems of poverty, Oxfam and its partners are focusing on ideas that will help people exert control over their circumstances. When villagers have the means—training, resources, know-how—to solve their own troubles, those tools become the basis for lasting solutions.
That's the hope for four bright blue hand pumps that now cap wells in some of the border villages. They are part of a $45,000 grant Oxfam provided to Concern Universal, an international partner that has been addressing the needs of refugees and their hosts.
In the village of Oupat, a short distance from Janack and a stone's throw from the Casamance line, Bakary Sonko and Gibril Sonko worked together on a recent afternoon to spin the handle on one of the pumps. After 40 seconds of cranking, they had filled a four-gallon bucket with fresh water. Bees buzz about the stream as it sputters out of the faucet. Next to the pump sits a large metal barrel hooked to a hose—key components of Oupat's brick-making enterprise. With water readily available, new mudbrick houses?homes for the refugees'are on the rise nearby.
"The pumps can be easily maintained by the communities without big fees," explains Zanira Paralta, an Oxfam humanitarian response officer. "It's a technology Concern Universal has been implementing for five or six years. We realized it could be a good way to provide water at low cost."
Inside the blue casings, the pump mechanism is simple: it looks like a bicycle wheel that spins with the help of a rope affixed with tiny washers that pull up the water. The rope, made from nylon, can be replaced easily when it breaks. To show how simple it is to reach the parts that need fixing, Ousman Jammeh, a technician for Concern Universal, untwists a plastic cap at the top of the pump and removes the plastic tubing through which the rope runs.
Nearby, another well signals the importance of Oupat's new hand pumps. This well, dug in 1983, is dry. A tangle of skinny branches covers its opening. Before Concern Universal installed the new wells and pumps, people had to trek to Nyambolo, the neighboring village, for their water.
Working with other local groups, Concern Universal has built about 150 of these wells using manually operated equipment—simpler technology means fewer breakdowns—to bore the holes. And it has experimented with a variety of materials, available locally such as wood and aluminum, in constructing parts for the pumps.
Niall O'Connor, director of Concern Universal, explains that a similar pump is used in Nicaragua and that Concern made modifications so that it could be used here.
"The whole idea is to be affordable and sustainable," he says.
]]>"We get water from this ditch, which is a very dirty and murky channel, where garbage is dumped and even dead animals have been found," says Huarcaya, who lives in the town of Huaya Chica. But now, with the help of Oxfam, many families in Huarcaya's town have clean water to drink—thanks to the distribution of water filters and the training in how to use them. So far, the organization has provided 870 water filters in the districts of Humay and Independencia. The goal is to improve significantly the quality of the local drinking water, which often comes from unsafe sources.
Not only did the quake obstruct canals and collapse water treatment and distribution facilities, it also revealed how poor the water quality was in some areas of the countryside. Before the quake, many families had to buy water from tanker trucks or draw it from wells and irrigation ditches. In all these cases the water was unhealthy. The earthquake worsened this situation by increasing the risk of disease.
With the filters Oxfam has been distributing, people are able to remove impurities and sediments. Water that was initially murky, contaminated, and unfit for human consumption becomes clean and free from harmful micro-organisms.
"We get home tired after doing agricultural work (cotton cultivation) and now we have clean water without having to boil it first," observes Delia Mendoza Suárez, a 50-year-old mother of seven children in the village of Palto. Paltoand six other villages now have clean water for drinking and cooking.
Oxfam has been distributing water from tanker trucks in districts where the population does not have sources from which to draw water. The agency is working in coordination with other institutions, such as United Firemen Without Borders (Spain), Pompiers Sans Frontières (France), and Action Against Hunger (Spain). Oxfam has successfully put into service three water treatment plants and has installed 45 water distribution points, including tanks (of 600 and 1,100 liters) and water storage bladders (of 1,500, 3,500, and 6,000 liters), making available an average of 20 liters of water per person per day in each village within the districts of Humay and Independencia.
"Children and adults get stomach illnesses because the water is not clean. After the earthquake, the situation had worsened since there was no water. Now we have it again but it continues to be dirty," said Amalia Valdiviezo Meza, whose family now drinks filtered water.
To help address the ongoing problems, Oxfam is also coordinating a public health campaign through the local press. It's helping to spread information on the proper use of water, latrines, and hygiene to avoid the spread of disease.
"A month after the earthquake, the health risks keep increasing and we must not lower our guard. On the contrary, we will double our efforts to promote hygiene and good health," says Mónica Ramos, Oxfam's public health promoter in Pisco.
As part of that effort, Oxfam has distributed 1,650 hygiene kits, which include soap, shampoo, brushes, and towels, among other items. To achieve a more complete response, latrines and accompanying sinks for washing are also being installed.
Helping Oxfam to achieve its goals have been members of "Jovos," or Young Volunteers for Disaster Prevention, who came from Moquegua, in southern Peru. Assistance has also come from members of the "Grufides" group who have been helping with the installation of tents and temporary shelters as well as with the promotion of public health through talks on hygiene and the proper use and maintenance of water filters.
Maribel Sanchez is the communications officer for Oxfam International in Pisco, Peru.
]]>Although Minera Majaz has not yet submitted its Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA), there is reason to be concerned about the area's environmental future, especially if Río Blanco proves to be just one part of a mining "district," or group of mining operations.
First, mining is an activity with high environmental risks, as a list of hundreds of environmental liabilities compiled by the Ministry of Energy and Mines reveals. While it is true that a given mining operation usually affects a local area in a concentrated and relatively small manner—according to the company, the total area to be directly affected by the Río Blanco project will be around 4,450 acres (1,800 hectares)—it is also true that aquifers can be severely affected many miles downstream.
The potential contamination of the Río Blanco has become one of the main causes of unease for the people in the area, given that the proposed mining project is located in the river's headwaters. The Río Blanco is a tributary of the Chinchipe River, which forms the most important valley in the neighboring province of San Ignacio, in the department of Cajamarca. According to the study "Mining and Development in Peru, with Special Reference to the Río Blanco Project, Piura," written by a multi-disciplinary team led by Anthony Bebbington, professor of the School of Environment and Development of the University of Manchester, the most serious environmental problems that the mine could generate are "the leaching of acidic mine waters (AMW) from the mining site, the heaps of tailings, and the piles of excavated material." According to the study, the high precipitation in the area (2,000 millimeters (6.5 feet) or more per year) "raises the possibility that rainwater could filter through the piles of tailings and excavated material, transporting contaminated metals to both surface and underground waters." The study indicates that another worrisome potential problem is AMW contamination of the water table, because the open-pit mine would probably be deeper than the groundwater in the area.
After analyzing the environmental variables and reviewing the technical proposal by Majaz, Bebbington and his team concluded that "it would be possible to handle the environmental impacts of the project as designed," provided that this is an isolated mining project. If Río Blanco became part of a large mining district, the situation would be different and the risks to the environment, and water resources in particular, would increase considerably.
At the same time, the team had reservations, given that the proposed mining technology "has never been used in an area with as much precipitation or a history of seismic activity" and hence "the possible combination of tailings/wet excavation material and seismic activity is a reason for serious concern."
Minera Majaz states in many of its official notices that using of state-of-the-art technology will protect the environment. However, simply complying with Peruvian laws, which are regrettably weak, is no guarantee of true protection from environmental contamination. Vito Verna, Director of the Indigenous Communities and Environment Program in the office of the Peruvian Ombudsman observes that "the Peruvian state apparatus lacks an integrated environmental policy. For example, each industrial sector has (or should have) its own maximum allowable pollution limits, and there should be national quality standard for water, soil and air. The system does not work because the ministries have not yet put these standards forward, and consequently the National Environmental Council (CONAM) cannot approve them."
As a result, Peru has approved standards only for air and non-ionizing radiation [such as emitted by radio waves, or microwaves], but not for water (the existing standard is obsolete) or soil. Although a mining operation is required by law to treat its waters before discharging them into a body of water, the maximum allowable limits are so lax that they could even be Class III—waters suitable for irrigation or livestock, but not to sustain aquatic life. Thus, in Peru, a mining operation could exterminate fish, amphibians, and other river wildlife without breaking the law.
But the potential environmental impact of the Río Blanco project does not end there. The project site, in addition to being at the headwaters of a river basin, is located in the heart of a vast area of high-altitude cloud forests—the last sizeable area of tropical rain forests remaining in the department of Piura. These forests have great value in themselves, owing to their diversity and the fact that they form an extension of the forests of Ecuador and Colombia, and thus contain flora and fauna rare in Peru. Yet their greatest value is the connection they provide between the Tabaconas Namballe National Sanctuary (SNTN) in neighboring San Ignacio, and protected areas extending to the Ecuador border. The Río Blanco forest creates a "biological corridor," serving populations of animals that require large areas to be viable, such as the spectacled bear and Andean tapir—two endangered species protected by law.
A large open-pit mining operation in the midst of these forests, and the resulting human activity, represent a threat to the very survival of this corridor. Without it, the spectacled bears and tapirs of the sanctuary, which would lack the space necessary to survive, would be condemned to extinction. A World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) study of the biodiversity of the sanctuary and its neighboring zones concluded that "the protection of a biological corridor between the SNTN in Peru and the Podocarpus National Park in Ecuador is critical for the preservation of the species that inhabit those areas."
A final consideration: Minera Majaz is not the only company interested in conducting mining operations in the area. A glance through the government's Cadastral Mining Atlas reveals, in addition to the Río Blanco project, concessions of several thousand acres in Carmen de la Frontera. Many of these are adjacent to the Río Blanco project—forming, on the maps produced by the National Institute of Concessions and Mining Surveys (INACC), a solid block of mining concessions in the forests of the Yanta and Segunda y Cajas communities. In context, then, the Río Blanco project is just the first of many future mining operations, which, as a group, constitute a potential new mining district in Peru—and whose environmental impact would be considerably more serious and significant than any single project such as Río Blanco.
It is imperative that the Peruvian government consider all the environmental issues at play in the Río Blanco case, both as part of the dialog process following the referendum and when it evaluates the EIA that the company must soon deliver.
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