An interesting comparison

• On the one hand, women in the Saving for Change groups save up and then loan each other their own money, an unusual savings-led approach to microfinance Oxfam initiated in Mali in 2005.
• On the other, the capital comes from outside the community, and goes back out to the microfinance institution along with the interest paid by the women. This is the more classic, credit-led approach pursued by thousands of organizations in scores of countries.

TONUS initiated the credit-led groups in 1997.

Sitting behind his desk, cluttered with papers and files wilting in the heat and humidity of Mali’s August rainy season, Doumbia had gone over the figures a thousand times. He kept coming to the same conclusion, and it was one that made him smile: Despite having to save their own money, Saving for Change works for poor women.

At first glance, "surprising results"

"In the first eight months, the SFC groups had 3,427 members, and the credit microfinance groups had 1,983 members after eight years," he said. By the end of August 2006, the trend had continued: 5,894 Saving for Change members and 2,144 credit group members.

Not only did Saving for Change have more participants, but the groups were performing better. "The number of participants is higher, the repayment rate is higher. There is a lower total of overdue loans," he said. "The voluntary savings are as much as the credit groups have saved in eight years."

Doumbia said he was at first surprised at these results. "When we started SFC I did not think we would see these results by helping women make loans with their own money. The savings rate is a lot lower in the classic, credit-led finance system, and since we began that in 1997 we have not seen much saving. So at the beginning we were worried because we did not have outside capital, and women had to save their own money."

But after just a few weeks, he could see a big difference in the performance of Saving for Change. "One month into it I was impressed," he said. "Since then I have been watching the stats. I held a meeting with the credit-led finance team to show them the results so far. It has now been almost nine months and the savings are almost the same as the credit-led finance system—about 8 million CFA francs (about $14,500) for Saving for Change groups versus 9 million CFA ($16,300) in savings for the credit program after eight years."

Since August of 2006 the trend has continued. By the end of March 2007 the Saving for Change groups savings had jumped to over $186,000, just over five times the amount saved by the credit groups over eight years. Savings for Change groups have twice as much money loaned out and working in the community, and a repayment rate over 99 percent.

Organizing is key to success

The numbers in this case do not lie, and they prove something significant: Poor people can save money. Doumbia says that the higher rate and amount of voluntary savings can be attributed to the organization of the Saving for Change groups, not necessarily the participants’ level of income. To Doumbia, this shows a weakness in the credit-led system: "Their savings are low, not due to lack of money, but because the system does not work as well," he said.

Doumbia says the women make it all possible. "The Savings for Change women are at the center of the program," Doumbia said. "It all starts with them. They mobilize their own savings, pay back their loans, and manage the groups."

Savings vs. credit

Ato Teshome Belayneh, the chairman of the surrounding area, stood tall in his worn and dusty suit, a regular mode of dress for Ethiopians where even in the most rural areas it is considered important to be well-dressed. He explained that prior to the installation of this pump, which brings clean drinking water from almost 100 feet below the surface, the women of the village collected water from a small river, which he pointed out about 500 yards to the west in a steep ravine.

As the women filled the containers, they would cover the opening with cheesecloth to strain the worms and other small parasites from the water. Ato Teshome pointed out that there were many other dangerous things that the cloth failed to stop, but people here had little choice as this had previously been the only source of water. Stomach illnesses and diarrhea were rampant.

These once common illnesses have now decreased in Neftegna as the people have a clean source of water thanks to Oxfam America and our partner OSRA.

As Ato Teshome puts it, "this is a rebirth for us."

The new pump has been turned over to the Water Users' Committee, a group of seven people from Neftegna who OSRA has trained to manage the device. The community considers this new source of water so valuable that it has instituted strict measures to ensure the pump functions long into the future and that the water does not run low.

The pump is only available for operation for about five hours a day—once in the morning and again in the evening—as there is concern that using it during the heat of the day will cause damage. There is also an age limit placed on pump use: No one under 18 is allowed even to enter the fenced area.

As the people were explaining the restrictions they have put in place to keep their pump in good condition we witnessed the value that they put on this important community tool.

A member of our group stepped around to try the pump. As he was unaccustomed to using a pump like this he raised the handle quickly, meeting less resistance than he expected. As the handle reached its upper limit, it clanked loudly, metal hitting metal. The collective gasp from all 40 people almost completely blocked the reverberation. It was a minor issue, not causing any harm to the pump, but the gasp of alarm was a clear indicator that the users of this pump normally treat it with the same gentle care given a newborn baby.

In order to quell the fears of the water running low, the community has agreed to limit water usage to about 26 gallons per day per household. This is all the water a family of five to 10 people will use for the entire day to drink, cook, wash, and bathe. This is less than the amount of water people in the United States generally use to take a shower. An average American uses between 80 to 100 gallons a day according to U.S. Geological Survey, which means that a family of 5 uses about 500 gallons a day—almost 20 times the amount that a family in Neftegna uses.

While most Americans tend to take clean drinking water for granted, the people of Neftegna do not. Each household, 66 in total, contributes about 22 cents a month towards the upkeep of the pump.

The men that were still gathered as out visit drew to a close explained that people who live a two-hour walk away are coming to use the village pump, and while the people of Neftegna are willing to share what they have, they would much rather see the burden of their neighbors eased with the building of pumps in their respective villages.

Oxfam America has already funded the building of 10 pumps in Bacho, but clearly many more are needed.

But once they know this they take serious action, learning how to prevent the disease by sleeping under nets treated with insecticide, and filling in puddles and other places where mosquitoes can breed. They take special care to help pregnant women get access to government-sponsored prenatal care, which includes a free mosquito net.

A recent survey of villages where Saving for Change groups have been formed is showing that 75 percent of members understand that mosquitoes transmit malaria, while only half of non-members in the communities know this. Seventy percent of members knew that mosquito nets are an effective way to prevent malaria, compared to only 40 percent of non-members. More than half of members said they slept under a bed net the previous evening, compared to just 30 percent of others in the community. And more than 40 percent of Saving for Change members said they had purchased a bed net since joining a group, evidence that the availability of information about the value of bed nets contributed to changes in behavior.

Malaria a crucial problem

Overall, malaria killed 22,000 people in Mali in 2005, and ranked third among all causes of death after respiratory infections and diarrheal diseases, according to the World Health Organization's latest figures. The death toll for children is particularly severe. Mali ranks 175 out of 177 countries in the rate of death from all causes of children under five, at 218 per 1,000, and malaria causes about 17 percent of those deaths.

"Malaria is a crucial problem in Mali," says Macky Doucouré, president of the non-governmental group CAEB, one of Oxfam's Saving for Change partners in Mali. "The majority of deaths of pregnant women are due to malaria. More women in Mali die from malaria than they do from AIDS...as many as die in childbirth."

The death toll is heavy, but so is the price to stay alive, as many families struggle to find money to transport sick people to clinics, and buy medication. "Some families have to spend as much as 60 percent of their income on health care," Doucouré said. This is why malaria is an important topic when it comes to community finance programs: nothing will destroy a family's assets like chronic illness.

Once women are organized into Saving for Change groups it is easier for them to work together to educate people in their village about malaria and take steps to prevent it. "It is a really big change for people to understand that there are things they can do in their own villages to prevent malaria," Doucrouré said.

He described one village where women in a Saving for Change group took some extraordinarily active steps. "They decided to create their own committee to help women prevent malaria, and encourage the use of insecticide impregnated mosquito nets at night while people are sleeping. Each night members of the committee would visit homes to make sure women and their children were sleeping under their mosquito nets, and they would even fine women not using the nets 50 CFA or maybe 100 CFA [10 or 20 cents]."

"Creating a committee to prevent and help people treat malaria is a significant innovation for these families and their village, and it was made possible by the Saving for Change group financed by Oxfam—it is something the women created themselves to deal with the problem, it did not come from outside the village."

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."

Between harvests, farmers have little available cash, so families struggle to find money for those necessities they do not produce themselves—clothes, soap, or even medicine if a child falls ill. So Djouri Konaré, a mother of six in her mid-40s, earns a little money by preparing rice flavored with tomatoes and piment, a super-spicy pepper, to sell once a week on market day. With little available cash, Konaré used to have to borrow ingredients from a food dealer, and repay him at whatever price he demanded at the end of the day. Profits were slim.

Konaré found a better option when Oxfam America's partner TONUS helped the women in N'Golofala form a savings group, pooling their deposits of just a few cents a week and then loaning each other the capital to invest in money-making ventures. It is part of Oxfam's Saving for Change program, established in 2005 and now reaching more than 24,000 women in Mali alone.

Konaré joined the group and borrowed enough to buy the ingredients for her business at a better price than the food dealer's. "Some days I can make 10,000 CFA [about $20]," she said in an interview in her home. After paying back her loan and interest, she can clear as much as $65 a month—nearly the average monthly income for Mali and a tidy sum for a rural woman with no assets.

Once a year the savings group divides up its assets equally among the members, and the women can use it to invest or buy necessities for their families. This year, Konaré's share was $18, and she used it to buy a sheep. "I bought a female, which had a baby, another female. Now I think I could sell the mother for about $30, so I am getting a lot for my $18."

There are currently about 40 women participating in three savings groups in N'Golofala. "We are seeing a lot of benefits," Konaré said. In addition to earning income raising livestock and through other forms of commerce, the women meet regularly and help each other with their businesses and discuss problems faced by the larger community, like malaria.

Malaria is one of the biggest problems in N'Golofala and many other villages in Mali—indeed, throughout much of Africa. With many families forced to devote a large proportion of their income to deal with health problems, reducing vulnerability to malaria is an essential way to fight poverty. After helping establish the savings groups, TONUS staff led eight training sessions to teach the women in the program how to prevent and treat the disease.

"Now I know how to treat children for malaria," says Konaré. "I am contributing to the better health of my family by helping my husband eliminate mosquito breeding areas, and I can buy treated bednets."

She and other women have even convinced village leaders to eliminate mosquito-breeding areas. This was a milestone for these women, who previously had never been consulted on village affairs and were not used to speaking in public. Before Saving for Change, women tended to defer to their husbands. "Now we know we have to do things ourselves," Konaré said. "The Saving for Change group has changed a lot for me."

Since the first Saving for Change groups were established, many of the women could see that it was a simple matter to help others start their own groups. In the village of Guilly, just 20 minutes from N'Golofala, a 30-year-old woman named Minata Coulibaly joined a group and then helped establish four others, recruiting 63 other women to the Saving for Change program. Of the 1,126 groups in Mali, 391 were formed spontaneously by the women themselves, and these 391 include nearly 8,000 members—all of whom have taken small steps toward big changes.

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.

Although 83.3 percent of the population considers rape to be a crime, 16.7 percent still denies it. This is an alarmingly high percentage which is then reflected in the high rate of rapes. In its 2005 report on crimes (through November), the Attorney General's office reported 2,296 registered cases of rape, sexual aggression and statutory rape. 40.2 percent of the people polled affirm that the place where these types of crimes most often take place is within the home—a place believed to be among the safest for women, boys and girls—and that the person who most often commits the crime is the step father (58.3 percent).

If the previous information sounds alarming, the panorama gets even worse. Seventy percent of those polled believe that the National Civilian Police (PNC) shows little interest in the rape cases that are presented to them, and 20 percent think the PNC could care less. At the same time, the PNC is one of the agencies where people most often go to denounce an act of violence. This was shown by another study done by the Human Rights Ombudswoman's office, which was also supported by Oxfam America.

This study, in addition to asking about the treatment that women receive in the different institutions of the State, also investigated the situation of gender violence within these very institutions. As well as a high rate of sexual harassment, there is a high degree of discrimination in the way women are treated and in opportunities that exist for them. Furthermore, the study reveals salary inequality between men and women. It highlights that although most of the women have a university degree, they usually don't denounce sexual harassment for fear of losing their job or other acts of revenge. Harassers operate with an alarming degree of impunity. In only 3 percent of the cases where harassment was denounced were the perpetrators fired or transferred.

The Human Rights Ombudswoman's Office convened many public functionaries from the aforementioned offices in order to share the results and said they would follow up.

Across Ethiopia, these are the images tied to cycles of drought that plague one of the poorest countries in the world. Most recently, a drought triggered a humanitarian crisis in early 2006 for more than 2.5 million people. Many of them were herders dependent on the rain to nourish pastureland for their animals—their central source of food and income.

Oxfam and the local organizations with which it works respond to these cycles of drought with both emergency assistance to ease the immediate suffering of people and their animals, and with programs aimed at longer-term solutions to address the region's severe water shortages and to improve the health of its livestock.

For example, in Afar, one of Ethiopia's northern regions, a water shortage in 2005 forced some people to walk up to four hours one way in search of the critical resource. Irregular and weak rainfall in the previous few years had caused pastureland to shrivel and water sources to disappear. About 90 percent of the people in Afar are herders, and many of their animals died as a consequence of the drought.

To help families survive, Oxfam and one of the local groups with which it works, the Afar Pastoralist Development Association (APDA), launched a project to truck water to three sites in Afar's Dubti district. The agencies set up 12 large tanks that could each hold 1,321 gallons of water. The trucks made daily deliveries to the tanks—the furthest of which was 70 miles from the well that provided the water.

Though only a temporary solution—and a costly one—the water trucking substantially relieved stress on the herders. Women who had been walking for eight to 10 hours to fetch water from a neighboring district had their trek cut to just a few kilometers.

In another area of Afar, Oxfam provided APDA with an $83,000 grant to offer veterinary care to 410,000 animals. The goal was to prevent the spread of common diseases such as Anthrax, Blackleg, and Pastereulosis.

More recently, in southern Ethiopia, Oxfam and another local partner, the Gayo Pastoral Development Initiative, worked on the restoration of a local pond so it could hold enough water to last between the sporadic rainy seasons. The pond is a central source of drinking water for the community's animals. As in Afar, many people in this part of the Oromiya region are herders.

The 2006 pond project did two things. It provided temporary work for local people hired to deepen the pond, thereby giving them a source of income to help tide them through the drought that was killing their animals. And secondly, the improvements will last into the future, ensuring that when the next drought comes the pond will be able to retain whatever limited amount of rain does fall.

Shortages of critical resources, such as water and pasture, can often spark conflict among different ethnic groups. A key part of Oxfam's work in parts of Ethiopia is peace-building—helping people find ways to resolve disputes without resorting to violence. Around the border town of Moyale in southern Ethiopia, for instance, Oxfam and the Research Center for Civic and Human Rights Education have established a series of peace councils whose job it is to intervene among sparring groups when tension begins to run high.

Elsewhere in Oromiya, Oxfam has been working with the Oromo Self-Reliance Association on a series of water supply projects that have improved the lives of 1,800 people in three communities about 50 miles southwest of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia's capital. Oxfam contributed $42,000 to underwrite the cost of wells, pumps, bathing sheds, and laundry stations.

Before these improvements, women in one of the communities, Gura, were walking up to three hours a day to fetch water—and often it was dirty. The parasites that occasionally contaminated the water sickened the children who drank it. Now, for families in Gura, clean, cool water is just minutes away. A nearby pump taps into an aquifer 200 feet deep.

The water supply projects have made such a marked difference in people's lives that neighboring communities are now asking officials to make similar improvements in their villages.

Easy access to clean water, through projects like these, is critical in stemming the poverty that affects so much of Ethiopia. And they are part of the global drive to meet the Millennium Development Goals—a series of international targets aimed at cutting by half by 2015 the number of people around the world who do not have access to clean drinking water.

Household contributions to education are steep and deter new entrants. Those in schools are faced with inadequate educational materials, textbooks, and teachers. Budget allocation and spending in the education sector by various stakeholders remain largely uncoordinated and opaque.

This briefing paper outlines some of the key concerns, and proposes a plan for not only increased funding, but also reforming budget allocation and planning within the Ministry of Education and amongst other actors in the education sector.

"Our ancestors can become angry because we don't respect them," said Hilario Muthembe, a local activist working with Oxfam America's partner MULEIDE in the bustling suburb of Jorge Dimitrov outside Maputo, Mozambique. The solution? Consult a traditional healer, who can help. "A small ceremony can show we respect them," Muthembe said, "and can cure the problem."

"Traditional healers play a number of very important roles in traditional society," said anthropoligist Gordon Chavanduka, president of the Zimbabwe Traditional Healer Association. "Firstly, they are the medical experts. Secondly, they are the cultural experts, and regard themselves as the guardians of their culture.

"They are also counselors, in all issues. Even the chiefs and headmen, who are the political leaders, almost all of them have a traditional healer as an advisor, to assist them in their governing."

Susan LeClerb Madlala, an anthropologist at the University of KwaZulu Natal, says that people find a certain satisfaction in consulting a traditional healer, who can not only treat the immediate illness or problem, but provide an explanation of the ultimate source of the problem itself, something a medical doctor can't do.

"Let's say you are hanging your wash on the line behind your house, and a snake bites you. Well, a medical doctor will treat the snake bite, but he can't answer a lot of important questions: Why did the snake bite you? Why was it at your house? Who sent that snake?"

Given the prominence of the spirit world in many areas, it is essential for rights organizations like MULEIDE to acknowledge the role of traditional healers in communities where they seek to intervene. Showing them respect and working with them, instead of dismissing them as "witch doctors," will help make the gradual changes in society that can lead to better respect for women, and recognition of their rights as full citizens, protected in Mozambique's Family Law.