The main training is in Ghana’s Minerals and Mining Act, which accords citizen’s rights to fair, adequate, and prompt compensation for land lost to mines. Activists also learn how to monitor the negative environmental effects of mining, particularly pollution to water bodies by cyanide (used to separate gold from rocks), which is shockingly frequent in Ghana. “Wacam has carried out investigations in water bodies in mining communities,” says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng, while riding in a van from Ghana’s second city Kumasi to the capital Accra, just one of the scores of trips she makes every year to train local activists. “Out of the 400 water bodies we tested, 250 were polluted. We presented the report to the Environmental Protection Agency and they are doing an investigation. It also helped inform a recent assessment in which the EPA rated the mining companies, and all the mining companies in Ghana were scored poor or unsatisfactory.

“This has all emerged from the communities, where activists identify pollution sources, and we contract researchers to analyze the water bodies and come out with findings we present to the government.”

Informed communities now know what to do if they find dead fish in rivers and streams: collect and preserve samples to verify the presence of cyanide contamination, contact the Environmental Protection Agency, and negotiate compensation from the company responsible for the spill. Local activists are also trained how to communicate with the media, in cases where government and company responses to such accidents are slow or non-existent.

Oxfam also supports the legal aid organization the Center for Public Interest Law, (CEPIL), which assists communities pressing their grievances through the courts. CEPIL’s work has helped several communities get compensation for cyanide spills, including a $250,000 development fund from mining company Goldfields Ghana, agreed in an out-of-court settlement for the community of Abekoase in 2007. CEPIL is also helping plaintiffs in Dumasi press for compensation from Bogoso goldmines for a cyanide spill. This case has been in and out of court since 2004, and further delaying tactics by the defendant are trying the patience of community members.

A leader emerges

It was in Dumasi where one of Wacam’s most energetic local activists emerged: Joanna Manu. Manu was one of the local farmers who learned about the cyanide spill in the nearby Aprepre Rriver in 2004, and went there immediately to collect dead fish and warn people not to touch or drink the water. She and her fellow activist Nii Anyetei pressed the case for compensation with the EPA and mining company.

Manu had also previously suffered the indignation of being arrested for farming her own lands, but successfully stood up in court and invoked the Minerals and Mining Act, pointing out to the judge that as she had received no compensation, the land did not belong to Bogoso . “I am farming that land still,” she told this writer in 2007.

In the meantime, Manu has pursued her studies, finishing high school in her mid-30s. She is now pursuing her ambition to become a member of Ghana’s parliament. She recently achieved a significant milestone on that road: she was elected to the District Assembly of the Western Region.

There’s a saying in the local Twi language in western Ghana, Adwem anu balofo tirmuI: knowledge is not only in the head of one person. “Wacam has taught me about the basic rights of people, their rights to own property, to information, to live as a human being. And that a leader has to listen to people, be humble before them, understand their issues, and that I have to have the courage, commitment, and confidence to represent them,” Manu says during a brief networking visit with other activists in the small city of Prestea, a gritty mining town near Dumasi.

For a community leader, especially a woman, to speak truth to power in Ghana, like many parts of Africa, is a challenge. Criticizing or challenging elders, or those in power, is risky – not only is it considered rude by many, it can lead to isolation. However in Ghana, there is a polite way to do this: one must seek permission to raise something publicly that might not be pleasant. This permission, called sebi, is a crucial way of working. “Wacam taught me how to do that,” Manu says.

In between villagers in her voting districts, Manu says she is setting her priorities for her work in the District Assembly. Chief among them is to ensure communities understand their rights in the face of industrial mining. “I know from my experience that when your land is taken from you, you will be jobless,” Manu says. “You will not get money to feed your family. I want the assembly to know about this so they will help people negotiate well, so they can get something for themselves.”

Anwiam means “in the sand” in the local Twi language. Residents enter the village by passing over a set of railroad tracks separating it from a housing development built for the AngloGold Ashanti mining company staff, behind chain link and barbed wire fences. Anwiam has no electricity and little clean water. “If you compare the company residences with Anwiam, it is like apartheid,” says Hannah Owuso-Koranteng, who works at the human rights and environmental organization Wacam. “The rail line divides them.”

AngloGold Ashanti was blasting in nearby mine pit, and draining water, without any advance warning to the community. Amo says they used to blow a whistle just before blasting, signaling a sudden evacuation. Then, two years ago she and others from Anwiam started attending training sessions with Wacam. These problems, Amo says, were “a violation of our rights to live in a clean environment.” She says they learned that the company should consult them about a blasting schedule, and warn them about water outflows—and pay fair compensation for damages.

Looking them in the eye

The training with Wacam was a real eye opener for Amo, who at first appears to be a very shy woman, concerned that she does not speak English well. But when she starts talking about the injustices she sees in her community, her face changes and she speaks rapidly and without much hesitation. “Now I can sit at the negotiation table and look the company representatives in the eye and tell them we think they should redress some of these issues, and that we should be compensated,” Amo says. “What they are doing is violating our rights, so they have to look at other ways of engaging us, so we can solve these things amicably.”

Stories of injustices like these, and local efforts to redress them, are becoming better known in Ghana thanks to a proliferation of grassroots activists trained by Wacam. Stories in the media abound: cyanide spills, homes damaged and destroyed by blasting, inadequate compensation, loss of farmlands and jobs and income, and involuntary relocation. “People are now questioning whether mining is a good development option for the country,” says Hannah Owusu-Koranteng. “And if we have to engage in mining, what are the methods we have to use?” She says questioning the role of mining in the economy used to be akin to treason, or a threat to national security. This started to change as Ghanaians have become more and more aware of the severe costs imposed by mining on local communities.

This has caused many to consider what mining is bringing to the country: Daniel Owusu-Koranteng points out that with such high prices for commodities like gold these days, mining is now bringing in about 40 percent of Ghana’s foreign exchange, more than exporting cocoa. However mining only contributes about six percent of Ghana’s GDP. “What accounts for this is high capital flight in the sector,” he says. The Minerals and Mining Act requires companies to pay between three and five percent of mineral revenue values, most pay three percent, a rate negotiated by some larger companies. Advocacy campaigns by Wacam and others are pushing this up to at least five percent.

The local activists trained by WACAM have played an important role in the national level debate about mining in Ghana. Each of them has had to take on new responsibilities and learn things about themselves in the process, as they work to improve their community and their country.

Philomena Addo, the subsistence farmer from Akatakyieso and recently elected village representative, is struggling to survive as she is taking on new leadership responsibilities. “We lost almost all our land to the mine. Now we have to go to other communities with land, and we are now share croppers,” she says outside her home. “There is just no land to cultivate here, the areas were all either destroyed or taken up by AngloGold for grazing cattle.”

Nevertheless, Addo says she has truth on her side, and is using her own personal transformation to seek a political solution to the problems in her community. “I used to be very timid,” she says “I would not discuss anything in public. Now I am more confident and I can speak at any level in public, at the community or national level.” She plans to push her agenda and serve her constituents: “It’s a privilege to win this confidence,” she says of her recent landslide victory at the polls.

West Africa has made enormous strides toward democracy in recent years. Amid enduring poverty, vibrant networks of farmers, young people, and human rights activists—men and women alike—have emerged, uniting and mobilizing to confront injustice. With funding, training, and advocacy support from Oxfam, these energetic groups are seeking to improve their lives, to participate in decisions that affect them, to speak out, and to break away from the fate of poverty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In any society, developing or not, women are likely to be poorer, less educated, and less empowered than men. Oxfam recognizes women should be valued equally and enabled to reach their potential. What’s more, research has shown that when women earn income, they are more likely than men to spend it on family welfare. And when women are educated, they make decisions that benefit their families and influence their communities.

In the pages that follow, you'll read about how Oxfam is targeting the laws in Mozambique and the gender violence in El Salvador that severely disadvantage women. You'll also learn how Oxfam is equipping women to mediate peace in West Africa and to grow the income of their families. In every case, when it comes to empowering women, men are an equal part of the equation. Oxfam is striving to shape societies that not only permit women to be contributors, but societies that recognize that if they don't seize upon what women can offer, they are failing to leverage one of their most valuable assets.

Also in this issue, working together to save the family farm, the power of reading empowers women in The Gambia, and updates on Oxfam's work in Bolivia and in eastern and southern Africa.