Watching her in action, in her long orange tunic, it's clear that Aryarathne has found her calling—far from where she began in a Sri Lankan architectural firm working on designs for multi-national companies.
How did she wind up here, near the Kalu River in the Ratnapura district of Sri Lanka, helping women think about how to keep their families safe and ease the constant hardship that flooding brings?
"I always had a passion to do something for people who are less privileged than me," says Aryarathne. During her university years—as she was working toward her goal of becoming an architect—she couldn't help but think about the community outside the institution's walls: It was impoverished and yet the development of the university had done little to address that poverty. That fact bothered her deeply.
But it wasn't until Aryarathne landed her first architectural job that she got the chance to tackle that kind of injustice herself. Her firm won a contract to develop a Colombo laundry facility—a place where scores of people manually wash clothes and linens on a large scale for clients such as hotels and hospitals. The laundry sat on prime property that a multi-national company wanted to develop—and the city had agreed to let it go ahead in exchange for the corporation's commitment to build a replacement facility.
The design of that new facility fell to Aryarathne. And right from the beginning she followed the instincts that led her to where she is now: a consultant and trainer working with poor and marginalized people who have a great deal to say about how to improve their lives, but little opportunity to be heard.
Warned that the washers could become unruly and that she should be careful, Aryarathne visited the old laundry facility. Instead of being afraid, she found herself deep in conversation with the people there—after telling them the truth about the construction proposal. If it happens, she asked, what would they like a new facility to include?
The floodgates opened, and though she didn't know it then, Aryarathne had her first exhilarating experience with participatory action research—a method of working with communities on problems whose solutions they will own. At that first laundry meeting, she learned everything about their work, from soaking and soaping, to boiling and hammering.
"That was my first exposure to a community—and it was really good," said Aryarathne. "I knew they had a lot to tell me and all that my boss had said was not true."
Soon after followed other participatory architectural projects, and gradually Aryarathne came to see where her real interests lay: With people working on initiatives that will improve their lives.
Fourteen years ago—leaving behind years of training and a budding architectural career—she made the shift from the private sector into the development world. And she hasn't looked back.
"This is more satisfying than architecture," says Aryarathne.
In the small community building in Ratnapura, the session with community members comes to an end. Aryarathne looks thoughtful as she folds up the charts she has just made with their help—charts that list the problems associated with flooding and some of the solutions villagers have proposed. She will compile the findings for an Oxfam-supported study aimed at promoting equal participation of both men and women in programs to reduce their risk of disaster.
"Architects are at the service of rich people," said Aryarathne later. "Just as you cater to multi-millionaires, villagers need our services, too."
]]>They were featured speakers on a week-long Oxfam America tour, which passed through five US cities on its way from New Mexico to Missouri. Inspired by Oxfam's Sisters on the Planet initiative—and supported by groups like CARE and the League of Women Voters—the tour focused on the human face of climate change here and abroad, with an emphasis the ways the US can help vulnerable communities survive the crisis.
"Pollution, greenhouse gases, they don't respect boundaries," said Voré Gana Seck, the speaker from Senegal. "This is a global problem that needs global solutions."
Sharon Hanshaw, executive director of Coastal Women for Change and one of Oxfam's Sisters on the Planet, spoke about her personal losses from Hurricane Katrina, as well as the storm's lasting effects on her home town of Biloxi, Mississippi.
Speaking at the Kansas City, Missouri, public library, Hanshaw explained that it's not just past hurricanes that concern her community, but the ones ahead, which are predicted to intensify. "This year we've had four hurricanes in the last six months," she said. "Gustav was called a dud, but it still flooded our houses."
In Biloxi, she said, hurricanes not only wreak physical damage, but also add to the burdens of people already among America's poorest.
"Times were hard pre-Katrina, and now it's even worse; prices have gone up," said Hanshaw. "We still have people living in trailers, no healthcare, no childcare, no public library. We don't need a handout from the government. We need infrastructure to help our community live again."
Seck, Executive Director of Green Senegal and president of the international NGO coalition CONGAD, highlighted the common ground between Senegal and the Gulf Coast. In both places, she said, the poorest families are the ones to bear the burden.
At an event at the Omaha, Nebraska, public library, Seck compared the effects of climate change to those of a war: "You can't produce enough food, you can't harvest. You don't have enough money. You can't send your kids to school."
For local farming families, she said, a decrease in rainfall means that staple crops like rice, millet, and vegetables often fail to reach maturity, leaving families with less food to eat and fewer extra crops to sell. To earn a better living, some of these farmers migrate to already-crowded cities like Dakar, where floods and poor sanitation are leading to an increase in water-borne diseases like cholera.
Others join the ranks of the "climate refugees": teens and young adults who leave their villages for Spain or the Canary Islands, looking to earn money to send to their families back home. Hundreds of these young people have died while attempting ocean crossings in small, fragile boats.
"In Algeciras, Spain, there is a burial ground called the "Cemetery of the Unknown People," said Seck. "These are our environmental refugees. They are the unknown."
Despite these hardships, both speakers' organizations are leading efforts to help their communities survive the crisis.
"The first thing we have to do is be resilient," said Hanshaw, whose group distributes hurricane preparedness kits—containing fresh water, food, insurance papers, and flashlights—to Biloxi seniors and families. They're also offering affordable child care options to help women in the community return to work.
Hanshaw's organization also trains local women to go to Washington, DC, and "tell the stories that are not being told." Their message to legislators: "We're still here. We're going to be here. And climate change affects all of us."
Seck's group teaches Senegalese farmers new techniques that help crops grow in a drier climate, like drip irrigation systems and faster-maturing seeds. Seck showed photos of the successful projects in action: first a riot of green seedlings, then tall plants in orderly rows, flourishing beneath a wide blue sky.
So far, she said, these innovative methods are only in place in a few villages. But with the support of wealthier countries like the US, projects like these could help farmers throughout the region.
Many audience members at these events signed up for Oxfam's online climate change action team, which provides ways to directly influence US legislators on the issue.
For some, the speakers' words brought a change in perspective. "I came here expecting to hear about Africa, but I didn't expect to hear Sharon's story, right in our backyard," said Lillian Pardo, a retired physician who attended the Kansas City speaking event. "You don't see this on the news."
Andrew Jameton, a professor at the University of Nebraska Medical Center, was the last to speak in a question and answer session in Omaha. "I want to fight this, and a lot of people feel the same way, but it will be a tough century," he said, adding that, because of the speakers' words, "I'm not optimistic—but I'm hopeful."
]]>And they're exactly what Oxfam America and its local partner, the Gayo Pastoralist Development Initiative, hoped to spot when, together with the Harvard Humanitarian Initiative, they piloted an innovative early warning system for the region. Now just beyond its first six-month trial period, the system is designed to track changes in local conditions that could signal the advent of hardship for people—and get them help before the problems spiral out of control. The program is targeting 21,346 people scattered in the villages of Tuka, Arganne, Danbii, and Mudhi Ambo.
Oxfam and its partners started this initiative following a devastating drought in 2006 that left more than 60 percent of the livestock dead in some pastoral areas. The drought was accompanied by conflict that forced the displacement of many people.
How does a disease with no name in a remote and dusty part of Ethiopia find its way onto the radar screen of an international aid group a third of the way around the world? Through a lot of hard work.
It starts with data collectors—four of them, hired by Gayo—with strong legs and the commitment to make a monthly trek to five far flung households in each of the four villages. Sometimes, the data gatherers, who are all women, will walk a full day to reach the households that are participating in the program. Selected by Gayo, the households represent a range of prosperity, with some better off than others.
And it's the women in those households that the data collectors have come to see—because they are the ones with the hard facts about the well-being of their families. The women are available most of the time while the men are away, traveling with livestock in search of pasture and water. Out and about in their villages, the women have been keeping mental tabs on what's been happening with others, too.
How much water seems to be in the ponds and streams this season compared to last? Are there more cases of diarrhea in the village this month—or less? How many meals a day are children getting? And how about the adults?
"Women know it all," said Miriam Aschkenasy, Oxfam's public health specialist who helped to develop the program, including those questions. They are designed to reveal critical information that can paint a comprehensive picture of a community's health. And they give the women a way to voice the knowledge they have of their community and local environment.
"The women make sure they're informed about what is happening in their villages. They talk to other women in anticipation of the data collectors' arrival," said Aschkenasy.
"The community saw this program as having a lot of value," added Emily Farr, Oxfam America's deployable humanitarian officer who, with Aschkenasy, recently made a field visit to Ethiopia. "Never before has someone come to their houses to collect information on them. It makes them understand people are concerned about what's affecting them. It makes them feel valued."
The data collectors spend 20 to 30 minutes at each of the five houses on their list, and plot the answers to 24 questions on a visual analog scale—a tool that gauges attitudes and perceptions that cannot be easily measured. And in this case, it's particularly useful in gathering data from people who may not be able to read. It's also easily convertible for charting on a graph—from which the trends then become visible.
"We are using scientific methodology to convert feelings into comparable data," said Aschkenasy. "That's what makes this cutting edge."
Once the collectors return home with their data—about malaria and milk production, plantings and harvests, livestock deaths and births—Gayo compiles it, along with anecdotal comments gleaned from the villagers as well as statistics gathered from district markets and health posts, and from the Oxfam office in Addis Ababa the material gets emailed to Boston.
"One of the things important to me is that this early warning system is based on evidence," said Aschkenasy. "That increases your ability to do monitoring. It also lets you know that the programs that follow are based on real information, rather than conjecture, and can be sharply focused."
For instance, said Farr, if there is a problem with food availability, this kind of tracking system will help aid groups, local partners, and the communities themselves develop solutions that address that problem very specifically.
In meetings with community elders about the early warning system, they told Oxfam staffers that changes in local conditions occur seasonally—or every three months. They agreed that it would be useful to analyze those changes on a quarterly basis. Regular analysis would allow them to pool their resources and develop timely solutions to their problems.
Community elders also said that they could use the data to address ongoing issues, too, such as with the quantity and quality of water available for villages.
"One solution is to reduce the distance to water by digging more ponds and building cisterns," said one of the elders. "We can contribute the manpower and may ask for small inputs like cement."
But for now, what about those camels?
Nazareth Fikru, Oxfam America's regional humanitarian coordinator based in Addis Ababa, said that data gathered from the communities around Moyale show that about 189 of these highly prized animals have died in the last six months.
"The disease was initially reported in May, 2005 in Afar—eastern Ethiopia—some two years ago and gradually expanded to other pastoral areas like the Somali region and the Borena area of Oromia," said Fikru. "Some research is going on by the ministry of agriculture and rural development together with the Food and Agriculture Organization, but so far, no information about the causes or controls has been shared."
Oxfam is not planning to address the camel illness itself, but the fact that it has showed up in the data-gathering will help the organization and Gayo stay alert to the problem and the effect it could have on the overall health of the communities they are working with.
]]>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."
]]>Amid cheers from a throng of enthusiastic supporters and international media, Make Trade Fair won the day.
Oxfam's trade campaign was launched.
Within hours of the Hong Kong debut, events were held in 25 cities including Brussels, Dublin, Geneva, Mexico City, San Salvador, and Washington, D.C. These events ranged from press conferences and symposiums to a rock concert in London’s Trafalgar Square.
Oxfam's trade campaign seeks to unite concerned citizens around the world in calling for fair trade policies that will help move millions of people out of poverty.
Nobel Prize Professor Amartya Sen, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, and musician and social activist Bono were among those who endorsed the campaign. "Oxfam has got it right," said Bono. "It wouldn't cost much to change the rules of trade so that poor countries can work their way out of poverty. But the world's leaders won't act unless they hear enough people telling them."
Also in this issue of EXCHANGE, writers Frances and Anna Lappé discuss their book Hope's Edge: The Next Diet for a Small Planet, and we bring you updates on Oxfam's work with water and sanitation, drought in Ethiopia, and indigenous women in the highlands of Peru who are speaking out after decades of violence.
]]>