Chhoun says he is now using the System of Rice Intensification (SRI) since he learned about it two years ago during training sessions with Oxfam’s partner, a local organization called Srer Khmer. SRI techniques involve cost-saving ways of planting rice: farmers use less seed, water, fertilizer, and grow more rice. Farmers can follow as many as nine steps, ranging from seed selection to the way they transplant seedlings individually (instead of in clumps of five or more plants together). SRI techniques promote the growth of stronger roots, so each plant produces more grains of rice.
Since following SRI practices allows him to plant fewer seeds and use less water, Chhoun says it is helping him save money, grow more rice in the same area, and even increase the number of harvests per year. “The techniques we’ve learned have helped us feed the family better,” he says. “I plant three rice crops a year now. Here I’ve just harvested my rice, and then I transplanted again right away.”
Year-round cultivation
On a cool winter afternoon, Dieb and Chhoun and three of their children are across the narrow dirt road from their house, transplanting rice onto a rented field. Dieb is in the nursery, pulling the seedlings up by their roots. She carries them a short distance to where Chhoun is planting them in a small area flooded with about six inches of water. He wades down a straight row, inserting each individual seedling about one inch deep and 18 inches from the next.
Chhoun and Dieb were the first family in their village, Anlong Hab, to grow three crops a year. That was three years ago. Last year there were three families doing it, now there are 10. “In the wet season everyone grows rice so it’s hard to find land to rent,” Chhoun says. “Usually people don’t grow rice in the dry season, so it’s an opportunity for me to go rent their land.”
Chhoun says the added production is helping his family of nine eat better, but they still need to grow more. So finding land he can plant is a priority. “I want others to grow three crops a year also because we’re all poor,” he says, wondering aloud if he will find enough land to rent if more farmers expand their growing season.
Nevertheless, Chhoun and Dieb feel they are making progress, and their status in the community is changing as others have learned from their experience. Chhoun’s rice cultivation skills have established him as one of the most innovative farmers in the village. “I’m quite proud,” he says. “We’re poor, but people look at me and follow what I did. That’s what motivates me to do this work.”
]]>Sorn says she spends less time weeding her fields than she used to since she started using a mechanical weeding device she helped create with assistance from Oxfam’s partner in Cambodia, RACHANA, an organization based in the southern Takeo province. When farmers use this new tool, they can accomplish in a few hours what used to take them many days.
Oxfam supported RACHANA in designing and testing the mechanical weeders that help farmers grow more rice. Switching to innovative rice-growing systems and using a mechanical weeder can create more than 100 percent gains in production—a huge improvement for small-scale rice growers like Sorn and her sister.
Sorn is among 100 families in the area growing rice using an array of special methods called the System of Rice Intensification, or SRI. SRI represents an accessible form of innovation for small-scale farmers like Sorn: it boosts yields through different ways of plowing fields and improving soil fertility, and of planting and transplanting rice. SRI helps the plants grow stronger and more resistant to pests and diseases. It doesn't require special seed varieties. And because the plants are healthier, the farmers need less fertilizer and pesticides, which saves them money and preserves the environment.
One of SRI’s techniques involves transplanting single seedlings farther apart, instead of transplanting them in bunches. The distance helps seedlings grow stronger roots. SRI farmers plant their seedlings in rows, so they can weed around the plants more easily. A mechanical weeder helps them speed up the process.
In Sorn’s village of Prey Pa’e, RACHANA found a metalworker named Ben Pen who was willing to work with the local farmers to develop the weeders. With RACHANA’s help, in 2009 he began to adapt designs from India and other countries; he optimized them based on feedback from women farmers. Sorn and about 20 others tested five prototypes. With Pen, they developed one- and two-wheel weeders, which farmers use for different soil and weed conditions. The weeders weigh between 4 and 12 pounds. Each of them has a long handle with which the farmers push narrow wheels with steel spikes, churning the earth and tearing up the weeds.
Most of the farmers responsible for testing the weeders were women. Though men help prepare the soil and assist with the harvest, women do most of the work in the fields. Pen and RACHANA wanted to make sure that the weeder designs are suitable for them. “These weeders are helping women avoid back pain, and neck pain,” Pen says. “They can stand up, and it’s a lot faster.”
Sorn moves down the rows between the rice plants pushing the weeder in front of her like a lawn mower. The tool splashes through a thin layer of water, cutting up clumps of grass and mud.
“There’s quite a difference when you use the weeding tools,” Sorn says. “If you weed by hand you only get the top of the weed, you don’t get the root, and it grows again. When you use the weeding tool, it destroys the root and churns the weed into the soil—it’s better for the soil.”
Sorn farms a little less than two acres. Having the weeder helps Sorn and her sister get their weeding done faster. She says saving this time and labor is particularly important for her now: her husband passed away and her six children are all grown and have left the village to work and study. She’s 55, alone, and needs the help.
RACHANA’s research showed that by combining weeders with SRI, farmers could increase their production to average 5.6 tons per hectare, up from an average of 2.2 tons using traditional techniques. (A hectare is about 2.45 acres.) The organization ordered 900 of the three most popular weeders from Pen; it is selling them to farmers across the country. The tools cost about $20—a significant investment, prompting groups of two or three neighbors to buy the tools together and share them.
The investment is worth the time saved: the women in Prey Pa’e say it takes three people two weeks to weed a hectare, and by the time they finish, the weeds are already growing again. “With the weeder, three people can finish in one morning,” says Pen Rat, who was part of the prototype testing team.
Sorn says she helped test the one-wheel weeder, and suggested that Pen lower the angle of the handle, so women would be pushing at waist level. “I thought women would have more strength to push and pull,” she says.
Simple forms of innovation, like these mechanical weeders, encourage farmers to come together, share their ideas, and play a role in developing technological improvements for their farming. This type of endeavor is just a small part of Oxfam’s work to transform agriculture for the poorest farmers in Cambodia.
Farmers like Sorn Ken confirm this: “Having this weeder is like having another person,” she says.
]]>
Some 400 people representing a cross sector of society in Cambodia gathered under the hot, sunny sky at a tcktcktck campaign event in Phnom Penh this week. They were calling on world leaders to reach a fair, ambitious, and binding global climate deal at the United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP15) in Copenhagen later this week.
“Time to Act is Running Out! It’s Time for Climate Action!,” chanted the crowd.
Many people could hear the loud chants from the Royal Palace and the Independence Monument, which stand a few hundred meters away. Some stopped by and watched while the campaigners formed an hourglass and the earth that’s trapped in the hourglass. It got more exciting when the campaigners ran down from the top to the bottom of the hourglass to demonstrate that the earth is dissolving like sand.
“World leaders are going halfway through the UN climate negotiations, but they are doing nowhere near enough to tackle the climate crisis,” said Brian Lund, East Asia regional director of Oxfam America. “So, we are calling on world leaders, especially leaders of rich countries who have more resources and technology, to increase their commitment to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and to provide more financing for poor countries like Cambodia to adapt to climate change.”
While the UN climate conference in Copenhagen has largely centered on emissions reductions, poor countries like Cambodia are focusing more on financing that could help their communities adapt.
“We are demanding that climate negotiators in Copenhagen press countries with major greenhouse gas emissions to take their fair shares and put money on the table to tackle the crisis,” said Boonny Tep, Executive Director of Save Cambodia Wildlife, and a participant of the event. “It is a crucial moment to join this global force to demand for a climate justice, and I hope today’s event as well as events like this around the world will encourage world leaders to reach a fair and safe climate deal at the UN conference.”
At the tcktcktck campaign event, Lund said that rich countries including America, Australia, Canada, Japan, New Zealand, and some European countries must meet their global climate responsibilities and provide financing for developing countries like Cambodia, so that poor communities, especially small-scale farmers can protect themselves from the unavoidable consequences of climate change.
Cambodia is striving to rebuild itself after three decades of civil wars, which left almost two million Cambodians dead. Its development efforts are often hampered by natural disasters. Cambodia has been identified as one of the most vulnerable countries in Asia to climate change due to its (currently) low adaptive capacity and limited resources to address the issue. One in three Cambodians lives on less than a dollar a day and 80 percent of the population make their living in the agricultural sector.
]]>Legal services for the disadvantaged did not exist in Cambodia until a decade ago. With the change in government in 1998, the US began to support efforts to strengthen civil society. While other donors focused on improving the judiciary and other state institutions with little measurable impact, the US backed many nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) working on human rights, rule of law, and government accountability. Many believe that the continued involvement of the US in civil society is critical to avoiding potential setbacks in Cambodia's young democracy.
The US Agency for International Development (USAID) knows that empowering citizens to secure their rights is fundamental in breaking free from poverty. In 1996, USAID helped to found one of the first legal resource centers in Cambodia, the Community Legal Education Center (CLEC). Now a nationally registered NGO, and still supported by USAID, CLEC educates communities and government officials on citizens' legal empowerment and advocates reforms to protect citizens' rights. In part because of USAID's long-term support for CLEC, the center has evolved into an effective NGO capable of taking on sensitive, high-profile "land grabbing" and illegal eviction cases. CLEC has a unique two-part strategy: it selects legal cases that have the potential to generate wide publicity and debate, and it also demands broader accountability and respect for legal norms in Cambodian society as a whole.
This approach was effective when one Phnom Penh community facing forced eviction sought CLEC's help. Group 78, a cluster of 146 families, sits on 11,700 square meters (approximately 3 acres) of prime real estate in the heart of Phnom Penh. Seeing commercial potential in the land, the municipality sought to evict the families who had been living there for over 20 years. In 2001, after proper documentation had been processed recognizing Group 78's right to remain on the land, the village chief falsified a white paper stating that the community members wished to vacate their land. In reality, the authority had duped them into signing an agreement to vacate. Intimidation tactics were used: residents were repeatedly threatened with house burnings if they did not clear out immediately. Undeterred, members of Group 78 went to the municipality and Land Management Ministry for an investigation. That investigation went nowhere for five years; then suddenly the community started receiving multiple eviction notices with different and flimsy justifications in each notice. One claimed the reason was for the city's beautification; another, that the land was classified as state land and that the people had no rights to it; and the last, that the land was owned by an unidentified individual. Fed up with the authority's actions, the community sought the aid of CLEC.
Man Vuthy, coordinator of CLEC, says of Group 78: "They know us because CLEC used to successfully help their neighboring community, Koh Pich (Diamond Island). They came to CLEC's office for help. And then CLEC accepted the case."
Group 78 resident and CLEC client Lam Sambo describes his community’s struggle to claim their legal rights:
"Since 2006, I have received five to six eviction notices. CLEC recognized the notices were inconsistent. We benefit from the NGO. With CLEC's help, we can stay here and are stronger than before because we trust our legal support. We know how strong the commune is. If we don’t have strong legal aid, we will be gone in a few hours."
CLEC pressed the case that the government had no grounds to expel Group 78. Since the community has strong possession rights as stipulated in the 2001 Land Law, the authorities had no right to evict the community. According to CLEC, publicity generated from this case has helped spread the notion within Cambodian society that citizens can use the law to defend themselves and uphold their rights, even in conflicts with the government.1
Not many NGOs will work on high-profile cases like Group 78's because they consider it too dangerous. In an environment where power is highly concentrated among elites and is not often questioned, it is risky to take on the government. Despite numerous threats and arrests, CLEC has been able to achieve tremendous success because of USAID's continued investment and belief in CLEC's public interest advocacy. Thanks to CLEC's work, many citizens realize they have legal rights and feel some confidence in demanding that their government respect those rights. By committing to a long-term and broad- reaching effort at improving the justice system and building consensus for reforms, USAID has fostered an environment where active citizens can finally have a voice in their government.
However, CLEC staff are unsure of how long they can expect this investment by USAID. Since CLEC must apply every year for funding from the US, they can't predict whether they will have the funds to continue their work defending citizen rights. According to Yeng Virak, executive director of CLEC, they may be victims of their own success: "USAID money supports this project. However, our funding is ending this year, and we will have to apply again next year. Our project has been too effective and is seen as troublesome to the government because we do impact high-profile litigation cases."2
1 Group 78's story has been followed by The Phnom Penh Post, Voice of America, Amnesty International, Center on Housing Rights and Evictions, UN Cambodia Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, numerous other organizations, blogs, and networking sites.
2 This article is based on interviews conducted in October 2008. Since then, CLEC has received funding from USAID to continue its high-impact advocacy work. To see Group 78 residents describe their situation as of May 2009, view a video by LICADHO (Cambodian League for the Promotion and Defense of Human Rights), a Cambodian NGO that advocates human rights.
]]>"The discovery of oil, gas, and minerals and the revenues gained from them could have a potential to lift Cambodians out of poverty," said Mam Sambath, Chairperson of CRRT. "However, for this to happen, important steps need to be taken to ensure that revenue management is done in an accountable way and that the benefits gained are invested into basic social services such as health care and education."
Solinn Lim, a program coordinator for Oxfam America’s East Asia program in Cambodia, spoke at an event held by the CRRT on June 12th in Phnom Penh to launch the new coalition. She said that Cambodia is poised to earn much-needed capital that can be used to drive a new phase of economic growth for the country. "This can only be done with a strong and meaningful engagement between government, companies, and civil society," she said.
Cambodia has recently discovered offshore oil and has mineral deposits in its northern provinces. If effectively exploited, these resources could drastically increase the country's $2 billion national budget. How these additional funds are expended, and the ways the country can safeguard their effective use, is a primary motivating factor for the establishment of the CRRT and its mandate to promote active citizen participation in decisions about use of resource revenues. At the same time, Cambodia’s legal and regulatory framework, both for mining, as well as for oil and gas industries, need to be created. This will help Cambodia to "manage these industries from extraction to revenue collection to spending," said Lim from Oxfam.
Oxfam is making grants to individual members of the CRRT coalition and encouraging other donors to help support the coalition.
The five founding members of the CRRT are Centre for Social Development, Development and partnership in Action, Economic Institute of Cambodia, NGO Forum on Cambodia, and Youth Resource Development Program. The coalition is being funded by Oxfam America, Norwegian People’s Aid, Heinrich Böll Foundation, and Trocaire.
]]>"There is not as much fish coming from the lake like there used to be," she says as she wraps her head with a kroma, a traditional Cambodian scarf. "Buyers are the same. Not as many."
At the same time, 88 miles away on a small fishing boat at the southern tip of Tonle Sap Lake—Cambodia's largest lake—Hem Von is taking a break from his work to eat some rice that his wife prepared for him. Even though it is only 6 a.m., he has been fishing non-stop for the past two hours. His next break will come at 11 a.m. when he goes to sell his fish. After that, he will continue to fish until 8 p.m.
"It is one way or another," Von says with an exasperated sigh. "Sure my fish have gone up in price, but so has everything like the fuel for my boat. I can't catch enough fish to buy food for my family, and so we don't eat as much. It is a miserable way to live."
Like the rest of the world, Cambodia has seen the cost of living increase in the last few months. In the past year, the country's staple food, rice, has increased in price 100 percent. A recent survey conducted by an Oxfam partner shows that for the poorest people in both rural and urban areas, getting adequate food is a daily struggle, with 20 percent of the population living hand-to-mouth on about $2 a day. The survey also showed that fisherman like Von will have a tough time coping with the rise in prices, since fish prices have only gone up 20 percent, while the stocks in the lakes and rivers continues to dwindle.
The hardest hit by this imbalance will be people like Savan and Von. Like most Cambodians, they spend about 70 percent of their income on food. By comparison people in the US spend about 10 percent. To cope with the soaring food prices, people are buying and eating less food—adding to existing malnutrition rates and the poor economic outlook of Cambodia.
Back at the southern tip of Tonle Sap Lake, in the village of Chnock Tru it is 11 a.m. and fish buyer Lor Bun, 40, is setting out scales and money on a straw mat under a make-shift shelter. In front of him several young men spill out of the back of la arge truck, preparing crates and baskets with ice to transport fish to Phnom Penh. Bun, the main fish buyer in the village for the past seven years, says he has seen prices continue to rise as buyers in the market decrease. He says that the price of rice is the highest he has ever seen it.
"We are increasingly concerned about the prices of fuel, food and there are fewer fish, but I have not seen a big drop in profits yet," he says.
Von, the fisherman, who is standing nearby waiting for his baskets of fish to be weighed, says that Bun has coached the local fisherman on how to raise their prices.But even with that he isn't making enough from selling his fish to cover the extra costs.
"We want to cry. We want to shout. But we don't know at who," he says.
Brian Lund, Oxfam America's East Asia regional director, says there are a number of people that need to get involved.
"To solve this issue we can not look to the Cambodian government alone," Lund says. "Donor countries should support the country's effort to support small scale food producers in their agricultural input, resource management, and sustainable production techniques."
In addition, Lund says that providing people living in poverty with the knowledge, skills, and confidence to effectively manage their resources and assisting them to effectively engage and interact with the markets, can ensure they will benefit from selling their products in the market. Nearly 80 percent of people in Cambodia make a living from agriculture, so higher prices offer the possibility of a better livelihood. However, with the agriculture sector accounting for a quarter of the gross national product, strong efforts must be made to ensure that benefits reach small-scale producers in remote markets, not just large-scale commercial operations and agribusinesses.
"And it is important that as investments and aid is given to Cambodia to help with rising costs, that it be a transparent and accountable process," Lund says.
At the same time agriculture investments need to better incorporate poverty reduction elements to create a better environment for small farmers to produce and sell their agricultural products so that they can invest in their family's future.
Von Siphou, 42, dices pineapples in the mid-day heat in Kandal, a Phnom Penh neighborhood. 3 p.m. is the hottest time of day in the city, where the heat comes off streets and buildings in waves. And it is the best time for selling juicy, ready-cut pineapples. For about eight cents more per pineapple, Siphou takes off the rind, cuts it into bite-sized pieces and provides customers with a plastic carrying bag and toothpicks to make the fruit easier to eat—fast food, Cambodian style. Several months ago Siphou saw profits of $7 on a good day. Now she says she is lucky if she breaks even. If she raises her prices—even by a few cents—no one will be able to afford the service, she says.
"I am working as hard as I can and it is not good enough," she says, chopping up a mango. "The only thing left to do is to not eat."
Across the street, Phi Thoeng, 27, is also at his peak time for selling spicy papaya salad out of his street-vendor cart. In the mornings he sells fried noodles while his wife cuts up and prepares the papaya for him to sell starting at noon.
"This is a new business for us, and it is hard work," he says. "My wife and I are doing OK, but we are eating less.You have to manage somehow."
It is now 7 p.m.. Darkness is falling and the heat of the day is receding. As she cleans bits of left-over fish from her counter, Savan, the mother who rose early to fix her children breakfast ,says her family also is coping by consuming less food.. The traffic outside of O'Russey Market is still at a regular hum. Savan won't get home for another hour, but today she doesn't mind.
"I sold all of the small catfish," she says. "It is unpredictable, so we will still only eat a little for dinner. But it is a good day."
]]>But if the passerby stopped to listen to the conversation, she would know that this is no ordinary gossip session.
"I need to find a better way to show off my natural vegetables next to the others in the market," says Horng Vary, a 51-year-old farmer and mother. "They might not look as good, but I know they taste better. How do you do it?"
Her friend and neighbor. Van Sou Cheun, 52, tells her to show only the best ones and then when people come to buy tell them about the taste.
"I think it is best to tell them, not show them," Van Sou Korn, 54, says agreeing with Cheun.
This very simple act of exchanging information on ways to better market their products is at the heart of an Oxfam America initiative designed to allow farmers to pool their savings and take charge of their futures. Called Saving for Change, the program allows members in rural communities to save, lend, and pay each other interest while also encouraging them to share new farming and livelihoods ideas with each other. In the process, small farmers like these three women will become better equipped to battle the rising costs that recently hit the world, and Cambodia.
A recent survey done by an Oxfam partner shows that in Cambodia, 2.6 million people are facing food insecurity with the poorest people struggling to deal with rising food prices. More specifically, the survey suggests that villages like Kork around the Tonle Sap Lake will be the hardest hit.
Cambodians spend as much as 70 percent of their income on food, as compared to the US where people spend about 10 percent. This means that to cope with the soaring food prices, people are buying and eating less food—adding to existing malnutrition among people and the country's poor economic outlook.
Unlike some African countries that do not grow enough food to feed their people, Cambodia has produced a surplus of food in the past few years—including its staple rice. But rice is now a 100 percent more expensive than it was last year, making it pricey for the poorest 40 percent of the population. The causes of the increased prices are varied—climate change, rising fertilizer costs, insect infestations, and uninformed trade—but the outcomes are the same: instability and insecurity for the poorest families.
But with 80 percent of the people in Cambodia making a living from agriculture, it would seem that higher prices offer the possibility of a better livelihood for farmers. Unfortunately this isn't the case since small-scale farmers individually have little bargaining power in terms of selling their produce or buying things like seeds and fertilizer.
This is where three women working together and sharing information could change the balance of power.
Oxfam America has taken strides in building human connections in East Asia through Saving for Change. The microfinance program has jumpstarted trust and knowledge sharing in rural areas because it allows communities to be in charge of their own futures and promotes the need for them to work together in order to reach individual goals.
All three women are a part of a Saving for Change program and through it have learned of another Oxfam America program: System of Rice Intensification, or SRI. A process of 12 low-cost, simple practices, SRI helps small farmers increase their yields of rice by 50 to 100 percent while allowing them save on seed and water costs.
They are now SRI farmers.
"When I first heard about this way to grow rice I didn't believe it," Vary says. "But when I saw my neighbors growing more rice, I took a small part of my land and tried it. I have had three harvests, each one producing more rice than the one before."
This is especially important now. The survey results show that many rice farmers are facing a 70 percent increase in production costs, so growing more rice while saving on water and seeds can make a big difference.
"Everything is more expensive now," Vary says. "But at least we have more rice than some of our neighbors."
The Saving for Change program requires that group members formally meet each month to go over financial transactions in the community. That meeting also gives them the chance to talk about other issues such as their agricultural practices or selling tactics.
"When one of us goes to another market in another village, we bring back a list of prices to share with the group," Vary says. "It keeps us competitive."
The three women find time each week to talk about how their SRI fields are doing and share practices and experiments with the methodology. They all agree that sharing information on how to grow more rice or how to better sell their products will help them manage during this time of soaring costs.
"It is important for us to do this now because of the prices," Vary says. "We are not worried, though, because we have each other. We feel supported."
]]>"I am 54 and I thought that I was too old to learn anything new," says San Van, a grandmother and farmer in a nearby village. "But I came here and see this movie and it is easy. I will try this new way and save seeds and grow more rice. It is exciting."
Pov Cham shakes her head in agreement. "I am very excited because with the old method of farming I could not have such a surplus like I can with this," Cham says. "I like how easy this was to learn and it was from people like me."
What has excited these women to change the way they will farm?
An instructional movie released today by Oxfam America and the Cambodian Center for Study and Development in Agriculture, or CEDAC.
The new movie, titled "Do You Speak SRI?" was developed to assist Cambodian farmers to easily and effectively grow more rice to support their families and to teach them new ways to farm. It takes a different approach of the traditional educational movie by using real farmers rather than actors to tell their own story and successes in using the new practices. The movie follows the journey of a young farmer as he learns each of the 12 practices from more experienced farmers.
In a recent viewing in Kampong Chhang, audience members were excited to see real farmers in the movie—most of whom were unscripted. The farmers showed off their natural enthusiasm for the practices.
"I like that I could see someone like me," says Van. "They are so happy and have grown so much rice using less seeds."
The movie is an addition to the other training tools CEDAC uses to assist farmers in implementing the practices.
"We hope that farmers will learn how to implement their choice of 12 practices into their own farming practices and realize that this can improve their yield and thus their quality of life," says Dr. Yang Saing Koma, President of CEDAC.
System of Rice Intensification (SRI), which was first introduced to Cambodia in 2000, has helped more than 80,000 Cambodian families grow more rice by using a selection of up to 12 simple practices. By adopting these steps, Cambodian farmers can increase rice yields from 50 to 150 percent, compared to yields harvested from traditional methods. Many farmers use this surplus of rice to feed their families, generate extra income and make improvements for other agricultural ventures.
"Boosting the farming community's skills so that they can grow more rice is about more than feeding Cambodian families,"" says Brian Lund, Regional Director of Oxfam America's East Asia Office in Phnom Penh. "It also is about boosting the farmer's confidence so that they take control over their life now and in the future."
To better empower farmers and sustain their self-reliance, Oxfam America and CEDAC recently combined the SRI training with a savings-led microfinance program called Saving for Change, which enables farmers and community members to better retain and manage the improved wealth they are achieving from their crops.
CEDAC plans to teach the SRI method to farmers in the 13,000 villages in Cambodia over the next five years.
As for Cham and Van, both said the movie convinced them to try SRI practices on a small part of their rice field to test it and see how it works for them.
"I am going to try it out," says Cham laughing. "Then I will let you know if I will be ready to be in the next movie to show my surplus of rice."
]]>Lovethom, a small village in Cambodia's northern province of Kratie, is home to a Muslim ethnic group called the Cham. The Cham are descendants of the ancient kingdom of Champa, who migrated to Cambodia from Vietnam after the fall of their kingdom in 17th century.
For centuries, the Cham in Lovethom have benefited from living on the fertile Mekong river flood plains. The seasonal flooding each year provides fish and just enough water for rice cultivation. However, the delicate balance of nature is changing, affecting the livelihoods of the people and altering the structure of this centuries-old Muslim community.
"In the last three years we have experienced unpredictable floods. We plant but we can't harvest; it has never happened like this before," said Mom Mayas, a 47-year-old mother of six. Mom owns a small plot of land where her family has been cultivating rice for over a century.
"The flood plain normally overflows from July until September, then the water starts to recede and that is when we start planting. But in the past three years there has been heavy rain, and after the water level receded in September, it just started to rise again, destroying everything in its path, " she said.
Taking this experience into account, this year Mom did not plant immediately after the flood waters receded. But her efforts were in vain because the water level fluctuated three times in the space of two months.
"I have lost most of my early rice crops because of the unpredictable floods and have only started planting rice seedlings in November—the last month of the wet season," she said.
Because of the recent changes in weather patterns, Mom has sent her two oldest sons to Thailand to work as laborers. She now has no men to help her in the fields—her husband fell victim to the civil war in 1995.
"The boys cannot afford to send money back from Thailand," she said. "At the moment they have only got money to support themselves, while my two girls work on a bean plantation up north. I don't really want everyone to split up like this and be far apart from family and friends as well as the community, but if this is what we have to do, then so be it."
Far from being defeated, Mom says she is doing the best she can to support her two younger sons and 95 year-old mother by pressing palm leaves to sell as thatch walls and roofs as well as selling porridge and banana leaves.
"After being hit three years in a row I have no money left to buy seeds to plant next year, " she said. "I have very little hope now, but I am doing whatever I can so the rest of my children can go to school and maybe have a better life."
Tin Ponlok, National Project Manager for the formulation of Cambodia's National Adaptation Program of Action to Climate Change (NAPA), explained that climate change affects an agrarian country like Cambodia in the form of floods and droughts. "The rural poor with limited resources rely solely on agricultural products," he said, "and climate change is costing them dearly."
Tin explained that people living in lowland areas, such as Lovethom, are the most vulnerable to the impact of climate change because of increased flooding and soil erosion. Research conducted by the Climate Change Office of the Cambodian Ministry of Environment has proven that agricultural productivity has gone down during the past five years because of increased flooding, drought and sea water intrusions.
The eighth Conference of the Parties to the United Nations framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) agreed that least developed countries are most vulnerable to climate change. A decision was made to allocate money to countries which submitted successful National Adaptation Plans.
Tin explained that Cambodia's NAPA identified 39 projects in water resources, agriculture, human health and coastal zone management as urgent priorities. Examples include introducing integrated farming such as cattle raising and vegetable planting so that rice is not the only dependent source of income, and improving irrigation systems.
"Because least developed countries suffer from problems that are caused by somebody else, we think it's fair that we get funding to support our adaptation projects," he said. "We want better commitments towards adaptation from developed countries."
"I feel bad; I have a very high temperature but I have no money to buy more medicine," he says.
Sen contracted malaria from mosquitoes, after entering the forest to collect firewood to sell because he lost all of his assets after floods leveled his rice paddy.
"I own a very small plot of land, which normally is not enough for my family's consumption, but this year the irregular flooding destroyed almost everything and I had no choice but to enter the forest," he says.
Since last year, there has been an increase of malaria patients in Cambodia's Kratie province, where Sen's village, Lovethom, is located. According to statistics from the Kratie Provincial Health Department, malaria cases increased dramatically last year and again this year after the numbers went down in 2005.
"There were more than 709 registered cases with 24 deaths last year, compared to less than 200 cases in 2005. Dengue fever cases have also increased from 65 cases in 2006 to 145 cases so far this year," says Dr. Cheam Saem, Director of the Provincial Health Department, Kratie Province.
A recent survey conducted by Cambodia's Climate Change Office found that the recent increase of malaria and dengue fever cases is connected to the change in climate conditions, explains Tin Ponlok, National Project Manager for the formulation of Cambodia's National Adaptation Program of Action to Climate Change (NAPA).
"This year especially, there has been a significant rise in dengue fever, and specialists in the country believe that climate change is the cause," he says.
Vector-borne diseases like malaria and dengue fever are most sensitive to long-term climate change. The incubation period of mosquitoes shortens at higher temperatures, while off-season rainfall enhances mosquito breeding and survival.
"The highland areas are becoming perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes because of the humidity in the forest," Tin says.
Tin added that the geographical structure of the forest is also changing because of excessive logging and mosquitoes are also now moving to the villages.
Lovethom village, where Sen's family of five lives, borders the Mekong River and has been experiencing irregular rainfall patterns for the past three years, causing recurring floods up to four times in one year. Apart from destroying rice crops and forcing people to invade the forest, the flood is also leaving behind pools of stagnant water, a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes.
El Hop Sos, a mother of eight, says all of her children either have malaria or dengue, while her husband has also contracted malaria from working in the forest.
"There has been a lot more rain and a lot more mosquitoes in the past two years, and we just don't have the money to take the children to the district hospital," she says.
Dr. Cheam Saem agrees. "This year it has been difficult because there are more loggers, and there has been more rain, and, as a consequence, more mosquitoes," he said. He added that the department has a limited budget and Lovethom village is not categorized as a malaria risk zone, and therefore does not qualify for free medication.
Dr. Cheam Saem explains that his department has been distributing mosquito nets and providing education to those living in remote areas on how to keep themselves safe from vector-borne diseases.
Showing her torn mosquito nets, El Hop says she is very worried about her children. She is trying to find extra income to pay for the medication by working on a cassava plantation, while her husband catches fish to sell in the local market because they do not own a rice field, but it is still far from enough. With global warming forecast to disrupt weather patterns to a much greater extent over coming decades, the health crisis faced by the people of Lovethom is just a foretaste of what is to come.
]]>Following the advice of the Cambodian Center for Study and Development in Agriculture, or CEDAC, Som abandoned his use of chemicals in favor of organic fertilizer. He planted fewer seeds and spaced them widely apart. He kept the soil moist—without flooding it. He transplanted the rice seedlings while they were young and took the time to weed. Halfway through that first season, Som noticed his rice plants were growing bigger and stronger.
"The same seeds used to produce plants that came up to my knees," he said. "Now they reach above my head."
Since Som's experiment, CEDAC has trained more than 60,000 Cambodian farmers to modify their farming techniques to correspond with SRI. Like farmers in Madagascar, China, and Bangladesh, they have increased their yields by 50 to 100 percent, and sometimes more.
Yang Saing Koma, the president of CEDAC, better known as "Dr. Koma," calls it the "Root Revolution," and eventually he wants the majority of Cambodia's rice farmers to have joined in.
"It's just a question of changing your attitude and thinking," he said. "Conventional agriculture just looks at the plant above ground. With SRI, you look at the roots—big, strong roots."
Using grants from Oxfam America totaling about $222,000 since 2003, CEDAC has used SRI to build financial and food security in one of Southeast Asia's poorest countries. More than 70 percent of the workforce depends on agriculture to make a living—most of them, rice farmers.
Dr. Koma says it's like a metaphor for human development. If you give people enough room to grow, they flourish. If you plant seedlings far enough apart, the seedlings sprout several stalks and the stalks produce hundreds of grains of rice.
He first learned about SRI after reading a magazine article chronicling the experiences of farmers in Madagascar. Jesuit priest Father Henri de Laulanié spent 20 years working with Malagasy farmers, refining a set of practices that required less land, seed, water, and money.
At first, the Cambodian farmers who are approached by CEDAC about trying SRI had trouble believing what they were hearing. Some even ridiculed the farmers who tried the new method.
When So Tith began planting through SRI three years ago, his neighbors saw him pressing fewer seeds into the soil and pitied him, thinking he couldn't afford to buy more. "They offered to give me some of their seed," he said.
Even after Tith's new stalks began to grow, his neighbors wouldn't attribute their sturdiness to SRI. They attributed it to "trickery" instead. But Tith didn't mind, for in a couple years these same doubters would end up changing their practices, and more important, their minds.
Accustomed to using oxen and carts to take water to their fields, they now fill jugs and carry them on their shoulders to small plots of land near their homes. They plant during the wet and dry seasons, doubling their production and incomes.
"Daily life is better than before," said Sorn Ton, another rice farmer who adopted SRI. "When we used to farm, there wasn't enough rice to support the family for the whole year. We had to borrow money to buy rice from others in the village. Now my family has enough to eat."
The farmers use the extra profits to invest in more rice seed, send their children to school, and participate in the simple joys of everyday life—the religious and family ceremonies, the weddings and festivals.
All this from a little bit of creative thinking informed by the people who work the land themselves.
"Throughout Cambodia, the farmers who adopted SRI—they have more self confidence. They see what they can get from what they do," Dr. Koma said.
]]>The water running through the northeast highlands of Cambodia was brown and muddy, but she was hot and needed to cool off. Later that night, Ranh woke up scratching at a rash on her hands and legs. Several months pregnant with her second child, she traveled hours by motorbike to find a medical clinic.
Weeks later, her scabs still covered in purple ointment, Ranh said she was worried her skin condition might hurt her baby. But, like so many others living downstream from the Yali Falls dam who reported rashes, stomach illnesses, and diarrhea since the dam's construction, she feels like there's no alternative to using the river to bathe and drink.
"I don't have a well at home," she said. "Even if the water looks dirty, I have to wash."
Built upstream in Vietnam and Laos, hydropower dams are rising up on the Sesan, Sekong, and Srepok Rivers that flow through Cambodia's northeast provinces, Ratanakiri and Stung Treng. Dams, such as the Yali Falls, have changed the water quality, killed whole species of fish, flooded villages, and wiped out large fields of rice.
These problems are compounded by what's happening in the nearby forests. There, armed guards stand in the thicket, threatening to arrest anyone who enters. The guards hack ax-cuts into the tree trunks, marking off ancestral land the government has sold to the highest bidder—usually a foreign company looking to start a lucrative plantation. The forests have traditionally served as a safety net for the indigenous people, providing a source of income during the "lean months" when the fish aren't spawning and the rice is too young to harvest. But when the government sells off the land, the safety net goes with it.
These dangerous circumstances threaten the very existence of the more than 66,000 people who live in these remote hills. What's worse, the indigenous people here lack any real political power. Many feel marginalized by the mainstream Khmer, who dominate the government and still associate the rural minorities with the genocide of the 1970s, which began as an agrarian revolution.
"The people here, they feel very isolated. They feel like no one from the outside will come to help them," said Kim Sangha, coordinator of the 3 S Rivers Protection Network (3SPN), an Oxfam America partner.
As the scorching sun sets on the Sesan River, the people of Taveng Lou village get to work. Men take out their fishing boats and pull in their nets. Women fill their watering cans and irrigate their gardens and rice paddies. Families wade into the shallows, bathing and collecting water for household use.
Vietnam's Yali Falls dam disrupts this daily routine. Since it became operational in 2001, the Cambodians living downstream have noticed dramatic changes. Unexpected water surges have eroded the shoreline, depositing silt, sand, and rocks in the deep pools where fish live. And the fluctuating water levels have either swept away nets or left them high and dry.
All in all, villagers here say they've seen a 70 percent drop-off in their fish catch.
"Before, you used to be able to put a pot on the fire, walk down to the river, and catch some fish—all before the water boiled," said Em Vuthy, deputy governor of Taveng District. "Now you can spend a whole day and get one fish."
Beyond reducing the number of fish, the dam has altered the way people farm along the Sesan River. Traditionally, the villagers depended on the overflow of the river to water their plants and rice during the wet season. During the dry season, they would plant different crops that could handle the heat and scarcity of water. But now people like Mean Trosh, a mother of seven who grows cabbage, watercress, pumpkins, red chilies, eggplants, and rice along the water, can't plan around the seasons; the dam creates unexpected floods. Trosh says she tries to plant on higher ground, but even those gardens and rice paddies have been destroyed.
"When the water level changes, it rises quickly and goes down quickly," she said. "Last year, I tried to grow rice along the river, but it was damaged by the floods."
According to the villagers and Oxfam partners, the Yali Falls dam was built with no formal assessment of the environmental and social impacts downstream in Cambodia. And right now, more than a dozen dam projects like it are already in the works along the "3 S Rivers"—the Sesan, Srepok, and Sekong—that flow from the central highlands of Vietnam and southern Laos downstream to the northeast provinces of Cambodia.
Last August, a huge flood along the Srepok River inundated at least 15 villages in Stung Treng and Ratanakiri. More than 650 families were affected. Months later, sitting on the wooden floor of their village pagoda under a cascade of prayer flags, Dae Low villagers shouted over each other as they recalled what happened.
Villagers reported hearing a bulletin on the radio that one of the dams under construction would be releasing water for a few days. But by the time the bulletin aired, the Srepok was already rising. Many of the villagers didn't have access to radios. Those who did, lost time warning family and friends. When they returned home, their chickens, pigs, and water buffalo had drowned. Their vegetables had been washed away. More than 1,300 rice fields were destroyed—an entire year's harvest.
"We are very worried about the future," said the village chief, Prom Phally. "We don't know how to prepare for these floods."
The people of Cambodia's northeast highlands depend primarily on fishing and farming to make a living. But they have always looked to their forests as sacred places. They supplement their income by collecting local plants there and gather herbs for traditional medicines. During the dry season, when the green grass turns to yellow straw, they let their livestock wander into the woods for food and water.
At 67, Seth Gnal makes the three-mile trek to the woods near the Srepok River every three days. Together with family members, he collects tree resin to repair and maintain his fishing boats. He uses what's left to fuel the torches that illuminate his home in Kbal Romeas village.
Gnal feels threatened by his new neighbors: foreign-funded, Cambodian-fronted land concessionaires. These are the companies that make use of Cambodia's weak land titling laws to buy up what indigenous people consider their land. Even before these companies clear the land to plant single crops like teak—a hardwood requiring at least a decade to mature before it can be logged—they pay armed guards to prevent the local people from coming through.
"Before, the indigenous people in the village always went to the forests to gather vines, resin, rattan, and honey to sell," said Kim Deung, another villager. "Now, if we go into the forest, the guards will catch and arrest us. We're afraid to go in."
According to locals, the plantation owners have promised to give them work. But it's usually people from the larger towns who get hired. And even then, the pay is poor: less than $2 a day.
At the same time, the concessions often encroach on land the indigenous people use to grow rice. This situation forces them to remain on the few parcels of land they already occupy. For farmers and fishers who typically move every 15 years to allow the soil to regenerate, it threatens the farmers' ability to feed their families. Many people end up producing so little that they must sell the rice they grow and borrow the rice they eat.
"The Forest Administration tells us we can't clear some of the forest for more rice fields, yet the concessionaires are permitted to clear the forest and sell the trees," Gnal said.
To make matters worse, the land concession sales slowly strip the local people of their culture. As Estela Estoria, a program officer in Oxfam America's East Asia office explained, the 15-year interval of farming is so engrained in the highlanders' way of life that they use the Khmer word for these farms—chamka—to measure the ages of their friends and family members. A 15-year-old is one chamka. A 30-year-old, two.
"The indigenous people don't know why this is happening to them," Estoria said. Animists and Buddhists, "they feel like God or their ancestors are angry with them."
The work of Oxfam's partners begins here, teaching the local people about the outside forces impinging on their lifestyle and working with them to advocate on their own behalf.
Local o rganizations like 3SPN, the Culture-Environment Preservation Association, and the NGO Forum on Cambodia encourage the highlanders to use their indigenous knowledge to keep written records about the changes in their environment. The records describe which species of fish are dying off, how quickly the water is rising or falling, and which plants have been eliminated by the clearing of the trees. Then the partners train members of the communities to form local networks. Through these networks, the network leaders, called "focal people," teach the villagers to consolidate their research, write petitions to land concession companies, and even speak out at stakeholder meetings of dam developers and governments.
As a result of this work, officials of Electricity of Vietnam, the agency behind the hydropower dams in that country, met to discuss the environmental and social impacts on the Srepok River basin this past January. It was the first time in more than a decade that the Cambodian indigenous people affected by these projects could speak directly with the Vietnamese government, the Cambodian government, and the donors funding the construction.
The indigenous people used the opportunity to ask for compensation for their lost livelihoods, fishing boats, and equipment. They asked for a share of the benefits of the dam, such as electricity transmission lines for their community. And they asked that no new dams be constructed without their consultation.
According to news accounts, the Vietnamese government agreed to "implement dam projects with bilateral agreements, follow international treaties, look to having the citizens of Vietnam and Cambodia gain income," and reduce environmental impact. The Cambodian government said it would work on reducing the impact of the dams on local people and the environment.
Having accomplished this much already, Oxfam's Cambodian partners hope to increase the participation of indigenous people in dam projects and land concession disbursements. It's a slow path to success, but in a country working to overcome so much, the progress is historic.
"It was amazing to realize that the ministries were all raising the same issues as the local authorities and villagers. Everyone was just waiting for a legitimate platform to speak out," said Sangha of 3SPN. "Now we need to follow up with the national governments to make sure they come through on their promises. That's the biggest challenge."
With additional reporting by Brett Eloff.
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