Achieving farm resilience requires building up the resilience of vulnerable farmers by developing their skills, expertise and voice while supporting their use of agro-ecological farming practices. Building resilience depends not just on how farmers manage resources, but on how well local, national, and global institutions support farmers. Agro-ecological practices can empower vulnerable small-scale farmers, offering them both greater control over their lives and an accessible means of improving their food security, while decreasing their risk of crop failure or livestock death due to climate shocks. Vulnerable farmers can use agro-ecological practices to build resilient farms and improve their livelihoods, achieving multiple benefits: 1. improved food security; 2. adaptation to a changing climate; and 3. mitigation of climate change.
People-centred resilience consists of five principles which should guide how investments in vulnerable farming communities are designed and implemented. They are:
Following these principles ensures that investments support farmers in their efforts to become food-secure and adapt to climate change. Four institutions central to delivering people-centered resilience are: secure land rights; dynamic farmer associations; responsive agricultural advisory services; and public support for environmental services.
]]>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.
]]>This land is dotted by native conifers and flowering rhododendrons, but through the years outsiders have come to exploit timber and other natural resources. Deforestation has led to landslides, and landslides have threatened villagers' crops and homes.
In the past, the plans and activities of the county government and the needs of the local people, mostly Tibetans, were not coordinated. When problems arose, the right solutions were hard to come by. Oxfam America worked to change that.
First, the research. Oxfam partner organization CBIK, the Center for Biodiversity and Indigenous Knowledge, has helped local government officials, academics, non-governmental organization (NGO) workers, school teachers, and villagers conduct research on issues related to their environment and development.
Then the sharing. CBIK has worked to share the research among the participants, creating multi-stakeholder forums where government officials sit down with local residents to discuss topics as varied as: animal husbandry, the collection of non-timber forest products such as mushrooms, water resource management, land use management, and even Tibetan medicine.
The forums give participants the opportunity to discuss issues of concern, and have inspired new projects in response to the issues raised.
After one multi-stakeholder forum, Jiabi villagers and county government officials agreed that a new dike needed to be built along a stream that flows through their village. The dike will guard against flooding, erosion and landslides, and help ensure that the people have access to a reliable source of water.
Instead of the government hiring an outside company to build the dyke—a typical solution in the past—the villagers built it themselves. The county government gave them financial and technical support.
"The old dike, built by a private company from outside, was so weak a small monkey could knock it down. But the dike we built is strong," said Riqing Pinchu, the head of Jiabi Village. "We used to wait for the government to come to us, but now we can take responsibility for our own development."
The county government learned that involving civil society—not always an easy concept in China—has its benefits. "When villagers participate in their own development and prioritize their needs, we get greater buy-in and can increase their capacity at the same time," said Lurong Yixi, the county director for minority affairs.
Experience has taught the Jiabi villagers an important lesson—their natural resources sustain their lives, so they must protect them. And by collaborating with the government, sharing their collective knowledge, and using venues such as the multi-stakeholder forums they can make decisions about their own future.
]]>Some live along the lakeshore in small shacks built on stilts. Others live on the water in moored houseboats, rafts, and barges. From these simple homes, the fishers hurl out their lines and pull up their baskets, hoping to catch enough to feed their families and satisfy the middlemen in the fish trade.
According to the Fisheries Action Coalition Team (FACT), an Oxfam-funded partner organization in Cambodia, the fishers help support about 1.5 million people.
"The Tonle Sap is very, very important, not only for the people who live on and around the lake, but for all of Cambodia," said Pen Raingsey, project officer at FACT.
Each year, monsoon rains and melting snows from the Himalayas feed the Mekong River, swelling the Tonle Sap Lake. This yearly pattern nourishes a diverse underwater world of flooded forests and more than 100 species of fish.
But because the Tonle Sap is not only a source of food, but also a route for transportation and commerce, it faces increasing risks. Neighboring countries, corporations, and regional finance institutions want to blast rapids, develop hydropower dams, and build harbors on the Tonle Sap and its connecting waterways.
For fishers accustomed to picking up and moving with the changing tides, it's a difficult process to learn about these threats, let alone do anything about them. Water nomads as they are, fishers don't always meet up with their neighbors, or feel comfortable voicing their opposition to the government.
That's where the Fisheries Action Coalition Team comes in. The group navigates the Tonle Sap, networking with fishers and bringing them to shore to meet, exchange information, and tell decision-makers what effect their developments will have. Then FACT compiles the research into a database and uses it to refute claims that certain developments would have no negative impacts.
Because of this work, fishers on the Tonle Sap say they feel empowered to protect their way of life.
Sitting on a small motorboat in the middle of the muddy waters of the Tonle Sap, Ly Saloeun, 53, said FACT trained him to write reports, and work with his neighbors to advocate for change.
He is one of many key fishers, each learning how to protect their community.
"We want to encourage the local community to raise their concerns to the decision makers," Raingsey said. "Before, people had no time or rights. Now, when a problem occurs, they can find a way to resolve that problem."
]]>A five-person review panel, which included the former State Environment Protection Agency (SEPA) leader, Qu Geping, selected the winners.
The competition, which had a water conservation theme, awarded $123,457 to 16 organizations and individuals in Beijing. It was the first time since the competition?s start six years ago that a theme was identified.
Twenty-two projects from a field of 200 proposals were chosen as finalists. Awards were made for tertiary students? activities, and the category in which Green Watershed won.
Ford Motor Company "has seen the important link between water resources conservation and China's efforts to achieve sustainable development and build a harmonious society," said Dr. Yu Xiaogang, founder and head of Green Watershed, when accepting the award.
"It's an honor as well as an incentive for us to continue public participation, good river basin management, and environmental equity."
It is the second time this year that Green Watershed has been recognized for its work in China. In March, Green Watershed was one of 10 winners in a contest sponsored by Beijing's Economic Observer and Shell, which recognized groups that designed outstanding sustainable development projects in China.
]]>The stories that follow testify to the fact that aid can be used effectively—in Africa and beyond. By investing directly in people, by helping them gain access to education, credit, and natural resources, by challenging the policies that perpetuate poverty, Oxfam puts the systems in place that can end poverty. Without this work—and your support—people remain hungry, poor, and lacking meaningful ways to change their lives.
Together, we have the chance to make that change.
]]>She was writing her name in Chinese characters, painstakingly shaping each slope and spike, trying to remember what she learned in school.
She'd lived her 30 years in this remote village on a mountain with no official name. She was a picture of dignity in a place facing difficult times.
For generations the people on this mountain had cut and sold timber. Then, just a few years ago, the Chinese government banned logging to conserve trees.
It was an important decision for the environment, one that helped protect the watershed of Lashi Lake. But it eliminated some important interaction for the Yi people who live here. An ethnic minority who only met with the lowland Han people when they sold their timber, they risked being left behind.
To survive the logging ban, the Yi needed a plan.
Green Watershed, an Oxfam America partner, came up with one. After consulting with the villagers, they discovered potatoes could replace timber as a cash crop. And the women who formed the backbone of the community could learn to speak Mandarin and write Chinese characters so they could sell and trade the potatoes to the Han at the base of the mountain.
In May, I went to China, Cambodia, and Thailand to capture stories like these, illustrating Oxfam America's work in Asia. I had never been to the region before. Like so many in the West, I knew about the extreme poverty only from the media.
But suddenly there I was filling notebooks with the results of our work, watching village after village preserve their way of life using their own expertise:
Rice farmers in Cambodia finding a niche in the market, creating the first organic rice mill in the country. Burmese refugees studying law, risking their lives to document human rights abuses back home. Fishers living on the Tonle Sap lake measuring the impact of over-fishing and developments planned for their community.
I marveled at the dignity of these men and women. They just wanted what we all want: to make a decent a living and feed their families.
Some sought to do the work their families had done for generations, only to watch the developed world encroach on their waterways and flood plains. Some needed to diversify and adapt their way of life.
But for others, the plan was even more ambitious. Let's say these communities make enough to get by.
Then what?
Then, it turns out, Oxfam partners help them learn how to participate in development decisions. They diversify their work options and insist on better governance. They put money away and buy farm equipment, fishing boats, tuition for their kids. They build health clinics, schools, and courtyards for meetings, traditional dancing, and singing with family and friends.
In short, when poor people aren't so poor anymore, they can effectively plan for the future.
What I saw during my travels illustrated the vast range of work Oxfam and its partners do in the regions.
And surrounding it all are the many challenges—few resources, limited participation in decision-making, outside interference, droughts, floods.
But somewhere in between, the work gets done.
A woman writes her name. A village survives.
]]>The environmental organization was one of 10 winners in a contest sponsored by Beijing's Economic Observer and Shell Corporation, which recognized groups that designed exemplary sustainable development projects in China.
An appraisal committee of economists, policy makers, NGO leaders, entrepreneurs, and environmentalists, selected the winners from a field of more than 100 contestants.
Green Watershed, an Oxfam America partner since 2000, won praise from the judges for their work in villages around the Lashi Lake. There, government conservation programs and dam developments threaten the livelihoods of local farmers and fishers, many of them ethnic minorities in China.
Based on their research and interviews with villagers, Green Watershed designed a project, which helped the people of Lashi Lake protect their environmental resources and make a living. Now former timber harvesters are growing potatoes, former fishers are nursing fruit trees and Chinese yams, and Yi and Naxi women are attending schools in their villages, learning to read, write and teach others innovative agriculture techniques.
Li Yue-Chun, 55, a Naxi woman, whose family was the first in her village to begin planting fruit trees and Chinese yams, said she now has hope her community will survive.
"Because of the riverway improvements, my land will never be threatened," she said.
Green Watershed is also working to form self-sufficient watershed committees in Lashi villages, which allow local people to advise their government representatives what kinds of plans would work best for them.
"The Lashi project is like a pilot for the whole of China," said Warwick Browne, Lead Regional Program Officer for Oxfam America's Mekong River Basin Management Program. "It represents what watershed management can be."
Dr. Yu Xiaogang, the director of Green Watershed, said the judges recognized the Lashi project because it demonstrated two key requirements. It could be replicated with just a modest amount of funding. And it involved the village's participation.
"They said this is a very alien concept in China—a process that involves the people participating in watershed management," Dr. Yu said.
Green Watershed received 10,000 Yuan (about $1,200) for the March 2005 prize.
]]>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.
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