Grain Aid

The harvest of 2011 was once again non-existent in some areas of Niger – the village of Kongu where I work is one such area.  The rains came late – meaning that the villagers did not plant their fields until July.  Then, the rains in August were sporadic and few.  By the end of August, the millet in the fields was burned by the sun – the villagers stopped  their field work as their harvest was lost.  Soon after, a locust infestation invaded and ate the green beans planted between the millet stalks.  On one such day, as I drove to the village – my truck’s passage on the dusty road set the locusts to flying through the air, I could barely see the road and fields for all the locusts in the air!
For the third year running, the villagers of Kongu harvested little to no food, and are left only with the hope of the next harvest – October 2012.  By January, some of the villagers were down to eating 2 meals a day.  And I wondered if by June, they would even have the strength to work in their fields.  The price of food continues to rise these days, and as the merchants will soon need to stock grain from other countries, the price will likely rise again.

My team is initiating a dual-strategy in answer to the food crisis this year.  The initial strategy is to provide the "food for today".  Once again, I am overseeing a grain aid program in Kongu – bringing out 100kg sacks of grain each month.  The villagers have chosen a rotating distribution of two groups – one group each month – and they pay a reduced price for the grain, the funds going back into the purchasing account for next month’s grain. 

And, since we started working with these villagers in the Fall to implement a development training program – the second strategy is to provide "food for tomorrow".  This week, agriculture agents will be travelling to the village to teach about field work techniques as well as to introduce a new millet grain which will ripen in less time – decreasing the dependency on the rains lasting for 3 months. 
Though the villagers have heard of this grain, they are hesitant to leave “that which we know, even though it does not yield much; for that which we do not know, even though it could be better”.  We will be providing each field owner enough of this new grain to plant one hectare – along with the materials necessary for their field work.  In this way, the villagers can plant both the familiar and the new in order to compare.  The idea is that following the harvest, they will reserve the best of the new for planting the following year – so that each year, their crops and thus their harvest will strengthen.
The dual strategy is necessary.  To simply feed them year after year – strategy one alone – would create dependency, and should we one day in the future need to leave, they are still in the same situation, struggling to feed their families.  In the long run, we have not helped them at all.
But – to implement the secondary strategy alone is hard as well.  As these villagers are subsistence farmers – it is hard for them to think of combatting their hunger five years from now, when they are hungry today!  Simply put, if they have no food to eat today, they have no energy to plant the fields and certainly no energy to put forth the extra effort of new field work strategies with the hope of a better harvest in five years.
I am learning that development work here is slow – what I do today cannot greatly change today nor the future.  And the struggle to dream of a better future in the face of fatalism and the desperate need of today is difficult.  Never has the term “baby steps” seemed more appropriate!
Stay tuned for the story on field work training later this week!  For now, some of my favourite pictures of the grain aid deliveries in March and April:




This little guy snuggled up beside me on the mat while we waited for the grain to be unloaded:


Meanwhile, the villagers gathered into their respective, ten, village areas to give their money to their village representative.  Once I collect the money, the sacks for that village is unloaded into a designated area so everyone can keep track of their sack.


 

Sometimes, the sacks are not good quality – grain spills on the ground, and I run for the duct tape.  Yup, duct tape works wonders in the prevention of grain loss!!  The villagers keep constant eye on the sacks as they are unloaded, calling often: “Khadiza, bring the scotch!”

Once the grain is distributed, the sacks are then loaded onto cow carts and donkey carts, bicycles and motorcycles.  The grain distribution point is at the centre of the village area  - 120 square kilometres - some of this grain is then carted out 10-15 kilometres from this point to where the recipients live!

Wordless Wednesday

What does desperation cause?

The other night my sleep was interrupted.  This happens from time to time during hot season as the power comes and goes.  However, Sunday night was different – I was awakened around midnight by my guard pounding on the door.  He woke me to let me know that the market down the street was on fire – he was jumping the electrical counter of my house so that if the fire travelled down the wires, it would not wreck havoc on my home.

As we were discussing the fire, we heard the gas bottles in the market begin to explode and shoot through the air.  Had he not woken me, I would have soon been awake from the noise!  The hazy view from the smoke drifted through my yard and it began to sound like mid-day as all my neighbours spilled into the street to watch the fire and chat about what was going on.

I went back to bed with a prayer in my heart for the stalls of the merchants that I know – my tailor, the man from whom I buy tea and grain.  The next morning I hear that it took four hours to extinguish the fire!  Almost three-quarters of the Yantala market has been destroyed!

 

Many have lost their livelihood – in a famine year with food shortages just beginning to affect the population – it is like kicking the poor while they are down!  On top of that, during the fire, looters entered and began to steal what they could find.  My heart is saddened by the depravity of mankind to seek to gain from others’ loss.

 

This is Mohammed – I buy grain, tea, matches, sacks of rice from him. 

His boutique at the edge of the market was not burned, but he is standing on the ground of his storage unit that was on the inside of the market area.  All that he had here is lost.  Even in the night – as he and his guard tried to empty his boutique, thieves were taking all that they carried to his truck and carting it off.  There were only two of them – not enough to save items and guard at the same time!

My tailor’s boutique is fine – the fire ended two rows from his shop and he did not suffer from theft.  Though his machine and material is safe, the market will be closed for a while before he can start to run his business again. 

Each time I drive by the market, I look in at the devastation and I can picture each stall and everyone I know.  Which seller speaks Fulfulde and from whom I buy baby clothes for naming ceremonies.

  I remember the young Djarma guy who loves to greet me and is always happy to speak Djarma ‘small small’ with me as I buy soap, dates, tomato tins, pasta and candies for my guards’ children. 

I remember even the happy yet sometimes annoying Djarma man who thinks I need to speak more Djarma – consistently chattering to me in Djarma, thinking that perhaps if he continues to speak, maybe I will learn just by hearing osmosis!  From him I buy pagne material for clothes – and every time, a smile lights his face as he says to me ‘thank you a thousand times . . . a thousand times thank you!!’.

The man from whom I buy sandals who greets me every time I walk by, whether or not I buy from him, he is just happy to see me.  And all the various other merchants from whom I shop occasionally – the plastics man for buckets, the veggie stand for carrots, the sewing boutique for thread and lace. 

All is gone.  And I wonder where they are now and how they will survive.

 

As I write this blog post – word has come today that another market place – the Petit Marché – caught fire in the middle of the night.  This morning, I heard that it has burned to the ground.  My friends have gone by and said that it looks like a ghost town – nothing left . . . no one around but the sellers who are sitting on the curb in tears and in shock over losing all they had.  My neighbour is included in their ranks.

Yesterday, I drove through the Petit Marché on my way to a restaurant – never dreaming that the next day it would not exist. 

Word on the street now is that thieves are deliberately setting fire to the markets in the middle of the night so that they can steal in the pandemonium.  My heart breaks. 

And I wonder if this is what desperation causes? 

As the price of food continues to rise due to the food crisis in Niger – are people desperate enough to burn down an entire market solely so that they can gain a few stolen sacks of food with which to feed their family? 

If this is the case – the irony is that the Petit Marché is one of the main food markets in town – the supplier of all the small markets around.  In a situation of already rising food prices – how will this now change as the food becomes more scarce?

Today, my heart mourns – for a country in desperate need of food.  And for a people so desperate in need themselves that starting a fire to steal food for their family becomes justifiable. 

Courtesy to Chantelle McIver for the Yantala Marché photos.