By Dominic Nkoyoyo*
Drought is looming throughout East Africa! Even Uganda, East Africa’s principal food producer is already alerting its people on the impending drought……
The Ugandan news paper, The Monitor of Sunday, March 6, 2011 carried an article entitled: Review channel used to relay message about drought. In part this article says «…the office of the Prime Minister (OPM) is currently broadcasting a message on television in English aimed at building awareness about the impending drought as well as cautioning the public against the misuse of food reserves and water resources since the country is likely not to receive rains until May.»
Another article entitled : USAID/East Africa Food for Peace Provides Kenya Drought Donation, that appeared in USAID/EAST AFRICA of Wednesday, February 16, 2011 has this to say «During January, 2011 USAID staff…travelled to two of the most drought affected regions in Kenya—Wajir and Marsbit—to ascertain the severity of the drought…and come up with appropriate response options,…In every community the priority cited by the local representatives was the need for water for humans and animal consumption…In order to address ongoing mitigation efforts USAID/FFP has made a contribution of food aid, valued at $24 million.»
Our people with their animals are dying because they have no water! The 2009 drought caused the death of very many animals in Kenya. Human beings too died! An article entitled: The Great drought: Disaster looms in East Africa, which appeared in the British news paper, The Independent describes that calamity in vivid terms, «On the plains of Marsabit the heat is so intense the bush seems to shiver…carcasses of cattle and camels are strewn about the burnt red dirt in every direction. Siridwa Baseli…passes a skeletal cow that has given up and collapsed under a thorn tree…he is driving his herd in search of water…Only 40 of his herd…that once numbered 200 have survived. Those that remain are dying at a rate of 10 every day.»
According to reliable sources, over the past 20 years droughts are common in East Africa. Unfortunately for all these years the East African governments have done little or nothing to contain the situation. It is normally the humanitarian organizations and the International Community that come in to save the situation! And usually help arrives late when several people have already died of starvation and hunger!
We now know that this tragedy of drought is not just a natural disaster, by cutting down trees and destroying forests we are part of its cause. For example we have greatly destroyed the Mau Forest Complex. Covering an area of 273,300hacters (675,000acres) it is the largest water catchment in Kenya and in East Africa as a whole!
Since 1999 the East African countries have been working on plans of using Lake Victoria and River Nile waters for irrigation, in view of increasing food production to combat famine. Unfortunately most of the big rivers which feed Lake Victoria originate from the degraded Mau Forest! And although many people have been evicted from the forest, to restore its eco-system will take many years. It is also clear that since the Nile is the lifeline of Egypt’s population of 80 million which is expected to swell to 122 million in 2050, we cannot divert too much water from Lake Victoria.
This water problem affects not only people in remote and dry areas but also those in towns! Because of deforestation, drought and global climatic changes, all the big cities and towns in East Africa are experiencing shortage of water supply. One reliable source says that the daily demand by Nairobi residents alone stands at 750,000 cubic metres against the supply capacity of 530,000 cubic metres, leaving a deficit of 220,000 cubic metres! In Mombasa the daily water demand is 150,000 cubic metres, but the water firms can supply only 58,000 cubic metres!
During the 2009 drought a lot of boreholes were sunk in Nairobi to address the water shortage in the City. But according to experts, ground water in some areas because of the many minerals it contains is not recommended for domestic purposes! Marsabit residents blamed underground water for cancer illnesses and deaths suffered by their people and animals! And a report by Water Resource Management released in April 2009 confirmed that water from the boreholes in that area was hazardous!
With lakes and rivers drying up because of climatic changes and with ground water being hazardous in some areas, where should we turn to address the water problem?
God in his infinite kindness has given us the Indian Ocean! And I have no information that it too is about to dry up! So I am proposing that the Indian Ocean be our principal source of water in East Africa. And our weapon to combat drought and famine!
I therefore appeal to all the East African Community governments to construct together two big Desalination Plants which remove salt from sea water. One should be constructed at Mombasa in Kenya and another at Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. Then pipelines from these two big water refineries should be constructed to supply water to all areas in the region including semi desert areas like Wajir, Marsabit, Karamoja etc.
If our governments push this project through, we shall have put an end to starvation and death of our people due to drought and famine. Saudi Arabia is a desert country but it has enough water for domestic purposes for its people! And this is explained by its desalination plants! Its Shoaiba Desalination Plant at the cost of USD1,060 million is the largest in the world. It produces 450 million litres per day!
Our governments should realise that through the death of our people and animals due to drought and famine we lose a lot of money. Kenya alone during the 2009 drought lost more than 3,000,000 head of cattle. This loss amounts to a staggering Ksh 75 billion ($ 1 billion)! And if we take into account the sheep, goats, camels, elephants etc, which died how much money is that?
So I again appeal to the East African Community governments to take seriously my proposal of the construction of Desalination Plants as our weapon to combat famine in the region. I also call upon all our religious leaders in the region to help me explain this to our governments.
*Dominic Vincent Nkoyoyo, Monastery Val Notre-Dame, Canada.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Uncomfortable Silence
By Jimmie Briggs*
In his quest to end violence against women, former war journalist Jimmie Briggs faces his toughest audience yet.
"I couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about my struggles as a man in a traditionally women’s movement, because I barely understand them myself."
Several months ago, my daughter’s teacher invited me to speak to her class about what I do for a living. How was I to tell a room full of squirmy first-graders that I am launching a global campaign to end violence against women and girls, using hip-hop and soccer? That I’ve gone from, sometimes, war reporter to human rights advocate? My own daughter has only the slightest inkling about my work, and the thought of facing her classmates terrified me.
As I trudged up the stairs to my daughter’s classroom, I could hear the barely controlled chaos beyond the door. I opened it quickly and bounded across the room. Once the giggles, finger pointing, and poking subsided under the teacher’s laser-like stare, I cleared my throat and walked to the front of the room, finally leaning my back against the chalkboard. My daughter was sitting near the middle of the class, unsmiling and propped forward—unable to contain her anticipation. I took a deep breath. All I could do was speak to them as I would any other group and hope they understood.
I told my daughter’s class the truth: I began my work as a journalist but would be ending it as an activist. I told them about travelling around the world, speaking to kids very much like them, who are fighting and hurting each other, or who are being treated badly by the adults around them, especially, the girls. I told them that I didn’t like the stories I heard when I was writing articles or books, and about how I’m trying to get other people to help me give those stories happier endings. I told them that since the summer of 2008, I’ve been flying back and forth across the world to build a new kind of effort to end violence against women and girls. It’s the vision of a worldwide campaign called “Man Up.” As I spoke, I saw my daughter lean back and smile.
But I couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about all the suffering I’d seen in places like Afghanistan, Colombia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. That had held people as they died in my arms, and I’d sat with women who had been raped to the point of paralysis.
I also couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about my struggles as a man in a traditionally women’s movement, because I barely understand them myself. I frequently meet with people to talk about my ideas for confronting violence against women, and I run into a lot of suspicion—as if I have an ulterior motive for doing this work. At one cocktail reception, a woman asked me, half-jokingly, if I was exploring this issue as a way to meet women. The stare behind her smile told me she was being more serious than not. My guy friends assume the same.
Outside my professional life, I consciously avoid speaking about the work I do, because people expect me to be the embodiment of the “good guy,” the ideal man. I’m quick to cite a mother, ex-wife, daughter, and scores of frustrated ex-girlfriends who would eagerly agree that I’m anything but perfect.
Trying to build a campaign, or a movement, is all-consuming. Most of the time I feel halted in social situations because all I’m really able to talk about is work, leading me to feel like “Debbie Downer” from the TV show Saturday Night Live, guaranteed to bring a festive mood to an abrupt, uncomfortable end.
One night at a regular Sunday evening dinner party with friends and acquaintances, every time I brought up my work, or hot-button words like “rape,” “activism,” or “change,” one guest would change the subject to the texture and taste of the dessert, or to the succulence of the roast chicken. Eventually, I made it a game to see what food item would be introduced next.
As my talk to the first-grade class wound down, I asked them rhetorically, “Why do I care so much about what is happening to women and girls around the world?” The students all turned to look at my daughter as she began to blush and smile nervously. They got that I’m doing this for my daughter.
I hope one day my work over the last 20 years for women and girls will mean something to her and her classmates. At present, my daughter only knows that her dad leaves for days and weeks at a time, returning only to leave again, just when we’ve become reacquainted. But I stay on the path because there is hope; there is affirmation in this movement of women and men. I see it every day when I read about the many men’s conferences on violence against women that are springing up on college campuses across the US; when I see the grassroots efforts that are struggling to be born in the unlikeliest of places on the Web; and when I witness the coalitions that are being formed between organizations across the globe.
Amid the darkness I witnessed as a journalist, there was light as well, resting in the imaginations and faith of countless young people surviving in the worst imaginable situations. My purpose, the end goal of the Man Up Campaign, is to create the space for that light, and for my daughter and her classmates to be in it.
*Jimmie Briggs is a New York-based writer, teacher, and activist, and is the founder of the Man Up Campaign. His upcoming book, "The Wars Women Fight: Dispatches from a Father to His Daughter," will be published in 2011. Learn more about his international campaign to end violence against women at www.manupcampaign.org
In his quest to end violence against women, former war journalist Jimmie Briggs faces his toughest audience yet.
"I couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about my struggles as a man in a traditionally women’s movement, because I barely understand them myself."
Several months ago, my daughter’s teacher invited me to speak to her class about what I do for a living. How was I to tell a room full of squirmy first-graders that I am launching a global campaign to end violence against women and girls, using hip-hop and soccer? That I’ve gone from, sometimes, war reporter to human rights advocate? My own daughter has only the slightest inkling about my work, and the thought of facing her classmates terrified me.
As I trudged up the stairs to my daughter’s classroom, I could hear the barely controlled chaos beyond the door. I opened it quickly and bounded across the room. Once the giggles, finger pointing, and poking subsided under the teacher’s laser-like stare, I cleared my throat and walked to the front of the room, finally leaning my back against the chalkboard. My daughter was sitting near the middle of the class, unsmiling and propped forward—unable to contain her anticipation. I took a deep breath. All I could do was speak to them as I would any other group and hope they understood.
I told my daughter’s class the truth: I began my work as a journalist but would be ending it as an activist. I told them about travelling around the world, speaking to kids very much like them, who are fighting and hurting each other, or who are being treated badly by the adults around them, especially, the girls. I told them that I didn’t like the stories I heard when I was writing articles or books, and about how I’m trying to get other people to help me give those stories happier endings. I told them that since the summer of 2008, I’ve been flying back and forth across the world to build a new kind of effort to end violence against women and girls. It’s the vision of a worldwide campaign called “Man Up.” As I spoke, I saw my daughter lean back and smile.
But I couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about all the suffering I’d seen in places like Afghanistan, Colombia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. That had held people as they died in my arms, and I’d sat with women who had been raped to the point of paralysis.
I also couldn’t tell my daughter’s class about my struggles as a man in a traditionally women’s movement, because I barely understand them myself. I frequently meet with people to talk about my ideas for confronting violence against women, and I run into a lot of suspicion—as if I have an ulterior motive for doing this work. At one cocktail reception, a woman asked me, half-jokingly, if I was exploring this issue as a way to meet women. The stare behind her smile told me she was being more serious than not. My guy friends assume the same.
Outside my professional life, I consciously avoid speaking about the work I do, because people expect me to be the embodiment of the “good guy,” the ideal man. I’m quick to cite a mother, ex-wife, daughter, and scores of frustrated ex-girlfriends who would eagerly agree that I’m anything but perfect.
Trying to build a campaign, or a movement, is all-consuming. Most of the time I feel halted in social situations because all I’m really able to talk about is work, leading me to feel like “Debbie Downer” from the TV show Saturday Night Live, guaranteed to bring a festive mood to an abrupt, uncomfortable end.
One night at a regular Sunday evening dinner party with friends and acquaintances, every time I brought up my work, or hot-button words like “rape,” “activism,” or “change,” one guest would change the subject to the texture and taste of the dessert, or to the succulence of the roast chicken. Eventually, I made it a game to see what food item would be introduced next.
As my talk to the first-grade class wound down, I asked them rhetorically, “Why do I care so much about what is happening to women and girls around the world?” The students all turned to look at my daughter as she began to blush and smile nervously. They got that I’m doing this for my daughter.
I hope one day my work over the last 20 years for women and girls will mean something to her and her classmates. At present, my daughter only knows that her dad leaves for days and weeks at a time, returning only to leave again, just when we’ve become reacquainted. But I stay on the path because there is hope; there is affirmation in this movement of women and men. I see it every day when I read about the many men’s conferences on violence against women that are springing up on college campuses across the US; when I see the grassroots efforts that are struggling to be born in the unlikeliest of places on the Web; and when I witness the coalitions that are being formed between organizations across the globe.
Amid the darkness I witnessed as a journalist, there was light as well, resting in the imaginations and faith of countless young people surviving in the worst imaginable situations. My purpose, the end goal of the Man Up Campaign, is to create the space for that light, and for my daughter and her classmates to be in it.
*Jimmie Briggs is a New York-based writer, teacher, and activist, and is the founder of the Man Up Campaign. His upcoming book, "The Wars Women Fight: Dispatches from a Father to His Daughter," will be published in 2011. Learn more about his international campaign to end violence against women at www.manupcampaign.org
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