Ethiopia

Blog Post:  Posted September 2, 2010, 2:58 pm by Rebecca Girma

My introduction: Rebecca Girma

Country: Ethiopia

Editor's note: This is the third in a series of profiles about the participants in this week's writing and photography training in Kitgum, Uganda. They've written introductory pieces about themselves to share with Mercy Corps readers.

My boss was right when she told me “Trust me, Rebecca, Mercy Corps is an organisation you will enjoy working with.” It was true - I love every day of my life in Mercy Corps. I work as a project support officer in Mercy Corps Ethiopia’s head office and it has been two years and three months since I got employed.

In another non-governmental organisation where I worked as an intern for six months - a place that almost started to feel like home – one day my boss came to me and told me that she wanted me to have an interview with Mercy Corps. She was sure that I would love it and I obeyed her as she was the boss, but I was not happy about it. But I went to the interview and Mercy Corps took me.

My job at Mercy Corps engages me in different programmes like emergency, livelihood and peace building - I am so inspired every time when I get a chance to write a story, do an assessment, a survey and/or any kind of support that the programme team may need. I’m looking forward to using already-developed systems, like the Mercy Corps Intranet and Blog, as well as new means of publicizing Mercy Corps’ deeds to the rest of the world.

Blog Post:  Posted April 17, 2010, 8:04 am by Jeremy Konyndyk

How did Mercy Corps turn rain from foe back to friend in Ethiopia?

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Rural, Hunger, Food/Nutrition, Agriculture

Ethiopia has long struggled with food insecurity. With generous support from USAID, Mercy Corps has just completed the first year of a three-year effort to improve food security in some of Ethiopia’s most vulnerable regions.

Recently I made a trip to Jijiga, in the east of Ethiopia, to see how Mercy Corps is working with community members and the local government to address the causes — rather than just the effects — of hunger.

Our consultations with community members revealed that environmental factors can have a major impact on people’s access to food. Ironically, we learned that rains can be a hindrance as much as a help.

I visited a shallow valley outside Jijiga, where the fertile farmland in the bottom of the valley is threatened every time there is a heavy rain. Seasonal rains have carved ferocious gullies, up to a kilometre in length, into the surrounding hillside. The rain runoff spills into these gullies rather than soaking into the hillsides.

It then carries on into the valley below at great speed, taking with it pebbles and other detritus from the hills. By the time the gullies reach the bottom of the valley, the force of the water often wipes out the crops planted there and deposits detritus in their place. This situation is disastrous not only for the farmers in the valley but also for the herders in the hills above. The swift removal of the water from the hillsides prevents plant growth, making it difficult for them to graze their animals.

Mercy Corps turned to a technique that has been applied in Ethiopia’s central highlands. Using labour from the local community — including nearly 100 women — we financed the construction of a series of small dams and retention walls to break up gullies and keep more water in the hills. The retention walls are simple stone terraces, about a foot high, built in a wide U-shape (like a smile) and backed with native aloe plants to anchor them into place. These are positioned in numerous spots along the hill side. Once in place, they prevent runoff from rushing down the slope. Instead, they hold moisture back on a patch of hillside, where it can soak into the ground and foster the growth of plants for grazing.

We complemented these terrace walls with small dam structures that are placed in the path of the gullies. These dams, made of local rocks and standing 2-3 feet tall, are simple structures but do a great deal to break up and slow down the flow of water as it proceeds down the hill. By the time the water reaches the valley floor, the dams have slowed it down enough that it gently nourishes the crops rather than washing them away.

And so with this simple intervention, life improves for both farmers and herders, and both groups can reduce their reliance on food aid or other external support.

Blog Post:  Posted March 4, 2010, 3:09 pm by Emma Proud

Protecting Ethiopia's people, animals and environment

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Rural, Marginalized Groups, Food/Nutrition, Environment, Agriculture

We’ve been in the car for a long time in the last couple of days. We’re in Gashamo, a small town in the desert. A couple of days ago we drove for nine hours drive on bumpy sandy tracks from the Somali Region capital of Jijiga.

The drive was long and uncomfortable, captivating and bone shaking. We drove through areas of acacia woodland, the dry, prickly trees providing animals much-sought shelter. Tiny dik diks often scampered across or away from the road, startled by the car. Their spindly legs barely seem strong enough to carry these miniature deer, but they dart almost as quickly as the car.

The trees flattened into shrubs, other acacia. Two grey foxes with bushy tails crossed the track in front of us. Shrubs thin. At times the road is so thick with sand that it crashes like waves over the car as we drive. The windscreen wipers push it to sand banks at the bottom of the windscreen. As we approach Gashamo, the sand becomes steadily redder until shrubs disappear, leaving only occasional tufts of grass, pushed into mounds where the termites are demolishing it before livestock can graze.

Early the next morning, after a breakfast of Somali injera doused in sesame oil and glasses of thick sweet tea, we head another hour out of town. We pass the village of Samatar. Ahmed Osman — our incredibly smart, dedicated Natural Resource Officer — explains that he conducted a process of natural resource mapping in this kebele (village) and the community described how during the rainy season the village is cut in half by floods.

It’s hard to imagine that in an environment so parched, but the evidence is there to be seen. The roads that we’ve been traveling on the last couple of days are literally tracks in the desert. For a while, a particular track is used. After a time, someone takes a detour and others follow – a new road is forged. The old roads, with their packed sand and furrows, become gullies. At first sight it appears that the area is fortunate enough to benefit from seasonal streams but, under the tutelage of Ahmed, I learn that these are the old roads, filled with sand washed down by rain.

As part of the natural resource mapping process, the community from Samatar had designed a community action plan detailing how they will address the challenges they currently face and the assistance they would like from Mercy Corps. They detailed the soil and water conservation structures they’d like to build, to prevent the rain and sand from washing to their village and to get more benefit from the rain where it is most needed — on the rangeland, to generate pasture. Last week, Ahmed began these soil and water conservation activities as part of a cash-for-work programme. Members of the village are paid according to the amount of work completed to undertake this valuable task.

Five kilometers outside the village, we reach the area that’s been carefully designated to trap the run-off. As soon as we get out of the car, the work is visible. There’s no immediate sign of anyone around, but a mesmerizing sound of rhythmic singing carries on the wind.

We follow the trenches and freshly dug soil bunds and approach the voices. A workforce of 60 people have been working on the 55 acre site. Men are hard at work with axes and shovels. They have dug five water diversion channels, with rows of soil bunds in between. These bunds are semi-circles of nearly two-foot deep trenches, with soil piled up on the far side of the water flow. The rain will be stopped here, allowing time for the water to soak back into the soil and regenerate pasture.

Soil degradation and recurrent drought have decimated pasture in recent seasons, leaving livestock wanting and demolishing seed banks. The community will protect this area from livestock until it’s regenerated so the full benefit can be felt by pastoralists and their livestock.

In this way, this simple cash-for-work activity will protect the environment, the livestock that feed on it and the people who rely on the animals for their livelihoods.

Posted March 14, 2008 by Anna Clarkson

Turning Trash into Cash

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Climate Change, Economic Development, Environment, Urban, Women's Empowerment

As a single mother with a 13-year-old son, Tafessu Jiru doesn't have a lot of kitchen scraps coming from her household. Most everything is put to prudent use.

But a little bit of garbage goes a long way in Akaki Kaliti, an impoverished neighborhood in Ethiopia's capital, Addis Ababa. When you add the scraps from Tafessu's kitchen to those from the kitchens of her friends, it turns into quite a pile.

A pile of money, that is.

With support from Mercy Corps and a local organisation called Women in Self-Employment (WISE), Tafessu and some of her neighbors are finding a way to transform potato skins and fruit peels into fuel. They are one of five female-led Savings and Credit Cooperatives who are not only pulling their families out of poverty, but also helping save the environment by creating and selling alternative fuel briquettes.

Determination despite difficulty

Nothing has ever come easily for Tafessu, but she's struggled hard nonetheless to find a better life. After starting school at a late age and repeating two class levels during her education, she finally graduated from high school at the age of 24. Not long after that, she lost her first job at a local coffee-processing factory — leaving her to scramble for odd jobs to support her young son.

Now 35, she lives with her son, parents, two sisters and a nephew in a 324-square-foot room in a gritty part of Addis Ababa. The extended family scraped by on Tafessu's mother's pension until Tafessu learned about an international organisation helping Ethiopian women set up their own businesses: Mercy Corps.

She received her first loan nine months ago and quickly turned that money into a successful business selling supplies to local beekeepers. Tafessu was able to bring in a modest profit to buoy her family, as well as pay her loan back ahead of schedule.

This burgeoning business acumen caught the attention of Mercy Corps and WISE, who were beginning a new programme to not only raise the fortunes of poor Ethiopian families but also protect the country against accelerating climate change.

Innovation becomes opportunity

The idea of turning organic household waste into fuel briquettes for home cooking and heating had been explored for some time by the Ethiopian Government, in collaboration with international organisations. But the dream of coming up with a successful business model had not been realized. Scientifically these briquettes have been proven to burn just as well as wood charcoal with less smoke and, of course, no dependency on already-scarce wood supplies.

The only raw materials necessary to their manufacture are various organic waste products such as food scraps. The process itself is simple: the organic material is slowly burned over the course of a few days, then put through a mill to produce a fine dust. That dust is then mixed with clay and water in a special machine called an agglomerator, which produces the actual briquettes.

Mercy Corps identified this potential economic development opportunity in mid-2007 and, that December, launched a new programme to help female entrepreneurs manufacture fuel briquettes and manage six small businesses. This programme was capitalized by £30,000 from Mercy Corps' Phoenix Fund, which raises private seed money from socially conscious investors to begin innovative small projects in places where aid money is typically hard to come by.

With this funding, Tafessu and 29 other low-income women are receiving the training, equipment and support they need to start environmentally aware businesses that will provide an affordable, climate-friendly product to households in some of Addis Ababa's poorest neighbourhoods.

The long-term goal of the project is that the business activities of these 30 women will succeed and expand, leading to more job opportunities for citizens of Addis Ababa — a city with a self-reported unemployment rate around 40 percent. More immediately, the programme is striving to provide participants with a sustainable income of about £1,095 per year, which is a considerable improvement over the dollar a day that many people here earn.

Owing much to her own perseverance and vibrant personality, Tafessu has been named the manager for her small six-woman business. It won't be easy; these women will depend on each other for everything as their enterprise gets underway and goes through inevitable growing pains. But Mercy Corps staff members, as well as her own peers, believe Tafessu is up to the job.

"I hope that my work will give hope to other women and set an example of how they can improve their current situation," Tafessu says. "My dream is for our new business to be a huge success so that I can support my entire family and make my son proud of his mother."

Posted November 8, 2006

Responding to Ethiopia's Deadly Floods

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Emergencies

Mercy Corps responded to Ethiopia's deadly flooding by helping those marooned in villages along the Omo River in the southwest corner of the country.

Floods in August left more than 630 people dead and nearly 200,000 homeless and took heavy tolls on agriculture and livestock, according to the International Herald Tribune.

The flooded region is near where Mercy Corps works to help communities resolve conflicts over tribal boundaries and natural resources. An agency assessment team dispatched during the floods found that while food and other relief supplies appear adequate, reaching those in need was extremely difficult

Mercy Corps responded by supplying soap and jerry cans to affected families, filling in the gaps left by other aid agencies who responded to the emergency.

We continue to monitor the needs of Ethiopian families threatened by these deadly floods, and to ensure that families can rebuild their homes and replenish their livestock after the waters subside.

Posted January 19, 2006 by Dan Sadowsky

Turning Over a New Leaf in Ethiopia

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Rural, Hunger, Agriculture

Jilbo, Ethiopia - From their picturesque perch in the fertile Arba Gugu Mountains, Amina Ibro lives a hardscrabble life with her husband, Kalifa Mohammed, and their seven children. Like others in this village of mud-and-straw homes, the family raises crops and animals to eke out a living - if nature cooperates, that is.

"Our survival," says Ahmed Ossman, the chief of their small village, "depends on the rains."

Mercy Corps is helping families here smooth out the vagaries of Ethiopia's notoriously fickle climate. More than 3,700 households are benefiting from drought-resistant fodder trees, propagated in a Mercy Corps nursery, that yield a reliable source of supplementary animal fodder during droughts.

Maintaining a healthy herd of cattle is critical to residents of West Hararge, one of 14 zones in Ethiopia's vast and agriculturally productive Oromiya region. Like most of the zone's 1.9 million people, Kalifa and Amina are considered agro-pastoralists because they make their living by raising livestock - in their case cattle - and by farming. The family tends a small plot of maize, sweet potato and sorghum.

It's not an easy life, primarily because there's not a lot of land to go around. Despite rapid deforestation to make room for more people and more crops - most notably qat, a green-leafed stimulant that fetches a good price in export markets - degraded soils and insufficient water have forced 80 percent of West Hararge's woredas, or townships, to rely on outside food aid.

These strains on the land impact the health of livestock herds, which in rural Ethiopia are the equivalent of bank accounts. They're an asset base for millions of families, who rely on them as a source of nutritious milk and as a commodity that they can sell to buy food, clothing or medicine.

"These are my assets," says Kalifa, standing beside one of his two cows. "I sell them for my income. They're each worth about 800 birr (£60)."

Sprouting new promise

In less populated areas, livestock owners focus on expanding their herd. But large herds are untenable in West Hararge. "There is no land on which to graze, so agro-pastoralists keep only a handful of animals and must feed them what they grow on their own property," explains Reta Aklilu, a Mercy Corps field officer.

That's a tall order in a region with frequent food crises. So in 2004, with financial backing from USAID, Mercy Corps established the first of three fodder nurseries (ranging in size from 2,000 to 2,400 square feet) and began propagating seeds and starts of four different tree species, as well as cowpeas and a local grass variety. Field staff also began planting community groves and holding multi-day trainings for 30 government extension agents on how to care for the trees.

By the end of last August, Mercy Corps had produced 175,000 fodder seedlings and distributed starts to 3,756 households.

Creating this animal fodder safety net is part of the agency's larger effort to protect household livestock and increase the resiliency of agro-pastoralists and pastoralists in the region. Mercy Corps has vaccinated about 146,000 cattle and 10,000 camels against three drought-related diseases. (Kalifa and Amina lost a heifer two years ago to Blackleg, one of 32 oxen in the village that succumbed to the disease.) The agency has also equipped two remote veterinary posts with forceps, hoof cutters, modern sterilizers and other equipment and supplies.

In early October, the end of the rainy season, residents of Jilbo happily reported that no disease outbreaks had occurred since Mercy Corps began vaccinating their cattle and planting fodder trees several months earlier. Outside Kalifa and Amina's home, a large pile of cuttings from harvested maize and sorghum await their cows' hungry bellies.

"But during dry season, there is a shortage of these crops," Kalifa explained. "Then, I will rely on these walenso (fodder trees) that Mercy Corps has provided."

They'll need them to feed their cows - and to fuel their dreams of a better, more secure life in Ethiopia's majestic mountains.

Posted November 4, 2005 by Dan Sadowsky

Protecting Livestock, Building Assets

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Agriculture, Economic Development, Rural

Korke, Ethiopia — Not far from here, fertile highlands yield a bounty of staple Ethiopian foods: yams, hot peppers, onions, garlic, papaya and the popular cereal grain called tef. But on the rocky soils of this desert-like landscape, wildflowers, cacti and scraggly shrubs outnumber the stalks of maize and sorghum growing in small household plots.

Ethiopia's semi-arid lowland is home to large numbers of pastoralists and agro-pastoralists, people who earn a living either solely or primarily by raising livestock. These animals, mostly cattle, function as savings accounts for millions of families. They're a dependable source of nutritious milk, but more importantly, they're liquid assets that form the basis of family wealth. A single cow can fetch up to 1000 Birr, or £75 - enough to meet the everyday needs of a good-sized family for three months.

Mercy Corps is helping livestock owners protect these treasured assets in times of drought by providing vaccinations and more reliable sources of animal feed.

Mohammad Abbas knows firsthand that owning a healthy herd means the difference between keeping his family well fed and subsisting on meagre crop yields and outside food aid. In 2002 and 2003, a prolonged drought led to disease outbreaks that wiped out an estimated 70 percent of Korke's livestock. Abbas lost 15 cattle, resulting in hard times for his wife and two kids.

But he hasn't lost any cattle since October 2004, when he and dozens of fellow villagers took advantage of a Mercy Corps programme in which they paid, on credit, less than 1 Birr (12 U.S. cents) per head to vaccinate their herds against the region's three most prevalent drought-related diseases: Black Leg, Anthrax, and Bovine Pasteurellosis.

It wasn't the first time Abbas' cattle had received the liquid vaccines, which are delivered through an inch-long needle injected into the animal's neck. Governments had occasionally responded to past outbreaks by vaccinating cattle in the affected area free of charge. But by the time the authorities detect and respond to a rash of disease, most of the damage has been done.

"Prevention is better," says Abbas, clad in a green-and-blue-plaid sheret, the colourful waist-to-toe skirt favored by men of this region. "I'll pay whatever money they ask for these vaccinations. My animals look healthier, and the disease incidence in the area has decreased."

Since September 2004, Mercy Corps has administered more than 450,000 vaccinations to cattle and camels in the West Hararghe region, the first part of a two-pronged strategy to make livestock-dependent Ethiopians more resilient to the country's unreliable rainfall.

The agency also has established three fodder-tree nurseries, where four varieties of drought-resistant plants are grown and distributed to farmers, who can then propagate the plant starts on their land. Both programmes, funded by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), aim to sustain livestock through dry seasons.

"We're giving them the tools they need to better protect their most precious assets, their animals," says Debele Mojo, manager of Mercy Corps' West Hararghe Livelihoods Project.

In staking his livelihood to cattle-raising, Abbas follows a tradition that's been passed down for many generations. "My family used to depend entirely on livestock raising," he says. "Now I grow some maize and sorghum also, because livestock raising is getting more difficult. There is less land to graze on. But I still get more value from rearing cattle."

The three or four heads of cattle he sells each year bring in about £48 for an average-sized cow to more than £72 for a fattened bull, which he uses to buy cereals, clothing and shoes for his family. Through breeding, he'll add up to five calves a year - if the rainfall is sufficient.

Some pastoralists venture far and wide in search of green pastures. About three times every dry season, Abbas rounds up his herd for a two-week journey, sometimes venturing 70 kilometers from home in search of food and water. He survives off the milk of his cows and a mix of roasted and ground sorghum and maize known as basso, and sleeps under the stars on a bed made from cattle hides. "There are no pillows," he quips.

Still, it's a life he doesn't want to give up. Abbas lives with his wife and four children, ages 1 to 8, in the typical Ethiopian village dwelling: a small, round mud hut with a conical roof made of grass. Two bulls are tied up outside. He says he received his first head of cattle from his father, and hopes to bestow some of his herd on his own children.

"God willing," he says, "I will transfer this culture to them."

Posted October 27, 2005 by Dan Sadowsky

Seeding Peace at the Grassroots

Country: Ethiopia

Topics: Governance, Peaceful Change

When you begin your humanitarian career by tackling one of the 20th century's biggest food crises, you risk feeling let down by the work that follows, no matter how lofty or well-intentioned.

Not so for Yewobnesh Dando of Mercy Corps. Two decades after responding to Ethiopia's crippling 1984-85 famine, she continues to perform what she considers to be life-saving work in her home country. In the southern part of Ethiopia, where tribe-based land boundaries and a scarcity of arable land threaten peaceful progress, Yewobnesh is helping train local communities how to solve their disputes before they escalate into violent clashes.

Mercy Corps is training a cross-section of residents and government leaders in 10 woredas, the Ethiopian equivalent of a township, on how to identify, analyze and resolve conflict. Each of the areas simmers with tension resulting from one thing or another, whether it's scarce water resources, disputed political borders or religious differences.

Ethiopia has a long history of settling disputes with weapons rather than words, and Yewobnesh sees that legacy in the places where she works: burned villages, traumatized and orphaned children, senseless killings.

But in equipping everyday citizens with conflict-resolution skills, Mercy Corps is trying to help Ethiopians chart a more peaceful course for their country. Along with her colleagues from Mercy Corps and Agri-Service Ethiopia, the agency's local partner, Yewobnesh identifies key community stakeholders, touches base with government bureaus, organises workshops and teaches part of the weeklong conflict-resolution sessions. The programme is supported by funding from USAID.

Yewobnesh was fresh out of college when she enlisted in Ethiopia's historic famine-relief effort in 1984. As a nutritionist in a 10,000-person relief camp rampant with typhoid and typhus, she distributed porridge and high-energy biscuits and witnessed firsthand the horror of mass starvation. One morning, she helped dig a mass grave for 40 people who had died overnight. "Everyone was serving the farmers with tears," she says. "I hated to work there, but it was a must."

After the famine, Yewobnesh helped families return to homes they had liquidated and fled during the drought. It wasn't easy. Even after reequipping them with oxen, tools and seeds, the farmers needed a push to resume their livelihood, Yewobnesh says. "Farming is not an easy job, so once they got relief, they didn't want to go back to it."

As farming yields returned, Yewobnesh continued to aid Ethiopia's poor. One programme she ran, sponsored by the World Bank, helped women find self-employment through activities such as selling goat milk and making shiro, a popular bean-based sauce eaten with Ethiopia's staple food, injera.

She joined Mercy Corps shortly after its conflict prevention and resolution project kicked off in February.

Yewobnesh isn't alone in her hope that teaching people how to resolve local conflicts will spread, giving Ethiopians the skills and the confidence to tackle the nation's bigger problems. With Ethiopia and Eritrea still arguing over the location of their common border, and internal tempers running hot over disputed national elections in May, disseminating the tools of peaceful change "is vital at this stage in the country's history," Yewobnesh says. "So this is an ideal programme. Peace means everything."