Perhaps there is no better observation of the government of Mrs. Cristina Kirchner, Argentina’s President, than the one given by Mario Vargas Llosa, the latest Nobel laureate in Literature. When asked about it, Mr. Vargas Llosa said that Mrs. Kirchner was leading a government riddled by corruption. “I love Argentina,” he told me recently in New York, “and it hurts me to see what is going on in your country.” The death of former president Néstor Kirchner will only make things more difficult for Mrs. Cristina Kirchner.

Mrs. Kirchner has made serious mistakes on several fronts. Among them, using rough tactics, government officials have dismantled the INDEC (National Institute of Statistics and Censuses) of its technical personnel and replaced them with those loyal to the government. As a result, that institution has lost all credibility. According to Argentina’s government, inflation in 2009 was below 8%. However, according to independent economists and consumer groups inflation ranged between 15 and 18% during that same year.

This doesn’t faze the president, who continues to insist that Argentina has a phenomenal economic growth rate. The astronomical raise in subsidies for poor families, however, belies her assertions. In a country’s usual paternalistic culture Mrs. Kirchner has taken that paternalism to extremes. Work ethics, an essential component of the social fabric necessary for a country’s development, is rapidly being eroded.

Mrs. Kirchner has also developed a confrontational style of government. As with many authoritarian leaders, she states that he who is not with her is against her and is to be treated accordingly. She has surrounded herself with a coterie of sycophants who seem to isolate her of reality. One of her ministers attends some meetings with a gun, which he ostentatiously places on top of a table before starting the discussion. She doesn’t seem to realize that people are increasingly against her policies and condemn her imperious behavior.

While Mr. Lula, Brazil’s president, incorporated 30 million poor into the middle class through his economic policies, more than 25% of Argentines live below the poverty line, a situation that has been sharply criticized by Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio, Buenos Aires’s Archbishop, the Catholic Church’s highest authority in Argentina.

“We are noticing a situation of dramatic poverty and unemployment,” said Cardinal Bergoglio in 2009. “More and more people are sleeping in the streets, and they have become disposable materials,” he added. Cardinal Bergoglio’s words followed a message by Pope Benedict XVI to the Argentine government demanding action to combat “scandalous poverty.”

“There is no other country with such social regression, such social shame,” stated Bernardo Kosakoff, director of the United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean in Argentina. I can easily believe this statement. As I write this, I am seated at a popular restaurant in Buenos Aires. Through the window I see a very old woman bent under the weight of the largest plastic bag I have ever seen full with garbage, which she collects from garbage cans placed on the street.

This is happening at the same time that the Kirchner’s personal fortune is increasing at outrageous levels. The Anti Corruption Bureau is conducting an investigation into alleged malfeasance by President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, after a sworn statement by the president and her former husband stated that their assets had grown 158 percent in a year.

While quite efficient in their own financial affairs, the Kirchner’s have failed to create the conditions for Argentina’s future development. With the death of former president Néstor Kirchner, whom many people believed was the real power behind the throne, Mrs. Kirchner has the opportunity to change policy and exert her own mark in Argentina’s government. The country desperately needs it.

César Chelala is a writer on human rights and foreign policy issues.

President Barack Obama should investigate US’ forces involvement in human rights abuses in Iraq, declared Manfred Novak, the UN’s chief investigator on torture. A failure to investigate them would also be a failure of the Obama administration to recognize its obligations under international law, added Nowak. Nowak’s demands follow WikiLeaks' massive release of military documents that detail torture, summary executions and war crimes.

According to Nowak, if the files released through WikiLeaks indicate a clear violation of the UN Convention Against Torture, the Obama administration has a clear obligation to investigate them. He added that UN human rights agreements oblige states to criminalize every form of torture, conducted either directly or indirectly, and to investigate any allegations of abuse.

Although both US and UK officials have insisted that no official record of civilian casualties exist, the Wikileaks logs show 66,081 non-combatant deaths out of a total of 109,000 fatalities. Although these are high figures, they do not include many more deaths from other causes during the Iraq conflict.

Information contained in the released information by WikiLeaks detail how the US authorities failed to investigate hundreds of reports of torture, rape and even murder by Iraqi police and soldiers. According to the Pentagon, however, when reports of abuse by the Iraq police or Iraq soldiers were received, the US military notified the responsible government of Iraq agency or ministry for investigation and follow-up.

In addition to Nowak’s demands, Phil Shiner, a human rights specialist at Public Interest Lawyers in the UK, declared that some of the deaths in the Iraq war logs could have also involved British forces and would be pursued through British courts. Shiner also demanded a public inquiry into allegations that British troops were responsible for Iraqi civilian deaths during the war.

Article 2 of the UN Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment establishes that, 1. Each State Party shall take effective legislative, administrative, judicial or other measures to prevent acts of torture in any territory under its jurisdiction. 2. No exceptional circumstances whatsoever, whether a state of war or a threat of war, internal political instability or any other public emergency, may be invoked as a justification of torture. 3. An order from a superior officer or a public authority may not be invoked as a justification of torture.

Already in 2006, Manfred Novak had declared that the situation in Iraq, including the torture of prisoners, was “out of control”, with abuses being committed by security forces, militia groups and anti-US insurgents. “Torture may be worse now than under former leader Saddam Hussein,” he added.

Article 3 of the UN Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment states that “No State Party shall expel, return (“refouler”) or extradite a person to another State where there are substantial grounds for believing that he would be in danger of being subjected to torture.” The US, according to Nowak, had therefore an obligation “whenever they expel, extradite or hand over any detainees to the authorities of another state to assess whether or not these individuals are under specific risk of torture.” These conditions were not probably followed by US authorities.

Reacting to this new wave of leaks the Pentagon stated, “Our enemies will mine this information looking for insights into how we operate, cultivate sources and react in combat situations, even the capability of our equipment.” Unless there is a thorough investigation of abuses, however, we cannot expect an effective closure of this tragic chapter in US history.

Dr. César Chelala is an award-winning writer on human rights and foreign policy issues.

The rapid spread of the HIV infection in China is having a devastating impact on the country's children, and threatens to become an epidemic with significant social and public health repercussions due to the rapid rise in AIDS orphan population. The increased number of AIDS orphans in China parallels the increasing number of AIDS orphans worldwide, and is one of the most serious consequences of the AIDS epidemic today.

In rural China, many villages that up to now have had very few orphans have seen their rates soar following AIDS' deaths of their parents as a result of blood transfusions with contaminated needles. Until recently the remaining relatives used to take care of the children. Because in many cases those relatives are now affected by HIV/AIDS, they have become unable to provide basic support to children in their families. The toll on children has become so serious that UNICEF has included a new indicator related to the prevalence of HIV/AIDS in its "child risk measure."

In 2003 it was estimated that worldwide more than 13 million children under 15 had lost one or both parents to AIDS. Although Thailand has the largest number of AIDS orphans —usually defined as children under 15 who have lost their mother or both parents to AIDS—their number is increasing fast in other Asian countries.

In Cambodia, Malaysia and India, the number of AIDS orphans has increased by 400 percent from 1994 to 1997. This rate of increase is similar to that of countries such as Namibia, South Africa and Botswana. Although proportionally the number of AIDS' orphans in Asia is much lower than in Sub-Saharan Africa, in absolute numbers there are more orphans due to AIDS in Asia than in Africa.

Orphaning is a worldwide problem. It is estimated that by 2010 106 million children will lose one or both parents, and 25 million of them will be orphaned because of AIDS. According to estimates of China's Ministry of Health there are at least 100,000 AIDS orphans in China. UNICEF's China Office estimates that over the next five years 150,000 to 250,000 additional children will be orphaned by AIDS.

Since 2003, UNICEF has worked with local health authorities and workers, the Women's Federation and communities to provide both psychological and social support to children affected by AIDS. It has also provided support to Summer Camps for Children Affected by AIDS, helping raise awareness about their needs.

Children orphaned because of their parents' death by AIDS are likely to be malnourished and unschooled, and are at greater risk of becoming HIV-infected themselves. At the same time, because they are emotionally vulnerable, when they grow up they may tend to engage in risky sexual behavior that may lead to a vicious cycle of abuse and exploitation.

What makes this situation particularly worrisome is that the number of orphans will continue to rise for at least the next decade. Orphans due to HIV/AIDS are part of a much larger problem, since countries that have high rates of AIDS' orphans also have high number of children directly affected by the epidemic, and who are often just as vulnerable. Although their total number is difficult to assess, it has been estimated that over 3 million children worldwide are living with HIV/AIDS.

It is necessary to develop a major educational campaign to make people aware of the dangers of the infection not only to them but also the risks it poses to their children. The majority of people in China still don't know how HIV is transmitted. According to a survey carried out in 2004 by the Futures Group Europe and the Beijing-based Horizon Research Group, only 8.7 of Chinese knew how HIV is transmitted and 25 percent of rural residents hadn't even heard of the infection.

To help AIDS' orphans in a more immediate and practical way it is necessary to strengthen the capacity of extended families to protect and care for orphan children by providing them with financial aid by local councils or provincial governments. Orphan children's special needs should also be addressed through community-based responses and by increasing the capacity of local orphanages.

It is also necessary to support the work of Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) such as the China AIDS Orphan Fund who have been working in collaboration with other NGOs to improve Chinese orphans' health, education, and quality of life.

It is critical to diminish the stigma surrounding the HIV infection. Often times, children who have lost their parents to AIDS are assumed to be also infected with HIV, which further stigmatizes them. It is critical to develop new government policies including legal, education and labor frameworks, and to make sure that these policies will be followed.

Dr. César Chelala is an international public health consultant and the author of AIDS: A Modern Epidemic, a Pan American Health Organization publication.

I read the Byline story on Argentina and the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and found that the Comment option wasn't working so I am going to say a few things here.

I started traveling to Argentina in the early 70s as a child and have been back many times since. I remember in the early 70s, a time when I was too young to be anything but curious about life in general, that there was a sense of excitement about the future of the country and people were out and about seeming to be enjoying life. Yes, I was primarily seeing the middle-upper classes, but my point in mentioning this is that by the mid-late 70s I was noticing a big difference.

At this point I was an American teenager who was used to being able to talk about anything I wanted to and ask anything I wanted to. I remember the sense of fear when I asked about politics and how strongly the person driving the car reacted when I innocently stuck my tourist camera out the window to take a picture of the Presidential Palace. No explanation - just NO and HIDE THAT CAMERA NOW. And I remember how the military police with machine guns stopped cars randomly and would quiz everyone about who was in the car, why, where they were going and demanded the driver to show papers. When I asked about it I received answers that were not exactly true (understanding Spanish I knew this, although I had by then learned not to pursue the topic further)

In the 80s I asked questions about the military years of the 70s and people were still unwilling to talk about it. There was a lot of downplaying of events, and a reluctance to engage in conversation even in the privacy of the home.

In the 90s I found a book in a used bookstore in Washington DC written by one of the military generals, defending all the actions of the 70s government and military. It was after reading this book that I asked questions again, on my next trip. When I pressed a bit, I was told how the government did what it did in order to fight the Communists. End of conversation. The people I spoke to were good people, well educated people, so I doubt that ignorance was behind their comments.

The last time I was there, just a few years ago, the topic of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and the events of the 70s was "old history". I have my own ideas about why people even today don't want to talk about this piece of history. But mostly I wonder if there is still a reason that they might be afraid? Do I need to worry for them?

Haiti is a reminder of a lesson we in New Orleans got after Hurricane Katrina and the broken levees: the capacity of humanity to survive, sustain culture, and create joy – no matter the external circumstances - is without limit. That capacity is unsinkable, like trying to keep a cork underwater.

• "We're fed up." Photo: Beverly Bell. •

Ronal Toussaint, who sometimes takes me around in his taptap – pick-up converted to public transport vehicle - on especially meeting-packed days, and who walks with a permanent limp from a building having fallen on him during the earthquake, evinced the spirit of resistance so common here. “We do so much with so little. People here can take anything and make it work. Just give us a little bit, and we’ll fix this country.”

I hear variations of this sentiment every day from people in the streets and from activists in the progressive movement. When I ask for assessments from colleagues in small farmer, women, human rights, popular media, and other sectors, they respond with comments like this one by economic justice advocate Ricot Jean-Pierre: “I can’t say we’re advancing yet; you know the challenges are so big. But they say it’s darkest just before daybreak.” An old friend, a community organizer whom I know would not want her name cited, gave a similar analysis as we shared cups of sweet coffee. “This country is no good. Really it’s no good. But what can you do? We’re just going to keep throwing everything we have into making it better.”

But it sure would help if Haitians had survival resources other than individual strength and courage, and collective organizing.

The suffering of the people is as unimaginable as is the poor planning or sheer neglect of their government, the United Nations, and large international non-governmental organizations. As for the estimated 1.5 million Haitians who live in roughly 1,300 internally displaced people’s camps (the numbers being rough guesses, as no census has been taken), three recent reports by the Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti et al., Professor Mark Schuller, and Refugees International paint dismal pictures. Here are just a few facts and figures from one report, from a five-month survey of 90 camp-dwelling families:

- In more than half of the families, the children went at least one entire day in the prior week without eating at all;

- 44% primarily drink untreated water;

- 78% live without enclosed shelter;

- 27% have no option but to defecate in a bucket, plastic bag, or open ground in the camp;

- 37% of families have no form of income whatsoever.

An exposé by the new investigative journalist group Haiti Grassroots Watch found that – though the government has never mentioned it - a national plan for relocation does exist, but that it appears almost impossible to implement. Excerpted here are some of its findings.

A piece-meal, only vaguely coordinated, and as-yet unofficial “Return and Resettlement Strategy, Draft 5” appears to have been underway [by non-governmental organizations (NGOs), multilateral agencies, and foreign government assistance agencies] for the past month or two. It is not led by the Haitian government. Instead, agencies pursue their own projects with some loose coordination provided by UN-organized Shelter Cluster staff.

The plan calls for, in order of feasibility: “(1) return to the original area; (2) resettlement to the countryside where they are from or where they have land; and (3) relocation to a planned site, as the final choice.” The plan calls for camps to be progressively closed, and for services to be progressively added to original neighborhoods and progressively diminished in the camps to create a “pull factor.”

Before building permanent homes, NGOs and agencies plan to build 135,000 transitional or T-shelters, which are 12- or 18-sq. meters, wooden or metal frame, plywood or plastic walls, and tin roof. The cost, including transportation, customs and labor, is about $1,500 - $2,500 each. So far about 15,000 have been built. The full 135,000 will not be completed until September, 2011, according to a recent Shelter Cluster document. In the meantime, various NGOs, like the US-based CHF International are working on small neighborhood-based projects.

Haiti Grassroots Watch notes reasons why this plan is unworkable. Quoting the group, a few challenges include:

- Move families back to original homes – Challenge: What about the rubble? The capital and other cities affected by the earthquake are still encumbered with between 20 million and 30 million cubic meters of rubble. So far, only a small amount – estimates range from two to ten percent – has been removed. Delays in funding, and also the fact that there is no single agency coordinating rubble removal, indicate that the rubble will be in the way for years to come.

- Move families back to home – Challenge: Who will pay for house removal or repairs? According to the latest tallies, there are about 50,000 homes that need to be destroyed and cleared, and another 54,000 to 64,000 needing to be repaired. Who will pay for and coordinate these massive public works projects? As of September 24, NGOs had only about 15 percent of the funding needed for the repairs.

- Move families into 135,000 [transitional] T-Shelters – Challenge: Where to put the shelters? There are over 300,000 families currently in the camps. 159,749 families rented their home prior to January 12. NGOs don’t want to give a T-Shelters to a family that does not own the land or at least have a proper, long-term lease. A PowerPoint prepared by the Shelter Cluster [noted] that no land has been made available to host affected population in new camps/housing areas.

A post-earthquake phenomenon even broader than the insecurity and abandonment of camp dwellers is increased poverty. What does an even poorer Haiti look like? The question is almost like “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” To an untrained eye it may be difficult to distinguish pre- and post-earthquake levels of poverty, and no statistics exist to quantify the difference. But survivors will tell you that the latter is much, much harder.

A sampling of comments I have heard from the mouths of women is:

“We don’t have anything. It’s all under the rubble.”

“We don’t talk much any more, because we’re all in shock.”

“I have cold shivers all the time, like I’m in New York.”

“I lost my medicines in the earthquake, but I don’t have a way to get more.”

“None of us have houses or husbands any more.”

“Now it’s just a skeleton of a country.”

“The only things I have are the dress on my back and my nine children.”

Nozine Leclerc is a young friend who, after his own house collapsed, was violently evicted from one camp and has since moved between three others. His father was crushed in the earthquake. His mother, Esthère Miradieu, may have throat cancer; we do not know since her numerous attempts to get medical care have all been thwarted because she does not have the money for the tests the ‘free’ clinics keep prescribing or the transportation to get them.

Nozine’s face has become deeply ridged since the quake, the bones standing up like the Andes. He has no income, and survives through small gifts and acts of solidarity from friends and strangers. He owns nothing more than the contents of a little backpack. Most distressing to him is that he has no way to help his mother.

Last week Nozine told me, “I’m hoping to find redemption from my tribulation.”

He focused his eyes on me hard. “Do you think I will?”

Just when I begin to wonder how the human spirit can handle one more minute of suffering and struggle, I have experiences like these.

On an evening walk in the neighborhood of Croix des Pres, I swing left with the road and suddenly find myself in the middle of a refugee camp, with lean-to’s made of wood, tin, and tarps lining either side of the street. But this camp is different from most; it’s positively festive. Someone has put on loud compa music. Older women sit on stools or cement blocks - or, in one case, a smashed refrigerator turned on its side - and braid each other’s hair while sharing news. Some greet me as though I were a long-lost friend.

One woman wants to make sure I see her little son, but two-year-olds rarely get past me; we had already waved energetically at each other when I was still back a ways. His name is Jesley, and he is elated to practice his high-five on me. His 4-year-old sister tries out her French, asking “Tu t’en vas?” Are you leaving? Another little girl enthusiastically spins a long piece of black tape in a circle, arcing it high into the air.

The boys, as usual, dominate the scene with their volume and activity. One shrieking teenager is taking running leaps over a pile of burning garbage. Others play soccer on the steeply sloped road with a ball that more resembles a filthy round of yarn. A poor little kid with no bargaining power keeps getting sent down the hill to retrieve it.

Four teens bathe in their shorts with gallon jugs of water, clearly relishing the chance to show off their sleek bodies. As I approach, one shouts, “Blan, foreigner, come bathe with us.” The crowd about loses it when I reply in Creole, “Oh, thanks, but I’m not really dirty right now.”

Five youth are deploying a very tall bamboo pole to try to liberate mangoes from high in a tree behind a garden wall. Soon they come marching to the center of the camp, holding the pole above their heads with their right hands and their stolen fruit aloft in their left hands, loudly singing a victory song.

The place is reminiscent of other camps I’ve visited where all the residents are neighbors, if not friends: they’ve come together from their surrounding shattered houses to recreate community and to help each other make the best of a horrible situation.

“People are surviving because they’re survivors,” said Jacques Bartoli, an art collector and apartment house owner. While that may be true, what if the Haitian government and international nations and agencies gave a little assist, stepping in with some of those billions of dollars in pledges and donations that have gone missing or just been squandered, and with an emergency resettlement plan that really addresses the urgency of the crisis?

Why should it all come down to people’s internal defenses?

To quote a woman from New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina: “I’m tired of being resilient.”

A taxi driver laid it out as he gave me, together with many more people than were ever meant to fit into his compact Nissan, a ride across town. “Hello blan,” he said as I got in.

“Hello, Haitian.” I replied. “How are you?”

“My tarp is torn. The other night I was completely wet in the rain. But we’re children of God. Still, really, we need some help.”

Beverly Bell has worked with Haitian social movements for over 30 years. She is also author of the book Walking on Fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance. She coordinates Other Worlds, which promotes social and economic alternatives. She is also associate fellow of the Institute for Policy Studies.

by Molly Theobald

In the Maradi area in south central Niger, where 70 percent of the population lives below the poverty line, the months before the harvest are called “the hunger season.” From mid-July to mid-September, food supplies are at their lowest and most families only eat one meal a day.

• Every week during the pre-harvest season, poor farmers receive cereal as a credit. At the end of the season, farmers can pay back the loan with their own crops with 25 percent interest—an interest rate that the villagers picked on their own. (Photo credit: Bernard Pollack)•

But with the help of the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD), many women are taking local food security into their own hands. In response to the food crisis in the area in 2005 when severe locust attacks compounded with drought to put 3.5 million people in the Sahel at risk of starvation, IFAD’s Project for the Promotion of Local Initiative for Development in Aguie helped to create a new kind of bank, run entirely by women, that dispenses loans in the form of cereal instead of money.

Called the soudure bank, or pre-harvest bank, IFAD’s project is based on exchange. Every week during the pre-harvest season, poor farmers receive cereal as a credit. At the end of the season, farmers can pay back the loan with their own crops with 25 percent interest—an interest rate that the villagers picked on their own.

The banks have already made a huge difference. Today there are 168 soudure banks throughout Niger, managed by over 50,000 women and storing over 2,800 tons of millet—enough to feed 350,000 people for at least a month. During the 2008 global food price crisis, when 90 percent of the population living in Niger was at risk for starvation, villages with a soudure bank were able to sustain themselves through the harshest period of the year.

One bank client, Rabia Ada, quoted on the project page, says that “from the bank I had 56 kilograms of millet that helped us cope for one month and gave us something to eat other than just leafy vegetables.” Adds another client, Nana Ayouba , “if we didn’t have the banks, our alternative strategies would have been to borrow from our neighbors or to send the men away in search of jobs.”

And the banks help to empower women who are otherwise left out of community-wide organizations and decision making. In their new roles as bank managers, with the support of their husbands, women can now play an integral role in improving local food security, diets, and livelihoods.

To read more about innovations that keep farmers on the farm, empower women, and improve food security, see: Giving Farmers a Reason to Stay, How to Keep Kids “Down on the Farm,” Conversations with Farmers: Discussing the School Garden with a DISC Project Student, Cultivating a Passion for Agriculture, Turning the Catch of the Day into Improved Livelihoods for the Whole Community, Women Farmers: An ‘Untapped Solution’ to Global Hunger, and Women Entrepreneurs: Adding Value.

“I Search for Water”

A nomad in my own territory

The dust flies above, heat and sweat unbearably rapid, blisters formed beneath my feet, breathing…softly, harshly sometimes cant…a hoarse breathing….like a request, tongue dried and feathery, and the sun up on me: I SEARCH FOR WATER

I am an indigenous girl from Balochistan, Pakistan. The land with diverse tribes and the province bordering with Afghanistan and Iran. Belonging to a nation with such diverse colors, traditions and culture I have always been fascinated by Balochistan but yes sometimes confused from all this tradition because ever since a child I have witnessed a strange phenomenon with our indigenous culture. The constant search for water.

Almost all the cultural and traditional fables have stories of water, rain, clouds and monsoon. Rivers are discussed in poetry; happy endings mean it “rained”. Stories my grandmother tells me of people praying, fasting and asking God for rain, for a drop of water and then it would rain, they would be happy and celebrate.

Songs from years ago would chant the hearty songs of ever joyous traditional singers, who would constantly repeat and I say repeat the incoming of clouds, the possibility of rain and then the celebration by wedding the daughters. The daughters, who with two braided heads would stare at the clouds rather shyly and with hearts pounding in their chests, Indeed Its not the rain only that they celebrated, it was the water, the drops of water that fall upon the thirsty lands and their crops danced green in the brightest of days and then is when a family was called prosperous, prospers enough to give back loans, wed their girls and to build their houses from new mud with the glint of red.

Now when the still beautiful chanting from traditional songs urge us to dance with their beautiful beats, we don’t take time to ever halt and concentrate because in those hearty words is the reality of Balochistans future. A Climatically Challenged area where barren lands have already given up struggling to live and are Turing to desertification. The province is going to be and perhaps already is an exposed vulnerability in the face of Climate Change.

Balochistans traditional forms of livelihood and using of agricultural land have now slowly been changing, The two methods Khushkaba and Sailaba of agriculture are diverted, the usually making of bands to use up flood water for lands doesn’t work because floods have change course as now even the ingenious knowledge can’t predict from where the flesh floods would be attacking, once a blessing to the people of valleys in Baluchistan, mountains are now a danger of disaster them.

In all this we are aware that indigenous people are the first ones to be worst hit by climate change and its already started to happen all around the world and in Balochistan as well. The search that started from time we don’t even know of is still going on, the search for water and it is not estimated when this search actually becomes a “fight” for water. But I know one thing, today on the blog action day for water as the world talks about water; don’t forget the people deep down in the dry hard lands, walking miles in the heat and dust for the search of water.

With hopes for a successful outcome to the peace negotiations initiated by the Obama administration rapidly evaporating, where do the Palestinians go from here? The leading Israeli peace organization, Gush Shalom, has proposed that the Palestinian people declare statehood. It would welcome the declaration of the Free State of Palestine, says Gush Shalom. And the Arab League is prepared to request recognition from the UN General Assembly of a Palestinian State.

The Netanyahu government in lifting the floodgates of Israeli construction in East Jerusalem has in fact condemned the negotiations to failure: more Israeli settlements will be built on Palestinian land, more expulsions of Palestinians. In 2008 alone, 4,600 Palestinians were shorn of their residence papers and banished from their homes.

The Palestinians have made considerable concessions over the years in accepting a territory limited to the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem, an area significantly smaller than that awarded them under UN resolution 181. At the time of that resolution, which recommended the division of the British Mandate of Palestine into two provisional states--one Jewish and one Arab--the General Assembly also recommended that the City of Jerusalem be administered by the United Nations, an option that certainly remains valid today.

There is little doubt that the Israeli government would condemn and reject a unilateral declaration of statehood, as it did back in 1978 at Camp David when Anwar Sadat, the Egyptian president, called for the creation of a Palestinian State in Gaza and the West Bank. The status of Jerusalem, however, is another matter: a precedent exists with the proposal made in 2007 by then Prime Minister Ehud Olmert that East Jerusalem become the capital of the future Palestinian state.

Prime Minister Netanyahu has stated that he favors a two-state solution to the Palestinian problem although the decisions of his government belie that position. A unilateral declaration of statehood is fraught with complications and Mr. Netanyahu has warned the Palestinians that such a declaration would prompt Israeli counter-measures including annexation of more of the occupied West Bank. From the standpoint of international law and UN Security Council Resolution 465, any further annexation of Palestinian land would be illegal. Moreover, installing Israeli citizens on occupied land would constitute a violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention and a crime of war.

A declaration of statehood would provide the Palestinian people with a much needed sense of belonging to each other and to the community of nations, at the same time redressing one of the greatest injustices of recent times. Palestinians cannot forget that they once occupied the land from which they are now forcibly ejected. As the poet said, “There is no more cruel prison than memory.”

Dr. César Chelala is a co-winner of an Overseas Press Club of America award.

“I came to protest so we can find a solution. Misery is killing me,” said Mascarie Sainte-Anne, 70, at the edge of a rally in front of Prime Minister Jean-Max Bellerive’s office on October 12.

Haitians have been taking to the streets with increasing frequency since August in calls for redress of the economic and social crisis which has followed the earthquake. The social movements’ demands of the government include the right of those living in internally displaced people’s camps to permanent, humane housing; accessible education; and an increase in minimum wage. Rallies have also protested the continued presence of the U.N. Stabilization Mission in Haiti, or MINUSTAH.

• Unprovoked, a UN 'peacekeeper' and private security officer level their guns on a protester at UN logistical base, Oct. 15.  Photo: Federico Matais. •

“There was no provocation at all. The Haitian police and the private UN security guards were so aggressive. They were just looking to do violence,” said Miles.

On October 8, demonstrators were in front of the Ministry of Education, peacefully calling for education for the nation’s students, when Haitian riot police fired tear gas. Jean Louis Filbert (his name also reported as Jean Filbert Louis), a math teacher and member of the teachers’ union, was hit in the head with a tear gas canister. He died in the hospital the next day. Jean Pierre Edouard, who was not involved with the rally but had gone to the ministry simply to pick up a certificate, was also hit in the head.

One recent protest focus is also the principal concern of citizens today: permanent housing and other support for the estimated 1.5 million people who lost their homes in the earthquake and who still languish in tents or under tarps nine months later. No authority has told this group what their fates will be. Their shelters, usually made of plastic or nylon, are variously sweltering in the daytime heat and wet and muddy in the torrential night rains. Protection against thieves and rapists is non-existent. According to an extensive new study, 40% of camps have no water, 30% have no toilets, and only 20% have access to education, medical care, or psychological support. With near-total unemployment; with food aid suspended since April; and with virtually no outside assistance; hunger, illness, and poverty are on the rise.

“Tighten our belts, we can’t take it any more,” loudly sang Sainte-Anne and 200 or so others in front of the prime minister’s office on October 12. “Tighten our belts” is not a metaphor in Haiti; it refers to the belts or ropes that people bind tightly around their waists in an attempt to dull hunger pangs.

The demonstrators continued their call-and-response chant:
“Heat under the tarps is brutal, we can’t take it any more.
We have fever, we can’t take it any more.
We’re being raped, we can’t take it any more.
We have no water, we can’t take it any more.
We have infections, we can’t take it any more.”

This was the third demonstration for a response to massive homelessness in as many months. “Each rally has been larger than the last,” said Reyneld Sanon, a leader with the Force for Reflection and Action on Housing (FRAKKA). “People are starting to stand up for their right to housing that is, after all, guaranteed by the constitution.” The protests are convened by a coalition including a housing rights group, a human rights group, and committees of camp residents.

Sainte-Anne said, “I’m old, I’m going to die, but I don’t want it to be from hunger. I don’t have a husband. I don’t have children. I’ve been sleeping in the street since my house in Martissant fell flat. The government has to do something.”

At least three recent demonstrations, led by labor groups and grassroots organizations, have called for raising the minimum wage from $3.20 (125 gourdes) a day for export assembly work to $12.82 a day (500 gourdes). Last year, after the Parliament passed legislation to raise the minimum wage for all workers, factory owners complained to President René Préval. He refused to implement the law. Instead, a compromise agreement raised the salary of factory workers producing for export to only $3.20 a day. “You couldn’t live on that before the earthquake. But costs have risen so much since then, it’s really impossible now,” said Gerome Dupervil, an advocate for workers’ rights.

Another series of rallies has taken place on October 1, 14, and 15 in front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the U.N. logistics base. Demonstrators were protesting the annual renewal of the U.N. Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH), which has been here since President Jean-Bertrand Aristide’s ouster in 2004. The force includes almost 12,000 armed personnel. Its current annual budget is $380 million.

MINUSTAH troops have been charged with killings, arbitrary arrests, and human rights violations. They are currently suspected in the death by hanging of a young man, Gerald Jean Gilles, in the courtyard of a MINUSTAH base in Cap-Haïtien on August 17. MINUSTAH personnel claimed that the youth killed himself, a fact disputed by family and friends.

Activists interviewed say their call for MINUSTAH’s departure is based on the force’s violence, its ineffectiveness in accomplishing its mission, the waste of money, and the undemocratic and colonial nature of the operation in a sovereign nation. The actions have been convened by a coalition including a media network, human rights and housing rights groups, and committees from various camps.

Asked what she and others in Haiti’s social movement want, Jetty Jenet said, “We’re calling out for help to make the authorities hear us. We’re all dying.” For nine months, Jetty has had no income and has lived with her children under a plastic tarp in Cité Soleil. “But we’re people, too.”

Correction: An earlier version of this story incorrectly identified the journalist injured during the October 15th protest.

Beverly Bell has worked with Haitian social movements for over 30 years. She is also author of the book Walking on Fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance. She coordinates Other Worlds, which promotes social and economic alternatives. She is also associate fellow of the Institute for Policy Studies.

We asked dozens of Haitians from different social sectors how they felt about the November 28 elections, and what they want or expect from a new government. Here are some of their responses.

Louisiane Nazaire defines herself as a peasant. She is a member of a local peasant farmer group in the Grande-Anse, and is coordinator of the National Commission of Peasant Women.

• What difference will a new government make in the daily lives of Haitians? Photo: Beverly Bell. •

“We don’t trust these elections, either the power or the electoral council. But we realized that the elections would go forward anyway so we decided we had to participate so we peasants don’t stay in the same situation we’re in now. So now we in [the national peasant movements and agricultural federations of] the National Commission of Peasant Women [KONAFAP], the National Movement of Peasants of the Papay Congress [MPNKP], and the National Haitian Network for Food Sovereignty and Food Security [RENHASSA] are running local candidates in a bunch of places, peasants who will represent our interests and our voices. This can help us get power that represents the peasants and all the people.

“Now society treats us terribly, peasants and poor women. Especially women: as citizens, we need our rights, our voices, and laws respected. We shouldn’t be treated differently than men, regardless of class.

“One thing we want from a new government is for the national budget to reflect the interests of peasants and agriculture. We need credit, too. The country depends on us peasants, but they don’t give us anything. If we farmers didn’t work for a month, the whole nation would perish. Still, the [percentage of the national] budget for peasants and agriculture was only 3% for years, and after a lot of mobilization it went up to 4%.

“We’re claiming our vote, and we’re using our participation to ensure that our vote has worth. If we see that our votes aren’t counted, we’ll take to the streets and demand that the election is redone or just annulled.”

Suze Jean is a primary school teacher, a university student of electronics, and a self-described revolutionary. An elected member of the management committee of her internally displaced people’s camp on the grounds of an evangelical church, after she and others put out a press release about camp conditions in September, Suze was evicted and her tent and belongings were destroyed by the pastor’s son. She now lives on the streets, and is eight months pregnant.

“I see the elections of November 28 as an injustice to the population who are victims of the earthquake of January 12. This money [from the campaign] could be used to help people who are in difficulty.

“And all these candidates: we’ve been living under tarps for nine months, and we haven’t seen one of these people do anything for us. They’re deaf, they don’t hear anything. We need forced expulsions to stop. We can’t stand them anymore.

“Ten camps in [the neighborhood of] Carrefour have come together to mobilize against the elections. We will resist. We’re organizing to not participate in elections as long as we’re living under tarps in the rain and the mud, and as long as they’re throwing us out of camps. We’ll do demonstrations, sit-ins, everything we can to not participate and help other camp committees not participate. We won’t use violence to block people, but we’re trying to mobilize them to boycott.

“We’ll participate in elections once they respond to our demands, once they address the problems of people living in temps and getting evicted from them, once they stop forcing people to work as supposed volunteers in the camp, once they stop forcing women to sleep with men who control [distribution of] humanitarian aid to get any.

“The positive alternative we want is a candidate who’s sensitive to our needs, who has a good vision of how to take care of our problems, who would create a pro-people government. Who would take our needs to the international community. We need someone who knows our suffering and who has the maturity and conscientiousness to lead. We need someone from the level of the people.”

Wilner Jean-Charles was a marketing student until political upheaval in 2004 forced him to leave school. Wilner now serves as a guide and driver for tourist groups.

“I’m not into politics. But I believe that if someone had a really good, long-term program for youth, we could have real development. If that candidate had an education program to get all the street children to school, and gave them the opportunity for a good university education, and developed good employment for those kids once they get out, they’d be building a different kind of citizenry. Just project 50 years out to what kind of people those kids would be.

“What candidate do I support? I haven’t taken the time to read up to see if any of the candidates have a program for Haiti’s education program. But if I found one that did, and if that person had a minimum of credibility, I’d vote for him.”

Jocie Philistin is a human rights advocate. She coordinates a network of women’s organizations for the Bureau of International Lawyers in Port-au-Prince.

“Once we have the candidate we need, someone who can hear and respond to the rights of the people, you’ll see the majority accompanying him or her to the elections. You saw that in 1990, when all the Haitian people decided they wanted a candidate [Jean-Bertrand Aristide]. They [67% of the electorate] voted him in. Naturally, the people would have to continue to make sure their demands are applied even if that candidate wins.

“Meanwhile, what I see with the elections is that Parti Unité [President Préval’s party] is just looking to validate a selection that’s already happened. They’ve already stolen the presidency and the parliament. Selection isn’t election.

“I know the international community always plays a big role in elections. If they just back up a selection, the people will just stay as they are in their camps and in their insecurity. One word: block any selection.”

Josette Pérard is director of Fon Lanbi Haiti, the Haitian counterpart of the Lambi Fund. Trained as a social worker, Josette runs a program to train, build capacity of, and get grants to women’s and small farmer organizations in rural areas.

“It wasn’t long ago that a small group of people used French as a way to isolate everyone. People couldn’t participate in anything because they didn’t speak French. They couldn’t even understand what was being said on the radio. Today, everyone says what they think, they want to participate, to enter into the debate. It’s a movement.

“The people will have to be a part of any change of the state. Otherwise, it won’t work. But for that, [the president and government] will have to trust the people. I hear candidates open their mouths to speak of ‘the people.’ They talk about what they’ll do for the people, but never what they’ll do with them. Nice vision and nice speech from the president aren’t enough. The only way for us to have a change is if the people are part of the process.”

Ludovic Cherustal is a young database technician working for a humanitarian aid NGO from Canada. He hopes for a more stable job so he can start a family.

“People would be interested in the elections if they saw that the outcome would have an impact on their needs. But the candidates are all gwo manjè, big eaters, from the same group of people who always exploit us. Most of them have been the system, benefiting from it, for a long time. They’re not going to do anything for us, the little poor people.”

Alina “Tibebe” Cajuste was a slave as a child, and now is a children’s rights activist and poet. Her dreams in life are to become literate and to see an end to child slavery.

“I lost my electoral card in the earthquake [when my house was destroyed] and it’s so hard to get a new one. I have to vote but I don’t know how I’m going to do that.

“But a new president can come to power and Haiti will still be the same, especially if all he sees are his pockets and not the people. If a new president doesn’t give us primary schools, professional schools, and business in the countryside, it’ll be just like washing your hands and drying them in the dirt.

“If we don’t have a change in consciousness, we can have all the elections we want and Haiti will remain as fragile as a crystal.”

Beverly Bell has worked with Haitian social movements for over 30 years. She is also author of the book Walking on Fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance. She coordinates Other Worlds, which promotes social and economic alternatives. She is also associate fellow of the Institute for Policy Studies.

One of my favorite documentaries is premiering on HBO! Monica and David follows the two title characters, who both have Downs Syndrome, as they start their life as a young married couple. The film, which was made by Monica's cousin Alexandra Codina, is an intimate look at two people with a disability who nonetheless move into adulthood with a fierce sense of love and independence. I especially liked the emphasis on the importance of their families support, even if at times it bordered on smothering.

I saw Monica and David at Tribeca where it won the award for best documentary film - an honor that was much deserved.

The film premiers at 8 p.m. on HBO tonight and will be rerun in the coming days.

by Molly Theobald

In Cameroon, one of the foods that grows best is cassava. But farmers struggle with low yields because of pests and diseases that damage crops, making each harvest much more labor intensive than they are worth. “Farmers are spending more on planting materials and field maintenance to grow cassava and they are unable to make profit from the poor harvests,” says Emmanuel Njukwe, Chief of Service for the Crop Improvement and Utilization Unit at The International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA). “They are fighting an expensive battle against pests and diseases.”

• IITA, in partnership with the Cameroon Government National Program for Roots and Tuber Development (PNDRT), is developing and introducing improved varieties of cassava with resistance to major pests and diseases to help increase production. (Photo credit: Bernard Pollack)•

“Once we identify varieties of cassava that we think will benefit local growers,” says Emmanuel, “we work closely with farmers to identify and select the new varieties and ensure that the new varieties meet farmers’ needs.” Groups of farmers participating in a field test of a new IITA cassava variety compare the new variety with their best local variety. “The farmers then pick the variety they like best,” continues Emmanuel. “They tell us what they like and don’t like and then we help train them to get the most out of those varieties, in the field and at the market.”

One of the farmers’ groups that received training and materials from IITA and government extension officers to process cassava into flour is now connected to a bakery that uses the flour to make cakes. Being able to grow and process cassava as a group, explains Emmanuel, helps reduce production costs for individual farmers. Says Emmanuel, “When we train the farmers to process their crop it makes it easier for them to transport and store the product, and to sell to larger consumers like a business to improve their livelihoods.”

IITA encourages the farmers’ groups to specialize in different processing options or storage techniques and then encourages them to work together. Farmers who specialize in processing cassava into flour, for example, can reach out to another group that specializes in storage and utilization for support and services. In this way, the groups can create financially beneficial links to each other, in addition to the links to the market that IITA also helps to cultivate.

“The model we want to use is to promote the smallholder farmers,” continues Emmanuel. “Right now, many farmers do not earn high income from cassava production. But the potentials are there to change all of that. We give them the information, the training, and the crop varieties they need to do that. But we do it with the help of the farmers, in every step of the process.”

To read more about how farmers are improving their income and livelihoods through improved crops and processing, see: Bringing Inputs to Farmers, ECOVA MALI: Building Home Grown Knowledge, New Frontier Farmers and Processor Group: Reviving Farmland and Improving Livelihoods, The Abooman Women’s Group: Working together to Improve Livelihoods, It’s All About the Process, Turning the Catch of the Day into Improved Livelihoods and Transforming Crops into Products.

• Author Lisa Shannon. Photograph by Mads Greve. •

Sexual Violence Against Women During War: Confronting the Atrocity, Healing Women

Hosted by the Monterey Institute of International Studies and featuring:

Lisa J. Shannon of Portland, Oregon

Lisa J. Shannon is founder of Run for Congo Women, which began with a lone 30-mile trail run and quickly blossomed into a global, volunteer-driven grassroots effort to raise funds and awareness for women in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She previously owned a photography production company, where she served as art director and producer. She's the author of A Thousand Sisters: My Journey Into the Worst Place on Earth to be a Woman. She currently lives in Portland, Oregon. For more information visit her website, www.athousandsisters.com.

The UNA will have books available for sale and Lisa's signature after the event.

The WIP reached out to Lisa and she shared with us the following story for The WIP Talk:

A Thousand Sisters is my first book. My first pro writing gig, for that matter. When I sat down to draft, I found myself in deep water. The proposition: Write a personal account of the deadliest war since World War II, through the intimate lens of friendship. My goal was to bring readers along with me on my journey to Congo so they could meet and bond with my sisters as I did; my hope was to engage them in the movement for Congo.

But how do I write honestly about the off-the-charts horrors in Congo that in our popular vernacular many would label "unspeakable" and "unthinkable"? Do these stories motivate? Or do they cause us to shut down and shut Congo out?

One of my sisters' stories is the quintessential example of this, excerpted from A Thousand Sisters:

"I was in my house preparing food for my husband when they came," she says. "They made me prepare food for them, then asked me to wake my husband, who was asleep. They demanded money. I had US$130, and I gave it to them, but they didn't care. They said, 'The US$130 was the nurse's participation. The husband is head of the school. He has to make his contribution.'

"My husband said, 'I have nothing.'

"They started to beat him, so I cried for help. The Interahamwe shot him immediately, killing him.

"I continued to cry to alert other people. They said, 'Shut your mouth. Put your leg on the chair.'

"They took a machete and cut off my leg. We had six children at home; one was my sister's child. The Interahamwe cut the leg into six parts and burnt them in the fire. They gave each child a piece of my leg and commanded them to eat.

"One of the children said, 'I can't eat a part of my mother. You already killed my father, so you will have to kill me.'

"They killed my child.

"They tried to burn the house. The children got us out. They took me to the garden outside. Because of the burning of the house, because of despair, because of the loss of blood, I was like a dead person."

When I returned from my first trip to the Congo, I told Generose's story twice. After gauging audience response, I didn't tell it again for a year and half.

In that period, I knew I wanted to write a book, but was stuck. What do I include? What would be too much? In an online video clip Philip Gourevitch, author of the genocide classic We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families: Stories from Rwanda, posed a basic question: In our popular dialogue on these issues, people use the words "unthinkable" and "unspeakable" which allow us to posture as though we have dealt with the issue, when in fact we haven't dealt with it at all. He asked, "What is a journalist's job if not to think and speak?"

As writers and activists, it's our duty to tell the truth. But how do we make that truth palatable to a broad readership?

As I reviewed my 70 hours of videotaped interviews, filled with hundreds of stories of "the trouble I got from war," I discovered something. In my pursuit of Congo horror stories, there were a lot of questions I didn't ask. Like who was lost. I hadn't even asked their names.

Before I could draft a book, I had to go back to Congo, armed with different questions:

Inside, we pull the curtains closed and wait for the neighbors and children to disperse, so we can talk privately. It's dusk and we talk by candlelight. I ask about her son.

"He was a child I loved so much," she tells me. "The fact that he is the only one who refused to eat a part of me marked my heart."

"Do you remember the last thing you said to your child?"

"What I remember is the last speech he gave to the killer."

"What did he say?" I ask.

"To his father's killer, he said, 'I do not accept to eat a part of my mother.' They said, 'Then we are going to kill you.' He said, 'If you kill me, kill me. But I will not eat a part of my mother.'" Generose spaces out, slowly rocking back and forth, while Maurice translates, "They said, 'Then you better pray, because you are going to die.'

"He said, 'You're asking me to pray to God? Why? I do not love you. I am angry with you. How can I pray to God when I have such a bad heart against you?'"

We are quiet for a moment. Then I ask her, "What did the soldiers say?"

"They said nothing. They shot him. I heard the sound of many bullets, but what I saw was the one that entered here." She points to the middle of her forehead.

"What was his name?"

"Lucien."

"And your husband?"

"Claude."

"What was he like as a person, a man, a husband?" I ask.

"The type of husband I dreamed of since I was a child. Someone very tall, who's not a drunk and doesn't smoke. When I met him, he had all these qualities, and I said, 'This is the man.'

"As a husband, he was responsible. As the father of my children, he was responsible up to the end of his life. He had a habit. When I was very tired he would say, 'Today, it is not your chore. I will prepare food for the whole family.' He prepared eggs and rice. That was his dish. This created a problem with his family. They said, 'How can a man prepare food for his wife? This must be a problem of witchcraft.'

"But there was no witchcraft. Only love."

"What do you miss about your husband?"

She doesn't hesitate. "When I was pregnant, very heavy with a baby, my husband would wash my body. It was very intimate."

Is it that Congo is too much? Or is it unbearable to see human beings strictly through the lens of horror? Are we only seeing half of the story?

Do we define the narrative of Congo by the questions we ask? How does our experience of Generose's story change when the questions change? Why so personal? Is it relevant?

When we deal with the violence in abstract, intellectual realms, we make room for pity. That is a tremendous first step. But for compassion, we must be willing to feel with Congolese. An easy way to do that is to get to know them. When we see Congolese people for the full human beings, the individuals they have always been — with loves and quirks and family bonds — the losses become real and personal.

And the personal is essential. We cannot measure the human cost of the war when we define people strictly by the violence they endure, any more than you can measure a human being by the few moments of violence at their life's end. We cannot leave out half the story. Learning this was a critical piece of my own journey.

I recently saw a program on PBS about genocide. The documentarian made a simple argument: To stop genocide (and I would add mass atrocity), two things need to happen:

1. The cost/benefit equation for the perpetrators must change.

2. We have to shift the way we to relate to those living through it. We must feel it like it is happening to our own mothers, sons, brothers, and sisters.

The truth about Congo will be too much... for some people. But for many, the truth is not too much. Especially if it is the whole truth.

We may cry. But then we do something.

And when we do something, we stumble upon one of life's great ironies: If we are open and travel to one of the "worst places on earth," we may just experience some of life's deepest joy, the singular joy that comes from connection to other human beings.

We hope you will join The WIP to meet Lisa and learn more at this fantastic UNA event!

Rony Charles, a rice grower and member of the Agricultural Producer Cooperative of Verrettes, said, “Instead of foreigners sending us food, they should give us the chance to do our own agriculture so it can survive.”

Giving domestic agriculture the chance to survive would address four critical needs:

- Creating employment for the majority, estimated at 60% to 80% of the population;
- Allowing rural people to stay on their land. This is both their right as well as a way to keep Port-au-Prince from becoming even more perilously overcrowded;
- Addressing an ongoing food crisis. Today, even with imports, more than 2.4 million people out of a population of 9 million are estimated to be food-insecure. Acute malnutrition among children under the age 5 is 9%, and chronic under-nutrition for that age group is 24%. Peasant groups are convinced that, with the necessary investment, Haiti could produce at least 80% of its food consumption needs; and
- Promoting a post-earthquake redevelopment plan that serves the needs of the majority, unlike the one currently promoted by the U.S. and U.N. which is based on the growth of sweatshops. (See “Poverty-Wage Assembly Plants as Development Strategy in Haiti”.)

• What would it take for Haitians to feed their nation? Photo by Ben Depp, www.bendepp.com •

To attain these goals, Haitian groups of small farmers (or peasants, as they call themselves) are challenging a decades-long pattern of conflict and competition, a trend which the Duvalier dictators actively fostered in order to sustain their fierce control. Groups are uniting into coalitions and beginning to work together, thereby building political might to shore up domestic agriculture. They are advancing their agenda collectively through negotiations with the Ministry of Agriculture, national pressure, international policy advocacy, and creation of common cause with other farmer movements and allies elsewhere.

These farmers, like their counterparts the world over, are focused principally on building food sovereignty. They are on the frontlines of a clash between two development models: food sovereignty and neoliberalism.

Food sovereignty is the right of a people to define their own food and agricultural systems, premised on growing domestically for domestic consumption. It is based on other social and economic rights, too: the right to food, the right of rural peoples to produce, and the right to land.

Food sovereignty promotes small-scale agriculture, government management of food imports, protection of native seeds, and large-scale redistribution of land with protections of land tenure for small farmers. It calls for the democratic participation of the population in shaping trade policies and for development programs which protect domestic production, especially by small growers.

The opposing model, neoliberalism, is the one governing farming in Haiti and much of the world. An ideology as well as a set of free-market policies and programs, neoliberalism opposes a significant role of government or community in planning, investing in, or intervening into markets in ways which could protect and promote national development. Neoliberalism gives primacy to corporate control over domestic production and the environment. Key players here include the World Bank, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organization, governments of industrialized countries, large landholders, and corporations.

The model is based on global trade rules which allow rich countries to make profits off of Haiti and other low-income countries in two ways. First is as a source of cheap, raw goods for the so-called First World, which are extracted or produced by intensive exploitation of labor, land, and other resources. Haiti used to fill this role, historically exporting hardwoods and more recently – until the 1980s - foodstuffs, when the agricultural sector no longer had the capacity to do so.

Low-income countries’ second role is as a market for corporate goods from high-income countries. The trade policies of wealthy nations and the conditions on loans by international financial institutions pressure low-income countries to lower import tariffs, though high-income countries’ own production remains protected by subsidies. In Haiti, conditions on two loans from the IMF, in 1986 and 1995, forced the government to reduce tariffs on food imports to as low as 3% from former levels of up to 150%. This made it suddenly cheaper to buy food from U.S. agribusiness than from the farmer the next field over, thus effectively putting out of business the farmer in that next field.

Until the early 1980s, Haiti was largely self-sufficient in food, but now domestic agriculture meets only 43% of Haitians’ food consumption needs. This has led to the further impoverishment of the small farmer sector; those who still try to survive through growing do so in grinding destitution. Another option has been to flee to the cities, and for more than three decades peasants have been arriving in droves for Port-au-Prince, where they have found jobs in the assembly sector or the informal sector if they were lucky, or have remained unemployed if they weren’t. This led to another impact of so-called free trade policies: the dense population in Port-au-Prince of rural emigrants and others, virtually all of them living in shoddy housing on terrain often unsuitable for dwellings, contributed greatly to the high death toll (estimated at 250,000 to 300,000) from the January 12 earthquake.

Attaining food sovereignty in Haiti would necessitate a governmental commitment to invest significantly in agriculture. Farmers need support for tools, seeds, credit, irrigation and water storage systems, and assistance from agronomists. Food sovereignty must involve land reform, since peasants currently don’t have the land they need to grow. It would mean staunching the flow of dumped U.S. commodities (today mainly handed out in ‘food for work’ programs, usually in crony systems) which, more than ever since the earthquake, has meant that Haitian farmers either have to sell their food for a pittance or cannot sell it at all. Food sovereignty would require raising tariffs on food imports to protect national production.

Food sovereignty would also involve turning around Haiti’s ecological crisis, since its effects - topsoil erosion, deforestation, destruction of watersheds, floods, and droughts - all impede agricultural production. Some Haitian farmer-activists are promoting a set of programs to address this crisis, with their own programs of reforestation, integrated water management, and creation of non-charcoal energy sources. But the farmers say they cannot reverse the environmental decline on their own, and ask the government to commit to national programs and to enforce ecological protection laws that are already on the books.

Food sovereignty in Haiti would require, furthermore, passing a law against genetically modified [GMO] seeds and limiting multinational corporate involvement in Haiti’s seeds, which Haitian farmers call “the patrimony of humanity.” The need has been underscored this year by new imports of seeds from Pioneer and Monsanto. Some of them, such as Monsanto’s calypso tomato seeds, are treated with deadly poisons which the EPA banned for home use in the U.S. While Monsanto, for one, is donating its seeds this year, one suspects that that largesse will quickly end and that farmers will be forced to buy them in subsequent years. Meanwhile, agriculture becomes dependent on foreign corporations for the very foundation of agriculture. (For more, please see “Haitian Farmers Commit to Burning Monsanto Seeds.”)

Strengthening the agricultural sector is viable because of the size, strength, and growing unity of the peasant movement, and because of the international attention and support of progressive allies. What is needed now is the political will of the Haitian government, the U.N., and foreign governments.

Below is a listing of some of the coalitions, both Haitian and foreign, which are building the movement. Doudou Pierre of the National Network for Food Sovereignty and Security said, “All these networks basically have the same agendas. It’s for food sovereignty and against neoliberal agricultural policies.”

Four Focused Eyes (Kat Zye Kontre) unites the four largest and strongest peasant organizations. The name comes from an expression pertaining to cheating in Haitian card games: “Four focused eyes, an end to lies,” and refers to the long-term distrust between some of these organizations. They include the country’s two national peasant groups - Tèt Kole Ti Peyizan Ayisyen, or Heads Together Small Producers of Haiti, and the National Peasant Movement of the Papay Congress (MPNKP) - plus the two largest regional organizations - the Peasant Movement of Papay (MPP by its Creole acronym) and the Regional Coordination of the Organizations of the South-East (KROS). For the first time, these groups are overcoming old division[s] to work in unity. They are pushing the state for alternative, pro-peasant policies through mobilization, especially around land reform.

National Network for Food Sovereignty and Security (RENHASSA by its Creole acronym) is a coalition of 54 organizations from different sectors and regions. Formed in 2006, RENHASSA’s mission is to advocate for national policies which would allow Haiti’s self-sufficiency in national food production, for policies against foreign food aid and dumping which undermine that self-sufficiency, and for land reform. See “So Everyone Can Eat, Produce It here: Food Sovereignty and Land Reform in Haiti (Part I)”.

National Coordinating Committee of Peasant Women (KONAFAP). “You can’t speak of food sovereignty without women’s participation,” said one farmer in the rural North of Haiti. KONAFAP was formed two years ago by women from the 54 member organizations of the National Network for Food Sovereignty and Security (RENHASSA). Still in a building stage, most of its members currently hail from the Peasant Movement of Papay and the National Peasant Movement of the Papay Congress. KONAFAP promotes political fights against hunger and against neoliberal agricultural policies, and organizes for the strength and rights of peasant women. For more information, see “Thinking about Ourselves and Our Future: Rural Women Organize.”

Hand-in-Hand Foundation (FONDAMA by its Creole acronym) brings together approximately 400,000 members in eleven organizations that together cover most parts of the country. FONDAMA’s mission is food sovereignty and environmental protection. FONDAMA is holding an ongoing series of post-earthquake meetings to construct and advocate for a national agricultural program.

Vía Campesina (Peasants’ Way) is the network of small farmers, peasant farmers, landless people, indigenous people, and rural women, with member organizations around the world. One of Vía’s emphases is food sovereignty, which it advancews through coordinating and promoting international-level activities and through helping member countries like Haiti lead domestic fights. Three of Haiti’s peasant organizations – Tèt Kole, the National Peasant Movement of the Papay Congress, and the Peasant Movement of Papay– are members, while the Regional Coordination of the Organizations of the South-East (KROS) is applying for membership. A Haitian representative has long had a seat on Vía’s International Coordinating Committee.

Silion Pierre, a national coordinator with Tèt Kole Ti Peyizan Ayisyen, Heads Together Small Producers of Haiti, said, “Our idea is to reinforce our strength and capacity to mobilize by bringing together all progressive forces, Haitian and foreign, to make Haiti into another nation where people can live with security and food.”

Other Worlds is very grateful to our friends who have donated their beautiful photographs from Haiti: Ben Depp as well as Roberto (Bear) Guerra, Julie Dermansky, and Salena Tramel.

Beverly Bell has worked with Haitian social movements for over 30 years. She is also author of the book Walking on Fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance. She coordinates Other Worlds, which promotes social and economic alternatives. She is also associate fellow of the Institute for Policy Studies.

by Molly Theobald

While the coast of The Gambia is a popular—and economically thriving— tourist destination for European vacationers, the inland portion of the country provides little means for young men to make a living. Many leave their villages for the coast or even other countries, in hopes of making more money in urban areas.

• The Home Farm Project works with villages to break up community land and give it to young men who have expressed interest in farming. (Photo credit: Sandy Martin)•

“It really hurts the community when the men leave,” says Sandy. “Everyone suffers because of it.”

It’s not that women don’t farm too, explains Sandy. It’s just that, in addition to keeping gardens, women are responsible for caring for the children and other household chores. And it is the men who, without the proper resources to make a living from farming, find they have little recourse but to leave the villages in search of employment elsewhere.

The Home Farm Project works with villages to break up community land and give it to young men who have expressed interest in farming. The organization builds wells and provides pumps to make the water more accessible for irrigation. It promotes drought tolerant plants and trees, such as moringa, in order to diversify crops, create a year-round harvest, and provide resistance to the arid climate. Many of the trees and shrubs promoted by the project can also be used as “live fences” to keep out baboons and other animals in the area that often pillage small gardens and farms. All of these plants and shrubs provide additional benefits such as fodder for livestock and help to sequester carbon in, and provide nutrients to, the soil.

The ultimate goal is to help farmers build a business and as much as possible, the projects source materials used to build home farms locally. Two farmers in the Kunkoto district, for example, have, with the help of the Home Farm Project, established a Sustainability Centre or nursery, to provide other local farmers with seeds and seedlings to build their own income generating farms.

“This isn’t about a hand out,” says Sandy. “It’s so important for these projects to become self-sustaining because that is what will provide food and income over the long run. And what will strengthen the community.”

To learn more about innovations that turn agriculture into a livelihood, see: How to Keep Kids “Down on the Farm,” Conversations with Farmers: Discussing the School Garden with a DISC Project Student, Cultivating a Passion for Agriculture, Improving Farmer Livelihoods and Wildlife Conservation, Protecting Wildlife While Improving Food Security, Health, and Livelihoods, and Helping Conserve Wildlife–and Agriculture–in Mozambique.

Tucumán, Argentina

Coming home to my native Tucumán, a city in the North of Argentina, has become almost a ritual for me. And, predictably, it has its bittersweet moments.

My native town and New York, the city where I have lived for the last 40 years, are quite different. Relatively small and gregarious the former, the latter is big and anonymous.

Bitter moments are learning the loss of loved ones, whose impact is greater when living far away. The loss is compounded by a feeling of nostalgia (nostalgia is not what it used to be, as the saying goes). It happens when realizing that the city one has left is now a totally new city, a totally new and different urban landscape.

Pablo Neruda, the noted Chilean poet, poignantly expressed this feeling. Coming back to Chile, after a long stay overseas he wrote in the poem “Return to a city” (translated by Alastair Reid):

I come back not to return;
no more do I wish to mislead myself.
It is dangerous to wander
backward, for all of a sudden
the past turns into a prison.

These unsettling feelings are balanced by seeing old friends and relatives again, and by the pleasures of the unexpected.

I travel with my wife to Salta, a town further north. On the way we stop at Amaicha del Valle, a small town in the mountains reputed —at least by the natives— to have the best climate in the world. Remembering that a cousin whom I haven´t seen in more than 45 years lives there, I ask several people about him. Nobody knows him. I am disappointed. We have lunch at a popular restaurant. I ask the owner, a jovial 80-year-old who I discover later is a very good poet: “Of course I know him,” he laughs. “He lives just across the street.” I cross the street and knock on the door. My cousin and his wife come out. He doesn´t recognize me. I take my dark glasses off. He still doesn´t recognize me so I tell him who I am. Our eyes moisten, we join in a long embrace. Afterwards, we go back to the restaurant where the owner regales us with some of his wonderful poems. Life is beautiful.

We are back in my hometown. Today is a cool day in a normally torrid town. I go to the city´s main square, which looks like most town squares in Latin America, from Mexico in the North to Argentina and Chile in the South, to listen to the State Symphonic Band. The program includes music by Cole Porter, Leonard Bernstein and George Gershwin.

Although the concert is at noon, the 60 musicians in the orchestra are all formally dressed in black. Their suits are old, and so are the rumbling loudspeakers which occasionally interrupt the performance. But the noises don´t bother me. I am captivated by the scene.

I am sitting near a bass player. My attention is drawn to the strange shape of his instrument. The bridge belongs to another bass and its cords (2 made of steel and 2 of nylon) are held together by a series of knots. And… it has a big hole on the side. None of this fazes the musician, who handles it lovingly, as if it were the best bass in the world.

In the meantime, a couple dances under the shadow of a big and beautiful tree, as one of them holds their dog by the leash. I see the face of a woman who reminds me of the mother of a friend, both of them now dead. I feel another pang of nostalgia for what I believe were better, happier times.

After the concert I ask the bass player how he manages to play an instrument in such bad shape. He answers that the instruments are state property and that sometimes the handlers are careless. “But I love music,” he tells me sadly, “and I have to make do with what I have.”

César Chelala is a writer on human rights and foreign policy issues.