Friday brings the due date for another blog post – I (Peter) have been trying to capture a flavour of our orientation trip a while back all week, but it’s now so long, it’s turning into a Greek epic. (Well, less swords…)
The food crisis is something that has brought Niger to the attention of folk back in the UK recently. Our point of view here is slightly different, in that you probably have better streams of information that we do on certain things. However, regardless of how severe the crisis may be, or what exactly the cause is (everything from the Mali situation to poor farming practices) we’ve recently seen evidence that it’s happening.
Generally, large swathes of Niger suffer a food shortage each year. Whether through poor rain, harvest or over-intensive farming, between March-September every year it seems the food just starts to run out. It’s more a question of how severe the shortages are that make the difference between a regular year and the critical ones. That in itself is miserable – people will die, but it has to reach a certain number before it’s a crisis or famine.
We recently spent a few days in Niamey, the capital, and the increase in impoverished folk coming in from the rural areas to beg was noticeable, as was the intensity of their desperation. In Galmi, which is, in comparions, reasonably well off in places thanks to the hospital and passing trade, one will walk down the street and children will occasionally run up and ask for a present. You smile and tell them to ‘have patience’, maybe fork over the odd butter candy, and they’ll run off happily.
Last weekend in Niamey, women and children were following people the length of streets begging. These weren’t boys out collecting for the local m*slim teacher, kitted out with their trademark metal bowl – these were lean, intense looking women earnestly pushing their kids forward with outstretched hands.
As we prepare to move to Danja, I recently had a conversation with the director there about the Danja Food Aid programme (which runs on a food-for-work principle.) We’re pleased that SIM UK have been publicising the project heavily recently, as a wonderful-sounding SIM retiree has undertaken fundraising for it. I asked him how donations to the project were going: inevitably, he replied, when Niger was in the news donations would go up, and so he hoped for help to come in this year; however, once the stories stop, the donations generally drop even though the need remains. A fairly typical story of charity, in a world with so many needs in so many places. It sounds like Danja is bracing itself a little for the needs to be met in the next few months.
Elsewhere in Niger, SIM are already involved in raising support for grain banks, and hopefully that too should help to relieve the strain.
The BBC published an interesting short photo diary to illustrate some aspects of the food shortages, which we’ve purloined straight from Deb’s blog, and would recommend if you have a moment to spare.
And so, regardless of the how’s and why’s, people are hungry and many may die. There’s a fatalistic viewpoint – that that’s just the way it is, or even that it’s God’s will – that we have to avoid. I (Peter again) often found that, on occasion in NI, charity fatigue can set in: it’s like people are always asking for more from us. But the thing we have to remember is that we are in an incredible position. If you have more than, say, two changes of clothes, you are already rich beyond the wildest dreams of many of those here. If you can choose what to eat tonight, you again are privileged. This isn’t to guilt us or make us feel like we’re under attack by worthy causes.
Rather, the realisation has to slowly dawn on us that we have the joyous position of being able to give, and to give in a way where so very little makes such a huge difference. It’s not a burden, it’s a right that we should claim. The right as those at the top to give those at the bottom some help. Not a handout. Not a freebie or a crutch. Just making it a little easier.