海角大神

In Ethiopia, model drought defenses are put to the test

The country's booming capital, Addis Ababa, sits in stark contrast to rural areas struggling against two severe droughts in three years. But innovative aid has helped farming communities manage the crisis. Part 1 of our series on famine resilience.

Battered by drought and civil wars, more than 20 million people from Yemen to Tanzania are at risk of starvation in what aid workers call the largest humanitarian crisis since World War II. But over the past two decades, nations that once produced searing images of famine's toll have moved to thwart it by strengthening community resilience. Our reporters traveled to Madagascar, Ethiopia, and Somaliland to investigate the daunting challenges as well as the long-term efforts that are saving lives.聽

Addis Ababa is hungry. These days, Ethiopia鈥檚 capital seems to need more of almost everything: land for factories, shopping malls and highways; steel and concrete to build new skyscrapers; lanky rods of eucalyptus to scaffold their skeletons as they rise. Addis needs more roads, schools, houses, and cars. It needs apartment buildings for its migrants, and five-star hotels for the unending parade of diplomats attending African Union meetings in the glossy new Chinese-bankrolled headquarters at the center of town. The city fills out and up, seemingly insatiable, nibbling into surrounding farmland and poking higher and higher into the smoggy highland sky.

Six hundred miles to the southeast, meanwhile, Ethiopia鈥檚 Somali region is hungry, too 鈥撀爋r more accurately, it is thirsty. It hasn鈥檛 rained here 鈥撀燼t least, not enough 鈥撀爄n more than a year, and more rain isn鈥檛 expected until October. It鈥檚 already been long enough that grazing lands have grown huge bald spots, and intake at pediatric malnutrition wards has doubled. It鈥檚 long enough that ribs ripple visibly beneath the skin of those few cows and camels that have survived, and long enough to leave thousands of young people stranded in romantic purgatory: engaged, in love, but without the money to pay yarad, the traditional Somali bride price.

Unlike in Addis, where old Soviet Ladas jostle for space with high-end SUVs on traffic-clogged streets, practically the only vehicles on the roads here are ancient, bug-eyed Mercedes cargo trucks carting water and food aid into remote towns. This is the second severe drought to hit the country in three years, and government and humanitarian agencies estimate that nearly 8 million Ethiopians are currently 聽鈥� a figure that is expected to grow amid the dry season, which began in July.

鈥淚鈥檓 80 years old and I鈥檓 telling you that I have never seen a drought like this before,鈥� says Abdullahi Abdi, a resident of a windswept Somali region village called Melkaselah, resting his orange henna-tinted beard on a walking stick. It has not rained here in 22 days, he says, at a time of year when the rains should come two or three times a week. 鈥淎ll of our livestock are gone.鈥�

For decades, Ethiopia was synonymous in many Westerners鈥� minds with scenes like this one, the kind splashed across the world鈥檚 front pages during the infamous famines of the 1970s and 鈥�80s and immortalized in pop music by the cringe-worthy 鈥淒o They Know It鈥檚 Christmas?鈥� (Suffice to say, in one of the world鈥檚 oldest 海角大神 societies, they probably did.)

But now, Ethiopia鈥檚 image looks a lot more like its capital city: gleaming, cosmopolitan, and boldly aspirational. Although still a nation of farmers, for the past decade, this has been among the world鈥檚 fastest growing economies. It has used that brisk development to slash illiteracy, disease, and extreme poverty 鈥撀爐hough by methods undemocratic and at times aggressively repressive.

And if Ethiopia was once the world鈥檚 poster child for drought mismanagement, it is now the regional model for early warning and nimble response. As two of the worst droughts in recorded history have swept across the country, a muscular, government-led reaction has driven back the crisis to mostly manageable levels 鈥撀爀ven as in neighboring South Sudan and Somalia, the same weather conditions have brought populations to the edge of famine.

鈥淭he drought [of 2015-16] was at least as bad as the drought in the mid-1980s,鈥� says Stein Holden, a professor of development and resource economics in the School of Economics and Business at Norwegian University of Life Sciences, referring to the first of the country鈥檚 two recent droughts, which ended last year (the second, in the southern Somali region, is still ongoing). 鈥淏ut because the country is much economically stronger and more stable now it鈥檚 been able to provide a lot of the aid itself, without outside intervention.鈥�

Improvement聽鈥� under pressure

In 2016, indeed, the government of Ethiopia funneled into drought relief efforts 鈥撀� that went to the relief effort. It has a standing department for managing natural disasters and amasses thick stacks of weather data from satellites, farmers, and forecasters to predict when the weather may turn again.

The 8 million poorest Ethiopians, meanwhile, benefit from an innovative public welfare system that parcels out small amounts of cash or food during the leanest six months of the year in return for labor in local public works projects: building schools and clinics, fixing roads, digging wells.

鈥淲e aren鈥檛 just given that money 鈥撀爓e work for it,鈥� says Bashir Abdi, a herder in the Shabelle Zone of Somali region, jabbing his finger toward a nearby berkad, a shallow concrete pool used to collect rainwater for the village, that he and others here dug as part of their Productive Safety Net Programme (PSNP) work a few years ago. Such projects are part of 聽鈥� including nearly 25,000 miles of new roads, 500 clinics, and 4,300 school rooms 鈥撀爐hat the PSNP鈥檚 beneficiaries have built since the program began in 2005.

And though families receive an almost vanishingly small sum of cash 鈥撀燼s little as $10 per month per person 鈥撀爐he program has been responsible for , according to data from the World Bank, which co-finances the project.

鈥淭he system Ethiopia has is spectacular,鈥� says Kelly Johnson, a senior social protection specialist with the World Bank聽who advises the Ethiopian government on the PSNP. 鈥淚t has reached a point where it is beginning to serve as a model for other programs in Africa and around the world.鈥澛�

But Ethiopia鈥檚 success story is not a simple one. The government keeps a white-knuckled grip on the media and political dissidents, and patrols the boundaries of the country鈥檚 glittering new image carefully. Since political protests broke out in the country in late 2015, more than 500 demonstrators have died, tens of thousands have been arrested, and the country has been placed under a that, among other things, limits freedom of assembly and speech, and bars certain forms of social media. Journalists are 聽or arrested and accused of provoking unrest with critical coverage. (On a recent visit, 海角大神 Science Monitor reporters were assigned a minder to observe their coverage of the drought response.)

International aid groups, meanwhile, speak delicately of past 鈥渇ood crises鈥� (never famines) and outbreaks of 鈥渁cute watery diarrhea鈥� (never cholera, a more serious diagnosis), careful to avoid offending government overseers who could cut off their access to needy communities. Officials at a hospital in the Somali region visited by 海角大神, for instance, said they had evidence that an outbreak of cholera had begun in the area 鈥撀燿espite the government鈥檚 .

鈥淸The government] doesn鈥檛 always ask for help in time 鈥撀爐heir early warning systems are good, but the decision-makers don鈥檛 always want to listen,鈥� says an aid worker here who asked not to be identified because of his organization鈥檚 ties to the government. There is heavy pressure, he says, to keep international eyes off of situations that could tarnish the country鈥檚 image.聽

Deciding whom to help

In other ways, however, the country is the victim of its own success, says Mitiku Kassa, who heads the National Disaster Risk Management Coordination Commission. Unlike other countries in the region facing disasters, 鈥渨e can find the money and the resources,鈥� he says, 鈥渂ut it means we spend our development budget on humanitarian issues.鈥� Pouring that money into disaster relief, in other words, is akin to taking out a mortgage on the country鈥檚 future.

In Ethiopia, indeed, both government and international NGOs have struggled to convince international donors to cut checks for assistance when drought crises in nearby countries like Somalia, South Sudan, Yemen, and Nigeria are far more dire. The government has asked international donors for $948 million, , according to international NGO Save the Children. In May alone, 700,000 Ethiopians needing assistance went without food support for lack of funding.

鈥淥verall, there鈥檚 a big stretch on resources in the humanitarian situation globally,鈥� says Charlie Mason, humanitarian director for Save the Children in Ethiopia. (In March, indeed, the UN鈥檚 humanitarian chief, Stephen O鈥橞rien, warned that the world was ).

And despite the obvious wisdom of early intervention and prevention projects like those carried out in Ethiopia, Mr. Mason says, 鈥渄onors find it difficult to fund something that hasn鈥檛 happened yet.鈥�

But Mr. Kassa and Mason both point out that Ethiopia鈥檚 track record in preventing famines should be a vote in favor of giving aid to the country 鈥撀爊ot against it.

鈥淪ure, Ethiopia is much more self-sufficient [than its neighbors],鈥� Mason says. 鈥淏ut the other side of that is that it鈥檚 easier to prevent a crisis here 鈥撀爓hich I think gives the world a moral obligation to do exactly that.鈥�

'Two polar opposite Ethiopias'

Donors may also have another ethical imperative to assist countries like Ethiopia and its neighbors, which, despite their minuscule contributions to global warming, have been among the hardest hit by the world鈥檚 changing climate. The southeast鈥檚 current drought comes on the heels of another in the north, which in turn came only three years after the 2011-12 drought in the Horn of Africa and ensuing famine in parts of neighboring Somalia. A generation or two ago, such a rapid succession of extreme weather events would have been unthinkable, locals say.

In the Somali region of Ethiopia, ground zero of the current drought, that series has been especially devastating. Most people here are herders, and families spend generations building flocks of cows, sheep, and camels. Losing them is a form of bankruptcy that could take another lifetime to recover from. 聽

鈥淣o rain, no water, no pasture, no milk, no food,鈥� says a local herder named Halima Gawsole, ticking off the things she has lost since the rains first failed here a year ago. Now, she and thirty members of her extended family are on the move, their last possessions tethered to their final animal 鈥撀燼 weary donkey. Another family member told them the聽government was delivering water and sacks of grain nearby, and they鈥檝e come to see if it is true. 鈥淲e鈥檝e lost everything now,鈥� she says.

For the Ethiopian government, the story told by women like Ms. Gawsole sits uncomfortably beside the story they tell about themselves: one exemplified by Addis supermarkets stocked with French cheese, Coco Pops, and 30 kinds of pasta, a rags-to-riches story set to the soundtrack of whirring drills and thudding hammers. 聽

鈥淭here are two polar opposite Ethiopias happening side-by-side,鈥� says a young doctor working in a pediatric malnutrition ward in the Somali region, who asked that her name not be used because 鈥渆verything you say is political these days.鈥�

The doctor, who comes from Addis and speaks the crisp, placeless English of the internationally educated, spends her days straddling both worlds: by day, treating the babies of women her own age who have never been to school or lived in a house with a tin roof; by night, Facetime-ing with her family in the doctors鈥� quarters.

But it鈥檚 clear there鈥檚 a little more of her Ethiopia to go around these days. A generation ago, many of the women she sees each day here might never have made it to a clinic at all. 聽Now, they spend their days in clean, warmly lit wards, coaxing their rail-thin babies to eat sachets of fortified peanut butter. Some of the families here are on the government鈥檚 welfare and public works program. Others have gotten assistance 鈥撀爁ood, water, a bit of cash 鈥撀爁rom the government or NGOs.

It isn鈥檛 prosperity, but it isn鈥檛 disaster, either. It鈥檚 somewhere in the expanse between 鈥撀燼 room full of people just about getting by.