Don’t moan about the rain

Although I have swapped raging 43 degrees temperatures and camel-strewn desert landscapes for a wet and grey window view of a Peterborough shopping centre, memories of Niger remain larger than life.

National coverage of the Sahel region’s food crisis is mounting and fears among the resilient folk of Danja in Niger’s Maradi region are rising.

Most cited it was five years since the country’s food stocks had reached similarly low levels with the nation teetering on the brink of famine.  Last year’s dismal rainfall yielded a poor harvest and, as a result, high food prices.  At Danja Hospital where The Leprosy Mission provides specialist treatment to thousands each year, staff had sufficient nouse to secure several containers filled with 100kg sacks of millet – each enough to feed a large family for several weeks.  This was done at the lower of price of 16,000 CFA (£21) per 100kg in October as opposed to the current rate of 22,000 CFA (£30).

Amadou Tanko and Nouhou Ibrahim are begging for food in Danja

At first the hospital’s doctor would prescribe measures of millet to patients ahead of the official food aid programme launched in April.  This provides a monthly grain allowance to families affected by leprosy.  Allocated to former breadwinners who can no longer work as a result of leprosy-related disabilities, the millet is enough to suppress hunger pangs for several weeks but, by admission, not an entire month.

Niger folk are praying for a textbook rainy season with the heavens opening from mid-June to the end of July.  This brings the best hope for a fruitful harvest in September.  Day-to-day survival, however, is something increasingly preying on people’s minds.  Danja Hospital’s food stocks are already depleted and expected to be gone within six weeks – still weeks and weeks ahead of this year’s harvest.

Representatives from leprosy-affected communities are lobbying Niger’s government asking ministers how they should feed themselves when they can no longer work and there is little ‘food for work’ programmes available to their offspring.  People are open-minded and even optimistic about the new government elected last year.  Ministers have made efforts to buy food in bulk to sell onto people at low prices but sadly the prices are still out of reach for most of the communities surrounding Danja Hospital.

I previously mentioned the people of Niger encapsulating everything UK Prime Minister David Cameron could dream of achieving in his Big Society vision.  Instead of hoarding food, any spare is passed onto hungry neighbours with little concern as to what’s for dinner next week.  As a result, extended families are increasingly running out of food to give one another and individuals are already making the dusty trip to neighbouring Nigeria, Benin and even the Ivory Coast to beg.

The fear etched on people’s faces when discussing the most basic need of food is unmistakable and needs no translation from their local Hausa dialect.  The situation is desperate and September is a distant horizon.

Charlotte Orson

The Beauty Of Communication

Being able to communicate is crucial in life. Being able to communicate well is a gift and a joy.

Sitting at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport during an unscheduled five hour lay over, I can hear French being spoken softly all around me.  And joy upon joy  I understand most of it.

Over the last week I have had to dig deep into my memory of A-level French to communicate well in Niger.  Yesterday brought the biggest challenge.  Charlotte and I had the privilege of going with the Niger country leader Bunmi and seventeen leprosy-affected people to witness them receive the keys to a new house for each of them and their family.  Brand new purpose built houses on a piece of land on the outskirts of the capital city Niamey that have been funded by TLM England and Wales.

To those of us who live in the West, a two room concrete home situated in a block of four, with outside shower/toilet cubicle and one communal water pump may not seem like much.  Located in an area of red sand dotted with a few trees with locusts buzzing around them, it may even seem like ‘roughing it’ but to the recipients, these houses are a precious gift that filled them with joy.

How do I know this?  Because of communication.

We interviewed several of the proud new owners.  They did not speak French: the language of the educated in Niger. They spoke local dialects of  Hausa and Zarma.  Our interpreter did not speak English so Charlotte posed questions in English, I translated into French, our translator then spoke to the new house owners in Hausa and then translated their responses back into French whereupon I translated back into English.  All this is 43 degree heat at midday.

Never have I enjoyed struggling with my French and being so hot.  The joy that filled the recipients was so uplifting.  No language was needed to interpret the smiles on their faces and the pride in their eyes as they each were allocated a house by the chief of their group.  After inspecting their house, one by one they tried out the new metal water pump, placing metal cups or their cupped hands under the pumped water, laughing like children as they did so.

Possibly the most moving moments came as it was time for the group to be helped back onto the two flat back trucks that had bought them along the bumpy sandy road to the site.   Struggling with damaged hands, many with barely any fingers, each person locked their new house with its key.  And these were not just new houses but first houses.  The first time any of the group had owned a house of their own, amongst a community who valued and supported each other.  No longer would they be at the mercy of a landowner who may evict them from their make shift houses at any time.  Now they each had a home.

Yes, home is a much stronger word than house.  It communicates so much more doesn’t it?  It’s a pity I can only remember the French for house: maison.  I must look up home when I finally return to mine later today.

A low cost housing project brings new hope and new lives to a leprosy affected community

Top Gear Challenge

Lisa and I were not particularly looking forward to today – on the itinerary it had ‘Travel up to the Northern Districts (Moçimboa da Praia) 7-8 hours by car on rough roads’.

As the Hollies sang, ‘the road is long’

Seven to eight hours on rough roads! I have to admit that I quite liked the bumpy roads – it was fun and made the journey more interesting. But over seven hours of it didn’t have quite the same appeal. Lisa on the other hand HATED the bumpy roads and was absolutely dreading it. Something told me that the town of Moçimboa da Praia would be welcoming a couple of battered, bruised and potentially grumpy English girls tonight!

As Area Co-ordinators we spend a lot of time travelling across our areas (me in the SW, Lisa in the SE) and we have become very familiar with our cars. With their diesel engines perfect for the high mileage and their large boots suitable for stuffing full of TLM literature and resources, and in my case a large, spotty dog! They are ideal for The Leprosy Mission business on the roads of England. They would however have been useless on the roads between Pemba and Moçimboa da Praia. Here the TLM staff all have 4×4 trucks which can get over the bumps and out of the ditches with relative ease. These trucks don’t seem to mind when the tarmac runs out and the road cracks and breaks before them.

As I was being slammed against the door for what seemed like the millionth time and as I considered how likely it was to break bones just sitting in the back of a truck, I realised two things. (Lisa was trying the ‘I’m asleep so I can’t be conscious of the bumps’ method of coping with the journey!) Firstly I realised the importance of infrastructure. As I said I spend a lot of time travelling on roads, which in the main are smooth and easy to drive on. We have public transport and we can get across the country with relative ease. In Mozambique the roads are bumpy and largely unmetalled. To get anywhere takes a lot of time and if you don’t have a car – which of course most people don’t have, then it is either a very long walk or you need to find someone with a bicycle. This is not only difficult for those who live in rural areas, but also for those, like TLM who need to get to them. It poses all sorts of challenges and makes life incredibly difficult and costly.

Tiago, our amazing driver, and the perfectly suited TLM truck

The second thing I realised is that you need the right car for the right road. Programmes like Top Gear spend a lot of time telling us which cars are cool and which we shouldn’t touch with a barge pole. But in Mozambique what colour your car is, what additional features it comes with, what model or registration it is matters not. The only things that matter are whether it goes and if the suspension still works! Personally, as I once again slam into the door, banging my head in the process, I am glad that I am not in a brand new sports car which looks amazing on the forecourt, but that I am in an old but reliable truck which is perfectly suited to the road before me. I hope that I also manage to choose the right vehicle perfectly suited to my life journey, rather than the shiny new one recommended by people on TV who don’t know the roads I will have to travel.