Overleven in Zimbabwe

Ondanks het feit dat er gesprekken worden gevoerd op politiek niveau, wordt het leven in Zimbabwe bij de dag moeilijker. Hoe voed je je familie als je maandsalaris net genoeg is voor een potje jam? En wat is de 'toekomstverwachting' van iemand met aids als er geen medicijnen meer worden verstrekt? Hieronder een ooggetuige-verslag van Cathy Buckle uit Bulawayo:

"Food supplies are lower than they've ever been. One morning this week in my home town, four of the five main supermarkets were simply shut - doors closed, bars up, gates padlocked: no notice, no apology, nothing. The one supermarket which has a South African franchise was open, cut the prices were completely out of reach. A 250 gram bag of salt cost 150 dollars, a small tin of jam was priced at 250 dollars. These amounts are the figures after ten zeroes were removed a fortnight ago. In real terms the salt was 1 and half trillion dollars and the small tin of jam 2 and a half trillion dollars. To put this in perspective you need to know that a junior school teacher I met this week told me she currently earns 2 trillion dollars a month (200 dollars without the zeroes). A month in the classroom for less than one small tin of jam.

I chatted with a man from a rural village and he said that the situation in the countryside had reached critical levels as people have started running out of grain from their last harvest. He said that there was no help at all coming to his village. The village Headman and the local Chief had not been given any food supplies from the government to distribute to hungry villagers. He said that the international organizations like the World Food Programme weren't coming anymore
and neither were the smaller NGO's or even the Churches. He told me that feeding programmes for pre school children had been banned by the government and even the monthly distribution of food packs to pensioners had ceased. Elderly men and women, many in charge of looking after orphaned grandchildren, had been receiving maize meal, sugar beans and cooking oil before the March elections but now they were getting nothing at all. People with HIV and AIDS in the village who had been tested and registered and who had been receiving anti-retrovirals from NGO's have also been abandoned due to the government prohibition on outside help. The man shook his head sadly as he told me about the cessation of the drugs and said: "This is a death sentence for these people; what's left for them now is only to die."

I asked him if the villagers were able to get the cheap food through the latest government "People's Shops" scheme. He said 120 villagers had been identified for the programme and 10 ere chosen each week to travel to the nearest People's Shop warehouse. It is 40 kilometre ourney, one way, but so far only the first group of 10 people had managed to buy cheap food. For the others, every week 10 people went but every week the warehouse was empty. They persisted for six weeks in a row but now, he said, they have given up going, it is wasting precious
money travelling the 80 kilometre round trip and returning empty handed.

The only hope is in the coming rainy season but with just six weeks until the planting season, rural villagers have yet to see any seed or fertilizer. "If they won't let anyone give us food or edicines, do you think we have a chance for seed or fertilizer?" the man I was talking too asked. I looked at the ground in shame and could find no words in response."

YWAMers reach out to victims of South Africa attacks

For my English speaking readers - In the past few weeks I've writtten several things about the xenophobia that has hit South Africa, and especially a few stories around a IDP-camp close to my house.

To give you a taste, here's something for you to read: http://www.ywam.org/articles/article.asp?AID=525

(Yes, you will have to open that link in your browser yourselves... ;-)

Aliens

Before she takes our order on a sunny terras, she introduces herself as “Future”. Asked about her background she tells us that she’s from the neigbouring country of Zimbabwe. She came to South Africa a year ago.

“Future”. I tell her I like her name. It contains hope, there’s a sense of expectation.

“Future”. What a contrast with what the South African news bulletins are showing us these days. I just got back from the Netherlands and am overwhelmed by the stories of ongoing violence in Zimbabwe and since last week also the violence that’s flaring up in this country that I’ve started to call my own.

Xenofobia they call it. Fear of foreigners. Well, I’m a foreigner. But I’m not in such a desperate situation as my 3 million fellow foreigners from Zimbabwe who have sought refuge here.

Over the past years political violence and economical chaos in Zim caused a steady flow of migrants, crossing the borders into South Africa. They were looking for and hoping to find a safe haven in a nation that used to be known for it’s world's most liberal immigration and refugee policies.

However these days it’s no-one less than struggle heroes Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu who have to remind South Africans of their history and where they themselves have been. In the apartheid years they were strangers scattered over foreign nations, banned from home. Although poor they were welcomed in other African countries. Tutu: "We can't repay them by killing their children. Please stop the violence now."

It’s an echo from an ancient message, a message that was for the people of Israel: “ The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)

As an echo it's also a far cry from reality then and now. Cause between then and now, in the past 4000 years, not much has changed. Humans are still humans. And they are killing, looting and raping. And if necessary, because they feel threatened, they will turn their axes, spears and guns to their neighbors, their brothers and sisters.

So, is God actually in touch with this reality? His words seem to be so far away from the present as it presents itself to me right now.
But I believe and I think He is. And because of that there must be more to his words than a nice sounding, humanist approach to the problem of migration. "I am the LORD your God". That should be the perspective. Back then, and now.

A monster hiding

As the world is watching history unfold in Zimbabwe, I am reading a book on the life of it’s leader Robert Mugabe. It’s not the usual stuff, where an writer gathers what (s)he thinks are pieces of the puzzle and is trying to complete the picture. The book "Dinner with Mugabe" written by South African journalist Heidi Holland is different in that it’s aim is to offer an insiders view in the thought life of an African leader who turned out to become a dictator.

Holland spoke with many different people who in one way or another, at some point in time, got to know, work and/or live alongside Robert Mugabe. And she had an interview with the man himself. Then listening to the tapes, with the help of psychologists she tried to analyze Mugabe’s personality and character. The result is a book that not just offers interesting reading, but also helps to ‘understand’ dictators as human beings.

It’s not an attempt to justify what is wrong, but it’s an effort to look beyond the man who’s been portrayed as a monster. Robert Mugabe is not the devil. He’s a man of flesh and blood. A very lonely, disappointed, emotionally immature and power hungry man who’s trying to keep things together in an extremely self-centered way. If circumstances would have been different and if he had made other choices, Zimbabwe would not be where it is today.

Reading the book makes me think of my experiences in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) last month. Meeting people who were involved in rebel activities, in killing and plundering, gave me a new insight in human nature. More than ever I'm aware of the fact that had my circumstances been different and had I made other choices then I did, I could have ended up being one of them. Because I know that somewhere deep down inside of me there's also a murderer, a dictator hiding. And it's only by the grace of God that that hasn't surfaced in such a way that we encounter with the "monsters" of our era.

Although.... I sometimes am angry. And I do judge. And wasn't it Jesus who warned us, comparing these attitudes with killing someone?

A new oath for MP's?

Fast Facts, a publication from the South African Institute of Race Relations, suggests an oath that parliamentarians could take before they extract money from taxpayers:

"The weeks ahead will see Parliament debate the budget votes of various ministers and then enact an appropriation bill authorising the collection of taxes so that they have money to spend. If schoolchildren are to be expected to take an oath, perhaps members of Parliament (MPs) could set an example by doing the same.

The oath could go something like this:

‘We the representatives of the people hereby recognise that the money we are about to appropriate does not belong to us, neither has it been earned by us. It is instead the fruits of the labour of others, poor as well as rich. We honour all those who have worked to earn the money we are about to take away from them. We acknowledge that many of those from whom we will take money will struggle to make ends meet on what is left to them.

‘We pledge that the money thus received by us will be held by us in solemn trust. We promise that it will be used only in the public interest and in accordance with law. This promise embraces all money appropriated by us, including income tax, value added tax, customs and excise and import duties, fuel levies, estate duty, Seta levies, and all other taxes, duties, dues, and levies in whatsoever guise, shape, or form.

‘We further pledge that we will exercise proper oversight over all expenditure of the money so appropriated. We will require each and every minister, and every other organ of state, to account for all the funds allocated to them. We will scrutinise all accounts to ensure that funds are spent only for the purposes determined by Parliament, that they are spent timeously, and that budgetary allocations are not exceeded. We will ensure that all accounts are open for public inspection.

‘We solemnly swear to be especially vigilant against the unethical or dishonest use of moneys entrusted to our care. We will never abuse our privileged position for our own personal financial gain. Nor will we allow moneys appropriated by us to be diverted for party-political gain or for the personal enrichment of ministers or officials.’

Traffic

One day last year I discovered a new game on my parent’s coffee table: Rush hour. It consists of a number of small plastic cars that can only move vertical or horizontal within a restricted area, and one little red car that needs to find its way to the exit. I enjoyed playing it, not thinking much of it. But from this week I know where the game was invented: Kampala!

Taxi busses (Mutatu’s), motor cycles (boda boda’s), trucks, bicycles, cars and pedestrians are moving along Entebbe road into the city. If there were any lines on the tarmac or a difference between paved and non-paved road, no one seems to bother.
As we move with the crowd this morning, Inge explains to me that she only dared to start driving when she understood the system. “Is there a system?” I ask surprised, looking again at the uncontrollable and unpredictable traffic-movements around us. "Yes", Inge assures me: “You are responsible for the square meter in front of you”.
Cars have mirrors and indicators but no-one seems to bother to actually use them. As we’re talking a 4x4 suddenly takes the half a meter in front of us, the driver not seeming to be aware of anyone else on the road, let alone our relatively small and scratched blue car.

At least the little red car in ‘Rush hour’ stays unharmed cause the game does have ‘lines’ along which the traffic is supposed to be moving. Getting it out of the traffic jam is a matter of thinking ahead, anticipating, planning. Hm, maybe the game wasn’t invented in Kampala after all...

Processing time

I am back with my friends Nico and Inge in Kampala. And will use the next few days to process my DRC-adventure. I had a GREAT time. What an experience! I travelled criss-cross through the Ituri, North and South Kivu provinces, saw places and met many wonderful people.

The DRC, this nation that in my view had become some sort of 'black hole' (it just takes and nothing positive seems to come out of it), opened itself up to me with its amazing beauty and lovely people.
The country itself has a lot of potential in terms of resources: minerals, furtile land and lots of people. It is rich. Actually, Congo could be one of the wealthiest nations on earth if it would be able to use all its resources in a productive way. However, there are many different parties both within and outside its borders who look at having a piece of the cake. And who benefit from the instability in particularly the rich eastern part of the country.

The Congoleze themselves are gentle, kind and caring people. It's very easy to get contact with them and have a great time. They love dancing and singing. In general they have a soft heart and are not seeking conflict or the challenge of a fight. How ironic and tragic it then is that a huge part of their country is in shambles caused by fighting, killing, plundering, burning, raping, abduction...

This nation is full of giants; huge and complex issues that humanly speaking cannot be resolved. But the good news is that ultimately the future of this nation doesn't depend on us humans, and so I could leave with a sense of hope. Hoping that slowly but surely, through many efforts, peace will find its way to people's hearts, opening doors for healing and restoration to the whole of the nation. And hoping that I can go back some time soon!

(Photo: Christian Kilundu is working as a communicator for World Vision in eastern DRC. He was my guide most of the time in and around Beni and Goma. He not only introduced me to some of WV's projects but also told me a lot about the history of the country and didn't grow tired answerring my trillion questions. I was excited to find out that he has a journalism background as well! :-))

Nation full of unbelievable stories

My next (fearful) adventure was taking a domestic Congolese flight wednesday morning from Beni to Goma. But it all went well and I arrived safely at the regional office for World Vision in Eastern Congo. It's rather strange to walk (or: drive) through the lava landscape that this town is made of, with burned cars and trucks still lying around as silent witnesses caught by the flood of mud, rocks and fire that covered this place in January 2002. The vulcano (the Nyiragongo) is still active and in the evening you can see the top glowing.

On the last day in Beni I had a very special meeting with a young woman whose son is 'general' of one of the militia groups roaming the rural country side around Beni. He was born while his mother and her husband were leaders of this group.
After her husband's death, killed by his own men, the woman went into negotiations with the government about demobilisation of the group. When she got back from the talks it appeared the militias had hidden the child from her. He was then 2 years old.
She hasn't seen him ever since. Every attempt to try and see him, has been blocked. The rebels keep him away from her because they are afraid that she will take him with her and they believe he has certain spiritual powers which were given to him by his father. World Vision has taken interest in the story and want to help. Baraka, the child-general turns 7 this year. His name means 'blessing'.

It's one of the many many unbelievable stories you hear when you are travelling through this nation. Everywhere you go you meet people who have traumatic life stories to tell cause they've been experiencing (the affects of) war, (natural) disasters, diseases.
This morning I'm planning to visit some of the camps for displaced people (IDP's) close to Goma and this afternoon I am invited by a group called 'Heal my people', which offers help to women who are victims from sexual violence, to celebrate International Women's Day with them.

When will the road get better? (1)

“This road used to be good. When we see it’s getting worse, why don’t we do anything about it?” It’s a rethorical question and coming from Christian. Christian is from the DRC and working for World Vision in his own country. We’ve hardly met and already are trying to tackle the major questions. Issues that are not just theoretical but are affecting him and his people in very deep and real ways.

While our car is almost flying over the road, with or without potholes depending on whether the Chinese have been there or not, Christian searches for answers. He goes back in history to Mobutu Seko Seko’s dictatorship and money disappearing to foreign bank accounts and in the pockets of officials instead of being invested in infrastructure. After that, war followed war and it quenched the last bit of hope from people’s souls. If you know that what you build today is very likely to be destroyed tomorrow, why bother building at all?

As we are passing through a furtile land, fields and hills, rain forest and small villages with lots of people, I wonder again why it is that this nation that is so rich in all imaginable ways, can’t pull itself together. For with its resources and minerals it could be one of the wealthiest countries in the world.

In the mean time we are passing churches – churches everywhere. While schools are thinly spread, almost every village seems to have a church. Mostly catholic. In this nation the message is in my face: Or the gospel is not true and is not good news at all. Or we as a church have done something very terribly wrong. And to be honest, I think it’s the latter.

When will the road get better? (2)

My train of thoughts is suddenly interrupted when the driver stops the car. We’re in Komanda, a village between Bunia and Beni. Christian wants to get out to check on some news he heard yesterday. It appears that recent violence has forced a new group of refugees to camp in the yard of the local catholic church.

It’s not hard to find them. Around what looks like a church building is a crowd of approximately 500 people, mostly just standing or sitting while children either sit or play in the middle. A little boy is sitting on a huge stone, keeping a stained Unicef bag close to him. The UN's children's organisation has been handing out thousands of them in schools, and this boy obviously still has it including the pen and the note book it contained. Did he take it with him when his family had to leave everything behind? Just next to him a woman has started to gather fire wood in small piles next to the road, ready to sell.

In the meantime Christian has started talking with the chief and and the elders, while curious people soon become a crowd surrounding them. The chief tells that they are from the Lesse tribe. They have been here since Monday, after a rebel group attacked them and burned their houses. They had to run for their lives. And had nowhere else to go then back to this place that they left in April last year, when it seemed to be safe to go home again. The chief doesn’t know who the rebels were, but is desperate to find out. It’s not hard to guess why, says Christian when we are back on the road. The chief will want revenge.

It’s very hard to leave these people behind. No one seems to be looking after them and many of them haven’t had food since they arrived. They are just surviving. Hoping that someone will come and help them. Hoping that there will come a time that the roads will be good again.

Good bye - next stop

Tomorrow morning early I'll be leaving Bunia for a two hour trip to Beni. The journey used to take about eight hours but thanks to the Chinese (!) who build a new road, it's now a short drive. I'll be joining World Vision for about a week to visit some of their projects in and around Beni and (from Wednesday) in Goma. And hopefully do a few other things too.

It seems new violence has broken out around Gety, fights between the government's army and rebels, and also north of Bunia. Despite the fact that things here are definitely getting better, it shows that the situation is still quite explosive.

Thanks to Medair's wireless internet I was able to write regular updates, but don't expect this will continue. So for the next two weeks or so, please be patient. :-)

Dag Bunia

Ik ben begonnen aan mijn laatste dag in Bunia. Morgenvroeg hoop ik met een medewerker van World Vision naar Beni te rijden, een rit van ongeveer 2 - 3 uur is me verteld. Tot voor kort deed je daar zeker acht uur over, maar dankzij de Chinezen (!) die een behoorlijke weg hebben aangelegd, is het nu dus een kort ritje.

Ik heb de afgelopen dagen veel tijd doorgebracht in het Monuc-huis, zoals ze dat hier noemen. Het 'huis' bestaat uit een loods als restaurant ingericht met blauwgeruite tafelkleedjes. Aan de bar staan vaak de Griek die de tent leidt met een aantal Congolezen. Buiten schuilen een paar plastic tuintafels en stoelen onder rieten Hawai-parasolletjes, met daarachter een soort paviljoen: open met een groot rieten dak waar vlaggen van allerlei landen met punaises tegenaan geprikt zijn. Tegen de achterwand de grote UN-vlag met krabbels in de trant van 'I was here'. Je kunt er terecht voor een maaltijd, koffie, een biertje. Bovendien wordt er regelmatig een film gedraaid en vrijdagavond is er 'happy hour'.

Hoewel het Monuc-huis in eerste instantie is bedoeld voor de medewerkers van de gelijknamige VN-vredesmissie, heeft het vooral ook de functie van centrale ontmoetingsplek voor de buitenlanders ('expats') die in Bunia werken. Bij de poort moet je je identificeren en het blijkt dat mijn Postbank-kaart de deuren hier wagenwijd opengooit. :-) Of is het Riët? We hebben er deze week in ieder geval aardig wat tijd doorgebracht.

Maar ik heb er ook een paar keer gezeten met mensen die hier werken zoals Valerie, een Congolese die zich het lot heeft aangetrokken van vrouwen en kinderen in deze omgeving. En een verschil probeert te maken door hen te helpen met het verdienen van een inkomen en te informeren over seksuele overdraagbare ziektes. Of met iemand als Bryan die werkt aan het opruimen van mijnen en iedere keer weer geniet van het geluid van het opblazen van ammunitie en wapens. Wetend dat niemand die ooit meer kan gebruiken.

Er is ook een loods waar een aantal fitnessapparaten staan opgesteld en daar kun je de 'expats' regelmatig vinden aan het einde van een werkdag. Om het af te wisselen rijdt Riët een paar keer per week naar het vliegveld waar je rondjes kunt rennen over het zandpad om de landingsbaan. Gisteravond meegeweest. Al lopend genoten van rust (geen stof, en geen vliegtuigen...), schitterend uitzicht en een ondergaande zon. Maar goed, beetje bizar is het wel. Stel je voor dat je op Schiphol rondjes kon gaan rennen om de landingsbaan....

Zoals gezegd, morgenvroeg op weg naar Beni. Dankzij Medair’s draadloze internetverbinding was ik hier in staat iedere dag te schrijven. Dat zal de komende twee weken anders zijn. Je zult dus waarschijnlijk even moeten wachten op de volgende blog.

Demining

You can have a nation where there is peace and that has been rebuild. But what if the citizens of that nation have not found peace within themselves? War and natural disasters leave their marks in lives of human beings all around the world. And although we are quick in responding with food, medication and rebuilding houses, it doesn’t deal with what is going on inside, in the hearts of the people involved. That’s why MedAir in Bunia is running a psycho-social project for people living in the war-torn Ituri-district.

The people of Congo have had, and some still have, more then their share of war. And the main aim of MedAir’s psycho-social project is to help them understand that it’s normal if they and/or those around them struggle with symptoms of stress such as aggression, night mares, alcohol abuse. When you tell people this, it's a huge relief to them cause they now understand, Riët tells me. She’s been the project manager running the project since 2006 and she works with two very qualified Congolese people.

She continues explaining: “When we do our training we explain to people what the symptoms of traumatic stress are and give them some simple tools that they can use in dealing with the issues. Besides trying to continue normal life as much as possible, talking and listening are extremely important tools. People need to have a place where they can talk about their experiences and where there is someone who is listening.”
To do this doesn’t require a psychiatrist, she says. It could start in the IDP-camps where people can help and support one another just by listening. “Talking about experiences helps to destress and the sooner you can do this, the more it can prevent bigger problems at a later stage”.

In training key people in communities, health structures and in schools, MedAir wants to enable them so that they can help and support those around them. So far the results of this training have been encouraging and the plan is to end the project in July this year.

Crops
“I really feel we’re making a difference”, Bryan says. He is working with a South African demining company in the Ituri area. “When we blow up the ammunition and weapons, when you hear the loud ‘bang’.... that’s a great feeling. Cause you know that no-one ever can use these things anymore. And it's wonderful to see when people start growing their crops again on the field that you have just cleared.”

He tells me how before they got to clear a piece of road, a pregnant woman was hit by a mine and lost her baby and both her legs. When they got in, they didn’t just clear the mine but also helped her to find medical attention and to get prosthetic legs. These days she is involved in bringing awareness to her fellow country men and women about the risk of mines and what to do when they detect one.

It strikes me that ‘demining’ seems to be a key to find a long lasting solution for Congo’s deep ingrained problems. Not just clearing the land but also people’s minds – bringing inner healing so that they can really move forward into another future.

Women working towards lasting peace

I’ve been only three days in this country and I’m already overwhelmed by the complexity of its problems and challenges. Did the elections in 2006 and the different peace agreements between government and militia’s seem promising, since then the situation on the ground is still very explosive. In some parts of the country the situation has definitely become more stable but in the Ituri area where I am, the violence has continued. Although the original root was the fighting between two tribes, the Lendu and the Hema, these days it's mainly small groups of rebels who do not want to hand over their weapons and continue to keep plundering, killing and raping.

There is the risk of over simplifying the problems, but facts cannot be over simplified: The multiple wars in the last ten years have cost the lives of at least 4 million people. And just in the Kivu-province alone about 800.000 people are displaced. Being in Bunia, with all its NGO’s and the UN planes flying over on a regular base, I wonder if there’s ever gonna be an end to this tragedy. No human can fix this, that’s for sure. However, it’s great to meet two women who in their own ways with their unique gifts are trying to bring relief to the Congolese people.

Marian, a doctor from the Netherlands, has been in Congo for the last 16 years. She witnessed the trauma of the different wars that destroyed the country. Sometimes she was evacuated, other times she was not. She had friends killed like flies, she saw her work destroyed. But at the end she always decided to come back. To continue distributing medication and bringing healthcare to people in remote places. Trying to explain Marian cannot say anything else but “I have this deep love in my heart for the Congolese and for this country”.

And then there’s Valerie, a Congolese woman. With her husband and ten children she survived the multiple wars that ripped her country apart in the last decade. After the last one, in 2003, she decided she was going to do something. With the help of a Dutch donor she started an organization for vulnerable women; women who lost their husbands, who didn’t know how else to survive but to sell their bodies and go into prostitution, teenage mothers. Nowadays she and 15 volunteers are helping over 55 women to earn a living through an agricultural and a sowing project. Valerie offers skills training and support. “I feel compassion for these women who are like me”, she says. She also visits schools where she gives sexual education to children from 10 years upwards.

Her main struggle is finances for transport and to be able to pay her volunteers at least a small fee for the work they are doing. Maybe if the UN could give a portion of their annual budget of 1 billion dollars, needed to keep the DRC-mission going, to a woman like Valerie, that would be a real contribution to lasting peace.

First update from Bunia

I am in the DRC – the Democratic Republic of Congo, in the heart of Africa. Not only a unique, but in a way also a symbolic event for me.

I arrived yesterday morning in Bunia on a small MAF-airplane from Entebbe airport in Uganda. An adventure in itself. For those boarding a MAF aircraft means going around the regular checking-in process and so I found myself happily pushing my carriage past a long line of people waiting. Felt kind of like a VIP.
Flying on a small aircraft is another thing, and by then the VIP-association had definitely gone. But it was a smooth flight over small towns, green forests and the huge lake Albert.
Once we landed in Bunia I took a photo from the airport from where I was sitting. It was going to be the first and last picture I would take here, cause with militia’s and police-men everywhere, taking photos in public is not a wise thing to do. I’ve heard a couple of stories of people who got caught in the action and had to be rescued from a mob or jail. And since my desire for adventure is not that great, don’t expect nice little Bunia pics on this blog. ;-)

Yesterday and today Ri-et has taken me on a small tour along people and places that I had to meet and see. And of course we talked a lot.... Center for those who want to socialize seems to be Monuc-house, a ‘hang-out’ place for members of the Monuc force (the UN-peace keeping mission in the DRC) and other NGO’s.
Moving around doesn’t seem to be too dangerous in this area although it’s very limited. You can walk through the sandy and after the rain, muddy streets (no tarmac), at least in this part of the town where there’s a strong UN and NGO-presence. And during the evening you can go out by car for a drink to the Monuc house or a meal in one of the two or three restaurants in town that offer a very short menu. Last night we went to a place that’s run by a Greek and we had a choice of chips with pork, chips with fish or chips with chicken. For 6 dollars we endured a few power cuts but enjoyed a good meal.
This afternoon I have started with meeting people and talking with them about the situation here in Bunia, the complexity of the country at large and about their work/organization.

More on Bunia? See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunia. And on DRC: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democratic_Republic_of_the_Congo

Of voor de Nederlandse equivalent, zie: http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democratische_Republiek_Congo

Hello from Kampala

While on friday night my friend skilfully manoeuvred the car over the dark dusty road that leads from Entebbe airport into Kampala, I realized that I it's been a while. It's been a while since the last time my senses were exposed to some other parts of Africa. And I had kind of forgotten what it felt like. So as we drove through the warm evening as fast as we could without hitting anything or anyone on that dark road bustling with life, I took it all in: little shops and bars mostly lit by candle light (do we really have an electricity problem in South Africa??), cars hooting and indicators flashing, bicycles and motors without any lights balancing on the side of the road, and people everywhere - flying past as dark shadows or suddenly in the centre of our head lights.

My friends, Nico and Inge, have been living in Kampala for the last 2,5 years. Nico and I studied journalism at the same college, although he was a year ahead of me. Inge and I got to know each other through a mutual friend. While he's trying to make a living here as a freelance journalist, she has started to connect with students, resulting in the start of a student organization. It is a place where students can find support but also input as they're trying to find their feet and their way in university life in Kampala.

It's been great to spend these two days with them. Not just catching up, but also to share our passion(s) and discover the common grounds that we have and operate from.

Tomorrow I hope to fly to Bunia, in the northeastern part of the DRC. The plan is to visiti Ri-et, my best friend ever since we both made our way to Amersfoort to study journalism. Despite the fact that our lives have gone in different directions, we not only share a past, but also still the present and (our dreams for) the future. So it will be great to be a few days with her, to see where she actually lives and works, and in the meantime hopefully come across some stories that are news worthy. So, watch this space...

PS: Excuses aan mijn Nederlandse vrienden en lezers voor de Engelse bijdrage. Maar het is op speciaal verzoek van hen die graag op de hoogte blijven, maar het Nederlands (nog) niet beheersen. En omdat Nederlanders bekend staan om hun brede talenkennis, dacht ik dat ik zo af en toe best eens in het Engels verslag kan doen.

Upside down economics in the Western Cape

CAPE TOWN - It wasn’t a question whether they would come and claim his land. It was more a question of when. So that’s why farmer Daen Kleynhans decided to take a step. Much to the discomfort of his colleague farmers in the area, he choose to leave the trenches and got himself involved in an agricultural empowerment project in the Elim community in the Western Cape. “I have the responsibility to do something. If I don’t, South Africa might become a second Zimbabwe.”

“We have to move towards equality in resources in this country, and that also includes land", says Kleynhans, born and then married into a farmers family. He acknowledges the responsibility of the agricultural sector but the change needs to take place "in a way that we can still feed South Africa and that doesn’t make from us another Zimbabwe. Because what we see happen a lot is that new farmers will get a farm, but no funding to buy seeds or without knowledge about how to actually run a farm. That is one of the big mistakes of the government and the land reform project. Nobody asks what expertise is available, what people have in order to run a farm successfully or compete with the international market.”

Kleynhans is clear about where he thinks the land reform process is off track. But he was also one of the first to respond positively to a request for help in setting up a diary project. At the beginning of last year the Elim community, about 30 kilometers from Napier in the Western Cape, approached him as chairman of the Milk Production Organisation (MPO) and asked him if he could help them to start a dairy production. Kleynhans: “The government helped to build a milk stall about two years ago. It’s there, with all the machinery. But no-one knew how to run it.”
Six months later, in September 2007, Kleynhans and a small team of local workers started with milking the 45 to 52 cows of the community. “The idea behind all of this is to teach people how to milk, how to run a business and next thing, to help them to run their own business.”
Elim has about 8000 hectares of land and enough water and there are plenty of opportunities for farming. The aim is that the community itself will produce what it needs to keep the dairy production going. This will result in a chain of businesses, the creation of jobs and income for the people in the community.

Daen Kleynhans thinks it as his responsibility to see a generation of farmers emerge who know what they are doing. But he seems to be on his own in this, at least in the area where he lives: “Not all farmers think the same as I do. I actually just came from a meeting where we discussed this. What I see with colleague’s is fear. They are afraid of loosing their land, their income. And so they try to protect and hold on to what they have. But will it help? Someone at some point will be loosing land. No matter what. It might be me. There are no guarantees. But I’ve decided to be pro-active cause I understand the past. There is a large group of people who never had the opportunities to develop themselves, to learn and to grow. And that needs to change.”

He would like his colleague-farmers to come and look at what is happening in Elim; how positive it’s impact is on all those involved, including himself. But he’s realistic enough to see that this will take some time. Cause it’s not just fear that holds the South African farmer back from getting involved in such an initiative. Kleynhans points out that farming in South Africa is hard work. The profit margins are small. And there is little time to do something else besides farming. He admits that getting involved in something like the Elim-project does require a substantial amount of time: “I am fortunate with having great staff working at my farm. And I always tell them: Be good to the farm and the farm will be good to you.”

The farmer himself seems to be living this statement: Cause despite the fact that he spends most of his time at the Elim-empowerment project, at the moment he has enough to invest in a second farm. Something he cannot explain. Upside down economics? “I would call it God’s provision. It’s not about my time or investment. It’s all about an issue, a problem that needs to be addressed. There is injustice and I want to do something about that. And I feel God’s saying to me: I will take care of you if you take care of my people.”