Sideways News

It’s that time of the year again: the time of lists. The best and worst of 2009, the dead, the awards, the top news stories…

And guess what, I love lists. Especially when they look ahead, instead of back. So here it is, a globetrotting list of things I think are worth checking out in 2010.

Enjoy!

1. What’s better than organic muesli? Organic muesli made especially for you, with everything you love and nothing else. Makes a nice New Year’s "healthy eating" resolution present too.
2. Ushahidi is a platform for and by everyone with a socially-engaged mind. It maps messages by time and location, and shows where and how the story is developing. Even more interesting because Ushahidi’s roots lie in the Kenyan violence aftermath and has since been used for other crises where mainstream media is blocked.
3. Like music? Want to influence what you’re hearing? Then why not give budding artists much-needed support. You finance part of their (first) recording, they share the proceeds from their first CD with you. Artists from all over the world try their luck with Sellaband, African musicians put down their demo tapes with Africa Unsigned.
4. Tap water is hot. Or cold, as you wish. The quality is better, it’s way cheaper and it isn’t nearly as polluting as bottled water. Bit of a shocker to discover that you need three times the amount of water to produce a bottle than to fill it.
5. Now that we’re into saving water: invest in your personal shower coach. You might even save a polar bear or two.
6. ‘Unfriending’ may be the word of the year, but I wouldn't be surprised if 2010 saw a new batch of (virtual) friends. From Africa, that is. By the end of last year, Africa had 246 million mobile subscriptions, and internet penetration is growing steadily. And thanks to Rural Internet Kiosks, we might even make some friends in the countryside.
7. And finally, after knitting for charity in 2009, why not take up wool-filling purely for fun in 2010? Pick a funky colour and that moth-eaten cardigan will never be the same again.

Since I joined the Africa desk of Radio Netherlands Worldwide, I've come to understand one thing very clearly: radio is BIG in Africa. Big in number of local stations, significant in impact and massive when it comes to audiences. No surprise really, when you take into account the access to internet (improving but overall still quite poor) and levels of literacy and press freedom. Time to tune in to some African radio reports.

Can you be critical of something that’s widely considered as good and ethically sound? And if you have concerns, can you be open and honest about them? I think you should, at the very least to open up the debate and to give people the opportunity to prove you wrong.

How dominant is the "fair" in Fairtrade? That was something I looked into earlier this month. December breaks all records when it comes to chocolate consumption. Reason enough for the Dutch Oxfam to draw attention to the hidden tragedies behind your favourite bite: child labour, deforestation, low earnings and the uncontrolled use of pesticides.

Heading for Fairtrade
I’m all for Fairtrade. If paying five or ten pence more means that a farmer can make a decent living, I happily munch on a Fairtrade bar. As a matter of fact, I usually head towards the Fairtrade aisle during my grocery shopping anyway.

Any difference?
But with so many brands claiming to be (partially) Fairtrade these days, I wondered what difference farmers had been noticing. I’d already heard the success stories of money for tuition fees and participation of women in cooperatives some years before, so was curious to see what else had improved.

Manipulation
I started asking around, and a woman with a small Fairtrade business pointed out that there was a huge difference between the Fairtrade label and fairly-traded goods. Apparently, she knew of companies that used the label purely as a marketing tool. The label could be bought and some farmers were being manipulated.

Doing ethical business, on the other hand, meant the money went directly to the farmers. That’s what she claimed to be doing and over the past few years she’d seen the benefits of properly conducted Fairtrade. Now, if only cocoa could be processed in West-African countries in addition to just being exported, that would mean a real economy boost and more jobs, according to her.

‘No comments’
So far, so good. Happy with this critical perspective of somebody "from within", I used it in my article. Two days after it was published, the woman started bombarding me and my work with demands to remove all reference to her, as it made her look bad and against Fairtrade. When I wanted to clear things up and give her another opportunity to clarify her point of view, she refused all comments.

Some unwritten rule?
Why, I wonder. Can’t you be in favour of something and remain critical at the same time? Is there a unwritten rule that all news regarding Fairtrade shall only be optimistic as to not to turn away ethical consumers? It left me with more questions than answers.

Here’s a thought: why not, for once, listen to Africans when it comes to development aid. Is it helpful? Dysfunctional? Offensive perhaps?

“Why do Western people always apply their own standards to people from developing countries? If you haven’t been to school, you’re not ‘developed’  or ‘independent’ in their view. Well, I know masses of illiterate people in my country who made it to respected elders or chairmen. Equally, I know masses of Western ‘developed’ people with degrees who are stuck in a boring job and feel undervalued.” Good point, Mr Paul Mbikayi!

The white debate
Whether development aid is "hot or not" has always been an issue, at least in the Netherlands. I don’t expect someone to find a solid answer to it any time soon either. So far, the debate has mainly been fueled by arguments from politicians, scholars and aid organisations.

All very "white", until Dambisa Moyo stepped in. Yes, she went to both Oxford and Harvard, but also grew up in Lusaka, Zambia. In her best-selling opinion, aid is dead. Instead, she argues for more innovative ways for Africa to finance development, including trade with China, accessing the capital markets, and microfinance.

Rate before giving aid
Perhaps her vision won’t work either, but at least she opened up the discussion to others. Last week I joined a public debate on the effectiveness of aid. In the panel: a former child soldier from South Sudan, a business woman of Ethiopian and Eritrean descent and a woman from the Somali diaspora.

Not that they all agreed, oh no. Fatumo Farah from Somalia made a strong case for rating development countries. Only those who made it to the top of the list, should receive financial aid.

From child soldier to law student
Kon Kelei, who left his native South Sudan and made the switch from child soldier to law student, thought aid was a polite form of keeping countries dependent. “It’s great when foreign organisations come to build bridges, but what will happen in a few years, when the bridge needs repairing but those who built it are back in their own country?”

He thinks local knowledge should be stimulated. “After my studies, I will go back to South Sudan. I know the culture, and in my town people will know me. With my Sudanese background and Western education, I’m much more effective than any aid worker. When people from my community don’t agree with my proposal, they will frankly tell me it’s bullshit. With a foreigner, that’s not done, because Sudanese will always treat a foreign visitor with respect. It’s polite, but not a good base for structural improvements and equal relationships.”

Give me my crocodile!
Back to Paul Mbikayi from Congo, who frequently interrupted the debate with striking one-liners. “Listen, say I’ve been eating crocodile my entire life. Then some foreigner comes in and says he wants to help me, but I have to eat steak from now on, because he thinks it’s better for me. That’s exactly what’s currently happening with conditional aid. No! I want to eat my crocodile whilst we figure out a joint solution for my country.”

So you’re two. You have four older brothers and sisters and live in DR Congo. Your mum is an interpreter for MONUC, the UN’s peacekeeping force and what your dad does, you’re not so sure.

Secret
Then mum gets sick. After a few weeks, she goes for some tests. Sero-positive is the result. Not too long after that she dies. According to the rumours, she died after being poisoned by some jealous colleagues. Just before she died, she told your dad and an aunt about her illness. In secret, of course.

They don’t shout this from the rooftops, because being sero-positive in DRC means discrimination and isolation for the rest of your life. Dad gets himself tested and appears healthy. Your aunt thinks that mum might have come into contact with an infected instrument when she gave birth to your older sister.

After the funeral, this aunt takes you and all your brothers and sisters to a medical clinic to be tested. Your brothers are healthy, your sisters are healthy, but you are not. You’re also sero-positive, just like mum. And again, only your dad and aunt know about it.

No touching blood
It's all become too much for dad. Five children, no wife and little money. Auntie, who used to be a nurse, says that you can come and live with her for the next few years. You find that scary. You like it better when your oldest sister comes with you.

Neither she nor your three cousins, who are only a few years older than you, know that you are sick. Your aunt says that if you kids are playing and someone falls, no one was allowed to touch any blood. But that goes for everyone.

On auntie's back
You're still too small to go to school and when the other children are gone you sit quietly on the couch. You don’t have so much to say to your aunt but as soon as she starts working in the kitchen, you follow her. Imagine that she would suddenly leave too. Your favourite thing is to sit inside a cloth tied onto her back. She sings you a song and you fall asleep against her.

You don’t have much of an appetite. Boiled eggs and mango juice, nothing else. And that’s what you’ve been eating for weeks. Auntie is worried about you as you’ve been sniffling a lot lately and seem to be catching a cold. If you keep eating so poorly, you may have to take more medicine.

Alone
It’s only when your cousins and sister return from school that you start talking again. Your uncle tries to get you to eat a bite of rice and some manioc leaves. You refuse. He gives up. He also doesn’t realise how sick you really are.

The more surprises, the more memorable the journey. Mealtimes cater for many unexpected encounters both on and around the plate.

Breakfast
I woke up at 6am to find that somebody had kindly prepared breakfast and placed it right next to my mattress. It was goat. More specifically: the head of a goat. It was grinning at me with a full jaw of little teeth. Next to it were a bowl of fried potatoes – with copious amounts of chilli powder - and a bowl of fresh milk. It came straight from the cow and was still warm.

I passed on the goat to my non-vegetarian co-worker, had a sip of milk and started on the fries. Quick wake-up guaranteed, and a good start to my stay with Peul nomads in Niger.

Lunch
In Mali, I was invited to share lunch with some cotton farmers from the local cooperative. We washed our hands with water from the well and squatted around a big plate of tô (couscous made from millet, covered in a slimy grey sauce with fish bones sticking out of it).

Using only our right hand, we dug in. Not very used to this (and being left-handed), I scooped out small amounts from the side, using two fingers. Loud laughing from cotton farmers, who quickly showed me proper eating "à la Malienne". Rolling up their sleeves, they took a handful of the tô, mashed it in their palm into a little ball, put it in their mouth and licked off excess sauce from elbow to wrist, before going for the communal (!) plate again.

Tea
All of a sudden, he came running out of the bushes. In one hand the machete he’d been working with, in the other a thermos with hot chai and three of his nicest cups. Turned out he’d seen me earlier when I was in a Kashmiri village at the slope of the mountain. Happy to see a foreigner in this part of Pakistan, he’d run to his house and brewed some tea over a wood fire. It tasted smoky and sweet, and was by far the best tea party ever.

Dinner
On the plates: potatoes, tomatoes, tortillas and some cheese. Around the plates: the five children of Guatemalan sheep farmer Don Domingo. They were teaching me their local dialect, I was teaching them English. Potato, tomato - they sound practically the same - they giggled their way through dinner by mixing them up on purpose.

Against the walls of the only room in their house were two beds. Some chicken had found a cosy spot on the blankets, the cat and two dogs were snoozing underneath. In a couple hours, they would be chased to the other side of the room, so the family could sleep.

You've probably heard about World Aids Day, International Women´s Day and perhaps even about World Malaria Day. Well, this Thursday is World Toilet Day.

Yes, an entire day devoted to the global importance of toilets. Or rather, a special day to draw attention to the fact that 2.5 billion people lack proper toilet facilities.

That's not only inconvenient, in some cases it's life threatening. One small gram of poo can contain up to 10 million viruses, one million bacteria and 100 paracite eggs!

Reason enough for a globetrotting roundup of toilets and related facilities.

Do you remember that scene from Slumdog Millionaire? Well, in some places in Bangladesh and other flood-prone areas these toilets on bamboo poles are perhaps not the most comfortable (imagine running over that bridge in times of need), but at the very least a hygienic and discrete solution.

A long, deep trench, plenty of latrine slabs and some plastic sheeting: voilà the ingredients for pit latrines. Absolutely essential in times of big natural disasters, like this one during the aftermath of the Pakistan earthquake.

Toilets dull? Not neccessarily! Some nice creative craftsmanship near the Senegalese coast.

In the potty! In the potty! Can't teach them early enough. Hurray for this Congolese toddler and his mum.

And these two are old enough to know better. Near open water, can't get much worse than that.

It's not only the actual toilet that does wonders for one's health. Washing hands with water and soap after going to the toilet can reduce the chance of being "bogged down" with diarrhoea by 40%.

And if ever you're stuck without toilet paper nearby, remember these handy tips for solutions "at hand" in public bathrooms or in the middle of nowhere.

Even better, prepare yourself! From a disposable urinal to a portable toilet, there is a solution for all your needs on-the-go.

And finally, for all fellow globetrotting ladies (or those sick 'n' tired of squatting over dirty toilets in the pub or at festivals), one wee bit of cardboard that makes all the difference.

With Médecins Sans Frontières and before that with Oxfam, I travelled in West Africa and the Great Lakes region. Yes, I saw poverty, war, poor healthcare, a hundred children in one classroom and more of the stereotypes so often exclusively attributed to Africa. But far more often, I met inventive, clever and kind people who were doing everything in their power to establish change.

So now, for something completely different: good news from Africa!

Live coverage from the savannah
Only a few months after he first clicked a computer mouse, Masai wildlife ranger Joseph Kimojino started tweeting and blogging about life and death in Kenya’s Mara Triangle wildlife park. Can’t wait to see the three cheetah cubs that were born last Friday? Check out his photos on Flickr.

Joseph’s online activities may have very well saved the park’s existence. After the post-election violence, tourists stayed away and the park saw its revenues plummit. Through donations via the blog and Facebook page, the Mara Triangle park has been able to stay open and gather a faithful herd of fans.

Fighting fistula
Married at 13, pregnant at 14 and a fistula advocate at 18, Halima Gouroukoye lost her baby boy after five days of obstructed labour in a small village in Niger. Soon after she started leaking urine, a result of the fistula she’d developed. For months, people in the village treated her as an outcast. Hurt and ashamed of the constant bad smell surrounding her, she started living in a small hut outside the village until she underwent reconstructive surgery.

She returned to her village and has since become a fierce advocate for family planning and girls’ education, speaking at conferences around the world. Closer to home, she founded a special committee that sets aside money for women in the village who are due to give birth, so they can hire a car to go to the hospital in time.

Building windmills in Malawi
Triggered by a picture of a windmill in an old textbook, Malawian teenager William Kamkwamba decided to build his own in an attempt to beat hunger in his village. Made from spare bicycle parts, a tractor fan blade, a shock absorber, plastic pipes and wood, the 16ft structure amazed the villagers when it made a lightbulb glow.

Since that first windmill, William has built a 36ft windmill, installed a solar pump and irrigation system and won a scholarship at the prestigious African Leadership Academy in South Africa. And that for somebody who was forced to leave school at 14 because his family could no longer afford the tuition fee.

As of next week I’m joining the Africa desk of Radio Netherlands Worldwide. Stay tuned here at Sideways News for a regular collection of what I hope will become the new African stereotype.

An MA student from Swansea University interviewed me today about the role media play in our perception of developing countries and how this affects the work of NGOs. Say no more! Stereotypes, confusion, hope, oneliners, alternative views, advocacy and campaigning; this is a topic I can go on about for hours.

Mediagenic disaster
One of the most striking examples of the power of media is the coverage of the tsunami. A very mediagenic disaster in terms of scope, rarity and timing (Boxing Day), it was widely covered. People didn’t need to be convinced that aid was needed. Some NGOs received more money than they could spend, and - even though it’s been five years - the tsunami still regularly pops up in media reports.

The earthquake that shook Pakistan in 2005 was a different story. I don’t know whether it was because of the "difficult" country, the nature of the disaster or something else, but after the initial coverage, media interest faded away.

Forgotten emergencies
When a crisis is manmade, like in Darfur, DRC or in the case of the Rohingya people in Myanmar, it often gets too complicated to be explained well in the minute-and-a-half the eight o’clock news can devote to it. That is, if it makes the news at all.

As Joanna Matthews put it in Humanitarian Exchange Magazine: complicated crises get relegated to the vicious spiral of "forgotten emergencies": lack of coverage, lack of awareness, lack of public sympathy, lack of financial support.

NGOs try to counter this with reports about the countries they work in, calls to action and lobbying rounds. A tough job when most people hardly know the context and you’ve got 300 words to explain what’s happening in Somalia.

Charity fatigue
And so the stereotypes, Afro-pessimism and charity fatigue grow stronger. In this blog, I try to give an alternative view. Not necessarily always a positive one (because, let’s face it, sometimes things are just not that good), but hopefully every now and then you read something you didn’t know before.

And next week, I promise, only good news about Africa!

I’m on the phone with a colleague in Nepal. It’s quiet in the office these days but busier than ever in the hospital, he tells me. All because autumn is full-blown holiday season in Nepal.

There’s the national festival Dashain which lasts two weeks and during which buffaloes, goats, ducks and chicken are killed by the thousands as an offering during the ritual holy bathing.

Festival of lights
Almost a month later, the Nepalese celebrate five days of Tihar, the festival of lights. This time, instead of mass slaughtering, crows, dogs, cows and oxen are being worshipped.

All these festivals, the abundant food, best wishes and family gatherings make the autumn the perfect time for giving birth. And that’s where things turn less joyous, I learn. Having a baby in Nepal is not something to look forward to.

Pushy mother-in-law
Firstly, because tradition has it that the mother-in-law helps to get the baby out as quickly as possible. This often means that she pushes and pulls (with both hand and feet) wherever she can. And the woman in labour, often still just a girl, has to undergo this ‘without drawing attention to herself’.

Speeding up contractions
To speed up the birth, many women take oxytocin, a drug that provokes strong contractions. It’s a readily available over-the-counter drug in Nepal and not very expensive. Not only do women take up to four times the recommended dose, they also start taking oxytocin in the seventh month of their pregnancy. This month alone, 15 women who were rushed to MSF’s hospital died because of oxytocin abuse. Most of them couldn’t stop bleeding.

With just 1,300 doctors for 26 million people and 90% of births taking place at home without the help of skilled nurses, it comes as no surprise that having a baby in Nepal is a risky business. Every year, nearly 6,000 women and 30,000 children die during, or soon, after childbirth.

Locked in a cowshed
And then, after enduring (and surviving) all of this, the mother and her newborn baby get locked away in a cowshed for 11 days because they are "impure". Basanti Devi Bhul gave a shocking insight in her life as a young mother: “I just eat dry bread, green vegetables and rice. I can’t go into the main house or cook for myself. If I touch anyone, it will be a sin.”

As I put down the phone, speechless, I think of my best friend, who, being eight months pregnant, will soon give birth in a Dutch hospital. Without her mother-in-law..