Wednesday, March 25, 2009

225: Too much of a good thing

Remember how we always used to say that Namibia is a desert country, or at least highly arid?

We lied.

Northern Namibia is currently having the worst floods since weather records began in this part of the country (1961), and that comes after people thought that last year was the worst. By contrast in the center of the country – in Windhoek where we live -- everything is green and quite lush, with beautiful flowers and very tall grasses. We have had a few problems during February’s heavy rains (like half our appliances shorting and a huge mess in the yard), but we are definitely among the lucky ones.

International climatologists said that global warming would make this country even more of a desert than now, but so far we’ve seen the opposite.
The worst of the flooding has been in the north, along the Angolan and Zambian borders. As of yesterday, the Zambezi River rose by three centimeters to reach an alarming height of 7,82 meters (about 24 feet) at the far northeastern town of Katima Mulilo – the second highest level in 40 years. The town is virtually under water. And the river is still rising.



In the north-central part of the country, which is the most densely populated, last weekend found over 5,000 people in temporary reception centers. To date, 218 schools have been closed, 85 percent of all gravel roads have been damaged and are no longer passable, 45 clinics became inaccessible, and sanitation remains in a deplorable state due to overflowing sewerage systems and ponds. Over 85 percent of businesses, especially small and medium enterprises are affected. The Namibian army has been mobilized and is assisting with relocation from cut-off areas. Health professionals are being flown to affected areas to provide medical services. But resources are scant – for example, the last I heard was that this country’s entire air force consisted of two planes.



In addition to disruption of day-to-day life, the urgent need for relocation and relief, and destruction of and damage to infrastructure, more than 2,000 new malaria infections have been reported and 92 people have been reported drowned. Most people think the figure is much higher, though. (Almost no one can swim in this country, as the usual arid environment doesn’t give children the opportunity to learn.) One of the worst consequences is that people who need their anti-retroviral medications (against the HIV virus) can’t get to the hospitals to pick up their monthly refills -- and stopping the medications, even temporarily, is potentially life-threatening.

Predictions are that the situation in the north-central and north-eastern regions of Namibia may grow even worse. Although the heavy rains have subsided, water is flowing in from neighboring countries, and water levels are rising. This is an interesting ecological point: Most of the water in the area comes from alluvial rivers (that was a new word for me, too), which means that the rains fall in Angola and sink into the ground, but then form underground rivers that flow southward into Namibia and pop up through small depressions called oshanas. In a normal year, these oshanas fill up in the rainy season and supply a lot of fish and drinking water for the animals, and then they dry up later in the year. But now these oshanas have spilled over to the surrounding land, where people live, farm, go to school, and so on. And because of the soil composition and lack of “normal” rivers, there is no place for the water to flow any more.



To complicate matters, this is an election year, and those of us who remember New Orleans know what that means. Last week, President Hifikepunye Pohamba declared a state of emergency, and a Flood Emergency Management Office was established early this week in the country’s northern city of Oshakati to coordinate emergency relief efforts. It all sounds good, but nobody seems to have any clear idea of what that really means. The country’s Red Cross Society is pulling out all stops to provide emergency food, but supplies are scarce and transport is almost non-existent. I guess we’ll all get more information when the next wave of flooding arrives, as expected, in the coming weeks.

That said, the impact of the flooding will be felt well beyond the point where the waters subside. In addition to disastrous crop losses that have a direct impact particularly on orphans and vulnerable children, as well as the elderly, the entire area’s infrastructure has been damaged and will need to be repaired, and waterborne diseases, such as malaria that is already being felt, can be expected to make a resurgence.

It’s a mess – and a tragedy. We count our blessings.

(photos by One-Africa, 2009)

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

224: Travel Season

Travel season has begun again – every month a different country or two for Lucy, all for Family Health International. Meanwhile, Elsita is rapidly catching up in the travel sphere, and has recorded many adventures of her own (see below) and Sergio – from what we hear – is fine but bored in Japan. Bernd began teaching again and stays in Windhoek, accompanied by Lucas and Sofiana, both of whom are immersed in their studies. We’ve had unprecedented rain that permeated almost every modern convenience we rely on: last month our old cars didn’t start, our electric stove went on permanent strike, the alarm-system outside started bleating, the city’s drinking water had to be turned off for fear it would get infected with sewage, and our clothes (which we usually hang outside) haven’t dried in weeks. There isn’t much we can do except respond as other Namibians might: simply wait patiently until the sun re-emerges in this normally arid land.

From Lucy – In the land of Injera and Sheroh (Ethiopian bread with beans)

In Ethiopia last week I trained 21 local staff and led a planning effort on how to better serve child-headed households. A decade ago, the term child-headed household was virtually unknown, but today it has actually become an official census category in some countries, including Namibia. Due to Ethiopia’s tragic history of war, famine and AIDS, that country has more child-headed households than anywhere else in Africa (after Zimbabwe) – about 77,000 of them in 2005 and growing rapidly.

On the surface, this seems like a hopeless situation; yet with the addition of community-based supports – for example, regular home visits by trained volunteers plus some material assistance and access to education and health care -- many children from child-headed households can become productive, self-sufficient adults. (By way of success, we need only mention three of the students we are sponsoring in Namibia, all of whom come from a child-headed household. Now one is studying social work, another is in medical school and just delivered his first baby, and the third just graduated University and is working as an accountant.)

The next challenge in Ethiopia will be to get funding for a support-program focusing on Child Headed Households, based on the structures that already exist through local organizations. Fortunately, we have already identified some expressions-of-interest. No doubt this is important and exciting work, but after ten intensive days I decided to take a break. Then a local friend and I headed to Wonchi for a fantastic day of hiking and horseback riding at a magnificent crater lake, all at an altitude of 12,000 feet.









Hundreds of monkeys lived in the woods at the lodge where stayed overnight – both vervets (the little gray ones) and colobus, with their silky sleek fur. Some got very close and made for easy photography.









We ended our day at Wonchi with a traditional coffee ceremony and a vegetarian meal of Injera and Sheroh (my favorite) – all in sharp contrast to Elsita’s diet last week, about which you can read.


From Elsita: The Rough Guide to Research


For those of you who have been wondering how my work has been going since I started about a month ago at Integrated Environmental Consultants Namibia (IECN), I have many stories to share…

I have mainly focused on the evaluation of a coastal awareness campaign, by undertaking a survey in all of the coastal regions of Namibia. Basically, my coworkers and I have gone around and interviewed approximately 250 local citizens and members of affiliated institutions -- such as the provincial Councils and environmental Conservancies -- to assess the impact of the campaign since its commencement a year and a half ago. As the entire western border of Namibia is the ocean, you can imagine the incredible distances that we had to cover in order to carry out the survey. In one week we went south to the small German-style port of Lüderitz, stopping at various sites along the way for the interviews. Then last week we headed out into the unbelievably remote Kunene Region with the IECN land cruiser packed full with jerry cans, food, camping equipment, 2 spare tires, a toolbox and more.

We experienced bad roads like never before. At times sandy; at times stony; at times wet, steep and muddy (or some unbelievably messy combination thereof). It seemed like our car had seen it all when we drove straight down a dry riverbed composed solely of boulders, racing to catch up with our translator-guide who enjoyed driving his Government-owned truck as fast as he possibly could. (I’m talking 75mph on gravel roads.) And this was just the first day. That night found us camped next to the beautiful Hoanib riverbed. We were up late because we had decided to blend in with local culture and slaughter a goat for dinner. By dinner I mean that we ate the meat for the next 3 days straight. We were unable to buy purified water anywhere, but beer was available everywhere so we drank that for 3 days straight too.

The food and drink put us in high spirits even after we discovered that our car battery had died when we left the lights on in the dark and we had no jumper cables. The next morning we found ourselves stranded in practically every way you can think of. Our translator-guide had woken up early in the morning, drove across the riverbed and gone to the nearest small settlement called Purros to find jumper cables. When he did not return we suspected the worst – if not dead or maimed then drunk and gone forever. But soon we realized that the dry river to Purros had flooded overnight so he couldn’t have returned even if he wanted. It is the flash-flood season in Namibia -- a country with no permanent rivers within its borders -- so in the rainy season dry riverbeds in the desert can suddenly fill with water from rainfall miles away.

Certainly, the Hoanib was no calm stream that morning! It had become a raging torrent about 100 feet across with rapids, rocks, unreliable sandbars – altogether impassable by any sort of vehicle. So that was how we found ourselves trapped on the wrong side of the river from where we had to go next: Our car battery was dead, the car petrol (gas) was low; there was no cell-phone service and we had no food as our goat-meat and pots were in the back of the truck that our guide drove, and he had gone awol.

Somehow, we made it out of there. With the help of some tourists also stranded at the campsite, we jump-started our car. A nice British lady fed us breakfast and directed us to a nearby lodge where we could buy petrol. And then there was nothing to do but wait for the water level to drop. Around 3pm we heard honking across the river and looked up to see our guide on the other side. He gestured wildly and somehow managed to communicate to us that we should go to another spot further downriver. We felt we had no choice but to attempt the crossing before any new afternoon rains could catch up with us. We put the Land Cruiser into 4-wheel drive and ventured forward. Churning that car through thigh-deep water was certainly a sight to behold: The roar of the engine clashed with the sound of rushing water, as she swayed perilously from side to side. Somehow she finally made it across and we were able to continue on our way towards the coast.

I’m pleased to report that we ultimately survived the trip. We had a nice few days at Swakopmund on the coast and we’re now back inWindhoek where I’m writing up a final report. Next week I head to the United States for 14 days to participate in a follow-up retreat with the American Jewish World Service, based on my past year in El Salvador, and I’ll add a few days to visit friends.

My last big BIG news is that I have been offered a new 6-month job at Gobabeb Training and Research Centre in the Namib Desert, where I interned for a summer a few years ago. This exciting opportunity is funded by none other than NASA, and concerns research on a unique form of life called hypolithic cyanobacteria. They sound like a mouthful, but these little guys can survive the desert’s harshest hot-and-cold conditions by living underneath rocks. Moreover, NASA “astrobiologists” believe that studying these hardy organisms can inform their search for life beyond earth. You got it – this background research is a possible precursor to future studies of life on Mars and even beyond! I will begin working at Gobabeb by the end of this month, so look out for more good adventure stories in the future.







Yours truly,

Lucy and Elsita (and Bernd etc)