No aid allowed into Eritrea

There may be many who are starving in the nation of Eritrea, but it's hard for the international community to determine. The government of Eritrea refuses any food aid, and has poor relations with the United Nations. The country also has strict government controls over Non-Govermental Organizations, so much so, that there are now only 5 government approved NGO's.

From the IRIN, we find out more about the government policy that is questioned with the recent failed harvest.

According to a recent report by the UN Children's Fund (UNICEF), rates of acute malnutrition in the northern provinces of Gash Barka and Anseba were above the emergency threshold of 15 percent; by February 2009, admission rates to therapeutic feeding centres were already two to six times greater than in 2008.

UNICEF warned that higher global food prices could be affecting up to 2 million Eritreans, more than half the population of 3.6 million. UN agencies have projected that the 1.3 million people living below the poverty line would suffer most.

Heruy Asgodom, head of Eritrea's agriculture department, acknowledged: "The rains have been poor again this year," but added, "We don't need food aid - we don't believe in it."

Eritrea is difficult terrain for humanitarian agencies, a result of strained relations with the UN system, allegedly flowing from its border dispute with archrival Ethiopia.

Marcus Prior, spokesman for the UN World Food Programme (WFP), said the government was not issuing work permits to international humanitarian staff, and with "movement restrictions, and the curtailing of project activities by key partners, it is difficult to get an accurate picture of the real needs in Eritrea at this time".

The agency is feeding 17 million people in the Horn of Africa, which is still struggling to recover from its worst humanitarian crisis since 1984. Prior said WFP was "concerned" that malnourished children and pregnant mothers in Eritrea might "need the same level of assistance that the agency is already providing in neighbouring countries".

Eritrea suspended food aid in favour of a cash-for-work policy in 2006, "integrating" 94,500 tons of donor food into its new programme. Aid workers speculate that food-for-work was funded by "redirecting" supplies "seized" from a WFP warehouse. According to the US government, "this food aid later appeared on the local market". WFP still has an office in Asmara, the capital, but currently runs no operations in the country.

The government argues it rejected general food distribution because a "few have tended to use relief assistance as a political tool, and in a manner that would ultimately perpetuate dependency rather than eliminating it". It bred "lethargy", which the more dignified food-for-work programmes avoid.

Mangrove project creates hope

from the Independent On Line

Kneeling by the sparkling waters of the Red Sea, Ahmed Shengabay presses sand carefully over a mangrove seed.

"When this grows, it will provide protection for fish and food for my goats," Ahmed said smiling, waving at a long and thick line of tall trees already reaching high into the sky.

"We've planted all this already," the fisherman cum farmer added proudly, the mangroves lining the shore beside his small desert village of Hirgigo.

"The little fish like the mangroves, the big fish like the little fish - and we like the big fish."

The seed-planting is part of a remarkable yet low-tech pilot project, designed as a model to improve the lives of desert coastal communities by using the salt-water trees to increase fish numbers, provide feed to raise livestock - and combat desertification.

Like many of the small villages scattered along Eritrea's Red Sea coast, Hirgigo is a harsh place to live.

The region is reputedly one of the hottest inhabited places on earth, with temperatures soaring well above 40°C for much of the year, combined with an average annual rainfall of less than two centimetres.

The sun beats down hard on a dusty plain dotted with palm trees, squeezed between barren mountains and the sea.

"It's a tough land," said Simon Tecleab, a marine scientist who has been working on the project for the past ten years.

"Before, after the rains stopped, the villagers would have to go far to find food for their animals or they would just starve," he added.

Much of the original mangrove forest was destroyed by overgrazing by camels or cutting for firewood or the building of homes and boats.

But today, along the shore, mangrove trees stretch in a tall green band along some seven kilometres of coast and over 100 metres thick, a budding ecosystem acting as nursery grounds for fish, crabs and oysters.

The mangroves - now protected by fences from hungry livestock - have therefore become crucial to the villagers.

"Mangrove leaves and excess seeds are carefully gathered so as not to damage the plants, then used as fodder for sheep and goats," Simon added, who teaches at Eritrea's College of Marine Sciences and Technologies in the port of Massawa, ten kilometres to the north.

Somalia, Djibouti, Mexico and Peru could be next At Hirgigo, research into planting mangroves began a decade ago, challenging conventional wisdom that the saltwater plants also needed fresh water to grow -- a major limitation in the arid regions where the trees are needed most.

Mangroves grow along some 15 per cent of Eritrea's 1 350 kilometre long coastline, mainly in areas where seasonal freshwater streams run into the sea.

But Dr Gordon Sato - a respected American bio-chemist and member of the US National Academy of Sciences - reasoned that the trees needed not the freshwater but the minerals the streams brought from inland.

Planting low-cost slow-release fertilizer packs of nitrogen, phosphorous and iron alongside each seed, Sato and his team from the Eritrean Ministry of Fisheries found they were able to plant mangroves in areas even previously uninhabited by the trees.

"It opens up seemingly unproductive land to produce food, alleviate hunger and create wealth," Sato said, who named the scheme the Manzanar Project, after the US internment camp in the Californian desert where, as a Japanese-American citizen, he spent the Second World War.

Sato, who saw there how plants could be grown even in the harshest of conditions, believes that the simple technology of the project can be applied elsewhere in the world to counteract the global impact of deforestation, tackle poverty and bring desert areas into agricultural production.

"Countries such as Somalia, Djibouti, Mexico, and Peru immediately come to mind," the 80-year old scientist said.

Residents say the project has had a massive impact on the community of about 3 000 people.

"There are already lots more fish to catch than before, and some day it will be full of big shrimps," Ahmed said, crouching to place a protective rusty tin can over the seed.

Nothing from the mangroves is wasted.

"We burn the dry branches remaining for cooking, which is a great help," said an elderly women, heaving a large bundle of sticks onto her back.

In the village, bare-foot children kick a half-deflated football between two huts, patched with ragged cloth reinforced with scraps of tin cans hammered flat.

The dust swirls as Halima Shifa Idriss, one of several women in the village who work planting the tree seeds, feeds her plump sheep with mangrove clippings.

Tiny Eritrea turns down aid in bold quest for self-reliance

from The Boston Globe

By Edmund Sanders, Los Angeles Times

ASMARA, Eritrea - This struggling nation is doing something virtually unheard of in Africa: It's turning down foreign aid.

With a president who vows not to lead another "spoon-fed" African country "enslaved" by international donors, Eritrea, a tiny, secretive nation on the Horn of Africa, has walked away from more than $200 million in aid in the past year alone, including food from the United Nations, development loans from the World Bank and grants from international charities to build roads and deliver healthcare.

Eritrea can scarcely afford to say no. As one of the world's poorest nations, it has struggled to feed its people .

But President Isaias Afwerki, a former Marxist rebel who has led Eritrea since its independence from Ethiopia in 1993, defends the nation's exercise in self-reliance, even if it results in short-term hardships. He says it is crucial not only to the long-term survival of his country but also to that of his continent.

"We need this country to stand on its two feet," Isaias said in an interview. Fifty years and billions of dollars in postcolonial international aid have done little to lift Africa from chronic poverty, he said.

"These are crippled societies," Isaias said of neighbors whom he described as relying on donors rather than developing their economies. "You can't keep these people living on handouts because that doesn't change their lives."

But can Eritrea's government fill the void without an increase in hunger and disease?

The self-reliance program began a decade ago but accelerated sharply in 2005. Relying on its meager budget and the conscription of about 800,000 of its 3.6 million citizens, the program has shown promising results. Measured on a variety of UN health indicators, including life expectancy, immunizations, and malaria prevention, Eritrea scores as high, and often higher, than its neighbors, including Ethiopia and Kenya.

It might be one of the most ambitious social and economic experiments underway in Africa. But Eritrea isn't receiving much credit. Instead, the government increasingly finds itself in the international doghouse, largely because of its poor human-rights record, isolationism, and belligerent stance toward its neighbors and the West.

In a world moving toward globalization, Eritrea is turning inward. The government has sealed its borders and halted most imports, expelled several diplomats and aid groups, and withdrawn from the leading East African intergovernmental alliance.

Tensions are particularly high with Ethiopia, with which Eritrea fought a bitter border war from 1998 to 2000 . In recent months, both nations have beefed up troops along their border in a disputed region, threatening to resume hostilities.

Now the United States is threatening to make Eritrea even more of a pariah by adding it to its list of state sponsors of terrorism, alleging that Eritrea is supporting Somalia's Islamic Courts Union, an insurgent alliance that US officials say has links to the Al Qaeda terrorist network.

A recent UN report accused Eritrea of sending arms shipments to the Islamist fighters last year.

"They're creating a lot of problems in Africa," US Assistant Secretary of State Jendayi Frazer said recently, criticizing the government's support for rebel groups in Ethiopia, Sudan and Somalia. In a diplomatic tit-for-tat, the US recently closed Eritrea's consulate in Oakland, Calif.

Isaias was once heralded in the United States.

Now, many in Washington portray him as a budding Fidel Castro or Kim Jong Il. Foreign diplomats worry that the escalating tensions may only further alienate the country.

Isaias said he was being punished for opposing Ethiopia's troop deployment to Somalia last year, which helped oust the Islamic Courts group from Mogadishu. The US government supported the overthrow of the Islamists.

The Eritrean leader insisted he was not trying to isolate his country but was attempting to protect it from foreign influences that he said hurt developing countries. He said Eritrea would rejoin regional and global markets once it developed a manufacturing and production capacity and could compete on an equal footing. Until then, he added, "we say, leave us alone. Let us do our work."

As part of the self-reliance campaign, the government last year abruptly stopped the World Food Program's free distributions to 1 million people . This year, government officials refused a proposed $100 million development loan from the World Bank.

Since 2005, the number of foreign aid agencies here has fallen to nine from 37, and many aid officials have complained they have little to do.

Isaias insisted his country was doing fine without the aid. Education and healthcare are free, he said.

Measles and polio have been nearly eradicated in the past two years, and the childhood mortality rate has dropped by nearly two-thirds since 1995.

He said his cold-turkey approach to halting food aid was making farmers work harder, without increasing hunger or malnutrition.

"It's provoked people to do more to feed themselves," he said, predicting Eritrea would produce an agricultural surplus in three years. "We are fed better than anyone."

Eritrea aspires to be self-reliant, rejecting foreign aid

from the LA Times

President vows his African nation won't be 'enslaved.' But some of his people think he's lost his way.
By Edmund Sanders, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

ASMARA, Eritrea — This struggling, low-profile nation is doing something virtually unheard of in Africa. It's turning down foreign aid.

With a president who vows not to lead another "spoon-fed" African country "enslaved" by international donors, Eritrea, a small, secretive nation on the Horn of Africa, has walked away from more than $200 million in aid in the last year alone, including food from the United Nations, development loans from the World Bank and grants from international charities to build roads and deliver healthcare.

Eritrea can scarcely afford to say no. As one of the world's poorest nations, it has struggled to feed its people.

But President Isaias Afwerki, a former Marxist rebel who has led Eritrea since its independence from Ethiopia in 1993, defends the nation's exercise in self-reliance, even if it results in short-term hardships. He says it is crucial not only to the long-term survival of his country, but also to that of his continent.

"We need this country to stand on its two feet," Isaias said in an interview. Fifty years and billions of dollars in post-colonial international aid have done little to lift Africa from chronic poverty, he said.

"These are crippled societies," Isaias said of neighbors whom he described as relying on donors rather than developing their economies. "You can't keep these people living on handouts because that doesn't change their lives."

But can Eritrea's government fill the void without an increase in hunger and disease?

The self-reliance program began a decade ago but accelerated sharply in 2005. Relying on its meager budget and the conscription of about 800,000 of the country's citizens, the program so far has shown promising results. Measured on a variety of U.N. health indicators, including life expectancy, immunizations and malaria prevention, Eritrea scores as high, and often higher, than its neighbors, including Ethiopia and Kenya.

It might be one of the most ambitious social and economic experiments underway in Africa.But Eritrea isn't getting much credit. Instead, the government increasingly finds itself in the international doghouse, largely because of its poor human rights record, isolationism and belligerent stance toward its neighbors and the West.

In a world moving toward globalization, Eritrea is turning inward. The government has sealed its borders and halted most imports, expelled several diplomats and aid groups, and withdrawn from the leading East African intergovernmental alliance.

"It's like they have self-imposed sanctions," said one diplomat, who like many interviewed feared government retribution if identified. "They're turning into an Albania or North Korea."

Tensions are particularly high with Ethiopia, with which Eritrea fought a bitter border war from 1998 to 2000. In recent months, both nations have beefed up troops along their border in a disputed region, threatening to resume hostilities.

Now the U.S. is threatening to make Eritrea even more of a pariah by adding it to its list of state sponsors of terrorism, alleging that Eritrea is supporting Somalia's Islamic Courts Union, an insurgent alliance that U.S. officials say has links to the Al Qaeda terrorist network.

A recent United Nations report accused Eritrea of sending arms shipments to the Islamist fighters last year.

"They're creating a lot of problems in Africa," U.S. Assistant Secretary of State Jendayi Frazer said recently, criticizing the government's support for rebel groups in Ethiopia, Sudan and Somalia. In a diplomatic tit-for-tat, the U.S. recently closed Eritrea's consulate in Oakland.

Isaias was once heralded in the United States as the George Washington of Eritrea. Now, many in Washington portray him as a budding Fidel Castro or Kim Jong Il. Foreign diplomats worry that the escalating tensions may only further alienate the country.

"Eritrea shouldn't be the bad boy in the corner," said Carl Lostelius, charge d'affaires for the European Union here. "It's not good for Eritrea and it's not good for the region."

Isaias said he was being punished for opposing Ethiopia's troop deployment to Somalia last year, which helped oust the Islamic Courts group from Mogadishu. The U.S. government supported the overthrow of the Islamists.

The Eritrean leader insisted he was not trying to isolate his country but was attempting to protect it from foreign influences that he said hurt developing countries. He said Eritrea would rejoin regional and global markets once it developed a manufacturing and production capacity and could compete on an equal footing. Until then, he added, "we say, leave us alone. Let us do our work."

As part of the self-reliance campaign, the government last year abruptly stopped the World Food Program's free distributions to 1 million people. This year, government officials refused a proposed $100-million development loan from the World Bank.

"It would seem that this government is less concerned and careful about protecting its own people than the international community," said one aid official in Asmara, the nation's capital.

Since 2005, the number of foreign aid agencies here has fallen to nine from 37 and many aid officials have complained they have little to do.

"They've cut off our limbs," one said.

Isaias insisted his country was doing fine without the aid. Education and healthcare are free, he said. Measles and polio have been nearly eradicated in the last two years and the childhood mortality rate has dropped by nearly two-thirds since 1995. Evaluating food production has been more difficult. Eritrea, with its hostile climate and rugged terrain, has a history of famine. But Isaias said his cold-turkey approach to halting food aid was making farmers work harder, without increasing hunger or malnutrition.

"It's provoked people to do more to feed themselves," he said, predicting Eritrea would produce an agricultural surplus in three years. "We are fed better than anyone."

Aid officials say they can't verify the progress or measure malnutrition rates because the government won't permit independent assessments. The last survey, in 2006, found 20% of children malnourished in some rural areas.

Most agreed that food levels during the last two years have been stable, thanks largely to adequate rainfall.

"They're surviving on favorable weather right now," said one aid worker, "but there is no guarantee that will last."

Critics accuse Isaias of autocratic rule. He canceled presidential elections in 1997 and 2001 and won't say when he plans to step down. A draft constitution was never ratified.

A September 2001 crackdown against opposition groups led to the dismantling of a free press and arrests of several dozen politicians, journalists and others. Some are feared to have died in custody.

Isaias rejects criticisms, calling the constitution "only a paper," dismissing those in jail as "crooks," and bristling at the suggestion that he's worried about holding a free vote.

"Do you think I'm scared of elections in this country?" he said. "What have I done wrong to be scared of elections? I'm moving in the right direction."

On the streets of Asmara, some citizens are less sure. Though many still view Isaias as a national hero, some of those who fought for independence say they had hoped to enjoy more prosperity by now.

"He has lost his vision," said one former fighter who is unemployed. "These days, we feel that every door is shut for us."

With little production and few exports, the government and citizens rely heavily on remittances from Eritreans abroad, including a 2% income tax on expatriates collected through the nation's consulates. Although the tax is voluntary, not paying jeopardizes rights and property in Eritrea, so compliance is fairly good.

The government's economic program is an odd mix of socialism and capitalism. Commodities such as bread and milk are subsidized and rationed, but gasoline sells for $11 a gallon. Closed borders mean frequent shortages. The local Coca-Cola factory, for example, recently closed because it didn't have enough foreign currency to buy syrup.

Asmara is one of Africa's cleanest and safest cities, with Art Deco architecture, palm-lined avenues and bustling street cafes, all remnants of Italian colonial rule.

But beggars and the homeless are beginning to appear on the streets for the first time in recent years. The government strictly controls access to cellphones and citizens can't leave the country without exit visas.

"We feel trapped," said a 22-year-old student in Asmara.

By far the most unpopular government program is "national service," in which every able-bodied person between the ages of 20 and 40 is drafted into a standby military force in case border clashes resume. The service is supposed to end after 18 months, but in practice can last a decade or longer. Most participants are deployed in public-service jobs, working in government ministries, building roads and irrigation systems, or teaching in schools. Salaries are $1 a day.

"What's the point of school?" the student asked. "There won't be any job for me. This is a time in my life when I should be working for my future. Instead, I feel hopeless." He said he was trying to raise $2,300 to pay an underground smuggler to help him out of the country.

Isaias offered no apologies. He said this generation's sacrifices would pave the way for Eritrea's future. "People will either learn the easy way or the hard way," he said. "If you aspire to become someone in this society with a good quality of life, you work for it. You don't get it for free. It's as simple as that."

edmund.sanders@latimes.com