Farmers Buckle Under As Drought Ravages Lesotho
Pastor Dale Morgan
Farmers Buckle Under As Drought Ravages Lesotho*
The brown and dusty landscape stretches endlessly, mercilessly, with the
only hope that international donors will heed the call for more food aid
as government declares a state of emergency.
by Fran Blandy
Mafeteng, Lesotho (AFP) June 26, 2007
For Lesotho farmer Setsabo Mothibeli it has been too long since the rain
came, as he stands desolately among dried maize stalks in the barren
field he should have been harvesting. Like many subsistence farms in the
small southern African mountain kingdom, his fields would have fed about
15 people -- but another year of drought, another failed harvest and the
news could not be worse for the small country.
"The stalks are so dry that they are useless even for the animals," says
a frustrated Mothibeli, tossing aside the dried remains of maize that
never grew to maturity.
"We didn't harvest anything this year. We are stranded because even
animals we were hoping to sell have been affected by the drought. There
was no fodder for the animals so they are very thin and can't be sold at
the market."
Driving out of the capital Maseru, field after field of knee-high
withered maize bears testimony to the devastation wrought by the
country's worst drought in 30 years.
Each desiccated field would have supported scores of people and
livestock who now pick desperately among the parched remains of the crops.
Even though it would have been harvesting season, some farmers can be
seen trying to replough their fields in the vain hope that something
will grow and feed their families.
The brown and dusty landscape stretches endlessly, mercilessly, with the
only hope for the Basotho that international donors will heed the call
for more food aid as government declares a state of emergency.
In the village near Mafeteng, around 80 kilometres (50 miles) south of
the capital Maseru where Mothibeli lives, the situation is especially
dire and the World Food Programme is bringing pulses, maize and
vegetable oil which will see 29 households (158 people) through the next
month.
"This is one of the most hit villages from the drought. We expected to
only be helping them for six months but then again we had this drought
crisis," WFP field monitor assistant Nthoneng Mahao tells AFP.
The women of the village rush eagerly to help offload the bags and tins
of food, rationing it before men and children bring their donkeys and a
wheelbarrow or two to cart it off back home.
Malipuo Moleko has to feed seven people with the food aid, and says that
while it often is not enough, the community tries to share vegetables
and food so everyone had at least one meal a day.
"We always have something to eat, although we sometimes have to reduce
portions so it stretches longer," she says.
According to the WFP country director Bhim Udas some 400,000 people
across the country -- a fifth of the population -- will need food
assistance as only 72,000 tonnes of cereal was produced for a population
needing 328,000 tonnes.
The true depth of the crisis would only be felt towards the end of the
year and early 2008 when current stocks run out and locals feel the
effect of rising food prices. "About 80 percent of Basothos depend on
agriculture and there is only 10 percent of arable land," said Udas.
Udas notes the irony in that the dehydrated country is considered water
rich, and its main source of income is from the water it sells to South
Africa through the controversial Lesotho Highlands Water Development
Project.
"Water is one of the main incomes for government but the income is not
shared with the people," he says.
Lesotho, entirely surrounded by South Africa, makes some 25 million rand
(3.4 million dollars, 2.5 million euros) a month from supplying water to
its giant neigbhour.
According to Mahao: "The government making water available for people,
it's a matter of accessibility. We don't have taps, there are no water
pipes. We seem to be the main exporter of water, yet we don't have it
for ourselves."
The mostly rural country is massively food insecure and hard hit by
HIV/AIDS, and nowhere are the effects more poignant than in the
malnourishment section of the children's ward at Maseru's Queen
Elizabeth II hospital.
In one corner four-month-old baby Poello's head lolls weakly to the side
as he is fed through a tube in his nose. He is desperately awaiting
antiretroviral treatment, but is still too undernourished to receive the
strong medication.
Opposite him nine-month-old Matselitso, who came to the hospital four
months previously, her belly distended from malnourishment, has started
smiling and playing for the first time. "In January, February and March
two thirds of the childrens ward is filled with those who are
malnourished and many arrive too late," head of the paediatric ward
Grace Phiri tells AFP.
Source: Agence France-Presse