EDITORIAL

Ending hunger

BY FR Rafael Armada | EDITOR

WHILE WRITING these lines, images on TV of the cruel war in Ukraine daunt us. Appalling as they are, we may nevertheless realise that this is not the only war or situation of violence currently happening in the world. Other wars often remain silent in the media despite having devastating effects among huge throngs of the global populations. Hunger—considered an ingestion lower than 1 800 calories per day—is one of them. According to UN estimates, it affected 720–811 million people in 2020, about one in 10 on earth. World agriculture produces food to provide everyone with at least 2 880 kilocalories per day, enough for all, but unfortunately, more than 30% goes to waste. The number of hungry people is on the rise—roughly 70–161 million more in 2020 than in 2019. However, its proportion to population varies according to regions, being the highest in Africa, with an estimated 22% of its peoples.

The 2021 State of Food Security and Nutrition in the World report—a collaboration between UN agencies—outlines three major causes of the recent rise in hunger and food insecurity: conflict (the primary reason for 99.1 million people in 23 countries in 2020); climate variability and extremes; and economic slowdowns and downturns (exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic).

We still do not know the impact the war in Ukraine will have, particularly in Africa, but looking at the volume of grain imported from Ukraine and Russia and the current increase in fertilizer prices, makes us presume that it will be important. “Half the world’s population gets food as a result of fertilizers. If that’s removed from the field for some crops, [the yield] will drop by 50%”, according to Svein Tore Holsether, President of Yara International. The second of UN’s 17 Sustainable Development Goals, namely eliminating hunger by 2030, will face another setback.

These situations and their challenges call for a transformation of food systems. UN agencies consider six ways to ensure access to affordable healthy diets for all, sustainably and inclusively. According to them, the world needs to make a great peace-building effort, foster climate-resilient crops, support the most vulnerable sectors of societies and lower the cost of nutritious foods. Poverty and structural inequalities are an obstacle to healthier diets.

Many of our current food systems favour monocultures, highly dependent on fertilizers and commercial seeds, vulnerable to global price fluctuations of commodities. Big corporations and retailers dominate and control worldwide prices. Small farmers, herders, and fishermen who produce about 70% of the global food supply, are exposed to food insecurity, with poverty and hunger most acute among rural populations.

Looking at the condition of children—an estimated 14 million under the age of five—who suffer from severe acute malnutrition worldwide, South Africa is not exempt from this reality. Child stunting, a so-called ‘slow violence’, remains at a high rate of 27% and it has not decreased over the last 20 years. This is a worrying situation since stunting, particularly in the first 1 000 days of the life of a child, hinders brain development with associated cognitive impairment, weakens their immune system and jeopardizes their full potentialities. At the same time, 13% of South African children under five years are overweight or obese. The high prevalence of malnutrition, manifested both as undernourishment and obesity, clearly indicate the need for healthier and more nutritious ways of life.

Grass-root initiatives, some portrayed in this issue, show that a different way of obtaining food is possible and we can combat malnutrition by producing locally and in a sustainable way.

Lent is a time when we reflect upon realities of suffering in the world—conflict and hunger are two of them—though always with an outlook of hope. While we question ourselves about the causes of suffering, we try to sympathize with the victims and find ways to respond to their plight. We remain with our eyes fixed on Jesus who stood for truth, endured injustice perpetrated against Him and gave His life to show us the way to glory, through His Passion, Death and Resurrection. Happy Easter!

MISSION IS FUN

Faith or jail

BY Vittorio Turchetti | MCCJ

NOT LONG ago, relations between Church and State in Mexico were very tense. One of the laws was the absolute prohibition on clergy to wear ecclesiastical clothes and to perform religious functions outside the church. On Ash Wednesday I was invited by the parish priest of a poor and densely populated district of the capital to administer ashes in one of the various chapels of the parish. On such an occasion, more people are seen in church than at Christmas or Easter, including infants. Towards dusk, the number of people attending the rite grew disproportionately and I began to worry about the crowd at the church door, especially the safety of the children who risked being trampled on. So, I decided that everyone should go out, I closed the church door and I began to distribute the ashes, in an orderly manner, to the people standing outside on the pavement.

It was almost dark when a police car with all its lights flashing stopped in front of the church. Two policemen in uniform got out and hurriedly approached me. Naturally, my first thought was: “Oh, my God, they’re going to take me to jail this time!” Instead, the policemen took off their hats and asked me: “Please, Father, give us the ashes”. Receiving the ashes with devotion, they thanked me with a bow. There was a smile of relief among the faithful and the ashes procession continued into the evening.

I thanked Providence, even if my dinner was cold at home, but at least I did not have to sleep on the filthy straw mattress of a prison.

THE LAST WORD

Jesus feeds the multitude (Mk 6: 34–44)

BY Silvano Fausti SJ | Biblist and writer

“HE LIFTED up His eyes to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them” (6: 41). These are the words of the Eucharistic memorial (Mk 14: 22f), the point of arrival of every mission, in which we receive the bread which is the Son, and which makes us children of God.

This section of Mark wants to lead us to overcome deafness and blindness, in recognising the Lord in the Eucharist.

The continuation of this Gospel passage will be a comparison between the Church and this bread, culminating in the contemplation of a crucified God, object of the proclamation that makes us born again (baptism) and food that nourishes new life (Eucharist).

This passage begins by acknowledging the source of the Lord’s gift: His compassion, His hesed—the hidden essence of God, which will lead Him to give His life for us.

The scene takes place in the desert, where the people received the Ten Commandments, the manna, the quails and the water. Now the new people receive the Word itself, which becomes their nourishment and life.

The story puts in contrast two economies—two different ways of managing one’s existence: that of man, who lives on what he has or buys; and that of God, who lives and gives life in perfect gratuitousness. There is bread—the disciples have it and do not know it—that is multiplied by distributing it and that can satiate multitudes.

The story, called “multiplication”, actually speaks of sharing. This is how this satisfying bread comes into existence and suffices for all.

The central theme of the passage is “eating”. Eating means living. It is mysteriously true that the human being is what he or she eats. Biblical wisdom says: “Eat without money and without spending. Why do you spend money on what is not bread, your wealth on what does not satisfy? Come to me and listen, and you shall live” (Is 55: 1 ff passim).

The Eucharist is not the commemoration of a past event, but newness of life, filial and fraternal. “Whoever eats me shall live because of me” (Jn 6: 57), Jesus says. His bread is Himself, as He Himself is His Word: as Word He makes us see the mystery of God, as bread He makes us live it. In the background there is the memory of the exodus with the gift of manna and the miracle of Elisha (2 Kings 4: 42 ff).

Jesus, who gives word and bread, is Word and Bread. Living by Him, we live the fullness of life that has been promised to us.

The disciple eats of this bread. The banquet that Jesus prepares in the desert, very different from that of Herod in the palace, allows the person to pass from a dead existence—closed in selfishness and administered by the desire of possession, power and appearance—to a new life in love, under the sign of self-giving and of service in humility. The disciple now belongs to a new people, which has the characteristics of the bread they eat.

Five thousand is precisely the number of the primitive community (Acts 4: 4), of which is said that they lived in their daily life what they celebrated in their Eucharist.

YOUTH VOICES • FOOD UNIVERSE

Mind what you taste

Eating is more than replenishing our calorie needs. It can also become an extraordinary experience that opens us to the realm of memories, imagination and food treasures of our ancestral traditions

BY Jill Williams | Candidate Landscape Architect, Pretoria

THERE ARE few things in the world that can bring people from all walks of life together like music, dance, sports and food. Whether it be at family gatherings, weddings, church, school events or any large gathering, you will find one or all of these elements in place to help people interact with one another, enjoy the activities of the day, and to foster a general sense of togetherness.

Memories

Each of these have a common thread: they entice the senses and awaken emotional responses and even memories. Food in particular has a strong effect on the mind in recalling memories of textures, smells, people and places. According to Harvard University Press (2012), the hippocampus is the part of the brain that is stimulated when one eats. This is the storehouse of long-term and spatial memories, and is connected to the digestive system and parts of the brain that are important for emotions and smell. That, to me, makes a great deal of sense; the smell of imaginary chocolate seems to waft in my nostrils whenever I have a craving for it.

This can be of great advantage to the food industry. When catering for events, one can look to using food items that generally evoke certain emotional responses to match the atmosphere one would like to create. One might not include boerewors (grilled sausage) rolls in a wedding menu (unless it is specifically requested), as this generally is associated with a more relaxed, get-together type of atmosphere. So the type of food selected by caterers for their menus play a role in creating the right atmosphere for the events they cater for. Even chain stores and everyday families make use of this: think Wacky (burger) Wednesday and Pizza Fridays!

However, Peluse (2017) claims it isn’t exactly the food itself that makes the memory a good one, but rather the activities that surround or are linked to the meal. The laughter, conversation and activities of a day are wrapped up in the smell, taste and texture of what one consumes. Food becomes the capsule to these experiences, stored safely away in our minds, but easily retrievable through encountering flavours and fragrances of a similar specification.

The laughter, conversation and activities of a day are wrapped up in the smell, taste and texture of what one consumes

A unique experience

So, what role does food memory have on the food industry in terms of guiding food consumption patterns and behaviours? I once had a conversation with colleagues about this while eating out. We were out of town for a certain project and after the day’s work, we were famished. We set our minds on trying something new, and not succumbing to conventional chain stores to get dinner. So, with determination in our bellies, we walked for what seemed like an hour, (but it was probably far less), trying to find a decent place to eat. When we finally found one, it took some time to get a table as the restaurant, like most others in the area, was quite busy. The atmosphere was cozy and the décor was eclectic. When the meals we ordered arrived, I was underwhelmed by the portion, but the presentation and aroma thereof was immaculate. We determined that most of the time, a filling meal is preferred. However, one should open oneself up to the experience of dining. Eating out can be more than what you have on your plate: it’s the ambiance created by the soft, bohemian music in the background, the dim lighting that makes room for candle-lit meals, the low buzz of conversation that surrounds you—all leading up to the moment you taste the masterpiece before you. That simple meal of creamy gnocchi with butternut not only quenched my hunger, but transported me straight to the pearly gates of heaven. I doubt I will ever forget that experience.

There is value in both the practicality of low-cost-filling meals as well as the frivolity of overpriced dining experiences, because both can have a strong emotional effect on the consumer. Food triggers emotions and intangible connections; spatial memories are formed through our consumption thereof. Perhaps we ought to be more conscious of what it is we consume and where?

So, what about the ingredients that make up the food we consume? Does the choice in ingredients have an effect on the outcome of the memories we have of it? Can it even go so far as connecting us in some way to our past, our heritage and ancestry? In the book of 1 Kings 17: 7–16, the prophet Elijah asks the impossible of the widow of Zarephath: to bake him a loaf of bread from the last of her flour and oil—the last morsel of food she had available for her and her son. Through her obedience, she not only found herself having enough bread for her household for that day, but for every day till the three years of drought that had stricken the land was over. Years from that event, the widow must still have had the taste of the bread from that divine supply lingering in her mouth. Perhaps this experience even triggered in her mind the memory of stories told about her forefathers who wandered in the desert for over forty years, where they ate manna from heaven. Those light flakes of manna picked up from the dry ground of the wilderness, were used in the making of bread, cakes and biscuits. Her endless supply of oil and flour must have made her think: “This must be my manna from heaven.” The widow would have felt a connection to the thoughts and experiences of the Israelites of the Exodus, even though she never knew them personally or went through what they did.

Indigenous plants

Food security for our forefathers looked somewhat different. The first known people in southern Africa, the San, as well as tribes that followed, had to navigate their way through unknown territories through the process of hunter-gathering as they searched for resource-rich areas. Through this process they would have come across many indigenous species of edible plants that had the potential to be cultivated as a crop. Our experience of trying to find a decent restaurant must have been a far easier journey than what they must have gone through.

Indigenous crops are plants that grow naturally in a specific region that are fruit-bearing or whose various parts can be consumed or used for medicinal purposes. Rooibos and Hoodia are examples of indigenous crops that have been introduced into the global market for their many medicinal properties. The successful commercial growth and marketing of other indigenous crops, however, do not always occur as easily. Some become ‘orphaned’ or ‘lost’ along the proverbial path, due to their existence or importance being forgotten over time. These plants were once frequently collected from the bushveld and used by nomadic people for their medicinal, functional and edible qualities. I cannot imagine how many years of testing and proving were required to gain the plant knowledge to know the difference between these plants and to eventually distinguish the delicacy from the medicinal.

The San had to navigate their way through unknown territories through the process of hunter-gathering as they searched for resource-rich areas

Cullis et al. (2018: 2) claims that these crops, mainly in the form of legumes, are “staple food crops in many developing countries.” One such plant, the Marama Bean, has adapted over time to the extremely harsh conditions and poor soil quality found in the western portions of southern Africa. Some of its drought-adaptation mechanisms have increased its value as a nutritious, viable crop that can be cultivated for larger crop harvesting. Cullis claims that its seeds “rival peanut and soybean in composition and nutritive value”, and that its tuber, found below ground, is higher in protein and “much bigger and more nutritious than any potato, yam or even sugar beet.” This must have made for fine dining back in the day! In order to locate and harvest these crops, our forefathers must have utilized food memory as a method of survival: remembering the exact locations, seasons and conditions in which indigenous plants like these were found, making sure to pass this knowledge on to their children, who in turn would have their own memories of their food journeys.

We need more than the finished product; we need what constitutes the product to be good, in order to be filled and nourished

Creative eating

Times are tough and Rands are few, as the implications of staying-at-home due to COVID are still lingering in society financially and routine-wise. Thinking of new ways to make mealtime special, affordable, accessible (for those who do not have the means to get food regularly) and memorable, can be challenging. Imagine including an extraordinary crop like the Marama Bean in your garden and adding it to one of your favourite dishes? The addition of it will certainly give an old, bland meal new zest and will certainly give your family a healthy boost of nutrition, possibly even doing so when the belts have to be tightened. Most importantly, tapping into ingredients from the past, help us to connect to our heritage, our land and what it has to offer. We can choose to actively make good ‘food memories’ in a way that is specific to our context.

Herein lies the importance of food. It reminds us that we need more than the finished product; we need what constitutes the product to be good, in order to be filled and nourished. Man does not live on bread alone, but on the source of the bread (Matthew 4: 4, paraphrased). So let us be more conscious of what we eat, select ingredients that make up our food more mindfully and enjoy the symphony of textures, flavours and aromas on the journey.

FRONTIERS • LAY VOCATION

Mission for transformation in Brazil

Upon arriving in Brazil, Xoan Carlos never thought that his three-year commitment as a Comboni lay missionary would become a life-long dedication to the promotion of the rural peasants in the Amazonia region. He shares his journey with Worldwide

BY Xoán Carlos Sánchez Couto | Comboni Lay Missionary, Açailândia, Brazil

MY MISSIONARY commitment was born during my participation in youth groups, in a Salesian youth centre in my city, Santiago de Compostela, Spain. The reflections we made there on the injustices of the world and the role of the Church in these situations led me to get involved in a group of Comboni Lay Missionaries (CLM) that was being created in my city. I followed the formation of the CLMs simultaneously with my university studies in agronomy. When I finished, I was ready to go to the mission and, although I had always asked to be sent to Africa, destiny brought me to Brazil, initially for a three-year commitment, starting in November 1999.

Agricultural school

Knowing the reality of Açailândia, in the state of Maranhão, and in dialogue with the local community and with the Comboni co-ordination, we decided to start working with the rural youth and we chose the proposal of the Rural Family Houses (RFH) project. The beginning was a long road: to gather a good number of families interested in taking on the responsibility of offering to their children a contextualised education; an education which would not lead them out of the rural environment, but allow them to take charge of their own development. Thus, a community agricultural school came into existence, managed through an association of families of peasants and maintained through partnerships with local governments and through the sales of what the students produced by themselves.

Due to the length of this process of collective construction, my commitment had to be extended. Along the way, I met Dida, a young catechist from Açailândia who became involved in this process and ended up becoming my wife. She married me and my struggles, so in a way she also married the mission.

It was a long road to get the necessary facilities built to run the school, to convince the authorities to pay the teachers and other workers, and the running costs —even being a small project—are high. What was never difficult was to get the interest from the young people. Finally, in 2005 we started the classes, with a group of 35 boys and girls, mainly from agrarian reform settlements, some children of small landowners and some children of the employees of the large estates of the latifundia (large ranches).

Justiça nos Trilhos denounced the human rights violations of peasant and indigenous communities impacted by large mining projects and their transport infrastructures

Rotational methodology

The house follows a methodology called Pedagogy of Alternation, which emerged almost a century ago in France through the alliance of a rural parish priest, a trade unionist and rural families who saw their children going to the city for lack of opportunities in the countryside. The young people stay at the school for a week and return to their families for another week.

Throughout the three years of the duration of the course, this alternation of one week at school and one week with their families is always maintained. In this way, they do not lose their rural roots, the family can count on the help of the young person for work, and the school can deal in a theoretical and practical way with the same activities that the farming family is engaged in on their land at each time of the year. Integrating work, theoretical reflection, participation of the farmers and development of the environment are the four pillars of this pedagogy, which is also very present on the African continent in French-speaking countries.

Over the years, other Comboni Lay Missionaries and local lay people have taken over responsibility for the school, although the owners have always been the peasant families, who make the main decisions at an annual assembly and at regular meetings of the board of the association that they have formed to run the school.

After seven years of operation, in 2012, Dida and I assessed that it was time to step aside and let some young people who had studied at the RFH and were already finishing their university studies to take over the reins. We withdrew to retrain, studying in another city. I finished my sociology course and did a master’s degree in Amazonian agriculture; Dida finished her arts course and specialised in school management. On our return we got involved in other projects, always dedicated to the livelihoods of the peasant communities in this corner of the planet, the eastern Amazon, which we combined with supporting the RFH.

Peasants and indigenous rights

At that time, the Comboni Missionaries in Açailândia had started a campaign called Justiça nos Trilhos (Justice on the Rails), which denounced the human rights violations of peasant and indigenous communities impacted by large mining projects and their transport infrastructures. In Brazil, everything is superlative: the world’s largest open-pit mine is in this region, the iron ore that is extracted from the bowels of the Amazon is transported by the world’s largest train to the port of São Luís, from where it is exported almost entirely to China by means of the world’s largest ships, the Vale Max.

Naturally, the social and environmental impacts are also superlative. The communities lose their right to move freely through their territories; since it is very difficult to cross double tracks with heavy train traffic, many people and animals are run over, many houses crack with the train vibration, wells crumble, animals miscarry or produce less than normal offspring; and the noise is deafening twenty-four hours a day.

Young people from various localities come here to spend time learning appropriate techniques adapted to their social and environmental conditions

Justiça nos Trilhos became a human rights NGO and I was invited to work with these communities with the proposal to offer economic alternatives to mining and agribusiness exports because—despite all the impacts—the lack of other employment possibilities ends up pushing many people to seek employment in these mega-projects as the only alternative way of life. Subsequently, the infrastructure created for the export of huge quantities of minerals attracted the attention of large landowners in southern Brazil, who acquired land in this region to produce mainly soya and eucalyptus for export. They take advantage of the same railway and port as the mining companies; and the impacts are further accentuated, not only because of the increase in train traffic, but also because the siege of peasant territories has intensified.

Soya and eucalyptus bring in a lot of money in dollars, and commodity fever has meant that there is no limit to the expansion of these crops. They offer farmers a lot of money to sell their land. When the farmers don’t want to sell it, they ‘accidentally’ spray the fields with the same herbicides they use on their soya plantations, which are not affected because they are genetically modified to resist glyphosate. Thus, the farmers have a total loss of their crops, which immediately translates into worsening their poverty and food insecurity. The only way out is to sell their land—and the same people who caused their economic bankruptcy are there to buy it.

Agro-ecological centre

As strategy, the first step we have taken has been to create a centre of reference in agro-ecology on a piece of land belonging to the Comboni Missionaries. It is also shared by the Rural Family House, where we have a sample of agro-ecological production practices: organic dairy cattle, free-range chickens, pigs raised in the open air, organic horticulture, agro-forestry systems, solar energy, biogas. The idea is to produce in alliance with nature and not against it, as suggested by the idea of integral ecology proposed by Pope Francis in Laudato Si. This centre is called CIRANDA—Centre for Rural Innovation and Agro-ecological Development. We felt the need to start from here because the impacts caused by mining and agribusiness have led to the abandonment of traditional agricultural practices in the communities, so this knowledge is no longer passed down from father to son, as was the custom. Our goal is to rescue this traditional knowledge, combining it with scientific knowledge about organic production. The CIRANDA centre is a field of experimentation and learning. Young people from various localities come here to spend time learning appropriate techniques adapted to their social and environmental conditions.

A second step has been to do agro-ecology training in the communities. Agro-ecology is not only agriculture, but also solidarity economy, human rights, political awareness, values.

More recently we have started a rotating solidarity microcredit fund, so that families who participate in agro-ecology training can start or improve productive activities that give them food security and sources of income. The loan is for a small amount, which must be repaid after one year. The Rotative Fund Ezequiel Ramin—in homage to the Comboni Missionary killed in the Amazon for his commitment to the peasants—is inspired by the experience of the Grameen Bank in Bangladesh, and by several similar initiatives that have existed in the northeast of Brazil for years. That is why most of the Fund’s members are women. They have more responsibility with the money, they always pay it back and they are concerned that this opportunity is transformed into a better life for them and for all the members of their family. They also have a better ability to work in groups and a broader vision of the community.

As Pope Francis proposes in his encyclical Fratelli Tutti, the economy as a whole has to be oriented towards the common good

Lay missionaries for transformation

We are well aware that these testimonial initiatives at the micro level do not promote real transformations if they are not co-ordinated with structural changes in the economic organisation of the countries. What does this have to do with missionary work? It has everything to do with missionary work, above all, because we are lay missionaries. As Pope Francis proposes in his encyclical Fratelli Tutti, the economy as a whole has to be oriented towards the common good. To achieve this is the specific task of the laity, but also, for lay missionaries, who value inculturation in the peoples who welcome us; this has to be done respecting and starting from traditional and ancestral ways of life. The idea of good living, sumak kawsay in Quechua, is present in one form or another in all Latin American indigenous cultures.

At the same time, being lay missionaries in Brazil, we are stimulated by the missionary Bishop Pedro Casaldáliga. He was inspired by the biblical prophets who were then responsible for passing on to the people the true meaning of events, making, at every moment, God’s plans known. For this reason, we also investigate and denounce the tax juggling scheme by which these large multinationals manage to leave no resources in the countries of the South; they capture and own: 1, the State; 2, the system of administration of justice; 3, the media; 4, and all national and international decision-making spaces. Vale Coorp., the Brazilian multinational mining company that destroys this part of the Amazon, does the same in Zambia and Mozambique. South Africa’s AngloGold Ashanti is one of the main gold extractors in the Brazilian Amazon, causing irreversible impacts on indigenous lands. But Vale’s money is in a small village in Switzerland and AngloGold Ashanti’s money is in the British Virgin Islands. Environmental destruction and extreme poverty are their real legacy in the territories they exploit. Doing mission among the peasants, in the Amazon or in South Africa, is not possible without denouncing these injustices.

CHALLENGES • UBUNTU PROJECT

Fresh food initiatives that support farmers and their families

The food crisis exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic has opened new ways towards sustainability and self-reliance through vegetable gardens in the less-privileged communities of Johannesburg

BY Dorah Marema | Co-founder, Ubuntu Project Africa

IN FEBRUARY 2020, SEED Community’s Green Business College (GBC) in partnership with Tim Nectare Farms launched the Ubuntu Project (www.ubuntuproject.africa) aimed at providing fresh food boxes and setting up food gardens amongst the most vulnerable in the Gauteng communities. Ubuntu means ‘I am because you are’. It can also mean ‘We are because the earth is.’ It speaks of our shared humanity and our place on this earth.

Food security is a growing challenge in South Africa and food gardens are a real solution which contribute to mitigating the effects of climate change that will continue to pose a threat during the post-COVID-19 era. They provide a way for communities to produce their own fresh vegetables and generate some extra income. As households collect and replant their seeds, the extra seedlings and excess produce can be sold.

Responding to emergency

This initiative came as a result of the unprecedented global crisis of the pandemic which saw a lot of families starving, while small-scale producers were stuck with their produce, unable to sell it in the markets. Working together with local agro-ecology farmers in the greater Johannesburg, the initiative provided boxves of fresh vegetables and managed to establish food gardens among the more disadvantaged in the communities. It did not only provide the communities with organic produce, feeding needy families, but offered them tools to grow their own vegetables.

The initiative started with organic farmers in the Orange Farm area. Ubuntu Project supported these farmers as they supplied needy families with food parcels of organic vegetables, seeds, seedlings, compost and, more importantly, training and support—a special component usually lacking in a lot of small gardening projects where beneficiaries are given seeds and then abandoned to continue on their own.

The veggie boxes displayed the true spirit of ubuntu which is about empathy, community, and recognising that none can survive without the most vulnerable. This became such an attractive initiative in the social media that it received a lot of attention from people in affluent areas of Johannesburg. They started purchasing the veggie boxes for their own consumption.

Boxes for solidarity

In June 2020, the Ubuntu Veggie Box delivery service was launched. People had the opportunity to order boxes which were delivered to them. Every box purchased enabled the customer to donate a vegetable garden starter kit—comprised of 30 seedlings and 10 kg of compost—to resource-constraints communities who were keen to grow their own veggies. Customers were also connected to the beneficiary families.

Food sovereignty means much more than putting food on the table. It touches the core of human dignity and enables people to become producers within their own communities.  
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The Ubuntu Veggie Box gives the possibility for customers to receive fresh veggies and fruits straight from the farmers; it reduces intermediaries and the veggies received are those of the season. Their delivery is reliable, communication is good, their prices are reasonable, and limited plastic is used.

Touching farmers and their communities

Through the Ubuntu Project, Betty Nkoana and the members of the Thoughtful Path (TP) Non-Profit Community organization, received various forms of support. These included seedlings and seeds for their community allotment gardens in the old township of Munsieville, West Rand, Johannesburg. Betty is a real champion in the community, as together with the TP members, provides a range of services which include aftercare for orphans and underprivileged children and health care services for teenagers and women.

Betty, through a training that she and her colleagues received from the GBC in 2018, developed a passion and love for farming. In 2019, she and other members of TP, were offered a piece of land next to an informal settlement in Johannesburg’s oldest township. They were able to set up farming allotments for various families and community groups. The Ubuntu Project donated the seedlings and seeds for the allotments and Tim Abba, who was a trainer at the GBC, spent two days providing Betty and her team with technical support to set up the gardens.

In August 2020, Betty, 20 members of TP and some of the young people and women from Munsieville Township, attended the Ubuntu Project Agri-business course facilitated by the Ubuntu Project. They learned about product pricing, marketing and value-addition and how to turn their small farming project into a profitable business. They started to farm with determination in September 2020 on their small plot and they implemented what they had learned from both the organic farming training and the business course to set up their agri-business. They also received a second instalment of the donated Ubuntu Project seedlings to augment the production capacity of the plot.

The TP team have been harvesting pumpkins, mealies, spinach, chillies, tomatoes, onions, rosemary, mint and lettuce and have been supplying Ubuntu Veggie Boxes. This team started processing some of their produce to make their unique Chilli-Sauce which they are selling in their community. All of their produce was sold and they were able to buy another set of seedlings and seeds to replant. This has been a truly transformational story of how to create resilient communities which secure their livelihoods.

Impact of Ubuntu Project since inception

This project contributed to assist communities of peri-urban Johannesburg South through emergency food parcels relief. The contents of the parcels of fresh and locally processed products were made to be flexible, based on the needs and resources of each area and linked to small-scale farmers.

Local small-scale farmers in Johannesburg South collaborated and formed partnerships to supply the needed volumes and a variety of fresh nutritious vegetables which offered flexibility in the procurement of the goods. The small-scale farmer partnership has the potential for expansion, to supply other food relief efforts and services to local markets.

During the COVID-19 food relief effort, the Ubuntu Project managed to inspire small and local distribution networks including small logistics enterprises in and around Orange Farm. These can flexibly procure from their network of small-scale farmers, fresh produce, dry goods assembled into agreed packages, and deliver food relief parcels should it be needed.

Setting up of 150 households and 11 communal food gardens in the communities with supplies of compost and seedlings—has been very important to enable households to plant their small food gardens and to small-scale farmers to continue producing. This has been an essential contribution to the community and to the household resilience in these trying times. Some of these are small homesteads, backyard gardens, others are farmers producing on bigger areas. Over five months—May to September 2020—the Ubuntu Project assessed the input needs and delivered tailored input packages as required. These have potential to scale up depending on further needs assessments.

This emergency food relief response has shown its potential to catalyse a more enduring production and distribution network, co-ordinated with the demand, to produce more localised food economies.

PROFILE • YACOUBA SAWADOGO

Transforming the Sahel into a food garden

Through his innovative farming methods, a man with no formal education has brought hope to the people whose lives were threatened by desertification and soil degradation

BY Marian Pallister | Chair of Pax Christi Scotland

BURKINA FASO is a country that does not have to seek its problems. It is small, landlocked, and with neighbours whose news headlines are frequently alarming: Niger and Mali under attack from terrorists; Benin, considered among the West African coastal countries most vulnerable to a spill-over of Islamist violence from other landlocked Sahel countries; Togo increasing its military spending in the face of encroaching terrorism; Ghana attempting to deal with corruption; and ivory Coast, the world’s top cocoa producer, facing the impact of climate change on its most important crop.

Indeed, Burkina Faso is just another kid on the block in that troubled corner of the African continent, experiencing all of the above and starting 2022 with a military coup, carried out on the grounds that the President had not contained the growing Islamist threat. Lieutenant-Colonel Paul-Henri Damiba, who led that January take-over, said in his first speech that security was the country’s first priority.

Of course, safety and peace must be the priority for countries worldwide, especially where terrorist threats exist. Leaders in any of those Sahel belt states, where desertification has for decades imposed soil degradation and increasingly frequent droughts, would have to place food security as a very close-run second on their list of priorities.

Surprisingly, on that front, Burkina Faso is blessed. It is home to one of the world’s foremost pioneers in reversing the effects of the climate emergency, a man whose methods for achieving food security have won acclaim in the United Nations’ corridors of power, and attracted eminent scientists from Europe and the United States.

A community brought back home

Yacouba Sawadogo has been described as “impressive and “inspiring” by Jim French, an agricultural advisor to Oxfam America; during Barak Obama’s presidency in the US, Sawadogo’s work was highly acclaimed by members of the Global Food Security operation.

His philosophy is that food insecurity must be addressed not only because of its immediate effects—a population facing hunger and possible starvation— but also because it causes tensions, civil unrest, and migration. The knock-on effects on future generations are immense, he suggests, because children cannot go to school if there is no food.

An eminent professor of environmental studies? A scientist specialising in sustainable agriculture? No—this is a man with no formal education, a man who wears that damning badge ‘illiterate’—a word that suggests not only a lack of education but is used as a cruel slur implying a lack of intelligence. Yacouba Sawadogo, however, oozes intelligence, know-how, imagination and foresight. His farming methods have greened part of the encroaching desert, brought a community back home to successfully grow crops—not only to feed their families but also to sell—and he has effectively disseminated his ideas to environmental leaders around the world.

A UN report has shown that desertification and land degradation cost the world US$490 billion a year. No one knows better than Sawadogo that the repercussions are severe and wide-ranging, risking sustenance for at least a billion people across over 100 countries. He has seen first-hand the effects of long-term drought and that insidious creep of the Sahel.

Sahel, from the Arabic word Sāhil, is the semi-arid region stretching from Senegal east to Sudan, creating a transitional zone between the arid Sahara to the north and the belt of humid savannahs to the south. Traditionally in Burkina Faso, at least eight months of the year were dry, and rains came in June, July and August, averaging four to eight inches. Millet and groundnuts have been the main crops. Climate change has made those eight dry months dryer and longer, encroaching on the so-called rainy season. Lack of rains and flash floods have become the norms in many parts of Africa and the world but in Burkina Faso that lack has been especially hard.

Improving traditional methods

That was until Yacouba Sawadogo put a traditional method of growing back into practice, adding some ideas of his own to the mix. As he says now, “If you practice zaï, you can eat.” Convincing people back at the beginning was never easy, however. He was not only told that he was crazy, there were extremists who felt that tampering with zaï, by adding to the method, and using it at times of the year not designated by tradition, was almost a sacrilege and they used violence to stop him.

When he was a child, however, there had been a prophecy that he would succeed—and succeed he has. The boy who was bullied at Koranic school because he was the smallest in the class has become The man who stopped the desert—the name of a documentary that charts his success.

His innovation was to make the holes bigger and deeper, surround them with low walls, and add manure

Sawadogo was born in the small village of Gourga, son of a farmer. Sent away as a seven-year-old to a Koranic school in neighbouring Mali, he spent the next few years as a lonely little boy doing hard physical labour and attempting to learn the Koran. When he went home to Burkina Faso, this picked-on child still could not read, but before he left Mali the Sheik had called for him and told him, “One day you will be a leader of men.” Desperate to get home, where he would surely get the square meal his bullying fellow pupils had deprived him of for all those years, he carried those words of the Sheik in his heart.

He confesses that his family were “sad that I hadn’t learned much”, but they saw him in a different light when he opened up a market stall in the village that was a great success. “I got a new motorbike every six months,” he remembers. “I earned a lot of money.” If a new bike every six months makes him sound like a bit of a madcap, well, perhaps—but he added that he knew this wouldn’t last and so he was putting money aside for the future. In the 1970s and 1980s, the rains became so infrequent that 75% of the people left Gourga and the neighbouring villages. Sawadogo stayed, remembering what the Sheik in Mali had told him, and feeling that his time had perhaps come.

He of course knew the tradition of zaï. This method of farming used in Burkina Faso, Niger and Mali to restore lands subject to desertification involves digging pits about 20–30 cm long and deep and 90 cm apart in order to catch the water and concentrate compost. His innovation was to make the holes bigger and deeper, surround them with low walls, and add manure—and to do this ahead of the rains. Sawadogo understood this would provide plant nutrients, and that the manure would attract termites, whose tunnels would break up the soil even more. When the rains did come, this created ideal conditions not only for growing the traditional crops of sorghum and millet but even for growing trees. Of course, the root systems of trees further break down the soil, and reaching deep, they bring up valuable water to the surface.

Crops increased by up to 500%. A small forest grew but rather than being lauded as the hero, Sawadogo found himself the target of more bullying, this time by adults. Adults who believed that traditions should be kept pure; that to dig the zaï in the dry season was wrong; that to take manure into the bush at the “wrong” times should not be allowed.

Overcoming resistance

Hoping to spread the word about the success of his adaptation of zaï, Yacouba Sawadogo dressed in his best and headed for the Northern Province’s regional capital, Ouahigouya, where he told the new governor all about these innovative methods and their positive results. The fields he had treated were full of crops and his little forest had become dense since he began the experiments. His appointment with the governor was at eleven o’clock in the morning, and at that very hour, billowing smoke could be seen on the horizon in the direction of his home. Those who objected to his tampering with tradition had set fire to his crops and forest while he was away. He recalls the feeling of devastation when he learned that the fire he could see from the city was the destruction of his ten acres of crops and newly planted trees.

It says much about the man that rather than being defeated by this act of aggression, he instead decided to expand his project, working even harder to make it succeed.

Crops increased by up to 500%

Gradually, as others saw what his variations on zaï could produce, resistance lessened, enthusiasm grew, and in time, farmers began to come from elsewhere in Burkina Faso and beyond to learn from him. He was only too happy to share his ideas and to give advice. Between 1975 and 1985, so many left his village because of land degradation. Seeing how he survived that and subsequent droughts has given a lifeline to thousands of families, and Yacouba Sawadogo himself (now in his seventies) sells top quality seeds so that others can match his success using his version of zaï.

It was when scientists and agriculturists from abroad saw what Sawadogo was achieving that things really took off. Oxfam America funded the project. Chris Reij, a Sustainable Land Management specialist and Senior Fellow of the World Resources Institute in Washington, active in its Global Restoration Initiative, is a massive fan of Sawadogo’s work.

Reij says, “He is such a good farmer. He doesn’t read or write. If he had been to school he would have been a professor. Researchers have all been impressed by what they saw. None had been able to design such a package as Yacouba.”
Which is why Sawadogo was invited to Washington DC, to the UN HQ and why he is the recipient of international accolades such as the 2018 Right Livelihood Award and 2020 Champions of the Earth Award.

There have been new threats from city expansion, but his philosophy is that “Injustice turns a man nasty. Goodness touches everyone.” He is determined to continue increasing the level of biodiversity on his land and to bring food security to his country and beyond. Who needs a string of degrees when such innate wisdom can achieve so much?

SPECIAL REPORT • BROAD-BASED LIVELIHOODS

Cultivating powerful futures

Social grants are most effective when used to empower the disadvantaged to become agents of change in their own lives. Here is how SocioTech, a Pretoria based social enterprise, is transforming lives through food gardening and entrepreneurial training

BY Anna Trapido | Journalist, Pretoria

THE RIGHT to food is enshrined in the South African constitution and yet by the end of 2020, more than 24 million of the country’s inhabitants were living in stressed or higher levels of food insecurity.* While Covid-19 undoubtedly had an aggravating effect, the underlying drivers of such stress are chronic, systemic and predate the pandemic. The expanded definition of unemployment (which includes discouraged job seekers) stands at 46.6% for the third quarter of 2021 and this figure is on an upward trajectory.

Ever increasing numbers of South Africans depend on social grants and food aid for survival. As a country with a proud history of engaging people’s power to overcome injustice, South Africa cannot afford (both literally and figuratively) to develop a culture of passive dependence. While state social security measures are an essential safety net for society’s most vulnerable, there is an increasing understanding that grants are most effective when used, not as a permanent prop, but rather as capital to stimulate entrepreneurial activities in disadvantaged communities.

Empowering individuals

Such a strategy forms part of the innovative approach adopted by SocioTech (https://sociotech.co.za/). This Pretoria-based social enterprise works in more than 300 villages and townships across eight of South Africa’s nine provinces. The organization’s CEO, Marna de Lange, explains that: “We work within a Broad-Based Livelihood (BBL) model which seeks to develop, implement at scale, and refine grassroots processes that engage and support people to be agents of change in their own lives. If the 24 million currently living in stressed or higher levels of food insecurity were to generate just R50 extra per week from own effort, it would add more than R60 billion output to the national economy. The poor are the greatest underutilized asset to our country. We would do well to respect that.”

South Africa cannot afford (both literally and figuratively) to develop a culture of passive dependence

Facilitator Charles Bisimwa describes how the organization transforms this aspect into reality through: “Keeping the barriers to entry very low. The beauty of the way we work is that people can start small and families can feel almost immediate relief from some of their stresses but, at the same time, there are also no boundaries to the extent of potential growth and diversification. The BBL programme ignites the flame of hope in the hearts of our participants and then we all work together to keep it burning brightly. I see this hope translated into action and fulfillment on a daily basis.”

Starting with people’s most pressing need, successful food gardening is the first step in the BBL journey towards confident, economic independence. The BBL MyFood programme empowers families with nutritional knowledge. Participants are offered information about balanced diets including the importance of fruit and vegetables and the long-term developmental consequences of micronutrient deficiencies for child health. De Lange says that: “This dietary education often creates great discomfort for those at the bottom of the socio-economic pyramid, who simply cannot afford to buy fresh produce—and this motivates them to undertake the agro-ecological food gardening training.”

The results are rapid. As facilitator Bisimwa observes: “Within the very first three-hour session of MyFood, a person can be in production! We teach people to farm God’s way using organic cultivation and pest management methods and with careful, consistent mentoring and monitoring, results show quickly.” Fellow BBL facilitator Caroline McCann concurs that: “Within two months, participants are already eating from their own efforts. Soon they have surplus. When there is surplus that is the moment for the BBL MyBusiness training to begin with selling strategies based around supplying neighbours. Everyone wins. Neighbours get good food at low prices and our participants get their first step into the world of business.”

The Phinda-Phinda process

Husband and wife facilitator team, Di and Cletus Damba have been working with SocioTech for a decade but say that: “It is still so exciting to see the dynamism that can come when participants are introduced to concepts such as budgeting and record-keeping. We show them how to control expenses so that they do not exceed income within personal and business finances. This leads on to discussions around the difference between just making money and actually making profit. Once these foundations of good business practices are in place, the sky is the limit. The skills and confidence the MyBusiness brings opens the door for people to diversify into any number of different business activities (what we call side hustles).”

This process of diversification is supported by the MyFuture programme which BBL facilitator Kwena Chipi describes as: “The book of acts, where participants discover their God-given talents and learn how to structure economic activity around their personal gifts. They are also encouraged to cherish and nurture personal relationships and harmony at home as an essential foundation for lasting business success.”

Within two months, participants are already eating from their own efforts

The SocioTech teaching methods are designed to create a learning culture that prepares participants for future learning and equips them with the skills and enthusiasm to transfer their new knowledge to friends, family and neighbours. Peer-to-peer teaching is incentivized through the BBL Phinda-Phinda process whereby once a person has implemented what they have learnt through MyFood, and then taught three further households to properly prepare and plant their own gardens, that person is eligible for a shade cloth covered vegetable tunnel. De Lange proudly observes that: “Through the Phinda-Phinda process, confidence and community spirit are enhanced. Many participants have discovered a talent and a love for teaching and continue to do so well beyond their first three Phinda-phindas; some then become fully fledged BBL facilitators themselves.”

Sibusiso Mbatha is one such participant turned facilitator. He recalls that: “Right from the start, the way the BBL programme is structured really spoke to me. The more I learnt, the more excited I became about the potential for this philosophy to change not only me and my family but also my neighbours and eventually the whole country. BBL sees everyone (not just rich people) and it can touch the hearts of people who are losing hope. When you lose hope and you have no faith in the future, life seems very frightening. When you are frightened you just want to hide, not work. There is an amazing freedom and energy that comes with not being afraid of the future. If I could wish one thing for my country, it would be freedom from fear of the future. The book of Proverbs 28: 19 says that the one cultivating his ground will have plenty of bread but the one taking up worthless pursuits will have his fill of poverty. If we live this way we can defeat poverty, fear and worthless pursuits and look forward to a powerful future.”

SPECIAL REPORT • FOOD SYSTEMS

COVID-19 showed us the importance of guaranteeing the right to food

South Africa’s food crisis—manifested in malnutrition and obesity among a large section of the country’s population—stems from two challenges, namely, the profit-oriented and environmentally unfriendly food system, and the loss of indigenous, nutritious local food production. New inspiring initiatives, such as the one in Belo Horizonte, Brazil, narrated below, have been created to overcome food insecurity even in the midst of the pandemic

BY Brittany Kesselman | Society, Work & Politics Institute (SWOP), Wits University, Johannesburg

WHEN THE COVID-19 pandemic struck, South Africa already faced a serious food crisis with high levels of food insecurity and malnutrition, as evidenced by high levels of stunting among children. At the same time, South Africa is experiencing rising levels of obesity and diet-related non-communicable diseases (NCDs) such as diabetes, hypertension and cardiovascular disease. This ‘double burden’ of under- and over-nutrition causes significant health challenges and robs the country of its future potential, because children’s access to good nutrition in their first 1000 days of life, influences their physical and cognitive development for the rest of their lives.

The country is also experiencing the ‘nutrition transition’ as people move from physically active rural lifestyles in which they produce their own food to more sedentary lives in urban areas, where they have access to more processed foods high in sugar, salt and fat. These processed foods are convenient and inexpensive, but they are also linked to non-communicable diseases.

There is enough food in the country to feed everyone, but due to high levels of poverty and unemployment, not everyone can afford access to it

The pre-existing food crisis in South Africa is not due to a shortage of food. There is enough food in the country to feed everyone, but due to high levels of poverty and unemployment, not everyone can afford access to it. The corporate-controlled food system prioritises profits over people’s rights to healthy food, with up to 30% of food lost or wasted while millions go hungry. In addition, the globalised food system has experienced volatile prices over the past decade, with the price of basic foodstuffs in South Africa rising dramatically since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Beyond issues of malnutrition and diet-related NCDs, the global food system is also a contributor to climate change. Researchers estimate that the food system is responsible for up to one third of global greenhouse gas emissions, through deforestation; carbon-based fertilisers; energy use on farms and in food transportation, processing and storage; plastic food packaging; livestock emissions; and food waste. Besides its carbon footprint, the food system also contributes to other environmental damage such as pollution of water, land and air, as well as the destruction of biodiversity and habitats.

COVID-19 and food access

The COVID-19 pandemic and the strict measures imposed to contain its spread, brought the issue of food access to public attention in South Africa, as many people who had been able to afford just enough food to survive, suddenly found themselves going without. Job losses, a crackdown on informal vendors, and price increases caused by interruptions in global food and agriculture supply chains, all contributed to a sharp rise in food insecurity. At various times, supermarket shelves were empty, informal traders were banned from selling food on the streets and some small-scale farmers could not access their fields.

According to one study, 47% of households ran out of money to buy food during the initial lockdown in April 2020. Increased levels of child hunger in particular were worrying, but unsurprising, given the abrupt closure of schools and school-based nutrition programmes which provide the only meal of the day for some children in food insecure households.

COVID-19 also illustrated the linkages between nutrition and health, specifically the importance of ensuring that all South Africans have access to sufficient, healthy food. A nutritious diet is directly linked to a healthy immune system, which in turn affects people’s susceptibility to COVID-19 and the severity of the disease if they are infected. Both micronutrient deficiencies (malnutrition) as well as obesity have negative effects on the immune system. Early data showed the correlation between NCDs and the severity of COVID cases. A study from Cape Town showed that COVID-19 patients with diabetes were almost four times more likely to be hospitalized and over three times more likely to die from COVID-19 than patients without diabetes.

Both micronutrient deficiencies (malnutrition) as well as obesity have negative effects on the immune system

Best practice in food policies: Belo Horizonte, Brazil

While most cities and countries are experiencing increasing food insecurity, the city of Belo Horizonte, Brazil, is known as ‘the city that ended hunger’ through a set of integrated policies and programmes grounded in the right to food. Since 1993, the city’s dedicated food unit, in co-operation with other municipal departments, has implemented food and nutrition security programmes that cost only 2% of the municipal budget. These seek to support small-scale family farms and urban farmers; improve access to fresh, healthy foods; and increase awareness around nutrition and health. (See some of its most innovate initiatives in the annexed text box)

Belo Horizonte has become a global leader in ensuring food security and fighting malnutrition and obesity by improving access to fresh fruits and vegetables. The city’s programmes also support decent incomes for small-scale producers through direct market access and public procurement. In addition, environmentally sustainable production is encouraged through additional funds to purchase agro-ecologically farmed foods. Beyond the health and economic benefits, the programmes support social cohesion through communal eating spaces, cultural events featuring local gastronomy, and local farmers’ markets where people can meet the farmers who grow their food and enjoy a sense of community.

When COVID-19 hit Brazil, the city of Belo Horizonte was already in a good position to address the additional challenges brought by school closures and other lockdown measures. The popular restaurants, for example, had to switch quickly from canteen seating to takeaway meals, to avoid large gatherings of people where the virus could be spread. They also extended their opening times over weekends. The city launched an open-air dining space where it could continue to serve healthy meals and also distribute fruit parcels. In addition, the families of schoolchildren received vouchers for groceries, to be redeemed at nearby shops, so that children would not be left without access to healthy food. The food bank expanded its donations to organisations serving vulnerable populations. The city’s experience with food and nutrition security, as well as its commitment to guaranteeing the right to food, enabled it to adjust quickly to the new circumstances of COVID-19.

South Africa’s response to food insecurity

In the context of these COVID-related disruptions of food access, the media showed images of long lines for emergency food assistance, with government and civil society groups stepping up efforts to feed the population. Government attempted to distribute food parcels, though these were criticized for being insufficient, late, politicised and unhealthy. Community groups and non-governmental organisations increased existing programmes and launched new ones to try to fill the void.

Some of the civil society responses illustrate potential longer-term solutions for increasing access to affordable, healthy food. In the face of disruptions to national and global supply chains, more localized food systems began to emerge. Across South Africa, community action networks (CANs) sprang up to address hunger, with volunteers providing meals and other assistance to fellow community members.

In Gauteng, the C19 People’s Coalition (C19PC) sought to link small-scale farmers— who lost access to their usual markets—to communities in need of food assistance. Unlike most food parcels, which were procured from large corporations and contained non-perishable items with almost no nutritional value, the C19PC vegetable parcels sought to support the livelihoods of small-scale farmers while also promoting the health of vulnerable households through access to fresh vegetables. Another lockdown food initiative in Johannesburg has evolved into The People’s Pantry, which supports seven community kitchens and also runs a community swap shop that enables people to earn points by collecting recyclables, which they can then spend on food and other basic items. These initiatives provide glimpses of what an alternative, localised food system, based on the right to food, might look like.

Belo Horizonte shows how a city with a commitment to guaranteeing the right to food, and ensuring food access, is able to adapt its programmes in times of crisis

Lessons for a more just food system

The disruption caused by COVID-19 caused tremendous suffering, but it also highlighted opportunities for more localised, solidarity-oriented food systems which provide decent livelihoods to small-scale farmers and nutritious food to the people in their communities. The case of Belo Horizonte provides many useful lessons. It shows that low-cost, innovative food programmes can have a real impact on improving access to healthy food. Belo Horizonte also shows how a city with a commitment to guaranteeing the right to food, and with experience in ensuring food access, is able to adapt its programmes quickly in times of crisis. As climate change worsens, we can expect more frequent crises in the future. Thus, it is important to adopt and implement comprehensive food policies and improve co-operation between the South African government and civil society to ensure access to sufficient, nutritious food for all, in the name of justice and health.

SPECIAL REPORT • BLUE FOOD SYSTEMS

Turning the boat around

Small-scale fisheries are crucial to food security in Africa, but they are threatened by non-government support as well as government support of industrial and illegal fishing by foreign vessels

BY Bryan P. Galligan SJ | Research and Policy Analyst of food and climate justice, Jesuit Justice and Ecology Network Africa, Nairobi, Kenya

ON 1 February 2022, a group of four fishermen attempting to access the Mbashe River in South Africa, a traditional fishing ground they were legally entitled to use, were detained and assaulted by a group of nine nature reserve rangers. The rangers, who were either unaware
of or indifferent to their right to access the river, beat them, tied them up with reeds found along the riverbank, and suffocated them with their own clothes.

When most people think of food security, they do not think of fish

The recent incident on the banks of the Mbashe River is not an isolated one. During COVID-19 lockdowns in South Africa,
for example, the harassment of smallscale fishermen by law enforcement authorities was so intense that many communities were temporarily deprived of access to their fishing grounds. During
similar lockdowns in Kenya, artisanal fishermen who operate at night were prohibited from doing so. Some chose to dodge the police in order to practise their traditional livelihoods and feed their communities. Others hung up their gear, stayed home, and hoped for the best. In
both cases, local food production was curtailed with devastating effect.

When most people think of food security, they do not think of fish. And
yet, wild-caught fish are a vital source of calories and micronutrients for many of the world’s poor, including many in Sub-Saharan Africa. In much of Africa, including several land-locked countries, over 20% of the animal-based protein in people’s diets comes from fish. In coastal
and riparian regions, that number can be 90% or more. Most of these fish are caught by small-scale, artisanal fishermen, who account for about 90% of fish workers, 60% of the global catch, and an even higher proportion of the catch available to food-insecure communities in developing countries. Although government planners often see the diversity of Africa’s small-scale fisheries as a problem that makes them difficult to manage, that very diversity often confers resilience in the face of environmental and economic shocks such as those caused by COVID-19 and climate change.

Blue economic development

Capture fisheries, and especially small-scale fisheries, are a crucial piece of the food security puzzle. At a time when hunger and malnutrition are on the rise, national and global actors should be doing all they can to strengthen small-scale fisheries in Africa. So why are they taking the opposite course?

Sadly, the political priorities of African and world leaders are not aligned with the food security needs of communities reliant on aquatic resources. First, consider the events at the Mbashe River. This physical brutalization of small-scale fishermen is not a new phenomenon, but it is a growing one. This is particularly true of African nations that are changing the way they govern the ocean in the name of blue economy initiatives. The stated goals of these initiatives usually reflect the priorities of the so-called ‘triple bottom line,’ the idea that corporate entities should be evaluated based on their social and environmental impacts as well as the profits they generate. However, blue economic development in Africa has rarely achieved, or even tried to achieve, these lofty goals. Instead, it has re-packaged old and broken development models in shiny new clothing. This has had disastrous results for small-scale fishermen and the food security of coastal communities.

Anyone who has studied the history of African food systems, knows exactly how damaging the colonial project for food security was

Anyone who has studied the history of African food systems, or indeed anyone who has lived this history, knows exactly how damaging the colonial project for food security was. In many places, colonial authorities altered African food systems through the use of military force and structural violence to build an agricultural economy oriented toward the export of cash crops and the benefit of wealthy elites. Economies grew while people went hungry. A similar pattern is reproduced in the blue economy today.

The ocean and its resources are depicted as ‘untapped’ and ‘there for the taking,’ the existing resource users (small-scale fishermen) and the social benefits they provide (food security) are rendered invisible, and hard and soft power are mobilized to ‘secure’ the resources in question. We should not be surprised, then, when nature reserve rangers in South Africa feel empowered to torture fishermen, or the Danish navy goes pirate hunting in the Gulf of Guinea, or the government of Kenya refuses to recognize an international legal ruling that shrinks their territorial sea. These episodes fit into a wider pattern of blue economic development that bears more similarity to colonial exploitation of people and nature than to the rosy pictures painted by its proponents. Under this emerging economic order, small-scale fishermen become collateral damage.

Overfishing

The vigilance and patrolling of the sea and the exclusion of small-scale fishermen is not the only cause of marginalization and hunger in African coastal communities. Law and policy specific to fishery governance are also to blame. Most countries do not govern fisheries with food security in mind. They overwhelmingly tend to view fish as a natural resource rather than as a food resource.

Consider Kenya, for instance, which, until very recently, could have been considered a success story. Over the past two decades, fishery managers, NGOs, and local communities have worked together to make slow progress in improving the sustainability of fisheries and empowering coastal communities. Beach management units (community organizations that participate in fishery governance) were created and eventually codified into law. Marine reserves capable of sustaining high levels of fishing in adjacent waters were established and expanded. Many challenges remained, but a clear positive trajectory had been established. Unfortunately, however, the government now seems set to abandon that progress.

Kenya recently released a draft set of fishery regulations that do not recognize the human and customary rights of small-scale fishermen to access marine resources. The draft regulations are instead designed to support an industrial fishing sector that barely exists and will not be capable of providing the social benefits now provided by small-scale fisheries. It is not clear what the final version of these regulations will look like, but the draft version makes it apparent that the government of Kenya is more interested in developing a sleek, capital-intensive commercial fishing fleet than in protecting coastal food security. Sadly, these priorities are consistent with those of other African nations as well, especially if the African Union’s Agenda 2063 is any indication. In its continent-wide development agenda, the AU specifically targets the fishery sector as a source of macro-economic growth, but does not discuss its contribution to food security. While these goals need not be diametrically opposed, a fishing industry designed to provide maximum food security for local communities would look very different from one designed to optimize economic efficiency.

African states must protect their fish stocks from exploitation by distant water fishing nations

The challenges I have described thus far—the colonial approach to blue economic development and the focus on fisheries as a natural resource rather than as a food resource—are only part of the problem. There are many other reasons why blue food systems in Africa are underperforming. Legal and illegal fishing by large vessels from Europe and Asia are depleting fish stocks, often supported by government subsidies. Fish from African waters are also diverted through trade or as animal feed to wealthier countries instead of providing sorely needed calories and micronutrients to the communities where they were caught. Overfishing in marine and inland water bodies is also a major challenge.

While fish are already a vital source of food in Africa, these mounting challenges make it much more difficult for fishermen to practice their livelihoods and maximize their contribution to food security and nutrition. Hundreds of millions are affected. Fortunately, however, this tragic situation is not a necessary one. Increasing fishery production in a way that is both sustainable and equitable is difficult, but not impossible, and researchers and managers in many places are working together to make this happen. But production is only part of the problem. What Africa’s blue food systems really need is a political transformation.

Community participation

First, African states must protect their fish stocks from exploitation by distant-water fishing nations. In many cases, more powerful countries gain access to Africa’s marine resources through manipulative access agreements in which the fishing nation pays a token fee in exchange for access to the host nation’s marine resources and for maintaining the secrecy of the agreement’s terms. Host nations with a limited ability to patrol their own waters and ensure foreign vessels are following the law are particularly attractive. To turn this around, African countries will need to work together to negotiate access agreements as regional blocs, make the terms of their access agreements public, and re-allocate security resources away from the small-scale fisheries they currently target and toward the foreign vessels that cause much more damage.

Achieving food security in Africa will require the contributions of small-scale fisheries

Once the foreign threat to national sovereignty is remedied, the domestic threat to food sovereignty must also be addressed—that will mean providing communities with democratic control over the aquatic resources on which they rely. All around the world, communities are taking increased responsibility for the management of their local fisheries under various types of power-sharing agreements with national and local governments. This is called co-management, and its success has demonstrated the importance of community participation in fishery governance. Co-management’s Achilles heel, however, is that it can be co-opted or even ignored by more powerful government structures when the interests of local communities do not align with the interests of government ministers or heads of state. This is where democratic values and food security are mutually reinforcing assets. As long as central governments continue to undermine local communities in the name of blue economic development, fisheries’ contribution to food security will remain severely limited.

African countries should invest in their people by investing in a sustainable, equitable, and democratically governed fishing industry. Sadly, however, exploitative political and economic conditions are undermining that goal. Today, the Mbashe River is no safer for fishermen than it was last month, foreign vessels are sailing home carrying fish caught in African waters, and most central governments are still too interested in consolidating their own power to seriously contemplate empowering local communities. Achieving food security in Africa will require the contributions of small-scale fisheries; maximizing the contributions of small-scale fisheries will require the empowerment of local communities; and empowering local communities will require the democratization of fishery governance. Much is at stake. We cannot afford to wait any longer.