IRIN Humanitarian Web Special: Surviving disaster

Plight of an internally displaced woman

Fatimah Umar, about 50 years old, lives with her extended family in a makeshift traditional shelter in a camp on the desolate outskirts of Gode. With little protection from the blazing sun and dust-laden winds, she longs to go home, but, having no means of survival ouside the camp, cannot do so.

"The deaths of my animals brought on hunger, which forced me to leave home. There have been no good rains for more than three years. I walked for seven days with my family to get here. My eldest child is about 30 and the youngest - my grandchild - is one. After all our animals died, we decided to walk to Gode for help. It was the long drought that killed our herd. We had 20 head of cattle - which were the first to die - and about 100 sheep and goats. They died gradually, one by one, starting from the onset of the drought, and then, finally, by this year, there were none left. We were never able to sell them off because they had become so weak and thin that no-one wanted to buy."

"We have nothing to live on apart from the animals. I decided to come to Gode because it is a big town, and I know it. Before, I used to come here to exchange and sell animals, and buy food and clothes."

"I have lost three children to this famine, who died after we arrived. The eldest was 20 and the other two were six and four. I had hoped for help, but it was too late. I don't know who helps us now, and I don't care. The government and the world should help us. I don't know what to do next. I can't work here because I'm too old, and I can't go home, because I have no animals to go back to."

Umar Du'ale, Karanka, southeastern Ogaden

"I've never seen anything like this during my lifetime." Umar Du'ale, 70 years old, says the effects of the prolonged regional drought are the worst in living memory. It is locally known as "Fekaweyn", which means "greater than age". Of his original 300 sheep and goats, only 20 are left to support his wife and nine children. "My animals started dying in January," he says. Now his family depends on hand-outs of wheat from the government.

He attracts an audience as he sits in a local teashop and talks about the crisis. He declares there are three factors which inflict suffering on the community: drought, war and darkness. When any of these calamities arrive, he says, it is important to beware of what "looks as if it will do some good, but is useless".

Regarding drought: "Rains can fall, it becomes green and beautiful." Regarding war: "People start talking about reconciliation." And regarding darkness: "The moon comes up." Don't be deceived by appearances, he warns his audience.

"Rain will do nothing for you if you have nothing," he says, gesturing towards the now verdant pastures in sight of Karanka town. "They're beautiful, but you have no animals left to graze. Take the wheat hand-outs," he advises.

When there is war, listen very carefully to the negotiations, he suggests, "because if you have killed, revenge will still be hanging over your head". And finally, don't rely on a full moon to help you when darkness falls on the community: "Light will help, but not if you are blind."

Rains have indeed painted Karanka green, but, as Umar Du'ale says, people have lost too much livestock to take advantage of the pastures.

Livestock ban hits trader hard

"I lost a lot of livestock during the famine, and what I have left is in the outskirts of town," Muhammad Hasan Hargene, a livestock trader in Kebri Dehar, told IRIN. "Before the famine I had about 60 camels, 50 head of cattle and about 220 sheep and goats. Now I have only 20 camels, three cows and about 50 sheep and goats. I need help, especially in terms of the health of my animals. They have been sick and dying of famine-related diseases. We also need water. If I get that sort of help, I can recover.

"Before the famine I used to trade in Hargeysa and Burao [capital of the neighbouring self-declared Republic of Somaliland]. Normally we traded in Somali shillings. During the good times, I used to sell grade-one sheep in Hargeysa or Burao for between 100,000 and 125,000 shillings. When we traded in Hargeysa we used not to bring back cash, but sugar, food and other commodities needed in Kebri Dehar. We also trade on a local, internal market, but that is not big.

"Now, I hear on the radio that there is a ban on our livestock because of Rift Valley fever. We used to sell [our stock] in Somaliland and they would sell to the Arabs, but now the Arabs have stopped the entire trade. There is not much we can do about that. Just when we were recovering from famine, this ban hit us... We need help from international agencies and the government to inspect and certify our animals. We are desperate. What shall we do if this continues? We live with our animals, we know when they are sick and when they are well. We have done no tests, but we know our animals.

"This region has been holding elections, which coincided with the crisis. All the important people have been in Jijiga [capital of the regional state], so we have not had a chance to tell them [about our problems]. But we will talk to the local and central governments. It's difficult, but if this ban continues, we need the government to find an alternative market for our livestock. It's no good just bringing us rations of wheat."

Muhammad Hirsi Farah, deputy governor of Kebri Dehar

"March and April were the worst. People died on the streets of Kebri Dehar. The livestock lay down and died on the land. People who had the strength went to Gode. It was unquestionably a famine - for us," Muhammad Hirsi Farah, the deputy governor of Kebri Dehar, told IRIN. "The livestock was wiped out, there was nothing coming out of the farms, and there was no water. Aid agencies tend to close their ears to warnings until they perceive a disaster, and even then, the focus was all on one place - Gode. I think it's because it has a better airport."

"We sent out an alert that there would be a crisis six months before the famine started. We said it would begin in March. We got no response. Later the government made food available from the central depot and sent out appeals to the international community. The international response was very slow. The disaster was already under way."

"Once people lost everything they moved to the nearest urban centre. People are still arriving in Kebri Dehar, but they don't find enough assistance here, so they have to move on. Gode was the centre for the aid agencies, and there was little help given outside it. There were many internally displaced people, who were dispersed [over a wide area] with little or no transport to help them. We have one agency here in Kebri Dehar, and I think everyone believed that it would take care of everything here. What is more, agencies seem territorial. They don't like encroachment. We asked for more assistance here, but we just see aid trucks driving through: the help is not for us."

"The government has distributed rations to the most badly affected here. Through the Disaster Prevention and Preparedness Board we count each family, then register the head of the household, and each person gets 12.5 kg a month. For distribution, we separate the women and children to form one group, and then the men to form another. There has been no pilfering of food so far. We monitor the distributions. The only complaint we get is that it is wheat [that is handed out]. People don't really like wheat here."

"Help is still very important. Those who have a few animals left can put them out to pasture, but those who have lost everything need a resettlement programme. The biggest problem now is this Rift Valley fever ban. It makes recovery look impossible."