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Mexico. “Until dignity becomes the custom”.

The Miguel Agustín Pro Juarez Human Rights Centre (Centro ProDH),founded by the Jesuits, is celebrating its 30th year. A path in defence of human rights especially in the most disadvantaged sectors in Mexico. Father Jesús Maldonado, founder of the Centre
tell us its story.

During these 30 years we have been accompanying many of those men and women who have suffered violations of their rights, unjust trials and imprisonments. People who have been tortured, who have been separated from their families and friends and who have lost years of their life. We have been supporting people who tirelessly search for their loved ones, as well as communities that fight to defend their lands.
In the first years of our activity we joined with other groups in order to create a solid front in a new field of social struggle, which was beginning to develop in Mexico. It is interesting to note that the National Human Rights Commission did not exist before 1989.

The director of Mexican Human Rights Center Miguel Agustin Pro Juarez, Mario Patron.

The Zapatist uprising, which started in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas and spread throughout a dozen other cities, broke out on January 1, 1994, on the very day the North American Free Trade Agreement took effect. The TV showed hundreds of thousands of people wearing masks over their face and rising up against the Mexican state to demand social justice for Mexico’s impoverished indigenous peoples. The Miguel Agustín Pro Juarez Human Rights Centre (Centro Prodh), decided to ‘assume the defence of the alleged Zapatistas, as a contribution to peace, in order to favour the end of the crisis’. Shortly thereafter, the Aguas Blancas and El Charco massacres occurred in which 17 farmers were killed and 23 seriously injured by the police.Over the years, we have been accompanying indigenous and peasant communities victims of indiscriminate mining and logging activities that have damaged their forests, rivers and lagoons. Throughout three decades we have denounced the abuse of injustices and arbitrary national trials and, through advocacy at the international level, we have claimed the respect of human rights and proposed structural changes in the field of justice.
The Centro ProDH has carried out its social struggle over 30 years through different ways: in courts, through national and international petitions, by joining with many other groups also committed to defending human rights. We, as an independent group but at the same time also linked to many other institutions of civil society, try to create a society where justice is a reality. The ProDH Centre, which tried to strengthen its relationship with the then Human Rights Council of the United Nations and other human rights groups had already been established when the Zapatist rebellion broke out.

Two emblematic cases
In May 1999, Rodolfo Montiel and Teodoro Cabera, founders and members of the Organization of Ecological Peasants of Sierra de Petatlán and Coyuca de Catalán, were arrested by members of the Mexican Army’s 40th Infantry Battalion in Pizotla, Guerrero. They fought to stop the vast and often illegal denuding of the forests of the Sierra de Petatlan in the 1990s. They blocked roads that logging companies used and staged disruptive demonstrations.

They were illegally held in military custody for five days, during which time they were tortured and forced to sign blank pieces of paper later submitted at their trials as confessions to drug and weapons crimes. The ProDH took the case to the UN.
In July 2000, Mexico’s own National Human Rights Commission (CNDH) concluded that Montiel and Cabrera had been illegally detained and tortured by soldiers and were released in 2001. The ProDH Centre’s defence strategy was defined schematically in: legal actions, trainings, dissemination of information, advocacy, and international activism.

The Support of the Company of Jesus
The Company of Jesus has always provided the ProDH with institutional support when requested, this has characterized the work for human rights by the Jesuits in Mexico.
Since 1994, emblematic cases were reported, by this I mean cases that always showed a specific behaviour by the State. These cases were taken to international institutions and led to structural changes in the practice and politics of human rights. One of the most emblematic was the case that was defined the case of ‘the ecologist peasants, Alberta, Jacinta and Teresa, the women of Atenco’.

The Atenco case
This case was taken to international institutions. The ‘Miguel Agustín Pro Juárez’ Human Rights Centre, and other human rights organizations requested the urgent intervention of the World Organisation Against Torture (OMCT ) concerning the events in the village of San Salvador de Atenco, municipality of Texcoco, in Mexico State: several of the persons who remained in custody in the ‘Santiaguito’ Centre for Penal Readaptation in Almoloya de Juárez, in the same State, were victims of severe aggression, including sexual abuse.

Ñh-Nhu indigenous women
Jacinta Francisco Marcial, Alberta Alcántara Cornelio and Teresa González Cornelio are Ñhἂ-Nhu indigenous from the town of Santiago Mexquititlán, municipality of Amealco de Bonfil, Querétaro. They speak one of the nine variants of the Otomí language spoken in Mexico. They were among the protesters when in April 2006 the Mexican Government evicted a group of florists from a market in order to carry out a development plan. This operation involved excessive use of force, which provoked an outburst of community support including acts of civil disobedience; in particular, the blocking of a federal highway. In response, in May 2006, the government of the Mexican State, sent more than 2,000 police agents to remove the blockade.

The police killed two people, including a 14 year old boy, and arbitrarily detained more than 200. Several women gave harrowing accounts in live testimony of being subjected to violence, including sexual violence. Police officers beat and raped protestors. For a decade these women have been unable to find justice in Mexico: domestic proceedings brought at the federal and state levels were thwarted; criminal investigations were deficient, plagued with delays, and brought for the wrong offenses: Jacinta Francisco Marcial, Alberta Alcántara Cornelio and Teresa González Cornelio were charged with kidnapping. Their knowledge of Spanish was scarce but no interpreter was called to assist them. In April 2008 eleven of the women, who suffered abuses during the 2006 events, decided to seek justice from the Inter-American Commission of Human Rights. The women had the support of several non- governmental organisations, including the Miguel Agustín Pro Juárez Human Rights Centre (ProDH Centre). The petitioners alleged incidents of sexual violence, claiming that it constituted a form of discrimination, and various other forms of physical, verbal, and psychological abuse.

They claimed that the Mexican State was responsible for violating human rights. In 2017, in what is considered an historic decision, Mexico’s Supreme Court of Justice determined that legal social protest that took place in Atenco in 2006 had been treated as a crime, and ordered the release of the 12 people still in prison. The Supreme Court was blunt: the prisoners had been convicted without evidence. On that occasion, teacher Estela said those words we have chosen to mark the 30th anniversary of ProDH: ‘Until dignity becomes the custom’. During these years, the Centre has also trained  300 judges and about 4000 promoters of human rights.

Insecurity under Enrique Peña Nieto
Mexico ranks as the world’s third most violent country and it is considered just as dangerous to visit as Syria and Iraq. Organized crime has infiltrated regional and national political life. According to the National Human Rights Commission (CNDH) only 1 to 2 percent of crimes are punished in Mexico. Forced disappearance is an ongoing crime under the government of Enrique Peña. The women, who are members of the ‘Collectives of Families of the Disappeared’, continue in an admirable and tireless way the search for their loved ones throughout the country. At least three people are reported missing everyday in the state of Veracruz. The tragic case of the missing students from Ayotzinapa is perhaps the best known outside Mexico.

Today we are experiencing what is probably the deepest national crisis because of impunity, corruption, macro crime and widespread violations of human rights. At the same time, one can see glimpses of hope, thanks to those who fight for the truth and justice that Mexico so badly needs. In this difficult context, the great challenge of the ProDH Centre is to be able to face this reality and respond to the needs of the victims.
In this centre we seek justice and truth for the causes that we accompany, and also try to promote fundamental changes in the institutions and in society.

The Gumuz People, their culture.

They live today almost the way they could have lived one or two hundred years ago, and this way differs a lot from that of their neighbours. We look at the main traits of their culture by analyzing the fundamental stages in a person’s life: birth, puberty,
marriage and death.


Birth.
It is remarked with horror by neighboring tribes that Gumuz women give birth ‘alone and in the forest’. Is it just a simple rumor or the fruit of prejudice? Gumuz women do give birth outside the home. It could be a short distance away or perhaps next to it, but always outdoors. There are two reasons that explain this practice. The first is that giving birth is a test of courage. A woman has to face it alone and has to do so with determination and skill. She must cut the umbilical cord and wash the child herself, since bearing the pain with fortitude is an honor for a woman. The second reason is related to the taboo of blood. If blood ‘sullies’ the house, it would lead to misfortunes such as the child’s death or deformity.

Puberty. The first menstruation of a girl is a public event and a feast for the village. She is decorated with lots of colorful necklaces and has her newly-developed breasts uncovered. Her girlfriends are also dressed this way when accompanying her. They pay visits to houses in the village and each family gives them something: a chicken, some money, perhaps even a goat.
As night falls, they gather to eat meat, drink local beer and dance. A young girl who has just started menstruation has a series of taboos to respect: she cannot enter her parents’ house and she cannot cross other people’s land. Even after marrying, all women who are menstruating have to follow certain rules, although these vary from one area to another. It may include sleeping in a different house, not opening or closing the front door and such like. They must always take great care not to approach the central pole of the house; otherwise the spirit that lives there will punish them.

In traditional Gumuz culture, women are not circumcised. Female circumcision is only practiced in some areas bordering Sudan, probably under Muslim influence. Boys, on the contrary, are all circumcised when they are between 5 and 9 years old. No boy escapes this rite of passage. If they are not circumcised they cannot marry; an uncircumcised man is not a real adult.
Marriage. Traditionally, there are four basic forms of marriage among the Gumuz: sister exchange, elopement, kidnap and paying a dowry. Sister exchange is the most common form. Any man that wants a wife must give a sister, daughter or other woman from his family group in exchange. Apart from the wedding expenses, no dowry is paid by either party. The second form, elopement, is also frequently practiced. A young man and woman who love each other decide to marry. But, as this is not possible either because the parents do not approve, or because the young man does not have a woman from his family to give in exchange, they run away together. Later, they may contact the elders to resolve the situation. A solution is found when the family of the young man finds a woman to exchange, or promises to provide one when she is found.

The third form is kidnapping. It is different from elopement because the young man takes the girl by force and rapes her. It is a serious criminal offence that frequently leads to bloodshed between families or clans. The way it is resolved is similar to that of elopement.
The fourth way, paying a dowry, was rarely practiced among the Gumuz. It has been recently introduced through the influence of neighbouring peoples. Here, a dowry is paid for the bride in accordance with customary criteria. The amount that must be paid is high, that is why this type of marriage is reserved for the rich and powerful. Girls are given in marriage when they have barely reached puberty. This means that, when they stop being children they are already wives with their first child on the way.
Illness and death. The government has made an effort to open health centres even in the remotest villages but the Gumuz do not go to them. They normally prefer to visit a traditional witch doctor or gafia. The problem is that, when the witch doctors are unable to do anything, the health centres cannot either, because they are badly served and poorly stocked with medicines. Going to a hospital, particularly if it is for an operation, is beyond most people’s reach. The Gumuz have a short life cycle. You see very few old men and even fewer old women. They do everything fast: they marry young, have children young and die young.

Death is very present in the daily life of the Gumuz because almost everyone dies at home, for all to see. But not all deaths are seen in the same way. If the person who has died was old, had children and had seen the children of his or her children, the death is not really a cause for mourning, but rather a celebration. They have fulfilled everything expected of them. So people dance. If the person who dies is a child under four years of age, the celebrations are small and limited to the family circle. He or she was just a child and there is no reason to grieve for them. In contrast, the death of a young person, between 4 and 40 years of age, approximately, is considered outside the natural rhythm of things and there will be no dancing or singing. Forty days after the funeral, the so called ‘teskar of the bones’ is held; this celebration is more solemn than after the death itself as there has been time to make preparations and people have been notified in advance. The funeral of an elderly person is one of the biggest events in Gumuz social life and surrounding villages literally empty in order to participate. The grave is deep. The body is carefully wrapped in cloth so the earth does not touch it. They do not use a coffin. After the burial, in the following days, the family will return to the tomb to offer drink or food, to light a fire, etc. They believe that, if they do not follow these rites, the dead person will take revenge. He or she is seated on top of the roof of the house and watches what is done. However, despite these signs of a reverential fear, there is no clear idea of personal survival after death.
If questioned about the existence of a life after death, the answer would be most surely negative.
(J.G.N.)

The Religious Universe of the Gumuz.

Travelling around the Gumuz region we did not see specific place for worship. Of course they have explicit acts of worship, but these are few and not particularly elaborate.

They do not require a specific place, specific people to carry them out, special clothes or a precisely set ritual. And yet it would an error to affirm that the Gumuz are not religious, because the supernatural is present in everything. The world of the Gumuz is, in fact, brimming with a transcendent reality that must be answered to. That is why prayer, however informal, short or distracted it may be, appears often on their lips. “We have no religion. But we know Misa (spirit, God). Misa is Mise-kwacha (spirit of the sorghum), Mise-tanka (spirit of the millet), Mise-gicha (spirit of the river)”. Begumb, an elderly Gumuz, told us when we asked him about his religion.

Most of the Gumuz north of the Blue Nile follow the traditional religion, ‘the tradition of our fathers’, as they call it. But, as they are neither Christians nor Muslims, the two well-structured religions they live in contact with, they say that they have no religion. However, they do have religion, because they know Misa, the supreme ‘spirit’ who, according to what Begumb’s assertion seems to imply, is one and manifests himself in several forms or ‘spirits’.
On this point, however, other Gumuz may not concord with Begumb. For them, there is not only one spirit who takes different forms but rather a multiplicity of spirits among whom one reigns supreme. This is Misa-Yamba, or simply Yamba or simply Misa.
While the other spirits act only in their respective areas, Yamba is all-powerful in every field. He created all existing things and he controls and safeguards the functioning of the world. The other spirits are under his omnipresent guardianship. Kolech, who is a gafia (a witch doctor), says: “If my child falls ill, it could have been Mise-kwacha who made him ill. Then I go to Yamba and ask him why Mise-kwacha has done this to me, and to stop him”.Not all the lesser spirits are the same. While Mise-kwacha or Mise-tanka are benevolent spirits, there are others that are dangerous. One of these is Mise-gicha, the spirit of the river. That is why it is always dangerous to cross it or to go swimming in it. When someone, after crossing the river, feels a pain in their side, they must immediately go to the religious specialists called gafia, who will tell them what type of sacrifice they must make.

The gafia or witch doctor play a vital role in the community. People go to them with every type of illness or problem. They will apply a local medicine following a specific ritual, which mainly consists of sacrificing a chicken and then, they will give the patient the suitable herbs.
Another religious specialist is the gola who are types of ‘prophets’ or ‘visionaries’ who have the power to communicate with many spirits. They are capable of knowing what a client’s problem is without explaining it to them. Rather than to cure illnesses, the golas are consulted in order to discover the causes behind events such as the unexpected death of a community member.
The job of gafia or gola is not passed on from father to son. It is a personal vocation that manifests itself through unusual symptoms like dreams, strange conduct or such manifestations. They do not train for their profession all the knowledge they have is supposed to be revealed to them in dreams. If each gafia passed on the medical knowledge acquired through practice to a successor, valid knowledge could be accumulated that could benefit the people. But this is not the case among the Gumuz.
A different type of religious specialists are the possessors (ette) of a particular spirit (mise). The most prestigious is the ette-Mise-tanka or possessor of the spirit of the millet. He guarantees the millet harvests. No one can start to eat from the new harvest of this product until he has done so first. The ette-Mise-tanka has curative powers and, if he touches a sick person, they will get better.

Evil eye plays a fundamental role in the Gumuz’s religious system and it is one of the main causes of tension and conflict. In the event that someone dies and it is thought that it was under a spell, there will be a serious crisis that could lead to deaths among different groups or families. When someone is suspected of having caused the evil eye, they may be expelled from the community and forced to go and live in a remote place. Sometimes the supposed possessor of the evil eye disappears of their own accord to go and live where no one knows them. Apart from a secret strictly personal prayer, the Gumuz have the custom of giving an invocation when they gather to eat or drink. Normally they say “lachi Misa” (may God give). Public community prayers are not very frequent. It is for those occasions that have a certain importance or solemnity. For example, when they finish a stage in the farm work, they often sacrifice a goat in the same field where they have been working. Another form of group prayer is the one that takes place periodically on one of the paths that lead to the village. There is no uniformity in the way it is done or in its frequency, which varies from doing it each month to once a year. They also pray when an epidemic attacks the people or livestock. In this case, rather than praying directly to God, they pray to the spirits, asking them to stay away and not harm the village. (J.G.N.)

The Gumuz in front of a changing world.

Changes go very fast. There are many agents responsible for these changes. The first is the government and its laws and programmes of development, which in a society that had been regulating itself by ancestral traditions, has a tremendous impact.

The Gumuz have been living so far on their primitive farming of ‘slash and burn’, scratching the ground with a little hoe and trusting the seeds to the generous earth, gathering wild produce in the forest. They had as much land as they wanted. But now the government is concentrating them in large villages along some main roads and giving them a limited piece of land and leasing the rest to national or foreign investors or those who cultivate with modern machinery.
At the same time, other ethnic groups, more dynamic and with more advanced methods of agriculture, like de Agaw, have been settling little by little among them. The result is that the land, which has been theirs since time immemorial, is slipping out of Gumuz hands. Besides this, more intensive cultivation, whether by them or by others, brings deforestation, which has negative consequences, such as less rains, less land available for hunting, fishing, honey-making, the gathering of wild-growing produce. The continual loss of land is the main reason for mounting tension with their neighbours with the corresponding killings.

Other factors of change come from the exposure to the styles of life which circulate in the globalized world and which have also reached the Gumuz. A loud radio can be heard in the most remote corner of the bush and a solar panel can be seen on the roof of more than one grass house where people go to charge their mobiles. In bigger centres, you can see the TV and films of every kind, mainly those of violence. Boys and girls want to dress or have a haircut in the fashion of their idols, a singer, a football player.
With the recent concentration of villages, the majority of the Gumuz people of Metekel live along the road which leads to the Great Renaisance Dam on the border with Sudan. Traffic drastically intensified since the construction of the dam, began in 2011, and the small towns saw hotels, restaurants, garages, tolerance houses, multiplying. The Gumuz could not help but be affected by all these novelties and they gradually feel more uncomfortable in their traditional habits of life.
Also religion has become as agent of change. The Gumuz have been in contact with Islam and Christianity since the long distant past. In fact, all of the other bordering ethnic groups are either Muslims or members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.

The Gumuz naturally refer to these two large groups, but, since they did not systematically instruct people in their faith, they did not have any deep impact on the culture or even religion of the Gumuz. The identification of the Gumuz with these two religions is reduced to celebrate either the four annual feasts of the Muslims or those of the Christians, officially recognized by the government. With the arrival of the Protestants and Catholics, things changed quite radically, because they teach a faith and a morality that asks for an effective change of life. In fact, people are invited to abandon the anti-values while preserving the values. Marriage by exchange, kidnap, conflict resolution by bloodshed, are not values to be kept. Instead, the sense of equality, democratic decision-making, the relatively equal rights for men and women, equal distribution of domestic tasks, no discrimination against specific categories of people, these are all values that are traditional to Gumuz society and must be preserved.

Juan González Núñez

 

 

 

Africa. The art of food. Ancient flavours and genuine ingredients.

From the Maghreb to Southern Africa, a myriad of flavours, aromas and colours. A journey through past and present tells of the rich traditions in the art of African food.

Fonio is an ancient cereal that is resistant to drought. It is one of the oldest crops cultivated in West Africa, from Nigeria, through Benin, Burkina Faso, and Mali as far as Guinea Bissau. Fonio is wild and grassy (Digitarla exilis), appreciated and known from the distant past, so much so that it is mentioned in the cosmogony of the Dogon people. They call the seeds ‘the seed of the world’ and believe them to be so.
In practical terms, this cereal, unlike rice, for instance, does not need much water to grow and is a concentrated source of precious nutrients.

The seed of the fonio is 85% carbohydrates, 10% protein, 3.5% fats as well as the mineral salts so necessary for physical well-being, such as zinc, manganese and magnesium. It is low in sugars and rich in methionine and cysteine, amino acids essential for good health, which the organism can only absorb through food. It is for these reasons that fonio, through internationally known African chefs, has been discovered by the West.This discovery is of great interest to scientists studying climate change as well as researchers seeking answers to hunger and famine. Fonio, because of its characteristics and its minimal requirements for cultivation, may help to solve some of the structural problems in various parts of Africa.

This gave rise to the Yolélé Foods Corporation, started by the famous Senegalese chef Pierre Thiam. The Yolélé Foods team aims to support the agricultural communities of West Africa and especially the people living in the Sahel Belt, by means of the cultivation and sale of fonio.
The aim is to provide new work opportunities for young Africans and, at the same time, improve nutrition in many communities. There is a paradox in that a number of countries import white rice from Asia or Europe instead of promoting the cultivation of this ancient cereal described by the experts as a ‘super food’ for its nutritional properties.

Niébé. Legume against malnutrition

Translated in various ways such as ‘black-eyed beans’ or ‘the bean with one eye’, the niébé is a plant of the legume family and belongs to the species Vigna unguiculata (L.) Walp. It is typical of the African tropical savannah. Before the discovery of the Americas, it was the ancient Greeks and Romans who cultivated this bean in Europe. Afterwards, the common bean was brought from the New World, taking the place of nearly all the African varieties. However, the niébé bean has very important nutritional qualities as it contains protein (around 20%), folic acid, iron, calcium and zinc.

Even NASA scientists have studied the characteristics of this legume which could be a source of nutrition when cultivated in a space station. In some areas of West Africa, projects are afoot to help communities modify their traditional techniques of drying and storing the product.
Burkina Faso is one of the most active countries in this field (it is acquiring harvesters, for example) and is promoting this kind of cultivation by means of a specific programme to develop the fibres of the niébé. More widespread cultivation of this legume, so rich in protein, can help to improve the nutrition of many needy families.

Zanzibar e Madagascar. Aroma of Spices

Zanzibar, an island off the east coast of Tanzania, has from ancient times, been at the centre of the spice business, so much so that it has bears the marks of Oriental influence. It is no accident that the local cooking has been influenced by many different cultures. Arabs, Indians and Portuguese have bequeathed culinary traditions and rites. Dishes like chapati (Indian bread, similar to unleavened bread) and samosa (savoury fritters filled with meat or vegetables) are to be found in other parts of Africa such as Mozambique and Kenya, but also in India, where they are served in all restaurants.

In Zanzibar, due to the favourable micro-climate, different spices are grown such as cinnamon, turmeric, cardamom, pepper and cloves. One of the typical recipes of the island and of all Tanzania, is the Pwewa wa Nazi made from octopus, potatoes, coconut, garlic, onions and spices like cinnamon, cardamom and curry. It is a nourishing dish and a source of energy.Madagascar is one of the major producers in the world of vanilla. Originally native to the tropical forests of Central America, it was brought to the island of Zanzibar in the mid-eighteen hundreds by the French. Part of the family of orchids, and classified by botanists as vanilla planifolia, it found there a fertile soil to develop and spread, especially in the Mananara Nord Biosphere.

Polenta in Africa.

One of the typical dishes of country people has been, and still is, polenta. But if you think it is a recipe typically from north Italy, you are wrong because it is also part of the cooking traditions of the African people. Nelson Mandela, writing in his biography ‘The Long Walk to Freedom’, recalls that, as a child, he would eat polenta made from semolina together with beans. In Africa polenta is prepared using various types of flour such as millet, rye and maize, depending on the region and local custom.

This food has enabled many African mothers to nourish their children with a simple but energy-giving food. Maize, millet, barley and rye contain a good amount of carbohydrates and some protein. For example, 100 grams of millet contain 11.02 grams of protein; 100 grams of rye contain 10.34 grams of protein. Combined with legumes, polenta nourishes without bloating the stomach, and provides tryptophan, an amino acid that helps to regulate moods and sleep. In some African countries, like Nigeria, manioc flour is used to prepare polenta.

Silvia C. Turrin

 

 

Women’s Resistance to Mining.

Throughout Africa, Asia, and Latin America, there is no dearth of stories where communities have been forced to leave their lands to make way for government-sanctioned and corporate-driven natural resource extraction.

You would not need to look far to find communities in areas where such projects in the name of development are taking place. Communities are forced to live under increasingly insecure conditions because their main source of life and livelihoods, access to communal lands, water, and forests, as well as their safety and security, are threatened by extractive industries and mega-infrastructure projects.

Women carry the heaviest burden of extractivism and the social and environmental devastation that is a product of it. The actions and omissions of states and corporations destroying the environment, affect and restrict the exercise of their rights and threaten their lives.

“I thought about my community and how it was before, how we lived on the shores of the lake, fishing and living off that. I felt a lot of sadness, remembering those indigenous groups and communities that have disappeared because now we do not have water or lakes; they have dried up due to the mining. And I felt the water that the mining companies have polluted, and how this contaminated water is in my body, and I felt sad because we cannot do anything about it. I felt helpless and anger to fight the extractivist government that endangers us.” (Margarita Aquino, RENAMAT, Bolivia).

In every continent, women environmental defenders are harassed, threatened, criminalized and murdered, because their activism to protect common goods are a threat to big corporations. However, their space for dissent and self-representation has become increasingly frought with risks and threats from the corporate, state and military powers that are driving the policies and decisions on resource exploitation. Women environmental defenders are criminalized for “opposing to progress”, and in some countries, they are accused of terrorism by laws aiming to limit their social mobilization.

The number of assassinated women human rights defenders is constantly increasing in contexts of violence and impunity (See Impunity for Violence: Against Women Defenders of Territory, Common Goods, and Nature in Latin America).

Despite these realities, women are raising their voice against the destructive impacts of mining on their lives and their environment. Women across continents are coming together to build collective platforms for representation and global solidarity to resist mining and promote an alternative sustainable model.

They are strengthening their knowledge and capacities on women’s and territorial rights using major feminist approaches and communication and digital tools to address the problems, as well as the legal mechanisms to demand their rights.
Building their capacities helps them defending themselves and resisting. To be fully up to date and aware of their subject in question allows them to respond in the most adequate way, to create collective responses, to be social and political actors, not victims.

For articulating, strengthening, and empowering women environmental voices and demands, were born Women and Mining Network in Asia (WAMA)WoMin in Africa, Urgent Action Fund – Latin America and the Caribbean, and Colectivo CASA in Bolivia. They are joining together, in the network of the Global Alliance for Green and Gender Action (GAGGA), to demonstrate the power of women in dismantling detrimental economic and political models that distort human sustainability and environmental well-being.

John Paul Pezzi, mccj
VIVAT International NGO,
with consultative special status at UN

Ethiopia. Metema, the loss of all hope.

Each day it is criss-crossed by invisible travellers who arrive after placing themselves in the hands of human traffickers, under cover of darkness, crossing the frontier with Sudan along paths lost in the thick undergrowth. Welcome to Metema, a city in the north-west of Ethiopia, on the Sudan border, the launchpad of the migration routes of eastern Africa.

It is here that the journey begins across the Sudan and Libya to reach Europe, undertaken by  Ethiopians, Somalians and especially Eritreans, who are already in the refugee camps in Ethiopia. Metema check-point is known all over central east Africa. They come in buses from  Addis Ababa, or hidden in private vans or cars. “This place is full of human traffickers. But no, I would rather not speak about these things: my life would be in danger if they came to know I spoke to ferengi (white people)”, a man tells us on the road that leads straight to Sudan.
The payment for crossing the frontier is anywhere from one thousand to three thousand Birr (from 30 to 100 Euro). A good proportion of the money is used to bribe the police.

In recent months, the government of Addis Ababa has tightened controls and arrested some of the major traffickers, but the illegal migration through Metema continues. Each night, in the confused network of tracks leading to the frontier, the undocumented migrants wait for the moment when they can cross over. Hamid is one of those boys who already tried to make the crossing through Libya, only to be caught by the Sudanese police and sent back. Today, he lives in one of the camps scattered throughout Tigray, the northern region of Ethiopia that shares a  911 kilometre border with Eritrea. “I approached a trafficker of Ethiopians. It is not hard to find them. They took me on a lorry up to Gondar  and then to  Metema where I spent a couple of nights before secretly crossing the frontier, in the direction of Khartoum. The police caught me there in the capital and sent me back. The Ethiopian police then sent me back to my refugee camp”.

According to UNHCR data, there are 130,000 Eritrean refugees in Ethiopia, concentrated mostly in Tigray. Humanitarian organisations say that around 4,000 Eritreans flee their country every month. Following the procedure, refugees in Ethiopia are registered at one of the twelve entry points along the border. They are then taken to Endabaguna, a hotspot where they spend about twenty days when they are assigned to one of the four refugee camps in the area: Schi-melba, Mai  Aini, Adi Harush and Hitsats, run by the Ethiopian government’s Administration for Refugee and Returnee Affairs (ARRA), in collaboration with the Ethiopian UNHCR.
To approach these immense areas of tin-roofed living modules is like coming into contact with disturbing lost and meaningless locations. Testimonies given by refugees are shocking: “We have no freedom of movement and we are tightly controlled. Anyone misbehaving is kept far from the programmes of relocation in Europe, our only hope of leaving this place with security. The other way is that of escape, as a boy did the other night. He just disappeared. The first stage of the journey is Metema”, they tell us.
Others speak of very difficult episodes: “Violence often breaks out and there are suicides every week. We spend the days thinking how we can get away and escape. It becomes an obsession that worms its way into the mind”.

Fear has grown among the Eritreans after the peace accord between Ethiopia and Eritrea signed last July. They are now worried that, with the conflict between the two countries at an end, repatriation will begin. “For us, going back would mean death as we are considered traitors in our own country”, they explain. And there is more. Witnesses tell us the camps are rife with spies sent by the Eritrean regime: false refugees mix with the real ones to observe people and see to it that the relatives of those who ever speak out against the Eritrean regime are punished. With their network of roads and the tiny commercial activities, a few refugees have managed to start, the refugee camps have the appearance of precarious urban centres where the days are passed between the barbed wire fences and the surrounding lunar landscape of the Tigray highlands. It is no surprise that Metema, 480 kilometres to the west, with its shapeless frontier city profile, full of poorly-stocked shops  and huts, is seen as one of the gateways to paradise. A young Eritrean we met outside a hut in Mai Aini told us: “We know that some die in the desert and others drown in the sea and that the the European governments have closed their ports but we still want to get out of here. Escape is our only hope”.

Marco Benedettelli

 

 

Ethiopia. The Gumuz. A marginalized People.

We have travelled for 500 kms in northwest Addis Ababa. First, it was along the road which joins the capital with Bahr Dar, up to Injibara (or Koso Berr). Then, in Injibara we turned straight west in
the direction of Sudan.

After leaving Chagni behind, the last town of the Amhara Region on that road, there is a mountain pass and the road abruptly descends into a plain roasted by the sun. A group of women are walking along the dusty road. They carry a pole, roughly one metre in length, across their shoulders. Tangled ropes hang down at either end, each supporting a load: a large plastic water jerry can, containers one on top of another according to size, filled with grain, bundles of firewood, etc. Given that the jarry cans hold 25 litres of water, you can quickly calculate that the weight each woman is carrying on her back could easily be 40 or 50 kilos. Their bodies are short and stocky and their skin is black,
very black, in contrast with the other people we have met so far
on our journey.

It becomes immediately evident that we have just crossed not merely a mountain pass but also a human frontier. The people we have met are the Gumuz and this is their land. In contrast to the highlanders who are either of Semitic (Tigreans, Amharas) or Hamitic stock (Oromos, Agaws Sidamas), the Gumuz are catalogued as Nilo-Saharians, consequently, more related with Sudanese people than with the Etiopians. In the present administrative division, which goes back to 1991, they are found in the Regional State of Benishangul-Gumuz, which stretches north and south of the Blue Nile, near the border with Sudan. It covers 77,269 square kilometres and the capital of the region is Assossa, located south of the Nile. The Gumuz are not the only people living in the region nor are they the largest group, making up only 23%. The most numerous are the Berta (26%), a Nilotic group like the Gumuz. Other groups like the Amhara, the Agaw and the Oromos, though numerous, are considered foreign to the region, so they cannot hold high political positions.

A history of oppression and marginalization.
The Benishangul-Gumuz Regional State is divided into three provinces. The largest of them is Metekel, north of the Nile, in which two thirds of the Gumuz live. The other two, Kamashi and Assossa are south of the Nile and the Gumuz living there seem to have left Metekel and crossed the river little more than a century ago.

Although they still retain many of the gumuz traditions, they have lost others through exposure to the Oromo.
The concept the people from the highlands (Amharas, Oromos, Agaws) have of the Gumuz is deplorable. For them the Gumuz are primitive and savage people who kill each other and who assassinate those who venture into their land.
Until the works of the Nile Grand Renaissance dam started in 2011 and traffic intensified in the area, there were touristic guides or track drivers who categorically refused to go beyond Chagni, the last town of the Amhara region before descending into the land of those whom they derogatorily called ‘blacks’. There can be an appearance of truth in these prejudices. First of all, there is the undeniable physical fact that the Gumuz are very black in comparison with the ‘red’, a word by which the people of the highlands of much lighter skin color and thinner facial features, are known. The relation between the two groups has always been, and still is, conflictual, not excluding episodes of bloodshed. But those on the losing side have been always the Gumuz, not the ‘red’.

The construction site of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam

In fact, the history of the Gumuz, until recent times, is a history of oppression and marginalization. The lands inhabited by them were the hunting grounds of the high class of the Ethiopian empire. These were lowlands, hot and rich in wild animals. Hunting expeditions of the Amhara or Agaw included also the hunting of slaves. One of the main sources of emperor Menilik’s self-financing were the slaves captured among the Gumuz and other Nilotic tribes along the border with Sudan. When the open slave trade stopped around 1930, the marginalization of the Gumuz and the occupation of their land on the part of the neighboring tribes continued and even intensified. The other tribes progressively invaded their best land, especially on the slopes of the mountains, pushing the Gumuz to the lower and hotter places.

In this process, they counted on the collaboration of the Gumuz themselves, who were ready to rent their land to the ‘reds’, mostly the Agaw, in exchange for money or for a division of the crops. This practice still continues today since the agriculture of the Agaw is much more advanced than that of the Gumuz.
This history of marginalization has undoubtedly marked the character of the Gumuz. The first impression one gets of them is that they are reserved and surly, almost hostile, at least in comparison with other neighbouring peoples. Their smile is not immediate and spontaneous, not even taken for granted. Their greetings are short. If neighbouring peoples have many prejudices against the Gumuz, also they have their prejudices against the ‘reds’ and their stories about them which they tell in an ironic tone, that tone with which the ‘weaker’ take revenge on the stronger. (J.G.N.)

Herbs & Plants. Acalypha indica. A useful source of medicine.

It is a plant used as a medicine for several therapeutic treatments. The leaf decoction is dropped into the ears to treat earache and infections. The paste made from powdered leaves is applied for skin infections. In some communities leaves are cooked as a vegetable.

Acalypha indica (Euphorbiaceae Family) is an erect, often simple-stemmed annual herb distributed widely throughout the tropics and is believed to originate from India, Indochina and Ethiopia. In Africa, the plant is found in Nigeria and from Sudan east to Somalia and south through DR Congo and East Africa to southern Africa including South Africa. It can grow up to an average height of one meter; leaves broadly ovate, base rounded to attenuate fairly rapidly.
The monoecious flower of Acalypha indica  gives it the characteristic features due to its cup-shaped involucre that surrounds the small flowers in the catkin-like inflorescence.

Acalypha indica has been acknowledged by local people as a useful source of medicine for several therapeutic treatments. They consume parts of the plant for many medicinal purposes and its potent pharmacological activities enhance its use in traditional medicine such as an anti-inflammation, anti-bacterial, anti-cancer, anti-diabetes, anti-hyperlipidemic, diuretic, and anti-helminthic herbal plant. It is known to be a good cure for respiratory problems, rheumatoid arthritis, scabies, treatment of insect bites, and it also promotes wound healing.
The decoction made from the whole plant is used for treatment of bronchitis, epilepsy, emmenagogue, mouth ulcers, and as an expectorant to treat asthma and pneumonia. A bath in the whole plant decoction is taken against scabies, dermatitis and other skin infections. A poultice made from the whole plant is applied to treat headache.
The leaf of Acalypha indica is used across many communities to treat and manage a number of diseases including ganglions, diarrhoea, leprosy, laxative, diuretic gonorrhoea, rheumatism ulcers, ring worms, eczema, intestinal worms, boils and swellings, post-partum pains, scabies, and venereal diseases.

The decoction made from a mixture of the leaf powder and garlic is administered to treat intestinal worms. The leaf decoction is dropped into the ears to treat earache and infections. In some communities, the decoction prepared from the dry leaves is administered as an aphrodisiac remedy and also often used as a massage cream to treat pain of the joints. The leaf decoction is also given to treat headache and administered as a laxative. The leaves are emetic and hence administered to enhance vomiting in cases of poisoning. In fact, the leaf juice acts as an emetic for children. Crushed leaf poultice is topically applied to treat boils and skin infections. Leaf powder is applied as an antiseptic to enhance wound healing. In some parts of Africa, the leaf sap or ground leaves in water is used as eye drops to treat eye infections. The paste made from powdered leaves is applied on skin for treatment of skin infections including scabies. A leaf infusion is also taken as a purgative. In fact, the crushed aerial parts are also applied to skin parasites and an infusion is taken as a purgative and vermifuge.
In cases of obstinate constipation in children, the leaves are ground into a paste and made into a ball and carefully inserted into the rectum to enhance the relaxation of the sphincter and produce free motions. The juice of the crushed leaves is at times mixed with salt and applied to scabies and other skin ailments.

The roots of Acalypha indica are also much used in traditional medicine for treating many diseases such as gonorrhoea, diarrhoea, dysentery, chest pain, ear infections, piles, wounds, epilepsy, and are also used as a purgative. The root infusion or decoction is taken to treat asthma. In some parts of Africa, the root decoction is taken to treat stomach-ache and to eliminate intestinal worms. Additionally, the root decoction is also administered to treat diabetes, fever, and also taken as a laxative.
Besides the medicinal uses, the young tender shoots and leaves are cooked as a vegetable in some communities. The active ingredients of the plant include steroids, triterpenoids, glycosides, carbohydrates, alkaloids, flavonoids and tannins, cyanogenic glycosides acalyphin, and tri-O-methyl ellagic acid. The presence of these bioactive compounds may explain the anthelmintic, anti-inflammatory, and analgesic effects of this plant and hence justify its potent use in traditional medicine for treatment of a myriad of diseases and disorders.

Richard Komakech

 

Compassion in the EU Energy Transition.

Energy transition is at the heart of all our efforts to reach the goals set in the Paris Convention in the fight against climate change. One of the champions in this struggle is the EU.

The Treaty of Rome on March 25, 1957 established four freedoms for the citizens of Europe: the free movement of goods, services, capital and persons. On 25 February 2015 the new Juncker Commission added a fifth freedom in its Communication ‘A Framework Strategy for a Resilient Energy Union with a Forward Looking Climate Change Policy’, (COM(2015) 080): free energy flows.

In the preamble of the Treaty of Rome, the six signatories declared they were “Intending to confirm the solidarity which binds Europe and overseas countries, and desiring to ensure the development of their prosperity, in accordance with the principles of the Charter of the United Nations”. The “fifth freedom” thus became part of one of the most significant treaties of the last century, creating the largest single market in the world based on the principle of solidarity.

Over the last years this Energy Union Strategy set to deploy six legislative packages that aim to:

  • reduce European energy demand and increase energy efficiency
  • secure energy supply and reduce dependence on imports
  • fully integrate the European energy market
  • reduce CO2 emissions
  • develop renewable energy sources to re-balance the energy mix
  • promote sustainable transport.

A vast body of legislation, that has catapulted (EU) citizens into  the very heart of European energy and transport transition from reducing the use of fossil fuels to seeking alternative energy sources to (net) zero emission by 2050. Recently the impact of these measures on income and expenditures of these EU citizens have triggered large demonstrations and marches across Europe for a more responsible execution (Youth for Climate) and a fair division of the cost burden (yellow vests)
of this transition.

Compassion is not a word that appears often in EU’s vast library of Communications, Regulations and Directives. Although the EU’s bread and butter is “solidarity”, the constant battle between the national interests in the Council of Member States, the policy ambition of the EU Commission and the citizens voice of the EU Parliament leaves only crumbs of goodwill to feed this intention.

Compassion for EU citizens who, in order to make a decent living still depend on fossil fuels to heat their homes and fuel their cars. Compassion for future generations who know that, if catastrophic warming of their planet is to be avoided, radial measures are needed before 2030. But also Compassion for EU and national policy makers, who all feel this need for solidarity in their hearts, but find little outlet to translate this principle in language that survives the scrutiny of the review of “their internal services”.

Europe’s energy and transport transition has been based on principles of technology neutrality and market mechanisms. These two metaphors have seriously hampered the deployment of, for example, potentially zero emission solutions like the use of hydrogen as an energy carrier. As we obviously can’t predict what “markets will do”, we opt for juggling the introduction of all alternatives till “the market decides…”. As “the market” has become increasingly unpredictable (Dieselgate) and unreliable (again Dieselgate) the “radical” introduction of alternative solutions, is indeed jeopardized.

The World Energy Outlook 2018 of the International Energy Agency (IEA) indicates that “in all cases, governments will have a critical influence in the direction of the future energy system” and that “under current and planned policies, modeled in the (IEA) New Policies Scenario, energy demand is set to grow by more than 25% to 2040, requiring more than $2 trillion a year of investment in new energy supply”. Although costs of renewable power alternatives and energy storage technologies are falling rapidly, 70% of this 2 trillion will still need to come from public financing. Decisions on public funding therefore require the votes of EU citizens that rather depending on “supermarket” mechanisms (focusing on the lowest price).

How do we reconcile compassion for current and future generations of EU citizens, with EU’s traditional “compassion” for markets and and with the need for “clean” technologies in maintaining the fifth freedom? Maybe the solution could come from an understanding of compassion which results from the idea of solidarity to be found in the Treaty of Rome of more than 60 years ago.

The largest impact of “European” zero emission technologies will be felt most strongly in emerging and developing economies in avoiding CO2 emissions of fossil fuel in the powering of conventional applications. This solidarity with “overseas” countries will demand compassionate and truthful responses. Requests for technical assistance and technology cooperation to implement these technologies, under harsher conditions than pilot projects in Europe’s energy and transport geography, are rising rapidly.

If EU bodies are failing current citizens and future citizens, who increasingly are coming from “overseas countries”, with regards to the key EU principle of solidarity, the various religious denominations will need to pick up responsibility and organize visible actions to develop a more concrete response. They claim to have millennia of expertise in – compassion – even in such a complex, tricky and demanding domain as energy use and energy transition. To achieve the goals, this attitude could be crucial.

Marieke Reijalt
Executive director EHA, the European Hydrogen Association

European Climate Policy between ambition and disappointment.

Not all news relating to climate change is bad. The EU is on track to meet its emissions reduction target of 20% by next year.

In fact, there was a 22% reduction of emissions between 1990 and 2017 while the economy grew by 28% over the same period. The main driver behind the emission reductions is innovation, including progress on renewable energy and energy efficiency. All of the above appears on the offical website of the European Union (www.europa.eu) which also tells us that 2020 target excludes emissions from the land sector but includes emissions from international aviation. Nothing is entirely straightforward in this area of climate action and there are those who say that these targets are not ambitious enough.

These developments are linked by the European Commission to the targets set by the Kyoto Protocol, which is part of the COP process. COP stands for “Conference of the Parties” to the United Nations Climate Change Convention which was first adopted in 1992. Kyoto was adopted in 1997 and came into force in 2005. It requires annual reporting on emissions of seven “greenhouse gases” along with measures taken to reduce them. Its first commitment period ran from 2008 to 2012.
We are currently coming to the end of the second commitment period which began in 2012.

The Europa website tells us that “the Kyoto targets are different from the EU’s own 2020 targets”. We are not told why this difference exists. Why, for instance, do Kyoto targets cover land use but not international aviation, while EU targets cover international aviation and not land use? These differences are not fortuitous.
They play a significant part in the ongoing role of powerful vested interests in the development of climate action policy.

The 2030 EU climate and energy framework has been in place since 2014 and, as with the 2020 targets, is based on the Kyoto process. The commitment is to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 40%, increase renewable energy input to 32% and increase energy efficiency by at least 23.5%. The plan allows for an upward revision of these targets in 2023, though last year, in the lead up to Katowice, Miguel Arias Cañete, Commissioner for Energy and Climate Action, was confident that emission reduction would reach 45% by 2030. He suggested
this as a new target.

Fourteen EU member states including France and Germany had requested such a target and some of them wanted it to be as high as 55%. At the last moment however, Angela Merkel, demurred after the Federation of German Industries, announced its opposition to “ever more ambitious goals”. Poland and other eastern European states were already of this view which, with Merkel’s, support, prevailed.

In any discussion on climate change policy it is easy to get lost in one of two ways – or both! Firstly the sheer complexity of some provisions is such that few outside select group of technical experts can understand the detail. Secondly, the array of powerful vested interests at work in this area are in the best position to employ those with greatest expertise and to use them to make the issues even more complex.

With climate policy, there is no simple solution – no silver bullet – and if anything is to be learnt from the events from the past year, well intended provisions can lead to discouraging results. The gilets jaunes phenomenon reflects a legitimate sense of grievance on the part of those left behind by the neo-liberal dominance of recent decades, but it also feeds into a political narrative in which the governed are seen as the victims of those who govern.

The challenge  is to find political representatives who are able to imagine a future in which humanity has triumphed over the dangers which currently threaten us and where we share a common home with pure air, fresh clean water and fertile wholesome earth. It’s a tall order for this generation of politicians, but they will have to learn to strike the note of pathos. The only way to challenge the self-centred world of populism is by generating hope.

Climate policy poses a unique challenge not just with regard to what must be done but in relation to how the issue itself can affect us. To put it mildly, it can be discouraging. If we fail to stand well back and take a simple look at this planet which we all share, then the love, which we need to care for it, will wither.

The love in one person, against the background of this reality, may seem a puny thing but this puny individuality is the only form which human love takes on this planet. It’s like life itself which cannot exist apart from the puny single cells which make up every organism on earth. Unless we experience to some degree this combination of fragility and power, all talk about politicians, and policies and elections, is futile. In other words, we need hope. It is vital if we are to face the dark side honestly and to challenge what we find.

Edmond Grace SJ
Jesuit European Social Centre.

The man with seven dogs

Once upon a time, there lived a man called John who was a hunter as well as a magician. John had seven dogs and seven large black pots. The dogs were useful for hunting while the pots protected him
from his enemies.

John and his wife wanted very much to have a child, but to their sorrow they had no children. The magic pots advised John to seek advice from his magician friend in the next village. “Unless you have a lion’s skin spread in front of your wife – , the friend said – , not only will your wife have no child but she will also die.”

Taking his gun, John went into the forest, where he found a small lion cub. He shot the lion, took the skin to his wife’s room and spread it in front of his wife and it was not long before she bore a child. “ We have been lucky -, John said to his wife -. The magic pots directed me to the right man for advice.” John went to his seven black pots and told them that they had been successful.

Meanwhile, the lioness in the forest had discovered that her cub was missing. She was told by the monkeys that John had shot it and taken his skin. She became sad.
She changed herself into a beautiful lady then followed the footpath to John’s village.When she reached the village, she bought a basket from an old woman in the market. Many people greeted the lioness changed into a beautiful lady and asked her to be their guest.
“I shall be a guest to the one who can throw a stone into my basket,” she replied. Many people threw stones but they all missed except for John who managed in his first attempt.

“I shall be your guest,” said the beautiful lady. The first thing she saw when she entered the house was the skin of her lion cub. John’s wife fed the lioness, and when it was time to sleep she was given a room to rest. In the middle of the night she got up to go and kill John, but one of the seven dogs stopped her. “We have been warned,” said the dog to the lioness, for the seven black pots had spoken to the seven dogs. “If you kill our master, we will eat you.”

The lioness went back into her room. Seven times she tried to kill John and seven times she was stopped by the dogs. Finally it was morning.
The lioness didn’t find a way of killing John on her visit. Still remaining in the appearance of a beautiful lady, she thanked John for having hosted her and she told him that she would be leaving. John offered to escort her but the lioness got worried when she saw that John carried his hunting tools. She asked: “Are you going to shoot me?” John decided to put down the tools and went empty handed.

After John had escorted her through the fields and high grasses, they reached a river. John and the lioness said goodbye. After he had walked back for some distance he decided to climb a mango tree. The beautiful lady had changed herself into her true shape of a lioness and she was ready to attack him in order to kill him. John blew his whistle and immediately his seven dogs appeared from the bush. The dogs jumped at her and killed her. The dogs kept the meat while John kept the skin for a second child.

Folktale from Zambia

 

 

 

 

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