Aid or not?

A few months ago, I nervously crammed graphs, definitions and theories before my long-feared IB exams in economics. Among the things I studied were some of the basic concepts of development, including positive and negative aspects of “aid” and other humanitarian initiatives. Last Saturday, these theoretical learnings were shown to me in practice as we went for a walk a French man, Jean Francois Debargue, who has lived in the camps for more than two years, working with desert gardening. According to Jeans's experience some of the projects that other countries establish in the refugee camps - although with good intentions – often lead to the wrong results.

The vast majority of humanitarian initiatives in the camps involves the Saharawis receiving something. Wheat comes from the European Union, hermetical oil is shipped in from the United States and sugar comes in large packs from Spain. The women distribute these foods to each part of the camp (so-called “dairas”) and then equally between the families by a person in each “barrio” (the divisions of a “daira”). This aid is absolutely essential for survival in the camps and sadly, the amount of food per person has not increased significantly over the last 30 years. Hence, there is a lot of malnutrition and the children here often look far younger than they really are.

Arguably, aid has also created a culture of dependency. A crucial part of Jean's project has therefore been to offer a meaningful activity and at the same time teach some skills of vegetable production that can be applied once the Saharawis return to their homeland. However, this process hasn't always been easy, paradoxically much due to the willingness of other organisations to “help out” in his initiatives.

Jean gave the telling example of some visitors from Spain that came down to see the gardens, liked the idea and decided to “facilitate” the project by sending down a hoard of Spanish workers for a few weeks to complete the construction. With good intentions and funding from the Spanish state the project was completed in a much shorter time than people in the camps would have managed to build the gardens themselves. However, whilst the gardens were ready to grow potatoes, carrots and other vegetables, the Saharawis that were meant to build them in the first place now lacked a sense of ownership and responsibility to initiate the planting. Consequently, the gardens were still in need of external supervision in order to carry out the planting.

Jean also told the contrasting example of an old man who made a garden entirely by himself. For years to come there will probably be vegetables planted here as the old man has a sense of responsibility and ownership of his garden. He put a lot of time and effort into building robust stone fences, making pumps for water and planting the seeds. Naturally, he won't let this hard labour go with nothing.

Naturally, this is just one example of aid gone wrong and there are many projects here in the camps that have been very beneficial to the community (such as the two schools where we teach). However, according to Jean, perhaps the biggest problem of them all is that while all these initiatives probably come with good intentions, it is also a way for other countries to hide behind a “humanitarian mask” to avoid the real political issue of Saharawi independence. Countries such as the United States, France and Spain have the last decade almost solely answered the political problem of Western Sahara with humanitarian means. The French government, for example, funds Jean's project with significant amounts, but has at the same time silently supported the Moroccan occupation with abstentions on important United Nations resolutions about the referendum in Western Sahara. So is it “aid”? Or is it a way to avoid the real political issues?

The world is watching...

..in silence?

A couple of weeks ago we wrote about a conference "Saharawis in Algeria". Student activists from the occupied Western Sahara came to the camps. When they returned to Casablanca they got arrested by Moroccan police. Today you can read about this in Norway's biggets newspaper
here.

I just called to say...

Our families and friends have already experienced how terribly bad the telephone connection is in the Sahara desert. A real conversation is hardly possible. .

So, I thought I would use the blog to describe what I have been doing here the past month..
I have learned how to...

-dress myself in the traditional “melheffa” that Ida and I wear every day.
-sleep on the floor with all the women in my family (around 8 people in a small room)
-carry 10 liters of water on my shoulder the few kilometers back home from the “store”
-make the sweet Saharawi tea which takes about an hour (believe me, it sound easier than it is)
-write and read basic Arabic words and tell myself that I understand a basic conversation (thanks to my teacher Mohamed)
-greet someone in Hassanya (the dialect of Arabic spoken by the Saharawis). This ritual can take up to five minutes! Jekel al Hier.
-milk and feed goats (this needs to be done twice a day)
-do “the dishes” in cold water without soap
-dance like a Saharawi, but not near the oldest man in the family. He can not hear, see or even be near people who talk about dancing or music.
-not shower for a month, but still feel pretty fresh(!).
-wear “henna” on my hands and feet in beautiful patterns
-speak in Spanabic (a funny mixture of Spanish, French and Arabic) with my family and people I meet.

A womans work

I thought finding the time to write would be the biggest problem here, but finding the right time when it comes to the weather is even more essential. It's about 40degrese Celsius outside and I'm laying on the floor so close to the window(meaning a small hole in the wall) that I get traces of a chicken fence pattern on my face.

My melheffa is soaked in sweat. A melheffa is a three meter piece of fabric that the women here gracefully wear everyday. Is is one of the many Saharawi traditions that are so important and alive in this society.
Ane and I chose to wear the melheffa during our stay in a desperate attemt to blend in, but also to show that we support their struggle towards the independence of their country. The melheffa along with their language (Hassania), their tea and their derrah. Is to show their identity and their unity.

We try as best we can to understand and adapt to their culture and everyday life. But no matter how much interaction you've had with estranged cultures before, the life in the camp will come as a shock to any globetrotter.
For me as a Nordic woman used to my personal goals and being just me, myself and I have a difficult time getting used to this society.

You can say that these women are strong and have control of the family and the household, but when
it comes to the world outside these brick walls. I see that the men have almost total control.


Ida

Dinner Talks

A funny conversation developed yesterday during dinner as I ate couscous with Bashri, the fifteen year-old boy in my family. We started talking about the climate in Sahara. The first two weeks here have been very warm with temperatures up to 40 degrees Celsius in the middle of the day. Bashri, however, assured me that I will miss this weather when the cold starts to set in.
“During the night you will need at least three blankets to keep warm” he warned me and pointed towards the collection of colourful, acryl blankets in the corner. I told him that Norway too is a very, very cold country: “During the winter, we even have snow.”
“But how many blankets?” he asked.
To this I didn't really know what to respond. How many acryl blankets are needed to keep warm in a sand house in Norway? I didn't want to explain the whole concept of isolation and electrical heating, so I simply said I thought three or four would be sufficient. But this is something I have yet to find out!

Army Dreamers

The Norwegian parliament elections were held the same day we left for the camps. For the whole summer I campaigned for my political party, knowing that it was important for the future of my country that the sitting government would be reelected – fortunately it was. Actually the last five years or so of my life has been filled with politics - through my studies, my work and my friends. I have always said that I believe in politics; mainly because politics affect everything in our society like our children, our food, our elderly and the education and even the structures of our relationships.

However, after only a few weeks in the Sahara desert I have realized something that I guess I have known for a long time: politics have not served everyone equally. But few have been betrayed more by politics (or should I say political powerlessness) as the Saharawis. My new friend Mohamed told me that many Saharawis no longer see politics as a solution. They have had enough of talk, plans and promises. Since the ceasefire in 1991, the international society has done nothing for the Saharawis. After 34 years as refugees in the unbearable heat of the Algerian desert, many Saharawis now only see war as a a solution to end these sufferings. ”We have done everything by the book, no terror, no actions of violence since the ceasefire. But this kind of behavior does not turn heads in the UN or the EU. We need to do something. Everyone in the camps feel the same way.”

At this point I do not know what to say. So I try with: ” What about your children – that may be hurt in a war?”. But Mohamed tells me that the children would be safe in Algeria in case of a war. The war would naturally unfold itself by the border of the occupied areas. Before I have the time to say anything Mohamed quickly adds that a war also would ruin the good and peaceful label the Saharawis have obtained over the last couple of decades. This is why he thinks there has not been a war already.

Before we leave each other he tells me “Ohathe” a Saharawee gesture that means something like “end of discussion”. I look at him and answer back “ohathe”.

Tea in the Sahara

Today, the 1st of October, we have been in the desert for two weeks. We are still not used to the heat, the flies or the long greetings in Hassanyia “Jekel leebas”. But we are starting to understand the rhythm of the everyday life here in the camps.

The three of us live in different families placed close together in Layouune refugee camp, in the a part called Boccra.

A day in life:
- We get up at 7oclock to eat breakfast and get ready for work. The three of us work as English and informatics teachers in a nearby school. Our students, mainly girls, are secretaries for distribution of food and other items for the families in Layouune.
- After work we go home and eat the main meal, the most common foods are couscous, camel or goat meat and rice.
- At five o'clock we have lessons in Hassanyia, a dialect of Araic. The language is necessary to know as not everybody speaks Spanish.

The gaps in the day when we are not working or studying are spent with the families. We get offered tea all the time. This is a ritual that can take up to an hour or two. The tea can be a challenge for us Norwegians since it basically consists of sugar. But at the same time, the tea is a nice break in the day, a time to chat and relax with our families and new friends.

We will not be able to update this blog as much as we would have wanted due to a somewhat fragile internet service.

We are having a great time here, so (family and friends) please do not worry.

Outside my House

Saharawis in Algeria

A few days ago we visited a conference where they discussed the issue of Saharawis living in other parts of Algeria. There were several visitors from the occupied areas there as well as representatives from the board of Polisario, among them the president.

Many young Saharawis go to Algeria with the support for Polisario for there studies as there are no universities or upper secondary schools in the camps. Some also go to Spain and Cuba. Yesterday, the oldest brother in my family returned from Spain to Laayoune after three years of not seeing them. Another man we talked to spent 14 years in Cuba studying and working. When these Saharawis return to the camps with a degree, they often find that there are few relevant jobs in which they can use their knowledge. Consequently, some decide to stay and work outside the camps. Many of the young people we've got to know so are travelling to Algeria these days to study. It is easy to understand why some of them will decide to stay for a bit longer before eventually returning to the camps. Our Arabic teacher explained to us that it is important for the Polisario that people do return to the camps in order to demonstrate they don't accept to be destined in Algeria: Western Sahara is where they really belong. As an uncle of my family said one evening: “We are not living here because of famine or natural disasters, we are political refugees”.

In the Desert

After two weeks in Sahara, I've discovered that Laayoune is a place of strong family ties. Every night, when the temperature declines and there is a mild breeze in the air, the whole family gathers on a big carpet outside to drink sugary tea and talk long into the late hours. Family meaning aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents, cousins and other neighbours – I have yet to figure out all the relationships in my family. The first few nights it struck me how incredibly friendly and welcoming the Saharawis are – and how happy they seemed with their everyday life. Time is a different concept here than at home. As the father in my family, Abdullah, pours tea from one cup to the other to make the foam, friends drop by to join the conversation, children run around from house to house and the day passes by slowly. For over 30 years the Saharawis have been waiting here for their referendum.

While life in the camps might be an interesting four-months adventure for a nineteen year-old Norwegian, this is by no means a good solution for the Saharawis. No one in my family has work outside the house, the children go to school but it's unknown whether they'll actually get to use their education in a relevant job. Killing time cruising around with a Land Rover with the oldest boys in my family is certainly fun, but over time this is perhaps not particularly meaningful. Lack of work is a major problem in the camps and simply waiting for a solution to the occupation can be very tiresome.

We have become friends with several people working for Polisario's army, who have told us about the increasing willingness to return to the war. I hope that never happens. All the Saharawis want is a diplomatic solution with Marrocco, but it is very difficult to influence this process when destined in the camps. “Insh-Allah” says Leyla, the mother in my family, and drinks the tenth cup of tea for the day. Hoping, that is all they can do.