[dehai-news] (Guardianweekly) Fighting wars and droughts in Ethiopia


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From: Biniam Haile \(SWE\) (eritrea.lave@comhem.se)
Date: Fri Apr 17 2009 - 17:35:50 EDT


Friday April 17th 2009

Fighting wars and droughts in Ethiopia
 
Selected for his village militia aged 18, Hailu, now 58, spent years as
a soldier of the Derg, the army of Ethiopia's then military junta. After
the war with Eritrea - in which he became a prisoner of war, then a
refugee in Sudan - he returned home to become a farmer. But, as he
explains to photojournalist Susan Schulman, any hopes of starting a new
life with his wife and children depend on the area where he grows his
crops receiving enough rain to flourish.
 
I am not originally from this village. I am from a village called
Adullalah, in Adama district. I was a soldier of the Derg - the
Ethiopian government of the time - a Marxist military junta led by
Mengistu Haile Mariam.
 
During the war I was in Eritrea, mostly in the capital Asmara. I didn't
want to be a soldier, but I was selected for my village's militia. They
told us that the Somali government was taking our land and that I had to
go and fight for it, so the youngest of us were elected to go. At the
time I was a student, and also a farmer. I wanted to continue my
education, become a doctor and work for the state. I was studying with
my cousin at the time. He continued with his studies and has now moved
abroad to work as a doctor.
 
When they selected me for the militia I was told I'd be home in five
months, but it was 16 years. I was not allowed to leave and I never saw
my family - I also lost my parents during this time. Although I was only
19 when I became a soldier I was already married. I had married early,
at 18. My wife was pregnant with our second child when I left with the
army. I never saw her again because she died before I came back. Now I
have another wife and five children, so altogether I have seven
children.
 
I was shot six times when I was a soldier, and hospitalised each time. I
was surrendered to the Eritrean army and taken as a prisoner of war.
After I was freed, I spent eight months in Sudan as a refugee, trying to
get home.
 
I was wounded in my right leg at the time and couldn't walk, so I was
riding on a donkey. When the Sudanese soldiers saw me they came and
kicked me and beat me until I fell off. I was furious and didn't take
their abuse - I cursed them and fought back. The soldiers were
impressed, they said I was clever and courageous. And, when they saw the
emblem on my uniform, they realised that I was a sergeant in the army.
They became respectful and allowed me back on the donkey.
 
There were many times over those years that I wanted to die, but it is
sometimes even impossible to die. Sudan is like a desert, one big
desert, and I waited a long time for an aeroplane to bring me back to
Ethiopia. When I finally arrived back home I had another operation to
remove more shrapnel from my body, but they will never be able to get it
all out. I still have a lump of shrapnel at the back of my neck.
 
At last I flew back to Addis Ababa. From there, I continued by road to
Adama, then to a camp for ex-soldiers. My family found me and came to
take me back to Adullalah. However, my village didn't respect me because
the side I was fighting for, the government, had been defeated. They
mistreated me and took my land and my weapons. It was difficult for me
to stay there. That's when I came to my current village, Borcheta
Tuludimtu.
 
I started here as a farmer. I had crops, but never really to sell, only
to feed my family. I send four of my children to school - the fifth one
is too young. We like learning and education, but we find it difficult
because of our poverty. I want my children to have the capacity to
finish high school and college. I want them to get a chance to study
abroad, then to return to Ethiopia and get a better job.
 
Water has always been an issue for us farmers here, but things are
getting worse every year due to the shortage of water and rain. In
previous years, if one year was dry the previous year would have been
good, and the next would probably be good too. Now it is continuous: no
rain, year after year.
 
We get our drinking water 8 km from here. We take it in turns to go
there. We leave here at 2 am, but usually there are so many people
waiting for water at the source that don't get back until 9pm. Sometimes
the water there runs out and we have to go to Wolencheti, which is 17 km
away. We have to make the journey on donkeys, but recently we have been
losing animals, including donkeys, as there is no food for them to eat
because of the drought. Some farmers have lost even their oxen.
 
We eat meat for the only for the festivals. We cultivate the land and
put in seed, but the shortage of rain means the grain and crops aren't
yielding, which also leaves us with a shortage of food and vulnerable to
famine. In order to compensate for the shortage of crops we make
charcoal and sell it.
 
When farming season approaches, we are in a state of constant anxiety.
We wonder if we are going to get enough water. With enough rain, this
land is fertile and it yields good crops, but the last year of good rain
was four years ago. The last three years - including this one - there
has been a shortage of rain and a shortage of crops.
 
It is a problem too as the village is becoming more populous. We are
trying and use what we have in the most efficient way possible - this
includes trying to limit our families. We'd like the children to eat
three meals a day, but when we don't get the yield it is not possible.
And, if there is no water to prepare the food, they are forced to miss
meals. Also, we have all these children but can't get water to clean
their clothes. I look older than I am for all this suffering.
 
We expected rain this month but none came. It is time to prepare the
land, but without rain we couldn't do it. We haven't planted any crops
at all yet. We are waiting and praying for the rain.
 
Our sister, our grandparents, our ancestors all lived and died here.
This is our land and we like it here. We don't want to move.
 
. Hailu was speaking to photojournalist Susan Schulman. We welcome your
comments, so if you would like to respond to any of the points raised in
this interview, please do so here
http://www.guardianweekly.co.uk/?page=addacomment
<http://www.guardianweekly.co.uk/?page=addacomment&artID=1028>
&artID=1028
 

http://www.guardianweekly.co.uk/?page=editorial
<http://www.guardianweekly.co.uk/?page=editorial&id=1028&catID=2>
&id=1028&catID=2

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