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| Much of Djibouti is desert or mountains – ©IFRC/Charlie Musoka |
Djibouti is not a nation blessed with an abundance of arable land –
only 0.04 per cent of the country is suitable for agriculture. So how do
people survive? On a recent visit to the East Africa nation, Paul
Jenkins witnessed a number of challenges faced by Djiboutians and
visited a refugee camp home to around 16,000 people.
This morning we drove out of Djibouti City, the capital of this small
country in the Horn of Africa. We joined a huge convoy of trucks
heading south towards the Ethiopian capital Addis Ababa.
The trucks are so heavily loaded they hardly move along the steep, winding road through the barren countryside.
The containers are full of goods for the Ethiopian market. Many of
the goods that people buy in the stores in Addis will have found their
way into Africa through Djibouti.
The city’s port is the lifeblood of this country, providing its
biggest source of income and employment. Without the trade that the port
brings, it’s hard to imagine how this country would survive.
With a population of around 800,000, Djibouti doesn’t face the
challenges of a burgeoning population that confronts many African
countries.
Yet for many Djiboutians, life is incredibly hard. Around 30 per cent
of people still live in the countryside. How they survive is a mystery
to me.
Life without rain
Looking out of the vehicle as we wind our way through the hills, it
seems that only the numerous goats and camels could thrive in this
environment. In fact, only 0.04 per cent of the country is suitable for
agriculture.
Most of the country is desert or mountains. Amina Farah, who is
accompanying me on my journey, tells me that there have been few periods
of prolonged rainfall in Djibouti City in the last ten years.
Children play on an open football field in the middle of Balbala, Djibouti City – ©IFRC/KatherineBundraRoux
Amina works for the Djibouti Red Crescent and has seen first-hand how many people struggle to survive in this country.
People’s livelihoods in rural areas have traditionally been based on
rearing small herds of goats and sheep, selling their milk and meat to
survive. But this life is increasingly difficult.
Apart from a few fruits and vegetables, nothing is grown here in
Djibouti. The trucks that pass us on our journey travelling in the
opposite direction are returning from Ethiopia with the food that keeps
this country fed.
Pasta, Djiboutians will tell you, is the national dish, probably made
in a Chinese owned factory in Addis. The ubiquitous pylons that shadow
our route carry the power generated in Ethiopia that keeps the lights on
in Djibouti City.
Many people in rural areas have had enough of the struggle just to
survive. As in so many other African countries, they are abandoning
their villages and moving to the city.
The lights in the city may be powered by imported electricity, but
they still provide a glow that seems to offer an escape from the
hardship of the village. Sadly, in most cases migrants to the city only
exchange one form of hardship for another.
Supplying water and barrels
Yesterday we visited the township of Balabala on the outskirts of
Djibouti City. This area is home to many of those who have come from
rural areas.
Most people are living in shacks made of anything they can get their
hands on; cardboard, cloth, plastic sheeting and whatever else they can
find.
The slums of Balabala, Djibouti City, where many pastoralists migrate in search of a better life – ©IFRC/Katherine Bundra Roux
Water here is a bigger problem for many than it was back in their
villages. The only source is a government tanker that comes once a week
to supply everyone.
To get the water, you need somewhere to store it. If you only have a
few small buckets, that will be your water supply until the tanker comes
again.
Yesterday was an important day for the township. The Djibouti Red
Crescent was distributing plastic barrels and other water storage
equipment to the most vulnerable people.
Water barrels being distributed by the Djibouti Red Crescent – ©BritishRedCross
The British Red Cross funded the support to this very vulnerable
community. Those receiving the equipment were selected by the community
themselves.
As always during these events, the scene appeared chaotic with lots
of shouting and whistle blowing, and inquisitive children getting in the
way of everything.
But eventually the barrels were all given to those selected, the
crowd dispersed and the dust settled. Hopefully now some very poor
people will at least have one less challenge in their unbelievably
difficult lives.
Overcoming isolation and loneliness
Today we’re visiting the town of Ali Sabieh, about 50 miles from
Djibouti City. The local Djibouti Red Crescent branch welcomed us and we
travelled together to the Ali Addeh refugee camp.
The camp is home to around 16,000 refugees mainly from Somalia, but
also from Eritrea and Ethiopia. Some of the residents have been here for
more than 20 years.
©IFRC/Charlie Musoka
Many organisations are working in the camp, providing people with the
necessities of life such as food, water and health care. I’ve visited
many refugee camps and I’m always amazed by people just trying to get on
with their lives.
People here are hundreds of miles from home, living in what seems to
me to be a desolate place, yet they still try to live a normal life.
You’re surrounded by people, yet it must be lonely, cut-off from many
family members and friends.
The Djibouti Red Crescent is trying to help people overcome this
isolation and loneliness. Through the restoring family links programme
supported by the International Committee of the Red Cross, they provide a
mobile phone service to the refugees to help them contact their
families.
One of the dedicated volunteers shows me the list of people who have
used the service. “Today we’ve helped someone from the camp speak to
their family in America. Another person spoke to family members in
Sweden.”
What a difference this must make. Sweden and the Ali Sabieh camp seem
worlds apart. But these volunteers have made them seem a little bit
closer and for some people here, that makes a world of difference.
Paul Jenkins is head of partnership development at the British Red
Cross. The blog post was written while on a visit to Djibouti at the
start of May.
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