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Photo: As the drought continues and food prices soar, children and families in Turkana are surviving on the most slender of means

Drought is not uncommon in the arid north of Kenya. But the increasing frequency of failed rains is unusual, and having a devastating impact on the resilience of local communities to survive food shortages.

Sharing a border with South Sudan, Ethiopia and Uganda, Turkana is a region distinctive for its high temperatures and wide expanses of desert and scrubland, only interrupted by two metre plus termite mounds and occasional strips of verdant green along river edges.

To the first time visitor, Turkana is a harsh, unyielding environment. Yet historically, while rainfall patterns are among the lowest in the country, the annual short and long rains have been mostly reliable, ensuring that there is just enough water to survive the difficult conditions.

Today, however, Kenya is experiencing yet another extreme food crisis, with those in the north most affected. Drought in 2014, followed by poor and below average rates of rainfall in both 2015 and 2016 have led to this critical situation.

Not only have crops failed and livestock suffered, but in emergency planning meetings my Kenyan colleagues have expressed serious concern about the knock-on effects of continued drought – food prices have increased by as much as 30 per cent, and continue to rise. For families already surviving on the most slender of economic margins, this hike in costs is completely beyond their means.

Worse still, there is a real fear that the 2017 rains will bring little relief. We are witnessing, after all, the very real impact of climate change in the region. What was once a 10-year cycle of drought in Kenya, now appears to be occurring every other year.

Communities here are not reliant upon agriculture €“ the dry conditions mean that arable land is in short supply, and crop cultivation is challenging, if not fruitless, in most of the county. Instead, families in Turkana are largely pastoralists. Camels, goats and cattle provide milk and meat for household purposes, and income to purchase necessities such as flour, oil and medicine.

In times of drought, these communities are completely reliant on their livestock; there are no alternative sources of food or income. As pastures have dried up, many families have been forced to move their animals to other parts of the country in search of water and grazing pastures. Many animals have died along the way.

In other families, the lack of food to sustain the livestock means they are not healthy enough to sell, and unable to provide nutrition for the family. They face almost certain death.

What is now emerging is a dangerous and life-threatening situation further complicated by the already vulnerable state of so many children. This is a population which has only just begun to recover after the extreme drought conditions of 2014.

Local communities have yet to build up income, livestock, and even their own health status. There has not been enough time for children and families to €˜fatten up` €“ they have no additional body reserves and limited emotional resilience from which to draw.

This is also true of the local geography. Aquifers, underground storehouses of water which provide an important water source in Turkana, have not had time to replenish, nor has the quality of the soil rebounded, essential for growing food for livestock. It is drier than it has ever been, and still the rains do not come.

Today, as the world looks on, children and families in Turkana are facing yet another period of drought already fragile, already susceptible to the worst impacts of hunger, and with few resources to support them. It is difficult to show strength in the face of adversity when the body is so frequently tested.

Unfortunately, time is no longer on our side. We cannot rely on the rains, we cannot rely on human resilience, which is in such short supply. We must act now before this crisis becomes catastrophic.

 

Significant economic development, coupled with increased investments in education and healthcare, has greatly reduced Vietnam`s infant mortality rate. In 2017, 60 per cent fewer children under the age of one die than in 1964.

However, this progress has not been widespread. Mothers and newborn children from ethnic minority communities living in remote areas are still at risk, due to difficulties in accessing proper medical care, and low levels of education on maternal and child health.

For mother Sinh, giving birth to her third child was even more frightening than her previous labours.

“I was scared to death when I knew that My was about to be born,” she explains. “We could not get to the nearest health centre as the rains were so heavy, and the muddy roads were too slippery to even walk on.”

For Sinh and her neighbours in Ngan Son District in Vietnam`s Bac Kan Province, the nearest health centre is a two hour walk away. This is mountainous country and landslides are common when it rains, making it impossible for vehicles or even motorcycles to access Sinh`s village. The only way in and out is on foot.

“I delivered my two older girls at the district hospital as the local nurse advised me that it would be difficult for me to deliver a baby due to my bone structure. Doctors at the district hospital have good skills and equipment.”

When she started having labour pains due to her third child, the weather ruled out any chance of Sinh travelling to a clinic or hospital. While she was anxious at the thought of giving birth with only the help of her mother-in-law, Sinh had no other options.

“I had been in pain since the night before, but needed to wait until the sun came out to get on the road. Unfortunately, it did not stop raining and more and more water poured down.

“Normally, it would take two hours to walk to the nearest commune centre where I can visit a healthcare station but during the raining days it`s impossible to walk as the path is so slippery and there is a risk of landslides.”

Fortunately, her mother-in-law had some experience, and boiled a large pot of water to sanitise the towels, as well as the bamboo knife which would be used to cut the umbilical cord of the baby. Sinh`s new daughter, My, arrived to say hello to her mother and grandmother just before sunset.

“I was in severe pain and the blood did not stop until a few days later. I don`t know if it is because of the way she was delivered, but My often gets sick. Twice since her birth I have had to take her to the hospital for treatment,” Sinh says.

To help mothers like Sinh, ChildFund has recently implemented a project aiming at training midwives and nurses from villages and health centres, who have the skills need to support pregnant women when it isn`t possible for them to get to a clinic or hospital.

Mothers and other caregivers are also benefiting from training programs which provide them with essential skills, enabling them to take care of themselves and their children before, during and after their pregnancy.

In addition, ChildFund is working to ensure that health workers in remote clinics have up-to-date knowledge in maternal and child health. In Ngan Son District, 35 nurses and midwives will receive training from experienced doctors from Vietnam`s national hospitals, who will provide technical guidance and assist with case monitoring.

Chung, ChildFund`s health project officer in Bac Kan says: “There are always risks associated with childbirth, no matter where you live. These risks are even greater if women have no access to proper medical care.

“We want to give women and children like Sinh and her daughters the best chance in life, and reduce the fears that so many women face when it comes time to give birth to their children.”