It's ridiculous how the US justifies its agricultural policy at the
expense of other peoples' livelihoods.

nothing really new in this article, but it's good to see this issue
getting media attention.



From http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/04/06/africa/web0406-zambia.php

For the hungry in Zambia, U.S. law may hinder urgent food aid
By Cecilia W. Dugger
Friday, April 6, 2007


MULONDO, Zambia: Traveling to school in wobbly dugout canoes, Munalula
Muhau and her three cousins, 7 and 8 year olds whose parents died of
AIDS, held onto just one possession: battered tin bowls to receive
their daily ration of gruel.

Within weeks, those rations, provided by the United Nations World Food
Program, will run out for them and 500,000 other paupers, including
thousands of people wasted by AIDS who are being treated with
American-financed drugs that make them healthier - and ravenously
hungry.

"Not to put too fine a point on it," said Jeffrey Stringer, an
American doctor who runs a non-profit group treating 50,000 Zambians
with AIDS, "but it will result in the death of some patients."

Hoping to forestall such a dire outcome, the World Food Program made
an urgent appeal in February for cash donations so it could buy corn
from Zambia's own bountiful harvest, piled in towering stacks in the
warehouses of the capital, Lusaka.

But United States law requires that virtually all donated food be
grown in America and shipped at great expense across oceans, mostly on
vessels that fly American flags and employ American crews - a process
that typically takes four to six months.

For a third year, the Bush administration, which has pushed to make
foreign aid more efficient, is trying to change the law to allow the
United States to use up to a quarter of the budget of its main food
aid program to buy food in developing countries during emergencies.
The proposal has run into stiff opposition from a potent alliance of
agribusiness, shipping and charitable groups with deep financial
stakes in the current food aid system.

Oxfam, the international aid group, and other proponents of the Bush
proposal, say it would enable the United States to feed more people
more quickly, while helping fight poverty by buying the crops of
peasants in poor countries.

The U.S. Agency for International Development estimated that if
Congress adopted the Bush proposal, the United States could feed at
least a million more people and save 50,000 more lives.

But Congress quickly killed the plan in each of the past two years,
cautioning that untying food aid from domestic interest groups would
weaken the commitment that has made the United States by far the
largest food aid donor in a world where 850 million go hungry.

Representative Tom Lantos, Democrat of California and chairman of the
House Foreign Relations Committee, warned last year at a food aid
conference in Washington that decoupling food aid from American
maritime and agribusiness interests "is beyond insane."

"It is a mistake of gigantic proportions," he said, "because support
for such a program will vanish overnight, overnight."

But James Kunder, acting deputy administrator of the U.S. Agency for
International Development, said in an interview that the
administration proposal - which would affect less than half of one
percent of American agricultural exports - would not undercut American
interests.

"The burden of proof is on producers and shippers to show this is
going to significantly damage their interests," he said, "because we
can provide compelling evidence that allowing local procurement is
going to save lives by speeding up delivery of supplies."

Here in Zambia, population 11 million, more than a million children
are already orphaned, mostly because AIDS killed their parents. Life
expectancy has plunged to 38 years, and countless sickened adults,
unable to work, can no longer feed their families.

On a recent day, patients on U.S.-financed AIDS drugs and their
families streamed into a food distribution point at the Lewanika
Hospital in Mongu town. Already, as the World Food Program's stocks
have run low, rations have been almost halved. Some were so hungry
that they scooped handfuls of corn-soy powder into their mouths
without even adding water to make porridge.

One of the patients, Annie Mubita, a 32-year-old mother of six, said
her strength is returning, and so is her appetite, which had shriveled
when she was sick. Mubita assumes her children are also HIV positive,
she said, but has not had them tested because if they, too, go on the
drugs, they will be as hungry as she is.

"If the children have an appetite like me, the food won't last even
two weeks," she said. If the rations end, she said, "me and my
children will die."

Kandundu Litia, a 12-year-old orphan with AIDS, also fears a cut-off
of food. Before the rations began, she said, her aunt, uncle and
cousins would eat when she was at school. "There was none left when I
got home," she whispered, her head dropping. The short shock of hair
springing from her head still had the telltale reddish tint of the
malnourished.

David Stevenson, who heads the World Food Program's Zambia office and
has worked for the organization in Africa for 15 years, through war
and drought, says he has never seen a crisis on the scale of what AIDS
and drought have wrought in Zambia. He worries as supplies dwindle.

With cash donations, the World Food Program could get Zambian corn to
the hungry in a month, far faster than the United States could
typically act.

The cash would also stretch further than in-kind food. In recent
years, the World Food Program has procured 75 percent more food for
Zambia, Kenya and Uganda by buying corn grown in those countries,
rather than shipping American food, according to Michigan State
University agricultural economists who studied crop and shipping data.

There is hope that Zambia, a relatively stable democracy, can become a
bread basket in a region roiled by conflict, disease and economic
collapse, at least in years when it is not devastated by drought.

In lean years, the World Food Program shuts down its buying operation
here for fear of driving up the prices of corn, the main staple,
beyond the reach of poor consumers. It imports food instead.

But during bumper harvests, the World Food Program has become a major
buyer of Zambian-grown corn. Since 2001, it has bought more than $1
billion worth of food in some of the poorest countries on earth.

For farmers like Catherine Hangama, 36, that money makes all the
difference. She works a small plot with her husband in the village of
Nakandyoli in Mumbwa district. For the first time last year they sold
a small surplus of maize for $53 to the Zambian government's Food
Reserve Agency, one of the World Food Programs biggest suppliers here.

That money bought soap and paid for uniforms and fees to send three
children to school. This year, she and her husband have planted more
and hope to sell 15 bags after this year's harvest.

"If I don't plow well, the children won't be able to go to school,"
she explained, with one twin baby at her breast and the other on her
back.

What Hangama earns is a pittance compared with the billions at stake
for the main players in American food aid.

Over the past three years, the same four companies and their
subsidiaries - Archer Daniels Midland, Cargill, Bunge and Cal Western
Packaging - have sold the American government more than half the $2.2
billion in food for Food for Peace, the largest food aid program, and
two smaller programs, according to the Department of Agriculture.

Shipping companies were paid $1.3 billion over the same period to move
the food aid overseas, the USDA figures show.

And nonprofit groups received over $500 million in donated American
food, which they sold at market rates in developing countries to raise
money for antipoverty programs, according to U.S. AID and a recent
study by Emmy Simmons, a retired U.S. AID official.

Agribusiness and shipping groups vigorously oppose the Bush
administration proposal to buy food in developing countries with cash,
which they argue is more likely to be stolen. They say American food
is safer and of higher quality and that the government can speed
delivery by storing it in warehouses around the world.

And they defend the idea that federal spending should benefit American
business and farming interests, as well as the hungry. Without support
from such interest groups, food aid budgets from Congress would
whither, they say.

"It would be at extreme risk of being diminished," said Paul Green, a
consultant to the North American Millers' Association, a trade
association for the milling industry that counts Archer Daniels
Midland, Bunge and Horizon Milling, a joint venture of Cargill and CHS
among its members.

Gloria Tosi, a lobbyist and immediate past president of the American
Maritime Congress, an association of U.S.-flag ship owners, agreed.
"There's no constituency for cash," she said.

Many charitable groups involved in food aid share that worry, and also
warn that a badly managed program to buy food in poor countries could
drive up food prices and worsen hunger.

The Alliance for Food Aid, 14 nonprofit groups involved in
distributing and selling American food aid overseas, maintains that
the Bush proposal is too ambitious and advocate a modest pilot
program.

"Do a demonstration," said Robert Zachritz, a senior policy adviser at
World Vision. "Does it work? Then you can go from there."

For now, the World Food Program is hoping other rich nations or
individuals will donate cash to keep rations flowing for the half
million needy Zambiams, among them Manaluna and 135,000 children fed
through community schools.

The pupils in this grass hut schoolhouse are from families so poor
they cannot afford the flip flops and $6 uniforms required to attend
public schools.

Beatrice Nyambe, 64, a retired public school teacher who serves
without pay as principal, worries that when food from school runs out,
most of the children will go back to day work in the fields so they
can buy a few handfuls of corn meal to fill their bellies.

Munalula, whose own mother was an untrained teacher before AIDS took
her, is the best student in the school and wants to be a teacher as
well. She helps her cousins with their homework, scratching out sums
in the dirt with a stick.

At school, she and 50 other children in the dirt-floored classroom in
the village of Nalusheke fell silent but for the smacking sounds they
made eating a boiled mush of American bulgur wheat. Each bowlful,
topped with split peas from Canada, cost 12 cents. The bulgur came
from sacks emblazoned with the words, "Gift of the People of the
United States of America."

Munalula and her barefoot cousins scraped their bowls clean, savoring
each unsweetened bite. But some children barely touched theirs.

Sisi Negenda, a six-year-old with little braids, shyly explained why.
She has a younger sister, 3, and several orphaned relatives at home.
She said she wanted to share with them. She carried off the bowl,
still heavy with porridge, as though it were a precious, breakable
object.