It wasn’t famine that killed Jamal Ali’s mother. She died in a cholera
outbreak that swept through their Ethiopian village when at last the rains
came. Twenty-five years later Jamal, now a parent himself, is lining up for
handouts in a food distribution centre in Harbu, Amhara, His prematurely
aged face, hollow with hunger, creases further when asked about this
unwelcome return. “It is a very bitter feeling. No one likes this begging. I
am ashamed,” he said.
Up a steep, dusty track from Harbu to Chorisa village the tiny, duncoloured
terraced fields bare witness to the third poor harvest in a row. This
village is supposed to be an aid showpiece but even here fields of failed
cereal crops are being turned over to lean-looking cattle.
A villager strips an ear of the cereal crop tef and cups the inedible
seed in her hand for a moment before casting into a relentlessly sky. It’s
not that the rains didn’t come, she said — they came just at the wrong time.
The field was supposed to yield 500 kilograms of cash crop; now it might
just save a few cows from starvation.