Nairobi, Kenya February 16, 1999
The author has been involved with relief and development in Sudan since 1983. This paper was first presented to a conference of African church-based communicators in Kenya in January 1999 and then expanded in the light of subsequent discussions with them.

Southern Sudan is not an easy place to enter; over the years not many journalists have bothered to try. In February 1997 several NGOs attempted to ent ice journalists into Blue Nile, where we had an interesting story with humanitarian, political and military components; we were told that Kisangani was about to fall and that was far more interesting. But around March 1998 two NGOs finally managed to persuade some journalists to visit northern Bahr el-Ghazal; perhaps it was a quiet week in the Monica Lewinsky story? Pictures of starving babies hit the world's TV screens; literally hundreds of other journalists followed; a media-driven emergency was born.

A pattern soon emerged. Journalists were generally not interested in visiting other parts of southern Sudan, even though the famine was also developing there; northern Bahr el-Ghazal was the only destination. Neither were they interested in any of the other stories in Sudan, where local communities were demonstrating a degree of self-sustainability in the face of severe odds; nor in Sudanese NGOs where there were no white faces to speak to the camera; nor in areas where the valiant efforts of local and international NGOs had stabilised the situation and the effects of the famine were receding.

As the situation stabilised in more and more regions, it became increasingly difficult to find any starving babies, but our intrepid press still managed, somehow, to do so; there are plenty of health centres where the babies were malnourished due to disease, not starvation. The only occasional distractions from "northern Bahr el-Ghazal", "famine" and "starving babies" were other negative stories such as an unseemly dispute between British NGOs and unproven allegations of food diversion by SPLA.

The media-driven emergency very quickly developed into a donor-driven emergency. The European and US public were now aware of the famine in Sudan and wanted to give money; the donors at best wanted to be in a position to channel that money promptly and effectively to where it was most needed; at worst they simply wanted to enhance their own visibility and the administrative percentage that they need to take from all donations in order to ensure their continued existence. Either way, they were now competing for the donations of the general public. Very large sums of money were at stake. Two UK donors raised US$ 1.6 million each in just one week and the pattern was gradually repeated across the world. Having solicited this money from the general public, it now had to be spent quickly on emergency relief.

The donors began to inundate their implementing partners with offers of ready cash. Despite years of fiscal restraint when our project proposals were examined with a fine-tooth comb; despite those same donors' previous insistence on credible needs assessments before any proposal; despite our own firm belief in a participatory process for preparing a proposal, and our conviction that we should only take on projects that we are sure we can implement effectively; we were suddenly being urged to prepare multi-million dollar proposals within days. Donors did not seem worried when we protested that credible proposals could not be produced to such a time-scale; they simply repeated the deadline. Some projects were fully-funded by donors before the proposal had even been written! The mere promise of a proposal was enough to open the cheque-books.

All of us were grateful that suddenly Sudan was getting some attention, and some increased funding, at last. But there was a tangible sense of frustration and even resentment at the attitude of the donors. Their agenda had changed. From financial restraint and responsible budgeting and planning we were expected, almost overnight, to absorb huge sums of money with little preparation, planning or even accountability. It may have been obvious to them that there were new rules to the funding game, but it was not obvious to us. When the agenda changes we must be told clearly and quickly what the new rules are.

It was particularly galling for those of us who have devoted many years of our life to humanitarian work in Sudan, struggling to do what we can on low budgets, to suddenly face accusations of "not doing enough" from the very same donors who had hamstrung us for so many years. One donor berated me for not asking immediately for more money for transport of food relief; I was able to quote a letter from her own organisation in 1997 informing me that the sum I was asking for then (much lower than the 1998 figure) was "immoral". This self-righteous attitude by donors is not helpful.

As we began to understand what was happening in Geneva, London and other donor centres, we experienced genuine surprise at the frenzy that the 1998 emergency was generating. For us it was merely an extension, albeit quite a large extension, of the situation that we had been facing for years. Many of us had predicted the famine, although I will admit that we had not pressed the point as strongly as we might have done, as we had not really expected to get a positive donor reaction. But we could not understand why the donor agencies were treating it as such a big event. Only much later did we understand the fund-raising competition which created such a frenzy amongst the donors.

It soon became clear that the donors were not in touch with what was happening on the ground. There were calls from some of them for more coordination. Coordination mechanisms already exist in southern Sudan: the local authorities, the UN Operation Lifeline Sudan (OLS), church networks, and the informal coordination between agencies operating in the same geographical area or sector of work. In principle and in practice coordination mechanisms need to stay as close as possible to the epicentre of the emergency, where they are more likely to be in touch with the actual needs of the beneficiary population and less likely to be influenced by the internal agendas of donor agencies. After I had patiently explained to a donor why it was neither cost-effective nor necessary for a church organisation to begin a large-scale airlift to northern Bahr el-Ghazal at that point in time, he replied, "But my director thinks it would be nice if the churches had an airbridge." Nice. Coordination in Europe should confine itself to fund-raising, not to operational matters.

Some donors were also slow to recognise the wide geographical area covered by the emergency. In some short-term disasters it is possible for a single large agency to make a decisive contribution. In a long-term complex emergency in a country the size of Sudan even the combined effort of forty-odd NGOs under the umbrella of the UN OLS is struggling to make an impact. An agency can often only work effectively in one or two locations and a combination of terrain, climate, logistics and security usually limits the outreach; a project is often confined to the occupants of a single town or village plus those who can walk there from elsewhere.

Visitors suddenly began to arrive. These were both donors and journalists. In our case all the journalists were sent to us by our donors, usually to support fund-raising campaigns in their own countries. Our organisation handled dozens of visitors; the total across southern Sudan was hundreds. In Nairobi staff time was taken up briefing them and arranging their trips; in Sudan operations often came to a standstill as staff, vehicles and fuel were dedicated to the visitors' itineraries. Some were very understanding and fitted flexibly into our existing plans. Many came on very tight schedules, making it difficult to accommodate their itineraries given the shortage of aircraft and the unpredictable weather which delayed, cancelled or diverted many flights.

All wanted to see the starving babies. This was even true of donors who had originally told us they were coming only to see our own programmes; when they found that the situation in our areas had stabilised, they immediately demanded to be taken elsewhere, leading to complicated and time-consuming arrangements with other agencies who themselves were already inundated with their own visitors. We quickly realised that we must charge the visitors for their trips otherwise our programme budgets would be used up in weeks: chartering a small aircraft costs upwards of US$ 4,000 for each flight. Many paid willingly; some cancelled their trips; one or two took the trip and then refused to pay.

Most behaved well but some were, frankly, obnoxious. A TV crew refused to move out of a food-drop zone, causing the World Food Programme (WFP) officer to order the C-130 aircraft to abort. If it had returned to base without dropping, tens of thousands of dollars would have been wasted and 16 tons of food would not have reached the starving people of that area. Fortunately one of our Sudanese staff threatened to have the offending film crew arrested and they moved in time for the aircraft to drop the food on its second pass. Some journalists refused to take advice from our staff; others constantly changed their plans; at times we were booking, cancelling, rebooking and recancelling flights almost hourly. We had to take on an extra clerical staff member to handle the visitors; we called her our "Disaster Tourist Officer". It is a credit to our hard-pressed staff that all the visitors praised the hospitality and assistance that they received.

We quickly became overloaded. Apart from the demands of the visitors, we were also struggling to follow as much of the "best practice" procedure as we could given the demands and artificial deadlines imposed by the donors. At the same time there was an information overload. Until this time our reporting was always considered more than adequate; a monthly sitrep, monthly financial statements, detailed reports on individual programmes at various stages, e-mail up-dates whenever anything important happened, plus a wealth of ordinary documents copied to our London office for direct circulation to interested donors or incorporation into consolidated reports.

Once the emergency began, donors sometimes wanted daily up-dates. They did not seem to realise; firstly, that often nothing much happens from day-to-day (if the trucks are stuck in a swamp today, chances are they'll be stuck there for weeks!); secondly, that the flow of information from Sudan back to Nairobi is slow as opportunities to send mailpouches are infrequent and only limited information can be passed over the open radio net; and thirdly, that we did not have enough staff to collect all the extra information in the field; our staff were inundated with programme work which seemed more important than information at that time. I spent hours on the ‘phone repeating the same information to different donors. Even when I sent regular e-mail updates it seems that many wanted to hear the same information from my own lips. One more-enlightened donor later told me that before picking up the ‘phone he checked back through his file of recent information that he had received from us and found all his questions already answered at the cost of a few minutes work to himself.

We learnt the value of seconded staff. After a month or so one or two of our donor partners sent emergency and information officers to Nairobi. Although they were not seconded to us, and could have arrived a month earlier, we still benefited not only from their expertise but also simply the extra time that they had at their disposal. In any future emergency we will immediately request our partners, whether international or local, to second staff to us for short periods.

Many new and inexperienced NGOs arrived in Sudan. Some should be commended for their enthusiasm and sincerity. Others should be challenged for racial stereotypes, cultural arrogance and sheer inefficiency and ignorance in their programmes. There was a rush to get started and spend money, particularly as some donor funding had a time limit on it. Competition to work in key locations led to exaggerated claims of what an NGO could accomplish; competition for scarce aircraft led to bribery of pilots and transmitting of false weather reports; competition for visibility saw a European who had been in the country for six weeks claiming on TV that his NGO was the "only one" operating in a particular area where a Sudanese NGO had been struggling bravely for almost eighteen months and was still doing most of the real work.

The "culture of success" reigned supreme; there was little realistic evaluation or monitoring of results or of cost-effectiveness. Expatriate staff were often young and inexperienced. They lacked not only appropriate professional skills but the maturity to handle a stressful multi-cultural situation. Qualified Sudanese personnel were rightly resentful at the influx of highly-paid expatriates. Many of these new NGOs were poor at coordination and reluctant to take advice from more established players. Church NGOs were not exempt; the director of a small church NGO admitted to me that after six months he still had not had any contact with the council of churches nor with the church in the area in which his organisation operates. Many international agencies underestimate the moral authority, local knowledge and infrastructure which the churches have and could put at their disposal.

The disaster in Sudan is not a simple one-off event. In the past year or so we have seen hurricanes in Latin America, bomb blasts at US embassies in East Africa and avalanches sweeping away villages in Europe. These are disasters which rightly elicit an immediate emergency response from the international community. They are characterised by their suddenness, unexpectedness and unpredictability. In some cases there might, with hindsight, be clues (were the effects of the hurricanes exacerbated by deforestation or over-farming? isn't the USA aware that it has enemies everywhere? were villages built in an avalanche-prone area?) but there is no direct or immediate warning. Local coping mechanisms come into play, external intervention arrives quickly, humanitarian aid is delivered, victims buried, survivors assisted, counselling provided for those suffering from trauma, physical infrastructure rebuilt, early warning systems or other preventative measures installed… and eventually the emergency can be considered "over".

A different type of emergency exists in Sudan and a number of other countries such as Angola, Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo and the former Yugoslavia. Liberia is perhaps emerging from such a situation while Sierra Leone seems to be descending into it. This is a long-term complex emergency. Each year there might be a different short-term emergency such as famine, flood, internal population displacement, refugees fleeing to neighbouring countries, massacres of civilians, disease, destruction of a town, or whatever, but these disasters are not unpredictable and never really come to an end. While they might have an immediate cause such as too much or too little rainfall, the main negative effects of the disaster, including the degradation of the affected population's natural coping methods and the difficulties of outside intervention, are the direct result of the political and military situation. The international community is less willing to respond year after year to the same basic emergency; "donor fatigue" sets in.

The current emergency in Sudan began in 1983 with the restarting of the civil war, although its roots can be traced to the first civil war (1955-1972). As a result of the first war as well as political trends in Sudan the south was already less developed than the north both in infrastructure and trained human resources. From 1983 a combination of war and politics contributed to the total devastation of the south. Virtually all hospitals, schools, transport and communications ceased to function; trade, governance and administration disappeared; millions of civilians died or became internally displaced or international refugees; society was militarised and traditional values corroded. There were peaks (or troughs?) in this process. In 1985/86 a severe famine struck northern Sudan; in 1988 and 1998 there were widespread floods; in 1991 the split in the southern liberation movement resulted in great loss of life; certain warlords looted and devastated large regions of southern Sudan for several years, contributing to the 1998 famine whose direct cause was a severe drought in 1997. There certainly was a real emergency in Sudan in 1998. It is good that Sudan finally attracted some international attention and that more money became available for relief programmes. But the 1998 emergency was only a part of a long-term complex emergency which had been continuing for 15 years. 1998 was a bad year, but it was not unique.

Donors need a better understanding of the link between famine relief and famine mitigation. Famine relief, while sometimes necessary, is expensive and unsustainable. To have to do it at all is already an admission of failure. Famine mitigation, which includes elements of food security, agriculture, rehabilitation, development and capacity-building, is relatively cheap and aims at sustainability. To do famine relief without also doing famine mitigation is a total waste of millions of dollars. Donors need to keep some of the funds that they raised on the back of the famine for longer-term interventions, otherwise the cycle of famine will just continue.

While there are elements of the long-term complex emergency, particularly military action, which can destroy any longer-term interventions, nevertheless a year of food relief must be followed by programmes aimed at self-sufficiency. These might include agricultural inputs, notably seeds and agricultural tools, but also training in techniques to increase crop yield and food storage; development of income-generating projects, education, trade, etc in recognition of the fact that famine is often not simply a shortage of food but a lack of the economic means to acquire food; provision of clean water; education; health; and, above all, the empowerment of local communities to develop their own coping mechanisms and to cushion themselves against future disasters by attaining a degree of self-sufficiency. It is not possible in every situation in every location, but it is certainly an aim to be pursued as widely as possible. It is unrealistic and wasteful for donors to insist that "emergency funds" must be spent within six months or some other arbitrary time frame.

Responsible NGOs are constantly exploring how to do the least harm. The concept of the "independent humanitarian imperative" is a myth; no action is politically neutral; every action has some effect beyond what is intended. As well as any local environmental and social effects, there are legitimate concerns that relief activities might actually be lengthening the war. On the other hand starving people cannot simply be allowed to die, or be left without essential services, on the off-chance that those with vested interests will eventually tire of the war. A creative tension exists between these different imperatives.

What are these vested interests? There are political and military leaders within Sudan, arms dealers, oil companies and governments throughout the world who all have some interest in the war. The massive food relief supplied by the USA and the European Community is not philanthropic in its roots; it is a direct result of domestic agricultural policies which subsidise farmers to produce a surplus; this surplus can then be used to further the foreign policy objectives of the donor nation. At a more local level we find many others who benefit from the emergency: traders, merchants, suppliers, consultants, transport contractors, air charter companies, hoteliers, owners of warehouses, landlords of the expensive houses favoured by expatriate staff, customs agents and, of course, the Kenyan and Ugandan economies, which benefit greatly from the cash and commodities channelled through East Africa.

Air charter companies are particularly noteworthy; the small number of established companies in Kenya has now been joined by an ever-growing fleet of ancient and often poorly-maintained aircraft flown by pilots who have no experience of Sudan; it is very difficult to trace the real ownership of these aircraft. Finally, we must note the vested interests of the aid agencies. The agencies themselves clearly have a need to keep on raising funds to finance their own existence; consequently they need to be seen to be active in newsworthy areas. Attempting to publicise an adult education project in Burkina Faso will not raise millions of dollars like a famine relief programme in Sudan. At the same time aid agency staff depend on the emergency for their salaries. Many work from a sense of religious or humanitarian commitment and would have the integrity to put programme before personal needs. Some do not. The most blatant example of this that I have seen was in northern Sudan in 1986 when staff of a major international NGO privately admitted that they were trying to write projects to safeguard their jobs at the end of the famine relief operation; fortunately this is rare.

It also has to be admitted that generally the salaries of expatriate aid workers and their colleagues in the donor agencies in Europe and the USA and those working for the UN, European Community and other such bodies are unrealistically high, and are often supplemented by perks such as per diem allowances, housing, transport, health insurance and tax concessions which can double the actual value of the salary. For such high salaries to be paid to those working to alleviate the suffering of the poorest of the poor sends a very dubious message.

How to conclude positively an essay which raises many negative points? It should be clear that I and many of my colleagues share deep concerns about the manner in which the aid business operates. It is essential to learn from the 1998 famine in Sudan and to explore new ways forward in an open and transparent manner.

I acknowledge the genuine emergency in Sudan and I welcome constructive publicity and donor funding. Most aid agencies are doing relatively well in a difficult and essential area. I question the ethics and effectiveness of some of them and would like to see higher standards being set. I would certainly like to see more open and transparent debate. I believe that empowerment of the indigenous peoples, and respect for their values and priorities, must be an essential component of any relief intervention. There must be local involvement in decision-making at all levels and the international community must learn to heed the warnings of impending disasters; the 1998 famine was widely predicted by churches and local authorities. Famine mitigation must go hand in hand with famine relief.

There must be greater exploration of the phenomenon of the long-term complex emergency in general and on its manifestation in Sudan in particular. This must be done primarily by Sudanese, assisted by expatriates who have long-term knowledge and experience of Sudan; it is strange to see NGO staff with a couple of years of commuting between Kenya and Sudan described as "old-timers" and foreigners who have never lived in Sudan and who do not speak any of its languages quoted as "experts". I object to the media concentrating on the "sexy" images rather than giving a fuller picture and setting stories in context. I have some concerns about the methods of raising and disbursing funds and the internal agendas of donor agencies. I would like to see more effort invested in educating the donor public about the realities of the situation.

Finally I believe that church agencies should be setting a lead. While recognising the realities of the fund-raising market, we ought also to be modelling a different approach more in line with the spirituality of the humble carpenter whom we profess to follow.

John Ashworth
Nairobi 26/02/99