A forgotten famine is reducing one of the world’s richest stores of biodiversity, the rainforests of Madagascar, to ash. Farmers stricken by drought on the Indian Ocean island are burning swaths of primeval woodland to make charcoal.
Trees that pre-date the Roman Empire are going up in smoke and with it an eco-system that sustains thousands of unique plant and animal species — for the sake of turning a trunk into a bag of fuel worth about R3,60.
In a vicious circle, poor maize, potato and manioc harvests in the south and east have driven families from their fields to scavenge a living from what remains of the forest, further degrading the soil. Environmentalists warn that the rate of destruction will turn Madagascar into a lunar landscape of scrub and sand, diminishing the planet’s biological patrimony and depriving science of potential cures for disease.
”When there is drought a farmer needs to turn himself into a woodman to make charcoal. He attacks the forest, it is the only way to survive,” said Achilson Randrianjafizanaka, the World Food Programme’s representative in Fort Dauphin, a town in the south east. The UN agency estimates that 300 000 people will need food aid later this year.
It is a humanitarian and ecological crisis passing unnoticed by the outside world. The cyclones, floods and political upheavals of this impoverished island are eclipsed by crises on the African continent, 250 miles to the west.
Azafady, a London charity which funds conservation and development in Madagascar, warned last week that it was on ”its last legs” for want of donations and interest. That may change now that two stories, hunger and deforestation, are colliding.
In the dusty compound of a government-run feeding centre at Amboasary, a village near the southern tip, sat a dozen mothers nursing infants, some with the pot bellies and yellowing hair of malnutrition. Of the 109 children treated since the centre opened in March, 12 have died.
Fanomeza (30) who, like many Malagasy people, uses only one name, is fighting to keep her seven children alive but fears for her sickly 10-month-old son, Vatiasoa. Usually the family grows enough maize and sweet potatoes to sell the surplus, but poor rains shrivelled their crops.
Traders from the north keep the markets stocked but prices are high. Fanomeza had no possessions left to sell so in one of the poorest parts of one of the poorest countries there is only one option: charcoal.
Electricity is a luxury beyond most here, so cooking and heating requires fire. Some use wood, but charcoal, lighter and longer-burning, is preferred. Anyone can make it: stack wood in a shallow pit covered with thatch and slowly burn it with very little oxygen. Around 100 kilos of wood yields between five to eight kilos of charcoal.
”My husband and other children are out in the bush now looking for wood,” said Fanomeza. They produce up to 20 sacks a month — the equivalent of 15 trees. The family sells to a middleman at about R3,60 a sack, which buys six cups of maize. Fanomeza knows the forest is shrinking fast. ”I remember when the trees were just outside the village; now you have to walk three or four hours to find a proper trunk.” Chopping primary forest is illegal, but there is no fear of legal sanction in isolated areas.
In other parts of Madagascar the forest is slashed and burnt to make space for crops, which quickly degrades the soil, forcing more slashing and burning. ”Be it for charcoal or agriculture, what drives the destruction is poverty,” said Frank Hawkins, technical director of Conservation International’s office in the capital, Antananarivo.
”If people had the option to manage forest resources over the long term, they would be economically much better off — that option is the one we are trying to create.”
Since Malay-Polynesian sailors arrived 2 000 years ago, nine-tenths of the rainforest has been destroyed, leaving 15 million acres. Species such as the pygmy hippopotamus, the giant lemur and the aepyornis — the elephant bird fabled as the roc — have become extinct as habitats contract.
Madagascar’s species loss matters because most evolved after the island split from the African continent 165 millions years ago and are found nowhere else. Initiatives have been tried to slow the deforestation. Some, like those run by the Andrew Lees Trust, named after the British environmentalist who died on the island, have partly succeeded. The trust has planted 1 600 trees, distributing stoves which use 50% less wood than is usual and teaching conservation techniques.
A new government headed by President Marc Ravalomanana has raised hopes of better environmental care, but the fast-growing population of 17 million is in perpetual search for fuel and farmland.
Now a drought is accelerating the destruction. For the first time in 10 years the UN last week risked sending a ship with 2 800 tons of food to Fort Dauphin, a treacherous natural harbour where shipwrecks stud the surf.
Donors, mainly the US and EU, have pledged 10 000 tons, but the World Food Programme says almost double that is needed. Over the next few weeks the winter harvest will be gathered, yields are small and will probably run out by August.
But the situation is not without hope. A report by the WWF said that Malagasy officials, local people and non-governmental organisations all had plans to protect the forests. At Faux Cap, in the east, 300 villagers are planting rows of green shoots in the white sand to stop dunes blowing inland. Moving at up to 20 metres a month, within the year the dunes could bury the maternity hospital, as they did the police station.
The WFP-backed initiative rewards those battling sand and wind with food. Polcherie Hantarisoa (29) a mother of two, seemed optimistic. ”This way I get to eat every day and maybe save the hospital.” – Guardian Unlimited Â