Scandal behind great famine

Press, 15 July 1987, Page 20

Scandal behind great famine

Dawit Wolde Giorgis, formerly high in the Ethiopian Govt, accuses President Mengistu

THE FAMINE of 1984-85 of Ethiopia need never have happened. It is only the most recent and vivid example of the atrocities that are due to the callousness of the head of State, Colonel Mengistu, and the handful of men who make up the regime.

The world has never had, and may never have, an accurate account of the famine victims but the best estimates stagger the imagination. Between October, 1983, and October, 1985, over one million people died, over 100,000 were left permanently disabled, 200,000 children were orphaned or abandoned, two and a half million people were displaced within the country, and 450,000 fled as refugees to the Sudan.

The senseless loss of human life, this inconceivable misery could have been dealt with better, sooner, even avoided completely. Yet for month after month the Ethiopian Government did nothing. Instead Colonel Mengistu spent millions on a lavish anniversary celebration of the revolution that led to his rise — all the more unforgivable since it was the indifference of the old empire to a catastrophical famine which created that rebellion and brought him to power 10 years before. At that time the feudal system was overthrown and the revolution brought the promise of a better life to come, both for the individual and for society as a whole. That promise has been betrayed in the most inhuman way imaginable. I was at the centre of these events as they developed. As the man responsible for exposing this famine to the world, launching an international appeal and co-ordinating the entire relief operation I was often forced to circumvent the ignorance, indifference, and even opposition of my own Government in order to bring relief to the starving.

appeal to Western and Eastern ambassadors, heads of United Nations agencies, representatives of international and regional organisations for massive aid and my appeal to the United Nations in May did not bring the desired result.

Discussions I had with Colonel Mengistu immediately after my United Nations address in May and the argument over its content left me no doubt about his attitude towards the famine. He obviously believed that a serious famine did not even exist. As the celebration of the tenth anniversary of the revolution approached, and the preparations grew more extravagant, the reported death rate reached an average of 16,000 to 17,000 a day in the known shelters and distribution centres and villages that the office I headed, the Relief and Rehabilitation Commission, and voluntary agencies had established. I was certain the death rate was much higher because of uncounted villages and homes in inaccessible areas. Hundreds of thousands were leaving their homes, setting off in any direction from which there was a rumour of food. The sick and the aged were left behind to die. Of those who left, 60 per cent did not reach their destinations. They died along the road of hunger or, too weak to defend themselves, were devoured by wild animals along the way. But still that summer thousands straggled into the centres, and more importantly, toward the capital. It was then, when Colonel Mengistu heard reports of the ragged mobs of skeletons approaching Addis Ababa, that he finally acted: the police were instructed to make a human fence to keep the starving from entering the city and spoiling the show.

and Northern Shoa, selling, everything they owned to wander off in search of food.

Throughout the build-up which led to the deaths of over a million people, Colonel Mengistu was preoccupied with the celebration, the army, and the urban population, particularly that of Addis Ababa. He stressed this during a meeting held in June in which he asked me to divert grain to the armed forces and Urban Dwellers Association of Addis.

■ Amazed, I tried to explain what was happening all around us, but I was quickly silenced with a tirade on the need to keep the soldiers and the Addis population satisfied until the celebration was over. After this meeting I was barred from seeing him until October. However, I continued my attempts to inform him of the disastrous situation through video tapes and still photos of the relief centres which I repeatedly sent to his office. Nothing had any effect.

In a five and a half hour speech he made at the colourful ceremony he did not mention at all the raging famine that was taking the lives of thousands every day at the time. Ethopians can never forgive the callousness of a leader who was living in a fantasy world. The R.R.C. invited Mohammed Amin and Michael Buerk of the 8.8. C. It was this shocking film of starving Ethopian men, women and children — without clothing, without food, without hope — that eventually shocked the conscience of the world. Governments, private organisations and individuals all reacted to our call. Throughout the world millions of people of all nations, children, the unemployed, old age pensioners, poured out sympathy and assistance. Colonel Mengistu felt helpless as the initiative which he should have taken was stripped from him. He was no more at the centre of the Ethiopian situation. Instead, the international community took over and he found himself helpless and unable to control the development of events. With the sudden outpouring of sympathy and assistance decisions had to be made. The regime did not want to involve itself, on the contrary, they were trying to stop the aid. Caught in between, I found it extremely difficult to maintain the balance between the human problems and the political interest of the Government. I can cite a few examples. In October, three days after Michael Buerk’s film was shown, I came to London. As I stepped off the plane I found myself besieged by a dozen journalists with the Ethiopian ambassador, who happened to be my brother. I was swiftly taken to a press conference and barraged with questions on the scandals of the Ethiopian Government. There were questions on the cost of the celebration and about SNZ7OO,OOO worth of Ethiopiabound whisky seen at one of the British ports. The whisky arrived at the port of Assabe very much delayed for the anniversary celebration.

In the months following my first disturbing report on the famine there were meetings after meetings on how to make the anniversary celebration as colourful and as impressive as possible. I remember one at the end of July, 1983, after failure of the main rainy season in many parts of Ethiopia. The meeting lasted for three days. And. for three days I sat in a meeting with the head of State and his retinue of administrators and not once was famine mentioned.

While the R.R.C. and voluntary agencies worked round the clock to inform the international public about the problems and our needs, the Government media worked just as hard to hide the famine.

I expected Colonel Mengistu to hear reports on the wretched, desperate state into which the country had fallen, and instead he spoke of a prosperous Ethiopia, a self-reliant Ethiopia, Ethiopia the emerging colossus of Africa. He harangued, boasted, pounded the table, commenting on reports in a way that showed no awareness of the horrible reality about to destroy our people.

The months from March to May, 1984, brought home the magnitude of the impending disaster. The failure of the second, shorter rainy season coincided with staggering early warnings that seven million people (one-sixth of the population) were going to die of starvation unless immediate emergency assistance was received. In March, 1984, my international

about SNZIOO million. I knew that the whisky had been ordered for the celebration, and I knew that the Government had allocated no extra funds for the famine relief effort. But I felt I had to protect myself and my purpose in coming to Europe. By discrediting the regime I would succeed only in jeopardising my own position while accomplishing nothing toward feeding the people — and so, with no sense of guilt, I lied. I told them my Government was doing everything possible to avert the disaster.

I was taken to the then British Minister of Overseas Development, Mr Timothy Raison. It was a Saturday evening and I was surprised to find the Minister and another official waiting for me. The Minister had a serious problem. He was under attack by Parliament and the media for having neglected the famine. To demonstrate now his sincere concern and good faith he wanted to send an R.A.F. squadron to help by transporting food.

The months between March: and December, 1984, were the most terrible the people of northern and central Ethiopia had ever seen. The R.R.C. along with the voluntary agencies opened shelters and distribution centres in as many places as our pathetically inadequate resources would allow. Hundreds of thousands abandoned their homes in the provinces of Tigray, Wollo, Gondar,

■ I knew that a Western air force was the last thing Colonel Mengistu would want to see in Ethiopia, but my refusal would alienate a public who at the moment was very sympathetic and extremely generous. I could not get in touch with Addis and had to leave for New York, so on my initiative, I agreed to accept his offer. A few days later when the R.A.F. showed up on Colonel Megistu’s doorstep he was furious. He greeted me in New York by phone with a verbal onslaught that left no doubt as to his displeasure. He said, “Is this a raid by N.A.T.O. forces? This is a famine not a N.A.T.O. military exercise.”

I was completely unprepared for this sudden scrutiny of my Government. I knew very well that the celebration had cost

But similar situations occurred constantly on the tour through the United States and Europe and snap < decisions had to be made. By the time I got back

"Guardian.”

home the country was full of airplanes, foreigners, and journalists. My mission had finally succeeded, the international response was generous beyond belief — but the logistical and political problems were just beginning. The role of the voluntary agencies was crucial. There were at one time 49 international agencies operating in the country all from the West. Co-ordination among themselves, and with the R.R.C. and the U.N. office was difficult at times. Voluntary agencies and foreigners were under constant surveillance by the regime’s security office and political cadres were present in all relief centres. Most agencies were suspcted of being fronts for C.I.A. or other intelligence agencies.

With the endless tug-of-war between factions, the political climate in Ethiopia changed every day, and the hardliners who eventually took over the country were forever urging their underlings into a more hostile, belligerent stance toward the relief agencies. The relief operation was huge, complex, and highly politicised but due to the magnificent cooperation of the donor agencies and their members we can only look back at the historical venture as a success story. British pioneer voluntary agencies like Save The Children and Oxfam did the most remarkable job under the most difficult circumstances. I had nothing but admiration.

Dawit Wolde Giorgis is now a visiting fellow at Princeton University. This article is an edited version of an address he gave recently to the Royal Institute of International Affairs. Reprinted from the