“Ich habe Angst, vor Hunger zu sterben”.” Marie-Julina said.
“Ich habe acht Kinder und vier Enkelkinder, die bei mir leben”, sagte sie. “Ich bin für ihr Überleben verantwortlich. Wir haben seit acht Jahren nicht mehr genug zu essen. Wir haben gepflanzt, aber nichts ist gewachsen.
“Einige meiner Kinder haben noch nie mehr als eine Mahlzeit am Tag bekommen. Sie haben noch nie erlebt, dass sie genug zu essen haben. Ihre Mägen knabbern ständig an ihnen. Ich mache mir große Sorgen um sie.”
Marie-Julina motions toward the house behind her. It’s tiny, doorless, and completely empty except for the straw mats she drags outside to sit on.
Die meisten von Marie...Julinas Die Enkelkinder kennen nichts als Hunger. A lifetime of hollow stomachs is visible in their stunted and frail bodies. Yet they play as any child would. Marie-Julina watches them, smiling at their simple games. But she doesn’t know how long it will last—their games, or their lives.
Marie-Julina does what she can to earn some income. She collects and sells firewood. And she makes and sells straw mats. But the selling part doesn’t happen very often. Most of her neighbors struggle too. She feels she has to do something, even if it is for a meager and unpredictable income.
On the rare occasion when she can make a sale, Marie-Julina will buy three cassava. She cuts the tubers (much like a potato) into small pieces and boils them. Then she divides them between her family—all 13 of them. Think of it—three large potatoes (and nothing additional) to feed more than a dozen people!
Das wird ihre einzige Mahlzeit für den ganzen Tag sein. Und vielleicht auch für den nächsten, und wer weiß, wie lange danach.
“When I don’t have enough money to buy cassava, we look for cactus fruit,” she said. Some of her neighbors have planted cactus as fences around their houses. Marie-Julina and the children will walk through the village to find what they can.
Everyone is suffering in Marie-Julina’s village. Most of the other families have fathers and husbands that help provide. Marie-Julina faces each day alone; the survival of her children rests on her shoulders.
Harvest and heartache go hand in hand for Marie-Julina and her family. For the past eight years, the drought has multiplied her family’s suffering. No rain means no crops. No crops mean no income. No income means no food. No food means, well, eventually someone will die.