Tsega and her community find hope in the bee cooperative that provides both income and food for the families. All photos: Sarah Easter/CARE
Tsega and her community find hope in the bee cooperative that provides both income and food for the families. All photos: Sarah Easter/CARE
“Living here has become very difficult. We do not have enough food in our village,” says Tsega. “And the situation is only getting worse.”
The situation, according to the World Food Programme, is that 15.8 million people in Ethiopia need food assistance. Drought, a bad economy, and conflict have all heavily impacted the region.
“We are just trying to survive until the next day,” says Tsega. “Hoping not to starve.”
The bees have been an unlikely lifeline for Tsega and her community.
The 55-year-old is part of a bee cooperative supported by CARE and a partner organization in the SELAM project. The twenty group members come together to take care of bee colonies to produce enough honey to sell on the market and with this generate income for their families.
CARE supported the start of the cooperative with 120,000 bees, 40 beehives, and 57 lbs (26kg) of wax.
The bee cooperative was founded several years ago, and it was thriving.
“All my hope was with the bees,” says Gebregergis, 51, father of eight who is also a member of the cooperative. “I do not have land or any other source of income. But with the money we got from selling the honey twice a year, I had a good life. I even bought schoolbooks, pens, shoes, and food for my children.”
Then came the conflict in Tigray which lasted for two years and ended only in November 2022, affected an estimated seven million people. The conflict led to numerous casualties, mass displacements, food insecurity, and damage to infrastructure.
Likewise, the beehives were burned down, the bees died, and the cooperative collapsed.
“We cannot describe with words the suffering during the conflict. When we heard gunfire, we ran away and left everything behind. We hid in caves during the day to survive. We left early in the morning and during the night we came back and tried to find food,” describes Gerbregergis.
Many of his and Tsega’s neighbors died.
“We are farmers, what do we know of fighting? Up that hill one of our cows was killed by an air strike,” he continues, lowering the ready bee smoker to the ground with a heavy sigh.
“We cannot call it life. Six of our neighbors were injured during the conflict. They still cannot walk and will never be able to again,” Tsega adds.
Walking is crucial in this area, which is located in a steep mountain range and can only be reached by foot and by walking for half an hour downhill through rock formations and wild nature.
The villagers walk everywhere. They walk to find food. They walk two hours to the next market to sell their livestock. They walk to find water and grazing areas for their animals. Young and old walk and climb through rocky terrain with children on their backs, a jerrican in one hand and a basket with bread in the other, herding cows in front of them.
“If you cannot walk here, you die,” says Tsega and hands Gerbregergis some protective gear: a hat with a face net, some gloves, and sleeves.
“We live in a very bad situation. We are starving because there is not enough food. First, there was the conflict, now we have the drought and no harvest.
“Even the bees are weak because there are fewer flowers and no water for them to drink. They must go very far to places with irrigation. They often do not have enough strength to come back,” says Gerbregergis, walking over to one of the beehives with his knife.
He opens the lid and checks on the interior while a fellow member uses the smoker to calm the bees.
The cooperative meets to exchange ideas and find solutions. They changed their feed, adding sugar to strengthen the bees. And they find ways to protect them from their natural enemies such as ants. One person is responsible for putting water in a nearby open tank for the bees to drink. Together, they take good care of the bees and support each other.
“During the conflict, we had no hope, but with the new bees and hives hope has returned. The bees or our chance to survive. I have seven children, my oldest is in grade eight. She often goes to school without a pen or breakfast. I hope the bees will change that,” says Tsega and watches as one sole exhausted bee slowly flies back to one of the hives.
