Deforestation is a huge issue in Africa, yet continues to receive less attention than it deserves. Political issues dominate. Corruption, Pan-African unity and regime discord, Muslim extremism, intertribal warfare, electoral fraud, the list goes on. However, the continent is making an effort to supplement its traditional preoccupations, and is now, more and more so every year, fueled by a greener, more climate- conscious zeitgeist. The reasons for this transformation--international pressure, carbon emission reports, or beaded hippies preaching the gospel of Mother Earth from their VW Bus pulpit--are not terribly important; what must be watched closely is how a young, developing continent with prehistoric heuristics copes with being force-fed a completely novel, life-altering policy. And the problem couldn’t be more pertinent. BBC’s Focus on Africa covered Africa’s fuel predicament in a recent issue. “Four million hectares of forest are felled each year in Africa, twice the world average (one hectare of trees can offset 200 tons of atmospheric carbon annually).” (vol.20, no. 4)
But the challenges associated with slowing deforestation are intimidating: Only 7.5 percent of the population in rural sub-Saharan Africa has access to electricity. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, efforts by the state to control charcoal smuggling has led to military involvement and bloodshed. Earlier this year in January Chad enacted strict but unpopular legislation to stop completely the charcoal trade that is rapidly erasing its already miniscule forestland and abetting the irreversible phenomenon of desertification. Great for international opinion polls but devastating for the 99 percent of Chadians reliant on charcoal for household fuel, the ban on charcoal has come without a cheap or government-subsidized alternative. In Tanzania, 20,000 bags of charcoal enter the capital Dar es Salaam every day. (Focus on Africa, 20:4)
Uganda is perhaps one of the worst off. Small in size but characteristically congruent with Africa’s burgeoning population, deforestation has already transformed much of the country’s canopied landscape to grass, bush, and farmlan. Indeed, outnumbering the trees along the roadsides are gigantic brick kilns used by villagers to turn hewn timber into charcoal for sale. Recently discovered oil reserves in the central region will likely fail to provide the answer. Even if the natural gas accompanying the reservoir were to be exploited rather than sequestered, flamed, or used to repressurize the drill, only a handful of Ugandans would have the equipment to use it. And, like the rest of Africa, the deforestation problem in Uganda will likely escalate until harsh legislation becomes necessary.
Northern Uganda won't be turned to when timber becomes scarce
Joel and Brad to the rescue.
This past week we went to Kampala for business. Believe it or not the capital city is not just a place where one can eat brie cheese sandwiches at whim and drink cold beer until the wee hours, but also has a number of people passionate about the deforestation issue. Brad and I have opted for the two tack approach: working with academics and politicians to raise awareness, and work on a charcoal alternative. The latter was what brought us to Kampala, to attend a training session on making biomass fuel briquettes. Actually we have been making briquettes since our first week here in Uganda, but, I can now admit only because I have just learned how to really make them, we were having difficulties. The briquettes were beautiful and looked like they would burn nicely. If they didn’t crumble in your hand, there was a decent chance that they would burn too slowly in the stove, or, worse yet, crumble while in the stove and smother the other coals. Starting a mere two and a half hours late, the training session turned out to be incredibly lucrative. Isaac the instructor, though relatively new to the process himself having only started in April, was a wizard at making briquettes. In just one hour we had made dozens of the donut-like briquettes out of charcoal, sawdust, and paper. (Interestingly enough, Brad and I have worked with these materials previously, but only managed to produce some really foul-smelling decomposed goop.) On top of the training we received, Isaac hooked us up with a briquette press each to bring back to Mbale, and promised to bring us a couple of stoves designed specifically for burning the cakes when we return to Kampala next week. We left brimming with confidence.
Isaac searches for a few ripe fuel briquettes to cook with
Brand name marketing and fuel briquette making
Fortunately for Ugandans we will not be satisfied with just making briquettes in our front lawn and entertaining a bunch of our chuckling neighbors, we have visions of grandeur. Excited from our excellent training session, we began to brainstorm ways in which we can reach rural Ugandans. Our organization will soon begin working with village savings and loan groups to increase entrepreneurial abilities. These groups, about thirty people each, provide the perfect class forum for teaching locals how to make briquettes and educate them on deforestation. On top of the education, we can provide them with a briquette press at subsidized cost, which they can pay back at the end of their savings cycle with their group funds. If the group becomes proficient enough, the cakes can be sold in the market and transform briquette making into an income generating activity for the group.
The new face of Uganda's anti-deforestation campaign
Go Joel! Also, I can't believe you have citations in a blog post, but the info was nice to know anyway. :)
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