Showing posts with label Liberia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liberia. Show all posts

Monday, June 12, 2017

2017-06-12 African Forest Forum / Forestry Development Authority - Rapid Forest Carbon Stock Appraisal Opening Speech

The following is a more or less verbatim account of the speech I gave today as a substitute for our Country Director at Rapid Forest Carbon Stock Appraisal (RaCSA) workshop being hosted by the African Forest Forum in Monrovia. 

The Managing Director of the Forestry Development Authority;

The Chairman of the AFF Secretariat;

The ****** (fill in according to attendees);

Ladies and gentlemen, may I simply say ... "All protocols observed".

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Dr. Mary Molokwu-Odozi expresses her sincerest apologies for her unfortunate absence today due to 

her very crowded schedule. I hope that my few words may suffice on both her behalf and for Fauna 

& Flora International.

*********

My name is Carl Wahl, and I am currently serving as FFI's Project Manager for the Wonegizi REDD+ Pilot Project in Lofa County. Though I am relatively young as a West African, I am somewhat aged as a Southern African, having spent twelve years working mainly in the Republic of Zambia, but also in the Republic of Malawi and the Republic of Mozambique, respectively. 

It is a privilege to stand before you and discuss the fundamental aspects of trees and forests in Liberia, a country recognized as the last bastion of West Africa's forests, specifically, the Western Guinean Lowland forest ecoregion which encompasses nearly 100% of the Liberian nation. And, although it it is repetitive to say it, Liberia, despite her relatively small size, contains nearly half of the forest in West Africa. 

However, these facts are a poor representation of the awe-inspiring nature within the forests themselves. In the past eight months, I have had the privilege to periodically work with demarcation and carbon-assessment teams in and around the Wonegizi Proposed Protected Area. What I see on those trips are sights that are worthy of the same acclaim as the Redwood Forests in the United States, or the massive temperate rainforests of southeast Alaska where I worked as a US Forest Service Forest Ranger. In Wonegizi I have seen absolutely mindblowing profusions of trees of gargantuan proportions, with root buttresses spreading 10 to 15 meters across the forest floor, bearing up trunks of trees of more than a meter and a half in diameter stretching in height to 40 meters or more. Within these forest strongholds exists such a diversity of life, both known and unknown, that enumerating it would take far more than the short time alloted to me.  

Unfortunately, this walls of this bastion of forests are slowly crumbling. In some cases it is the exportation from the forest of a local or international commodity, such as timber, precious minerals or bushmeat. In others, it is the crowding in of a growing population clearing forested land to grow crops to support their families. Though I may be struck down for saying this as a conservationist, I feel an sense of empathy with either case; both my grandfather and my great-grandfather were loggers who along with many other men at that time exploited the great pine forests of Northern and Upper Michigan in order to provide for their families, send their children to school, and in a small sense, contribute to the development of the American nation. In that sense, a Liberian family or the Liberian nation is no different from my ancestors in that they are capitalizing on the highest value forest resources to perpetuate and improve their families livelihoods. 

What spurs this explotation? In simple terms, I would say that currently there is relatively little value for leaving the forest or the forest resources alone, or even for sustainable offtake of forest resources. Rather, a poor person looking for money to put clothes on their childrens' back, pay for their children's schoold fees, or to purchase seed rice to plant their fields, ends up being coerced by his or her poverty to exploit whatever available resources are at hand in order to meet those most pressing needs. When this poverty is multiplied across a village, a town, a clan, a district, a county, or a country, the forests literally suffer death from a thousand cuts. 

I want to emphasize this fact: currently in Liberia, forests only yield monetary returns upon removal of a forest resource from the forest base. In a society that is increasingly joining the monetized global economy, there is almost no compelling reason for a citizen not to protect or sustain these resources. 

This is the fundamental heart of the ideas underlying the principles of Payment for Ecosystems Services. Whether it be a conservation agreement with a protected area, or a national benefits sharing mechanism for monies received from the sale of carbon credits, PES represents a series of mechanisms whereby nations with extensive forest resources such as Liberia can commodify these services that we have heretofore taken for granted; provision of clean water, provision of clean air, stabilizing the soil and agricultural base, regulation of pest and disease outbreaks, and the like. In this specific workshop, the enumeration of Liberia's forest carbon stocks will no doubt be the primary focus of discussion. This is a critical first step in the long process of developing the national carbon market to the state at which Liberia governments, communities and individual citizens can actually see benefits from the act of positive management of forest resources as a viable alternative to unsustainable exploitation. 

Payment for ecosystem services is still a new thing, not only in West Africa, but the world as whole. Therefore, I would like to urge the assembled attendees to approach this workshop with an attentive and open mindset so that we can make Liberia a pioneer of payment for ecosystems services to which the region and the Continent may look to as an example!

With that, I would like to thank the assembled participants, our facilitators from the African Forest Forum, our hosts from the Forestry Development Authority for allowing me to declare this workshop officially open. 

Saturday, October 8, 2016

October 8, 2016 - The Love of Liberty Brought Us Here

Coat of arms of Liberia.svg





It's been awhile, no?

So, if you might be able to gather from the above, we left the high, dry southern African plateau for the sweltering rain-soaked Grain Coast, as Liberia was once called. It was not a direct move; my girlfriend had to leave Zambia on the 2nd of September, 2015; after a six-month interlude until my contract with Concern Worldwide ended, we sorted the last distribution of inputs using vouchers for the Conservation Agriculture (CA) project I ran in Western Province. In the intervening days or isolated weeks where I was back in Lusaka, a fellow American from Alabama and myself became somewhat proficient at distilling whiskey (moonshine, mountain dew, white lightening, poteen, swish, white dog, steam, kachasu, lutuku, etc., etc.). We didn't do it because of particularly wanting a drink (there is no lack in either quantity or diversity of drinkable beverages in Lusaka); it was more like why I suppose people climb mountains, e.g., to see if they can do it.

Anyway, it was a dry rainy season and by the time I was wrapping up and headed home in February, it was apparent maize yields would be poor in the south and west of the country. I flew home on the coldest weekend of the year, packing my bags and filling up the back of my old pickup in near-record time; I then looped through the Midwest, seeing some friends in northern Wisconsin, giving a talk to some relatively wide-eyed Soil Science graduate students, catching up with former classmates, seeing my sister and her family in South Bend, IN. I then drove to Washington, D.C. to move into our new apartment with my girlfriend and to begin what I thought would be a relatively easy job search in the D.C. Metro area. Of course I can get a job! I have years of development experience! Hire me before someone else does!

To zip through that in a hurry ... it doesn't work like that. To summarize:

  1. Had to figure out Obamacare ... wow, no wonder people are upset. It's neither clear nor cheap, and I had a number of odd health issues, none of which I had in Zambia, but fell on me in the States. To put it mildly, not having great insurance and no job still means you get crummy health care and weird bills that you're obliged to pay for.
  2. Full-time jobs in D.C. are available, but the competition is stiff and for the most part, online. Having not had to apply for a job in a number of years, I was more than a bit rusty, particularly with the online bits. I shaped up my LinkedIn profile, worked on my resume, had a number of first interviews, screwed up quite a lot, etc. Overall, I got back into fighting shape, but the job market in international development when your 39 in 2016 is far different from the job market in computer programming when your 22 in 1999. The intervening years are not kind; the market likes the young up-and-comers, and ofttimes we'd get home aching and footsore from job fairs asking ourselves what the point had been. It was almost sheer luck my girlfriend found the current job I've started with Fauna-Flora International (FFI from here out, folks), and thank God, was the timing right. We had both reached the bottom of our respective wells of patience after six months and nearly 200 applications between us, and had I not pulled through on FFI ... well, you don't think about what may or may not have happened, but again, thank God. 
  3. In the meantime, D.C. is not a cheap place to live. We were lucky to have one job that though part-time, had bonus pay in the form of groceries. We both temp'ed, something which is, though not quite as bad as substitute teaching (which I did 13 years ago), was really hard on my pride. You fill printers, sort office supply closets, work as a receptionist, answer phones, smile hard (though not crazy) at everyone in the hopes they will hire you back, because at minimum wage in D.C. ($11/hr) you need a solid 20 days of work just to cover rent. In the meantime, we did whatever else we could; I refurbished cast iron cookware and resold it both on the Internet and at neighborhood flea markets over the weekend (something that was facilitated by Paypal Here, as urban America is increasingly a cashless society); I did lawn maintenance for generous friends part-time; I helped an old man in Silver Spring, MD prep his garden, etc. Getting part-time work other than temp'ing often seemed even more ephemeral than full-time work; who wants a 39-year old bartender with a heavily-salted beard and graying temples facing the customers?
Please don't take me wrong; there was a lot of good in the District (many of the old expressions the old farmer used wore off on me, such as his reference to WSHDC as "the District"). Again, we had very solid friends, everything is literally right at hand (though devastatingly expensive), we had family nearby, etc. As a recent lover of gardens and growing things, and as an old lover of American history, the District is a treasure trove. Our neighborhood of Takoma Park, was a few short blocks from Fort Stevens, a shockingly close shave of a Confederate campaign to take D.C. in 1864. Lovely place all-in-all, but just not the right place for us at the present time.

At this point, too, it serves to note that for me personally, America has grown a bit strange in the long period since I was fully ensconced in the place (my two years at Madison aside, particularly as I was so heavily invested in the study of Southern Africa in general and Zambia in particular. The ongoing national election which is front and center at all times and all newsfeeds has been in a word, shocking; the abyssal depths of crudity and mean-spirits to which one of the candidates (He-who-will-not-be-named) continues to plumb is disgusting; however, what's worse for me is the torrent of hate which his excavations have revealed. My fellow Americans have, from my relatively distant view, have developed a worrying tolerance for, and acceptance of, fear and hatred. Worse still is the absolute loss of dialogue and reasoning in a country that most of the rest of the world that I've experienced aspires towards as a better model. What happens when that model rolls in the gutter and covers itself with excreta in a near jubilant fashion? I love my country and my home deeply, but my heart aches and worries for her in this strange view from abroad. 

So ... Liberia. The Love of Liberty Brought Us Here. Well, that's a topic for a bit later.

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This post and it's content are the thoughts and opinions of the author alone, and are not condoned or endorsed in any way by his employer, Fauna and Flora International.