MALUNGON, Sarangani (MindaNews /07 Sept) — It is flogging a dead horse but it has to be retold because year after year the dead horse called livelihood program rises like a black phoenix from last year’s ashes.
The stated objective of livelihood programs costing billions of pesos every year is, well, duh, to supplement the income of beneficiaries, mostly farmers. To improve their lives. Great! Excellent! But at the end of the day, one must ask: Do livelihood programs actually improve their lives?
Allow a few stories to answer this question.
There are numerous government livelihood programs under the Department of Agriculture (DA), Department of Agrarian Reforms (DAR), Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD).
Gleaned from various government plans, this year, national government has earmarked P32.72 billion for livelihood programs. These do not include programs by Congressmen and LGU’s out of funds under their control. More billions.
Anecdotes below should cause government livelihood program planners to take a second look at how things are done. The following stories are ground – level personal experience. Friends from many places paint a similar picture.
Story 1
In 2004, a barangay captain asked me to help him write a letter to the Sarangani congressman for a cattle dispersal project. I wrote for him a sob letter about the dirt-poor farmers and their meager income from subsistence corn farming in the hills of Malungon, Sarangani. So he got his cows. Thirty six heads. That project must have cost at least P1 million then. The logic was that in a few years one cow would give birth to a few cows and/or bulls. Selling one or two animals would give the farmer a sizable additional income.
The barangay captain appropriated five heads for himself and the rest he distributed to his friends and relatives. After a couple of years only half remained, the other half died allegedly due to illness or falling into ravines or bitten by a poisonous snake. Truth was some were slaughtered for a son’s or daughter’s wedding, others sold for hospital or school expenses, yet others to pay a debt or just getting tired of caring for the animal.
After five years, all the animals were gone. Did the project improve beneficiaries’ lives? Well, some farmers for sure had great wedding feast for a daughter or son.
Story 2
On several occasions, some farmers who received a few bags of free fertilizers offered these to me at half the market price. They claimed they need money for all sorts of emergencies. After I scolded them, they stopped coming to me. I learned later somebody else bought the fertilizers.
In fact, in one farmers’ conference I attended, a participant asked the keynote speaker, the Department of Agriculture regional director, if it is alright for farmer beneficiaries to sell fertilizers given to them. No, she said it is not alright at all, it is illegal. The speaker must have assumed the participant was the buyer so she got mad, berated the participant and demanded names. I am not sure if she got names. And if so, what happened after? But I suspect the participant prematurely left the conference, ahead of the speaker.
Story 3
A couple of years back, a government agency approached me if I want to raise dairy cattle, since I have the area. I jumped at the idea. I asked what the conditions are for me to avail of it. The technician said for five heads of dairy cattle I need a fenced area of at least three hectares, a field of napier grass for silage, a covered shelter, milking shed, feed trough and plenty of water. I, or a farm hand, will undergo training in the care of the cattle. A cooperative organized by the agency will buy all our milk. I estimated I need to invest at least P200,000 for the project.
So I asked the technician, after I put up the farm facilities, how soon can I get the cows. His answer: “I can’t give you a timeline, sir. It depends when the animals become available.”
Right there and then, I said to the technician thanks, but no thanks. I can’t wait forever for cows after spending P200,000. I might as well use the P200,000 on some other project.
Story 4
Just a few weeks ago, my daughter and a son-in-law (all farmers) received two Rhode Island Rock (?) hens each. As I raise free-range hybrid native chicken, they sent these to me. So I asked, “Where is the cock?” The answer was “There is no cock. You have to borrow the cock of another farmer who was given one.” That floored me.
So I placed the four hens with my native chicken. I feed my chicken corn before letting them out to the pomelo orchard to eat grass and bugs. (Not known to many, chicken are natural grass eaters. My free range chicken is my pest control). The four just looked at the corn. They wanted commercial feeds. Fortunately, after a day of going hungry, they slowly learned to eat corn. But they still have to learn how to eat grass and scratch for bugs. Instead of going to the orchard, the poor hens just tarry around the chicken house waiting for feeds.
Conclusion
A lot of ill-designed livelihood programs do not achieve their objectives. A lot of money goes to waste. Billions. Something is amiss in the concept, design and implementation of these livelihood programs. The people who conceptualized these programs failed to consider the realities on the ground.
There is a joke among us farmers that these programs are designed by people with manicured hands and whose “farms” are air-conditioned offices in Quezon City or Makati City.
The objectives of livelihood programs are good. There is just a need to improve them.
To avoid an overly lengthy piece, I will make some suggestions that factor in realities on the ground in the next column.
(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Edmundo Y. Cejar is a regenerative farming practitioner and a natural reforestation advocate. Before shifting to farming, he worked for Dutch Philips Discrete Semiconductors, Gillette, Union Carbide and Davao Fruits).