Tunisia Farmer Turns to Old Wheat Varieties as Climate Change Bites

Tunisian wheat farmer Hasan Chetoui, who is sowing old wheat varieties that he hopes will produce crops throughout the year, sifts wheat at his farm in Manouba, Tunisia February 15, 2024. REUTERS/Jihed Abidellaoui/ File photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Tunisian wheat farmer Hasan Chetoui, who is sowing old wheat varieties that he hopes will produce crops throughout the year, sifts wheat at his farm in Manouba, Tunisia February 15, 2024. REUTERS/Jihed Abidellaoui/ File photo Purchase Licensing Rights
TT

Tunisia Farmer Turns to Old Wheat Varieties as Climate Change Bites

Tunisian wheat farmer Hasan Chetoui, who is sowing old wheat varieties that he hopes will produce crops throughout the year, sifts wheat at his farm in Manouba, Tunisia February 15, 2024. REUTERS/Jihed Abidellaoui/ File photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Tunisian wheat farmer Hasan Chetoui, who is sowing old wheat varieties that he hopes will produce crops throughout the year, sifts wheat at his farm in Manouba, Tunisia February 15, 2024. REUTERS/Jihed Abidellaoui/ File photo Purchase Licensing Rights

Tunisian wheat farmer Hasan Chetoui is seeking inspiration from the deep past as he tries to adapt to drought caused by climate change, sowing old wheat varieties that he hopes will produce crops throughout the year.

Chetoui does not believe his experiment with alternative types of wheat is likely to work everywhere, but he thinks it may help him cope after years of scant rains and heatwaves that destroyed much of his crop last year.

"We obtain an old Tunisian type of wheat, cultivated in the field, capable of producing multiple times a season, providing us with strategic solutions," he said.

Chetoui's farm is located in the Borj Al-Amri area of northern Tunisia, a region that was a bread basket for Mediterranean civilizations stretching back to ancient Rome and Carthage, though Tunisia is now a net wheat importer.

Years of drought affecting much of North Africa have emptied Tunisian reservoirs and dried up crops, while a succession of scorching summers have seared some of those that remain.

Chetoui hopes that by avoiding reliance on a single summer harvest, he may be able to produce at least some wheat even in bad years. He and agricultural union officials said other farmers have resorted to traditional seeds, but had only anecdotal accounts of their experience.

Agricultural experts in Tunisia are sceptical that old wheat varieties will succeed in protecting farmers from the impact of climate change, and point out that modern wheats produce far higher yields.

However, they also say older varieties may work better in certain areas or under specific conditions, and that Chetoui's experiments are worth under taking.

"We cannot determine whether they will succeed or fail because we cannot assess the effectiveness until it is implemented on a large scale," said Mohamed Rajaibia of the Tunisian Agricultural Union.

Chetoui began working on farms at the age of 12. Now 64, he still seeks seeds for old grain varieties including corn and barley as well as wheat, for use in his fields.

For years he has been sowing harvests with seeds that he says were used in his family for generations and were handed down to him by his father.

He has also used some old varieties from the Tunisian seed gene bank, he said, and has collected seeds from other farmers who said they were family inheritances including some that are not registered with the gene bank.

"We must rely on our original Tunisian seeds because, through experience and knowledge, these seeds hold the solution and can contribute to many strategic solutions in addressing food crises," he said, AFP reported.

Not all experts disagree with this notion.

"Original seeds are rooted in nature, rooted in the quality of the soil and rooted according to the location, and they have the ability to adapt," said Hussein al-Rhaili, an agriculture policy expert in Tunisia.



'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
TT

'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP

When an Israeli airstrike killed her employer and destroyed nearly everything she owned in southern Lebanon, it also crushed Fatima Samuella Tholley's hopes of returning home to Sierra Leone to escape the war.

With a change of clothes stuffed into a plastic bag, the 27-year-old housekeeper told AFP that she and her cousin made their way to the capital Beirut in an ambulance.

Bewildered and terrified, the pair were thrust into the chaos of the bombarded city -- unfamiliar to them apart from the airport where they had arrived months before.

"We don't know today if we will live or not, only God knows," Fatima told AFP via video call, breaking down in tears.
"I have nothing... no passport, no documents," she said.

The cousins have spent days sheltering in the cramped storage room of an empty apartment, which they said was offered to them by a man they had met on their journey.

With no access to TV news and unable to communicate in French or Arabic, they could only watch from their window as the city was pounded by strikes.

The Israeli war on Lebanon since mid-September has killed more than 1,000 people and forced hundreds of thousands more to flee their homes, amid Israeli bombards around the country.

The situation for the country's migrant workers is particularly precarious, as their legal status is often tied to their employer under the "kafala" sponsorship system governing foreign labor.

"When we came here, our madams received our passports, they seized everything until we finished our contract" said 29-year-old Mariatu Musa Tholley, who also works as a housekeeper.

"Now [the bombing] burned everything, even our madams... only we survived".

- 'They left me' -

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon, with the aim of providing emergency travel certificates to those without passports, Kai S. Brima from the foreign affairs ministry told AFP.

The poor west African country has a significant Lebanese community dating back over a century, which is heavily involved in business and trade.

Scores of migrants travel to Lebanon every year, with the aim of paying remittances to support families back home.

"We don't know anything, any information", Mariatu said.

"[Our neighbours] don't open the door for us because they know we are black", she wept.

"We don't want to die here".

Fatima and Mariatu said they had each earned $150 per month, working from 6:00 am until midnight seven days a week.

They said they were rarely allowed out of the house.

AFP contacted four other Sierra Leonean domestic workers by phone, all of whom recounted similar situations of helplessness in Beirut.

Patricia Antwin, 27, came to Lebanon as a housekeeper to support her family in December 2021.

She said she fled her first employer after suffering sexual harassment, leaving her passport behind.

When an airstrike hit the home of her second employer in a southern village, Patricia was left stranded.

"The people I work for, they left me, they left me and went away," she told AFP.

Patricia said a passing driver saw her crying in the street and offered to take her to Beirut.

Like Fatima and Mariatu, she has no money or formal documentation.

"I only came with two clothes in my plastic bag", she said.

- Sleeping on the streets -

Patricia initially slept on the floor of a friend's apartment, but moved to Beirut's waterfront after strikes in the area intensified.

She later found shelter at a Christian school in Jounieh, some 20 kilometres (12 miles) north of the capital.

"We are seeing people moving from one place to another", she said.

"I don't want to lose my life here," she added, explaining she had a child back in Sierra Leone.

Housekeeper Kadij Koroma said she had been sleeping on the streets for almost a week after fleeing to Beirut when she was separated from her employer.

"We don't have a place to sleep, we don't have food, we don't have water," she said, adding that she relied on passers by to provide bread or small change for sustenance.

Kadij said she wasn't sure if her employer was still alive, or if her friends who had also travelled from Sierra Leone to work in Lebanon had survived the bombardment.

"You don't know where to go," she said, "everywhere you go, bomb, everywhere you go, bomb".