ALL over Africa, customs officials, border
guards, police officers and countless bureaucrats can be seen jotting down
information helter-skelter, often on random sheets of paper if there is paper,
and if the ink hasn't dried in their pens. At hospitals that have almost no
supplies, where patients must provide everything from medicine to surgical tools
to be treated, the illnesses of the sick or dead go unrecorded.
Yet there is never a shortage of statistics about the continent: millions of
dead from the war in Congo, hundreds of thousands of refugees in West Africa,
where a third of the population is H.I.V.-positive. Despite their apparent
precision, the numbers are often estimates that can vary
according to politics. Figures for AIDS would surely be more precise if its
spread had not been denied by some African leaders. To
policy makers, humanitarian workers or journalists working in sub-Saharan
Africa, one of the hardest things to find is a reliable number.
Lack of money and expertise, the collapse of roads and railways that has cut off
huge swaths of the continent, all make compiling solid statistics nearly
impossible. In many countries, very little is known, statistically speaking,
outside the capitals. The latest statistics, or the only ones, are sometimes
decades old, from colonial days.
Everyone agrees that Africa's problems are enormous. Whether a particular
conflict's refugees really number 400,000, or half that,
amounts to quibbling over two morally unacceptable alternatives. But in the real
world of limited resources, where Africa is getting less and less attention, do
loose numbers do more harm than good? If the experts
can't give a real picture, will those numbers breed
cynicism about the problems here and the usefulness of aid?
Consider Nigeria. Everyone agrees it is Africa's most populous nation. But what
is its population? The United Nations says 114 million; the State Department,
120 million. The World Bank says 126.9 million, while the Central Intelligence
Agency puts it at 126,635,626. Nigeria's government's last estimate, a decade
ago, was 105 million. The population of Texas -- less than the difference
between these last two estimates -- may or may not be living in Nigeria.
Because of the scarcity of numbers here, those that do
exist tend to be more politicized and less scrutinized than they are elsewhere.
That figures for refugees in a particular war, or victims from a certain
illness, are vastly inflated is an open secret. So what? humanitarian officials
argue, privately. With Africa stuck on the world's back burner, it is difficult
to draw attention without generous statistics. The cause is good.
"There's always a large mixture of scientific accuracy, political imperative and
fund-raising," Dr. Ronald Waldman, director of the program on forced migration
and health at Columbia University's Mailman School of Public Health, said of
statistics in Africa.
For example, he said, health programs tend to be directed at a single cause of
mortality. So although a child in Africa or other developing areas usually dies
of a combination of illnesses, he said, a program against diarrhea and another
against pneumonia might each claim the same child in its statistics, "trying to
make itself the most important, in order to attract donor funding."
"In real life, though, kids tend to die of more than one condition at a time,"
Dr. Waldman said in an e-mail message, adding, "But each program would 'take
credit' for the death, so the total number of annual
deaths, when you added up the claims of programs, would exceed the actual
number of annual child deaths."
The difficulties in arriving at solid numbers in Africa
can be measured in the death toll from Congo's four-year war. The commonly cited
figure of 2.5 million war dead stems from studies conducted in eastern Congo by
the International Rescue Committee, a refugee agency based in New York that
operates in eastern Congo.
Les Roberts, an epidemiologist at the agency, led a team that randomly surveyed
2,600 households in seven areas in eastern Congo with a population of 1.5
million according to government statistics from 1996. The researchers compared
the mortality rate today with the mortality rate before the war, in 1998. They
determined how many deaths -- deaths of people who could no longer get treatment
for malaria, deaths of malnourished children, violent deaths -- were caused by
the war. The researchers then extrapolated the findings onto all of eastern
Congo, a region with 20 million people.
"Extrapolating from 1.5 million to 20 million, it's shoddy, but it's the best we
can do right now," Mr. Roberts said. "People correctly criticized us for that."
The agency's figures have been well accepted.
"The methods used in eastern Congo are similar to those used by other
organizations in previous conflicts and crises in Africa," said Dr. Bradley
Woodruff, an epidemiologist at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in
Atlanta.
"In Western countries, we have death certificates for each person, which you can
just count up," Dr. Woodruff said. "In places where there is no recording of
death, you can only estimate."
Estimates can vary significantly by slightly changing a variable. For example,
the International Rescue Committee's report of 2.5 million deaths says that by
altering certain assumptions, the figure could range from 2.1 million to 3.1
million.
SOMETIMES, however, figures are based not on scientific estimates, but on pure
guesswork. In Africa, in the absence of any figures at all, imaginary ones take
on a life of their own -- as they did last year with the charges that child
workers were forced to work in Ivory Coast's cocoa plantations.
Many accounts in the British and American news media last year spoke
breathlessly of 15,000 child slaves on Ivory Coast's cocoa plantations,
producing the chocolate you eat.
The number first appeared in Malian newspapers, citing
the Unicef office in Mali. But Unicef's Mali office had never researched the
issue of forced child laborers in Ivory Coast. The Unicef office in Ivory Coast,
which had, concluded that it was impossible to determine the number.
Still, repeated often enough, the number was gladly
accepted by some private organizations, globalization opponents seeking a fight
with Nestle and Hershey, and some journalists.
Some reports incorrectly cited the State Department's annual human rights report
on Ivory Coast as the source of the 15,000 figure. In fact, the State Department
report for 2000 said simply that "according to a Unicef study, approximately
15,000 Malian children were trafficked and sold into indentured servitude on
Ivorian plantations in 1999." The report for 2001 said that "the
number is difficult to estimate" because no "thorough survey has
been conducted."
This month, the results of the first extensive survey of child labor in cocoa
plantations in Ivory Coast and three other African
nations were released by the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture, a
nonprofit, multinational research organization that works in Africa. The survey,
financed by the Agency for International Development and the United States Labor
Department, found that almost all children working in cocoa fields were children
of the plantation owners, not forced laborers.
As for child workers unrelated to the plantation owners, the study found that
brokers had placed 2,100 foreign children, most of them ages 15 to 17, in Ivory
Coast's cocoa plantations. Ninety-four percent of the children, the study says,
knew the intermediary, or broker who hired them for the plantation work.
"The most frequent reason given for agreeing to leave with the intermediary was
the promise of a better life," the report says. It adds: "None reported being
forced against their will to leave their home abode. One hundred percent
indicated that they had been informed in advance that they were going to work on
cocoa farms."
Jim Gockowski, an American agricultural economist who led the study for the
Institute of Tropical Agriculture, said, "By and large, the cocoa industry
didn't deserve the rap it got."
Mr. Gockowski, who is based in Cameroon and has worked in African
agriculture for a decade, added: "Anyone that's lived in Africa knows kids help
out on the farms, probably more in developing countries than developed ones. But
even in the United States -- my own background is a farming background -- we
grew up helping on the farm. Everyone was pretty surprised when all the wild
figures -- 15,000 trafficked children -- were being thrown around."
But politics is sometimes more influential than precision when it comes to
numbers in Africa. Since they were released early this
month, the institute's findings have received little attention -- perhaps only 1
percent of what the 15,000 figure received.
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