But you don't need complicated calculations to see what's happening in the horn of Africa. I've seen famine in the vacant eyes of mothers who watched helplessly as their children died, and in the distended bellies of babies who were still alive, but not for long.
This is the first official famine in East Africa in 19 years. But an alternating current of drought, famine and war has plagued this land and its mostly innocent people for all of human history.
Drought is inevitable in the arid regions of East Africa. Famine follows, killing thousands who never recover enough from the last famine to fend off the ravages of the next.
So, what are we to do about a tragedy that recurs and persists despite heroic efforts of a world community that shakes off its compassion fatigue every few years to save the lives of strangers?
How much more pointless and futile does the effort seem when armed bandits block the flow of humanitarian aid, demanding tributes from agencies and individuals who work to break this cycle of death?
In '92, the United Somali Congress and the Somali People's Movement combined to drive dictator Mohamed Siad Barre out of power. Then they turned on each other and in the process stymied all aid efforts. The U.S. had shipped 80,000 metric tons of dry-food aid by October '91. Nine months later, it still sat in packing crates in Mombasa, Kenya.
Finally, on Aug. 31, 1992, whichever warlord held check at the time allowed a U.S. C-130 to airlift 12 tons of relief supplies to a dirt airstrip in Belet Uen province. But not until the U.S. had met his terms of engagement.
