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Don't miss a thing!
We regularly provide you with the most important news, articles, topics, projects and ideas for One World – No Hunger.
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After a two-year break due to Covid-19, the doors of the International Green Week (IGW) in Berlin are opening again. From 20th to 29th January, visitors from all over the world can discover, marvel and taste the produce. But the event is not only feasting and fun. The BMZ stand asks questions about where food comes from & where it goes – and in the process becomes a crash test for many habits.
For breakfast, Franziska Giffey is served a cocoa of the special kind. Between her index finger and thumb, she examines a bean a little sceptically. "Can you eat it like that?" asks the Governing Mayor of Berlin, while Cem Özdemir is already chewing on the second one next to her, visibly satisfied. It is nine o'clock in the morning, Giffey and the Federal Minister of Agriculture are received by BMZ State Secretary Jochen Flasbarth at the stand of the Federal Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development during their opening tour of the International Green Week (IGW). One bite, a second - and Giffey's eyes widen. Tastes good, they say.
On their tour, they still have fish and cheese, ice cream and cake waiting for them, but "now we're going to coffee", Özdemir calls out. The two walk through the BMZ area.
On the brown carpet, Giffey's white sneakers come across a footprint with the words "How often do you throw away food?" It is a question for the Green Week, for the visitors and for the whole world.
The Green Week is the most important international trade fair for food, agriculture and horticulture. It is also a celebration of consumption, with 1400 exhibitors and 300,000 visitors. Those who enter BMZ Stand 107 in Hall 10.2 can also enjoy. But there are a few questions to ask: about the origins of food, the consequences of a chocolate in Germany for farmers in Ghana and what food does to the planet for Homo Sapiens. But first, a coffee.
Giffey, Özdemir and Flasbarth have arrived at the other end of the stand, stopping at "Angelique's Finest" from Rwanda. "This is real coffee," Özdemir enthuses. "This is with oat milk," says brand ambassador Denyse Uwera as she offers the mayor a cappuccino. "It's okay," Giffey smiles. Uwera tells her that her coffee comes from a women's cooperative and the origin of the beans can be traced back to the field based on a blockchain developed with BMZ.
"It is time for women to take more shares in the value chain, not only as farmers, but in the whole economy," says Uwera. "Not only in Rwanda," replies Giffey, looking serious.
Then the tour continues.
Weighty questions are being negotiated on the square metres of stand 107. How can the challenges of the global food crisis, of which little is felt at the fair, be mastered? How can we live without hunger? Passers-by to the left and right of the BMZ area hardly expect this interjection; most are looking for pleasure. But quite a few stop. "I recommend the barbecue and Thai mix first," says BMZ staff member Anisa El-Battahi when a couple stops in front of the insect table. The crickets are deep-fried and seasoned, a protein-rich, sustainable superfood of the future. "Well, why not," he says. And she: "It's not part of our culture, after all." Both are dressed in Bavarian traditional costume, coming from the Bavarian stand. Heidi Leitmanstetter, tax consultant, and her husband Rudolf, mayor of Vogtareuth, take a bite. "Hm. Yes." And, "It's not bad." No, they wouldn't buy it, but: "Our children are vegetarians, the young people look much more consciously at food. They have completely different senses. Maybe this is something for them."
In the meantime, the area is filling up. A delegation of Norwegian parliamentarians drops by, one of them asking about the German Supply Chain Act. "It wasn't easy to get there," says Lisa Kirfel-Rühle from the BMZ, "but the direction is right. And how is it in Norway?" They have a transparency law, the MP replies, "it concerns the big companies". Next to the politicians, four teenagers push past, striving towards a wooden table. "172 euros of income per month - too little to live on", one teenager reads out. On the plate are scannable white cardboard plates, with titles like "56 eggs", "fuel" or "house". Now it's time to go shopping. The girl discusses with the others, scans in. But after she has stocked up on groceries and now also wants to pay for "communication" and "education for four children", a screen lights up red: "Your monthly budget has been reached!" The youth grumbles briefly. "Oh, come on," one of them with a baseball cap then grins, "school is overrated."
Meanwhile, further back on stage, the programme begins.
"Agricultural systems are galaxies away from sustainability," says State Secretary Flasbarth.
Next door from another exhibitor's cocktail stand, salsa sounds warble. Flasbarth is now talking against the cheerfulness from over there, telling of the many emergency aids. "It was often about social protection, pure cash transfers to curb prices." That was short-sighted, "but that's what we have to do now". Next to him are Josefa Sacko and Jürgen Vögele. "Seventy percent of Africa's population lives in rural areas," says the African Union (AU) Commissioner for Rural Economy and Agriculture. "We are not igniting the potential of the youth there." Before the Corona-lockdowns, she says, there was an upsurge in intra-African trade, "and now? We still have problems. Yet we still need African solutions for African countries." Vögele next to her nods. "The situation is challenging," says the World Bank vice-president. The music from the cocktail bar picks up. He talks about a dashboard developed by the Alliance for Global Food Security (GAFS), "on which you can see for the first time for each country what the problems are and how much has been spent on which project." This connects many dots, he said. "In a few months we had 31,000 clicks on the website." The music falls silent.
Meanwhile, the insect stand is bustling. El-Battahi has put up a small sign. "Please don't touch," she has written on it. "We'll be happy to put something together for you." A group of young men are eyeing the stall. "Well, you've never tried this yourself, have you?" one of them asks challengingly. She takes the biggest grasshopper, holds it up and demonstratively puts it slowly into her mouth. Take this, says her look. That's where the man has to follow. He tries the crickets. "Crunchy," he says. The others laugh.
Before Sacko rushes off to her next appointment, the AU commissioner tries chocolate from the Ivory Coast, offered from a small sales table. "Delicious," she smiles, "I'd love another piece." On its premises, the BMZ enables twelve small entrepreneurs from African countries to sell their products, thus circumventing the long supply chain and offering their products directly. The jam from Algeria also tastes good to Sacko, but a senior citizen from Berlin next to her grimaces. "No, it's too intense for me".
The success stories go down well. The audience moves closer with every word as Nina Wenzel from Mars Germany talks about the food company's sustainability projects. "We've been doing this for 40 years, but it's a drop in the ocean," she says. "In the process, we found that a real key to development is gender equality." With 30 village communities, she says, they are working on such enabling effects. Sebastian Lesch from BMZ stands next to her on stage. "We are trying to engage the different stakeholders to realise living wages. This includes working with companies." Behind the stage, the small supermarket is filling up with shoppers. On the shelves are the products of twelve small suppliers: Pastes, sauces, dried and pickled fruits. Chocolate and powder. One word comes up again and again: "Intense", says a man in his mid-fifties. He buys five bars of plain chocolate - and "one of the hottest sauces I've had in my life", he points to the chilli "Venomous Hot Sauce" by "Black Mamba" from Swaziland. "The prices are actually ok, especially in relation to the quality."
The visitors to the fair, who pass the BMZ stand on the left and right in a never-ending stream, keep seeping inside. They inspect the opened cocoa pods, suck the beans. They look at knee-sized cubes on which the UN Sustainable Development Goals are written in large letters. And listen as a few thoughtful semicolons are sprinkled into the throng. "What constitutes sustainable agricultural supply chains?" asks moderator Katie Gallus, Flasbarth's "galaxies away" phrase still ringing in her ears.
"We need to rethink our consumption patterns," says Anke Oppermann from BMZ. "Because it means that people don't live well elsewhere."
Gallus looks for a practical example - and finds it in Shamika Mone, rice farmer and president of INOFO, a global association of organic farmers. "We have different figures," she says, meaning better than those from conventional farming. But: "My high-quality rice goes to a trader for 200 rupees per kilo. He resells as little as 250 grams for 300 rupees." In the end, customers in Germany pay a price for the product from which the farmer's yield is far, far away. "I therefore tie consumers directly to the farm, let them become investors," says Mone.
A little away from the hustle and bustle, at a round table in the stand's "supermarket", I watch with Christel Weller-Molongua from GIZ (German Agency for International Cooperation) the endless queue of people, the laughter, snacking and toasting. "We certainly reach a few people," she says, "but many are hard to draw in." The stall is also a crash with many a habit. Does she feel like a caller in the desert? Weller-Molongua is silent for a moment. "Competition for funds is increasing," she says. There are the roads in Germany, the schools, many things in need of improvement. "International development funds will perhaps be scrutinised even more in future. That makes it all the more necessary to honestly present the relevance and impact of our work." Above her towers the logo of the stand, written umpteen times like a roof of the BMZ area: "#ICH WILL FAIR". It sounds defiant and determined at the same time. From afar, the sound of an alphorn resonates for a long time.
Since Monday, the field has been and will be left to school classes...