We in the western developed countries hardly give any thought to how industries in third world nations continue to harvest their natural resources and bolster their respective economy. For the most part, we presume it is done in much the same way as is done here at home.
In today’s technologically mechanized era, one can hardly fathom the days of yore when oxen plowed the land, when mules lugged cargo, and when horses pulled buggies.
If you have been fortunate enough to travel to other countries outside North America and Western Europe, then you have probably witnessed some reminder of how the progress of industrial mechanization displaced countless laborers and their livestock. For countries such as ours, the transition was gradual and our labor force was able to adapt to a high degree.
But, what if you lived in one of the poorest countries in the world, had little to no education, and relied solely on the ability of your livestock to eke out a living in one of the more deadly and desolate lands one can imagine? What if the cultivation of natural resources was being mechanized seemingly overnight by offshore multinational corporations hungry for what little your barren lands can offer in trade with the rest of the world?
Since the time it was so valuable that it was used as currency, salt has been mined by the Afar people of Ethiopia. The northeast part of this tortured land is home to the Danakil Depression, an immense salt flat that has provided a livelihood for Afar families using camels as their logistics systems for longer than we in the west can trace back our family trees.
The Danakil Depression is the perfect salt flat. Stifling hot, one of the lowest points on Earth, and its volcanoes as active as our stomachs after eating a couple bowls of good chili, Danakil sits at the precipice of three tectonic plates. To lick your lips here would be a waste of precious wetness.
With mechanization and global supply chains as competition, salt miners receive only about 20 cents for a salt slab, from which they must pay for the husbandry of their camel caravan as well as provide the most basic human needs for their family. Think of how many trips your caravan of 20 camels carrying four slabs each would have to make round trip to earn a living.
The urgency with which the imminent shift from livestock to mechanization is occurring in the Ethiopian economy far outpaces that of our own industrial revolution. While this transformation for a beleaguered country is undoubtedly favorable to its overall economy, one cannot help but liken the plight of the Afar people to those in the manufacturing sector of our economy when their jobs were shipped to Mexico and China with the speed of a pen stroke.
The future for camel caravans of Danakil couldn’t be more bleak. A modern railroad is to be constructed using the ancient caravan route as the path to lay railroad ties, hauling vast quantities of salt more efficiently and rendering the Afar people and their camels obsolete. And, with gargantuan deposits of potash (used in fertilizers) ready to be extracted by multinational corporations using sophisticated mining techniques, the impending desperation and gloom facing the Afar people in the very short term is exceptionally grim indeed.
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