There are moments in life that do not pass. They do not fade with time. They do not soften at the edges. They stay sharp, unyielding, and present. A mother turning her face away so her children will not see her hunger. A father standing in silence over the shallow grave of his last cow, not mourning the animal, but everything it stood for. A child whose energy has drained so completely that even play has become too much. These are not images. They are memories.
They are the faces of people I have met. People I cannot forget. I have spent a lifetime walking alongside those whose lives rarely shape global agendas and I have just recently returned from a trip to East Africa. People who will never sit at decision-making tables, whose voices are rarely heard, whose suffering is too often endured in silence. They are small-scale farmers, mothers and fathers, families who work land passed down through generations, who plant seeds not with certainty, but with hope. Hope that the rains will come. Hope that the harvest will follow. Hope that their children will eat. And when the rains fail, everything fails.
The world is connected, but not fair
Today, the world watches conflict unfold in the Middle East, and in parts of Sudan and Ethiopia. The suffering is immense, and it demands our attention. But what we often fail to see is how far that suffering travels. Markets react. Prices rise. Supply chains falter. And thousands of miles away, in villages that will never appear on a map most of us could recognise, families feel the consequences in the most brutal way imaginable through hunger. They have no connection to these conflicts. No influence over global markets. No buffer against rising costs. And yet, they pay. This is the quiet injustice of our world that those who contribute least to its crises suffer most from their consequences.
I have seen what hunger really is
In Ethiopia, I have stood on land so dry it breaks beneath your feet, where the earth has given up waiting for rain. In Malawi and Mozambique, I have walked through communities where floodwaters have taken everything such as homes, crops, livestock, and security in a single night. We speak of the weather as an inconvenience. They experience it as loss. As fear. As survival. I have sat with mothers who have not eaten for days. Not because food does not exist somewhere in the world, but because it is beyond their reach. They do not cry out. They do not protest. They simply endure. They place what little food they have in front of their children. They smile. They lie. “I am not hungry". But they are. Hunger is not loud. It does not shout. It does not march through streets demanding to be seen. It is quiet. It is patient. It is devastating. It weakens the body slowly. It dulls the mind. It steals a child’s future before it has even begun. And perhaps the hardest truth of all: The world has learned to live with it.
When the seasons no longer come
Across sub-Saharan Africa, nearly 45 million small-scale farmers depend entirely on rainfall. For generations, they understood the rhythm of the land. They read the sky, the trees, the birds. They knew when to plant, when to wait, when to trust. That knowledge has been broken. The rains are late. Or they do not come at all. Or they arrive with such force they destroy what they should sustain. Seeds planted in hope remain buried in dust. Wells run dry. Rivers shrink. Livestock die. And slowly, quietly, hunger takes hold. Then comes the moment no parent should ever face: Who eats today? Who waits? This is not a question any human being should have to answer. And yet it is being asked tonight in homes across Africa.
A crisis we choose not to see
Nearly 350 million people across Africa know what it is to be hungry. More than half a billion live in poverty that is not just about income, but about the absence of everything most of us take for granted such as clean water, healthcare, education, opportunity. Children grow up without the chance to learn. Families live without the security of food. Communities exist without the infrastructure to sustain themselves. And still, much of this suffering goes unseen. A recent analysis found that global media attention overwhelmingly focuses on a small number of crises. Entire regions, entire populations, remain largely invisible. Out of sight becomes out of mind. But invisibility does not lessen suffering. It deepens it.
At gatherings like the World Economic Forum in Davos and the G7 and G5 summits, leaders discuss growth, resilience, sustainability. These conversations matter. But they are not enough. Because discussion does not feed a child. Strategy does not fill an empty stomach. Words do not plant crops. On the ground, the reality is stark: Roads are impassable. Markets are fragile. Storage does not exist. Crops spoil before they can be sold. One failed harvest becomes two. Two become crisis. Crisis becomes chronic. Hunger is not a side issue. It is the issue. Because hunger touches everything such as health, education, stability, peace. No world can call itself just while millions go to bed hungry.
And yet, I have seen hope
And still, I believe. Because I have seen what happens when people are given a chance. Through my work with Self Help Africa, I have seen farmers transform their lives with the right support such as climate-smart agriculture, drought-resistant crops, access to water, fair markets. I have seen fields turn green again. I have seen children return to school. I have seen women earn income, gain independence, and change the future for their families. I met a young mother in Kenya who once walked 11 kilometres each day for unsafe water. Today, because of a simple borehole organised by Self Help Africa and in partnership with the local community and through support from Irish Aid, she has clean water and so do hundreds of others. That is what change looks like. Not charity. Dignity. Not dependence. Possibility.
But progress is fragile
And that is why this moment matters. Because while the need grows, support is shrinking. Cuts to international aid, including major reductions by USAID and others, are already reversing progress. Projects are stopping. Communities are losing support. Hope is being taken away. These are not abstract decisions. They are decisions about whether a child eats. Whether a farmer plants. Whether a family survives. Hunger should never return because the world has become distracted.
Ireland knows hunger. We know what it is to lose crops. To lose livelihoods. To lose people. That history is not just memory. It is responsibility. At a time when others step back, Ireland through its government's Irish Aid Programme has stepped forward by increasing its overseas aid and standing in solidarity with those who need it most. That matters. Because compassion is not weakness. It is strength. And through leadership within the Council of the European Union, Ireland can help ensure that food security and human dignity are not optional priorities but essential ones.
I am getting older. I do not know how many more years I will walk these fields, sit in these homes, listen to these stories. But I know this, Hunger is not inevitable. It is the result of choices. Political choices. Economic choices. Moral choices. And that means it can be changed. Africa is not the world’s burden. It is the world’s promise.
A final appeal
Somewhere tonight, a mother will divide a small amount of food and hope it will be enough. Somewhere, a father will lie awake, knowing that tomorrow may bring nothing. Somewhere, a child will go to sleep hungry, not because the world lacks food, but because the world has failed to share it. We cannot control the rain. But we can control how we respond when it fails. We can choose compassion over indifference. Action over silence. Justice over neglect. When the rains fail, everything fails. But when we act, truly act, everything can change. Stand with the poorest of the poor. Support the work of Self Help Africa. Be part of the difference between despair and hope.
Visit www.selfhelpafrica.org Call (01 ) 677 8880. Write to Self Help Africa, Westside Resource Centre, Westside, Galway. Because somewhere tonight, someone is hoping the world has not forgotten them. Let us prove that it hasn’t. Because together, we can fight hunger, thirst, poverty, climate change and injustice. Let’s not look away. Let’s act now because no food = no future, no water = no future, no education = no future, no healthcare = no future, no funding = no future, no Self Help Africa = no future for a lot of families.
