My name is Bi Qiting and my nickname is ‘Small Wolf’. I lost my eyesight when I was 14. I am training to become a swimming instructor because I want to help other people with disabilities to  get out of the home, exercise and enjoy life more.

My nickname comes from a children’s book entitled “The Dream of Being a Wolf King”, about a female wolf raising her cubs with the hope they would become wolf kings.  The book inspired me so much that I wanted my name to refer to it!   

I grew up an ordinary child although I couldn’t see with my right eye since birth. However, my vision started to deteriorate in 2014 and a year later, I completely lost my eyesight. I had to stop studying and never graduated. 

I had nothing to do and felt desperately frustrated. I kept asking myself what I would do with my life. Even worse was that it seemed that no one paid attention to my feelings or opinions. I was expected to follow the family’s arrangements and not make any decision for myself, even on the colour of my clothes. My parents didn’t have any hope for me.

VIDEO WITH AUDIO DESCRIPTION FOR PERSONS WITH A VISUAL IMPAIRMENT

With audio description: I will not let blindness define me

VIDEO WITH SUB-TITLES AND AUDIO TAGS FOR PERSONS WITH A HEARING IMPAIRMENT

With sub-titles and audio tags: I will not let blindness define me

Light was brought back into my life in 2016 when I became a professional swimmer, with the support of the local federation of persons with disabilities.

In 2017, I took part in the Guangzhou Swimming Championships and won a gold medal for the first time. Then in August 2018, I won three golds and a silver at the Guangdong Provincial Games. This inspired me and amazed others. My parents began to recognize my ability and my potential.

However, in 2018 I was injured during a training session. My world collapsed and I was stuck at home again.  

My message to young people with disabilities is that the outside world is not as scary as you may imagine. When you step outside, you will discover many new things. 

Luckily, in February 2020, I joined a vocational training programme run by the China Chapter of the ILO Global Business and Disability Network.  It was called “Path to success”. The training taught things like creating a resume and interview skills. I learned a lot. 

After joining the group, I discovered that all of its members were people with disabilities. We gradually got to know each other and began to chat and exchange ideas. I found that I was not alone.

The strong sense of belonging gave me courage and strength. I was determined to return to society and make a living.  

I decided to become a swimming instructor focusing on persons with disabilities who have very few opportunities to exercise, despite the clear benefits sport can bring to their lives. I want to help them get out of the home and enjoy their lives more. 

I have also passed a diving exam and received a certificate. I am practising coaching and saving people underwater. 

There is a widespread belief that there is no way for you to become a swimming instructor if you are blind. 'What if your swimming student is in danger?' people ask.

Although we cannot see, we compensate by using our ears more. We tie a bell on the trainee so that we can ‘hear the danger’ and find her or him quickly if they are choking or sinking. We also teach by giving more detailed and clearer descriptions. 

Before a student fully learns how to swim, I keep in constant physical contact with her. The best thing is that I understand her, because I have the same visual impairment and I know which movement she cannot understand well such as how to kick her legs. I will tell her how to straighten her legs like a ballet dancer rather than a bicycle rider, or I will let her feel my feet to show her how to stretch and kick.

Small Wolf works on a computer with the help of a screen reader.

You should understand that each of us is a person. You should see us first as a person instead of someone who has a disability.  Disability is just one of our many characteristics. Then, focus on what we are able to do.

For the young disabled person my message is the outside world is not as scary as you have imagined, it's far less intimidating. When you step outside, you will discover many new things. After going out, you will start to make friends, take part in activities, try fresh experiences, get more insights, and establish your own social network. These will be valuable assets for your employment and much else. 

You should see us first as a person instead of someone who has a disability.  Disability is just one of our many characteristics. Then, focus on what we are able to do.

My next plan is to obtain a free diver certificate because I want to dive in the sea. Many people think diving in the sea is meaningless because I cannot see anything. After hearing this, I feel sad. Why do you think it is pointless for me to dive in the sea? Can't I experience something new and different?

For now I practice diving in a pool, but one day I hope to dive in the sea.

As of 2010, there were over 85 million persons with disabilities in China, representing over 6.4 per cent of the population.

The ILO Global Business and Disability Network (GBDN) is the world’s only grouping of more than 30 leading multinational companies working with the ILO as well as National Business and Disability Networks and Organizations of Persons with Disabilities to the benefit of business, persons with disabilities and economies and communities worldwide.

ILO GBDN-China is a national-level, company-driven network that supports businesses to succeed in and benefit from disability inclusion through collaboration.

“Path to success” is an initiative of Standard Chartered Global Business Services, a founding member of ILO GBDN-China. The programme aims to create an inclusive and favourable working environment for young persons with disabilities while strengthening their skills and capabilities. From 2019 to 2020, the initiative helped 6,000 people with visual impairments to prepare for the labour market.

ILO Global Business and Disability Network

Bi Qiting, known as ‘Small Wolf’, lost her sight aged 14. Overcoming many obstacles, she is now training to become a swimming instructor in Guangzhou, in the south of China.

I will not let blindness define me

My name is Wu Mengnan and I am 48 years old.  My life has changed dramatically because of HIV.

Years ago, my husband was in poor health.  We went from hospital to hospital and finally he was diagnosed with AIDS.  After that, my HIV infection was also confirmed.  I was 33 years old at the time and my son was five. 

Somehow news of our HIV diagnosis got out. Even the neighbours in the community knew about our situation. People who we usually got along well with suddenly changed their attitude towards us. They said many bad things about us. They said we were hurting people, and asked us to leave. With a sick husband and a young boy, I felt helpless. I had done nothing wrong. You can't acquire HIV through daily casual contact. How could the neighbours treat us like this? And where could we move to? Eventually we couldn't take the pressure and left the neighbourhood where we had lived for many years.

An old snapshot of me with my husband and son.

By the time my husband tested positive, he had already missed the best opportunities for treatment. His health condition was so bad that he was put on life support in a hospice and died within a few years. Since then, my son and I have had to depend on each other. We have tasted the bitterness of life.

I had to work, make money, and support my son in school.  I worked part-time every day and took my antiretroviral medication on time. My physical strength seemed to be no worse than before I contracted HIV. The only difference was that I could not let anyone know that I was living with HIV. If they found out, I would immediately face the risk of losing my job. So I worked and changed jobs a lot.

One company was very nice to me. I felt that I could not “cheat” or “hide” from people, so I told them the truth. They were very upset and scared, and asked me to leave right away.

 I remember one company was very nice to me. I felt that I could not “cheat” or “hide” from people, so I told them the truth.  After learning of my situation, they were very upset and scared and asked me to leave right away.

HIV infection is like a time bomb in my life. I can't tell anyone the truth. I have to be on guard all the time against being found out.  I have to be careful not to say anything.  It means I can't apply for a job that requires a medical examination or health certificate. Other people living with HIV are in the same situation. Many employers require medical check-ups before recruitment, and there is almost no way to find a good long-term and stable job after an HIV diagnosis. 

It's difficult for me to find work.  I find temporary and low paid odd jobs in privately-owned shops. 

People can't catch contract HIV through everyday contact, but they are afraid of the virus so no one wants to hire people living with HIV. Even if someone is lucky enough to get a job offer, they will still face unemployment once the employer asks for a physical examination, which is an annual requirement in some service industries. We have to turn to private owners' shops to do odd jobs that require no skills. They are temporary jobs with long working hours, little pay, and no labour contracts, training or social security. I've been working part-time non-stop for 15 years, ever since I acquired HIV.

I'm healthy and able to work. I want to be treated equally and live like a normal person.

My son is now in college, and the tuition fee costs 14,500 yuan per year. Although I work very hard, my monthly income is not stable, especially recently because of the COVID-19 pandemic. I earn on average only 2,000 yuan per month, and  am living under great pressure, even with subsistence allowances. I dread to think of what will happen in a few years time if and when my body cannot hold it together. To save money I haven't paid into social security, so after retirement there will be no pension, only subsistence allowances. It would be nice to get a better job, earn three or five thousand yuan a month and save some money while I can still work. That way, life would be much less stressful.

More than one million people are living with HIV in China. 

The Women's Network Against AIDS China, is one of the largest organizations supporting HIV-positive people in the country. It provides various kinds of support, especially for women. Mengnan is a key member of the women’s network.

With technical support from the ILO HIV Programme, the Women's Network Against AIDS China has worked to promote equal employment opportunities and skills training for people living with HIV.

According to an ILO-Gallup report on HIV stigma at work, nearly four in ten people globally say people with HIV should not be allowed to work.

The report says HIV prevention needs to be prioritised, along with comprehensive education programmes to counter the myths and misconceptions about modes of transmission, in order to reduce the high levels of stigma and discrimination at work.

ILO project: Eliminating poverty and HIV-related employment discrimination

The ILO Global HIV Discrimination in the World of Work Survey

Recommendation concerning HIV and AIDS and the World of Work, 2010 (No. 200)

Fifteen years ago Wu Mengnan and her husband tested positive for HIV. Now a widow, raising her child alone, she has gone from job to job, due to persistent stigma and discrimination around AIDS.

I am living with HIV and I have a right to work

My name is Bryan Parras. I grew up in Houston, Texas, known as the energy capital of the world, about two and a half miles from where the Houston Ship Channel begins. It stretches for 25 to 40 miles and all along, it is one oil refinery and chemical plant after another. When we’d drive into the city, I would see this donut, this brown donut of pollution in the air.

Fossil fuels have always been part of our lives. My family is from West Texas, the Petro patch as they call it, right in the middle of the Permian Basin, the largest oil-producing region in the United States. There was a small refinery in my father’s town, and where my mom grew up there were pumpjacks for extracting oil, right on the grounds of her school.

Refinery & Texan flag - Raffinerie & drapeau texan - Refinería y bandera tejana

Growing up in the 1980s, there wasn't a whole lot of work being done around the negative impacts of the oil and gas industry on public health. I grew up with asthma and I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was an adult. I had attacks where I really had difficulty breathing. I just thought I was out of shape and that this is what happens when you overexert yourself. I had to learn on my own how to address that, because I didn't have any kind of medication to help. I also had headaches and felt tired all the time. We went to a doctor in high school but they never diagnosed me with asthma.

It wasn’t until I moved to Austin, Texas, to go to college – which is a really beautiful, cleaner place – that my so-called “allergies” cleared up. I didn’t want to go home to Houston during the holidays because it made me so sick. By then there was a recognition that Houston was a dirty city and had bad air. And climate change was starting to surface in conversations and in mainstream magazines.

It made me upset to see kids growing up in a similar situation to me and being told they had allergies when in fact they were being poisoned by pollution.

After college I was teaching kids, and it made me really upset to see them growing up in a similar situation and being told that they had allergies when in fact they were being poisoned by pollution. 

It really got me thinking about these issues. My dad at this point had already been doing environmental justice work and had taken a job at Texas Southern University at the environmental justice legal clinic.

That's really when I started to dive deeper into environmental justice work. I realized that it was a role that I could play too. I had actually grown up in these neighborhoods where the refineries and the chemical plants and the rail yards are. So, I could speak about these issues from first-hand experience.

I was involved in a campaign to stop the KXL Pipeline from making its way to Houston Refineries with highly polluting tar sands oil. On the banner behind me it's written: "We demand to know what you are forcing us to breathe!".

At first, I did environmental justice work as a volunteer. But now I work full-time at an environmental organization called the Sierra Club. I was working on the Dirty Fuels campaign and in 2020 I moved to the Healthy Communities campaign. 

I try to make sure that the most vulnerable have an opportunity to voice their concerns. I'm also a big believer in bottom-up organizing and that the people who are most impacted have the most to offer. They can come up with solutions because they live it.

In the last 10 years there's been recognition that if we're to curb the worst of our impact on the climate, we have to stop any further fossil fuel exploration and development, and we have to begin to transition to a greener economy. So that’s at the core of the dirty fuels campaign. 

On the ground what it means is stopping expansions, stopping pipelines, shutting down old facilities and transitioning out of the fossil fuels industry. 

Part of that is recognizing that workers in this industry should not be left to fend for themselves, they should be supported, either with training or in other ways, to ensure that they can continue to make a living.

Certainly, if we shift in a big way, there's going to be plenty of work and actually more reliable work, cleaner work, safer work. We have to move in this direction, or we will no longer be an energy leader.

If we're to curb the worst of our impact on the climate, we have to begin to transition to a greener economy.

Houston has to clean up its mess first. And I think that's where a lot of the jobs will be. We have brownfield Superfund sites – these are places identified by the United States Environmental Protection Agency that are contaminated with hazardous materials and will require a long-term clean up. There are also abandoned oil wells and abandoned pipelines to clean up and dispose of properly. 

In my ideal world, that would be a priority. If that doesn't happen, even if we switched to clean energy, we will still have this legacy of pollution that will linger on for decades, hundreds of years, some of it for even longer. And people will not fully appreciate the transition because they will see that we're still getting sick. We’ll still have high cancer rates. We’ll still have people dying. We’ll still have high rates of childhood leukemia.

Documenting the impacts from Hurricane Harvey in 2017.

We need to change the way we think and be much more conscious of the fact that we have one livable planet, and it is a delicate system. We can't just take, take, take what we want. We have to give back. There's a relationship  that requires some level of reciprocity. I’ve found that these are concepts that are rooted in indigenous ways of thinking that we lost at some point in our own histories. It has to come back, as a way of approaching everything we do.

Leaders have gathered this week at COP26. My message to them is be courageous. And whatever they agree to has to be legally binding. That’s the problem, it’s not binding. A transfer of power, a change of leadership in a country, should not mean a change of agreements. If you look at the business community, a contract still matters even if there’s a new CEO in charge.

We're smart people. We can figure this out, and we're adaptive enough to survive making the changes we need to make. It’s in all of our interests. We all share the climate and environment. We can’t isolate that with a fence or by drawing a line on a map. I think the COVID-19 pandemic has proved to us that we can respond to a crisis on a grand scale. It’s given us an opportunity to realize that we can do this – we can transition away from fossil fuels. We really can.

I recently participated in an award-winning documentary “The Condor & The Eagle” to raise awareness about the impacts of climate change. I travelled to the Peruvian rainforest by the Tigre River where I met other environmental justice campaigners, including local indigenous people.

ILO studies show that implementing the Paris Agreement on Climate Change could create a net gain of 18 million jobs by 2030.

In Texas, the transition from fossil fuels to clean energy could create more than 1.1 million jobs, according to the Texas Climate Jobs Project

The 2030 Agenda and its 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) place the transition to low carbon sustainable development at the centre of the international agenda. 

The ILO played a key role in drafting the Just Transition Declaration, which was agreed at the UN Climate Change Conference in Scotland (COP26). It recognizes the need to ensure that no one is left behind in the transition to net zero economies – particularly those working in sectors, cities and regions reliant on carbon-intensive industries and production.

ILO welcomes COP26 Just Transition Declaration

ILO Guidelines for a just transition towards environmentally sustainable economies and societies for all

It wasn’t until he was an adult that Bryan Parras made the connection between his asthma and the polluted air in Houston Texas, where he grew up. This realization has shaped his work today as an environmental justice advocate.

Poisoned by pollution, so I fight for climate justice

My name is Morshed Ali. I am from Syria. When the war started, I was only 14 years old. I was preparing for my high school exams. 

We had to go to Aleppo for these exams. The day we arrived, I was so tired. In the early hours of the morning, a bomb was found at the corner of our house but I heard nothing because I was fast asleep.

Even though it was very hard, I totally focused on books for 15 days. I also had the book, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho with me. Whenever I wanted to run away from reality, I read it. 

A young Syrian refugee in Turkey builds a new life by developing skills

The exam system in Syria is like this: you don't sit for only one exam. Every subject has a different exam date, for instance math one day, biology the next day, and history another day. Exams continue for 18 days. They are all written, so you really need to concentrate.

The math exam was the one I was most worried about but also most fond of.  My desk was next to the window, which was broken and glass was scattered all over it.

I told the invigilator and he said, “I don't care, you can either sit the exam or leave”.

I said OK.  I took my T-shirt off and cleaned off the table, and then I started writing. I got a high mark for that exam so I know I have the knowledge.

Morshed is a big fan of books, they mean a lot to him. They helped him all the way from Syria to Turkey, acting as his best friends in both good and bad times. 

My family started to ask about where I would study. I decided to go to Turkey.

On August 18, 2014, at two in the afternoon sharp, my mother and I passed through the border gate into Turkey. It was a Monday. I will never forget it. She enrolled me in courses. We arranged a dormitory for me and she went back to Syria after 18 days. 

My family did not want to leave Syria. Leaving Syria behind or going to different cities is not possible for them, even though they have had difficult times. I think my father and mother are like two olive trees; they cannot survive if you uproot them. 

Morshed reads Turkish newspapers to learn the language. He speaks fluent Turkish and has developed a passion for Turkish literature. 

I was on my own and I settled into life in the Turkish city of Mersin. I was super excited. There were so many things that I wanted to learn but I didn’t speak Turkish. So, I worked really hard to learn the language – watching cartoons helped. 

I totally concentrated on the courses, like math, geometry and others for the university entrance exam. During those six months, even though I only took a few Turkish courses,  I learned to speak Turkish by practicing it with others and reading literature. 

Then I started taking the exams and I got great marks. Once the results were announced, I realised what I wanted. I mean, I turned towards the most loyal thing to me, the soil.  

When I was a kid, I used to build houses out of soil, stone and water. I was constantly  building one, then two, and even three storey-houses. 

My gut told me that I should study architecture so that’s what I enrolled in. 

My gut told me that I should study architecture so that’s what I enrolled in. I told my parents that I wanted to be an architect. They did not object to it much because they knew that I would do it. 

Actually, with the family, we realized that being physically together is not absolutely necessary. I love dreaming and I am quite good at it. Therefore, when I miss them I close my eyes, I just remember a past joyful event then I can live that moment again. It is sometimes nice but upsetting at the same time.

I got into Karadeniz Technical University.  Some students yelled “Syrian” at me. In fact, I am neither proud of where I am from nor I am not proud because I do not think that it is something to be proud of. It is a total coincidence that I was born there. I have spent most of my mature years in Turkey. I have a feeling of belonging here. I want to give something in return to this country.

Morshed Ali now feels at home in Istanbul.

After graduation, I had to move to a big city immediately. I moved to Ankara for the first time. I carefully prepared a portfolio. 

It took me almost a month - I prepared it by considering every detail of my architectural portfolio as well as my CV. During that period, I was trying to improve myself by attending different programmes.

The pandemic started in early 2020. Just when I started job applications, the job opportunities decreased. I had studied architecture and I wanted to turn an education I loved into a profession. 

Since I could not find a job in Ankara, I decided to take my chances in Istanbul. The very day I arrived in Istanbul, a close friend of mine sent me the link to an ILO Work-Based Learning Programme called İŞMEP. Thanks to this ILO programme, I started working as an architect at a consultancy company, Tuana Projects.

As a Syrian, it is very difficult to have a formal job and to access social security. However, thanks to the İŞMEP programme, I started working under formal conditions. We also received various trainings and it was very useful for me.

Now formally employed as an architect, Morshed is working hard to build his career and challenge any constraints put before him.

In my new job as an architect, I have worked on many projects abroad, especially in Middle Eastern countries - whether it is three-dimensional modelling visualization, planning or design. 

There were, for example, mosque and school design projects, village designs, as well as shelter projects. What I want to focus on most is shelter projects. Because the biggest need of people, is for their accommodation to be completely solid.

So I am very focused on function, I have focused more on function than design.

Morshed has learned the art of Turkish coffee fortune telling and has become quite good at it. During a break at work, he reads the coffee grounds in his colleague’s cup.

Of course, there were many moments when I was desperate during my job search, such as when COVID-19 happened. There are so many things in the world that can bring us down but, what really matters is to find positive things among all this chaos.

I always worked through my sadness by drawing something, distracting myself, or by reading books that inspire me. 

There are so many things in the world that can bring us down but what really matters is to find positive things among all this chaos.

Of all the Turkish writers, I love Sabahattin Ali the most. He might even be my No. 1. One of his books touched me very much. Its name is "The Devil Inside Us” (İçimizdeki Şeytan). 

The character of Ömer impressed me very deeply. There is a saying in the book that I'll never forget.  I say it every day, every time I am down: "There is no devil in us! We are weak inside, we have a lack of will".

So rather than despair I thought how can I do my best to find a job? 

I took part in programmes, improved my language and I tried to improve my English further as well, which is also a new language for me. I even started to learn French a little bit. I like to improve myself constantly. 

Good things eventually happen somehow when you believe in them.

Turkey has hosted Syrian refugees since the conflict started in 2011, with the number rising to 3.7 million by 2021. This is in addition to 400,000 refugees from Iraq, Afghanistan and Iran. For six years in a row, Turkey has hosted the largest number of registered refugees in the world. 

Recognizing the need to strengthen the resilience and self-reliance of refugees, the Turkish government has designed strong protection systems that grant access to education, the health system, social services as well as the labour market. 

To help the government manage the increased pressure on public services and to assist people in gaining a living, the ILO is implementing its Refugee Response Programme to bolster refugees’ and host communities’ resilience through better access to the labour market. 

Through İŞMEP, the ILO’s Work-Based Learning Programme, young Syrian and Turkish workers like Morshed are developing, upgrading and adapting their skills with the help of on-the-job and off-the-job trainings. They are formally employed from day one. 

Promoting Decent Work for Syrians under Temporary Protection and Turkish Citizens Project 

ILO’s Refugee Response Programme in Turkey

Global Call to Action for a human-centred recovery

Morshed Ali, 24 arrived in Turkey seven years ago after fleeing the war in Syria. He had to learn a new language and adapt to life in a foreign country. Yet he overcame the odds and graduated as an architect four years later.

From war to peace: A refugee’s journey to a new life

My name is Saida Zouaoui, I’m 40 years old, I’m from a farming family and farming is my passion. It’s my Berber grandfather, who I respect and who I thank with all my heart, who passed down the tradition of building dams using an ancient technique.

When I was born, my father was already working as a farmer. My older brother helped him a lot and I studied. After my brother died, I stayed with my father. He was deeply shaken by my brother’s death. It was as though his whole life had fallen apart. He stopped everything and didn’t want to work anymore. At first, I didn’t want to leave him alone. Over time, little by little, I started to enjoy farming. I became enthusiastic about it. I invest a lot in my work, it makes me happy. It’s when I’m working that I’m truly happy.

A small dam brings a village back to life in Tunisia

We ran into difficulties. The land had changed over time.  Things were easier when there was a dam, even the traditional one. Then we had problems of erosion – the water started to run off differently. We lost lots of water. The earth became cracked and it became harder and harder to bring back the water, because in the winter it’s absorbed by the earth and in summer the earth cracks. As a result, many farmers – over 40 – gradually moved away. They said, “Our fathers earned nothing, and as for us …”

But our grandparents never left their land, no matter what happened. It was a matter of principle for them, even if they earned nothing.

These problems pushed young people to leave for Tunis to work on construction sites. Some of them studied, others left and abandoned their land. The region became almost deserted.

It became more and more difficult to bring back the water, so many farmers gradually moved away and the young people left for Tunis.

I, on the other hand, inherited the principle of not leaving the land. My father died just three months after my marriage, in a car accident. I came back to the village with my husband’s agreement, because the land was abandoned. There was just my little brother, one of those desperate young people who didn’t want to bother to work. The farm was deserted, with its tractor and even a hunting rifle that the police had seized after my father’s death. I came back. I had to return things to the way they were before, like my father did. I thank God I recovered the rifle and started working again. With five or six farmers who were still here, we’d go out and work on the dam, still the old-fashioned way. We watered the land. Of course we were losing money, since we didn’t have enough water in the summer. Things were better in the spring but we never lost hope.

It was my Berber grandfather who passed down the tradition of building dams using an ancient technique.

I’ll tell you something. Before, I always had something weighing on me. I believed that one day the situation would change, that a miracle would occur or something like that and things would be alright. I believed that. Every time we had a municipal meeting or something like that, whenever I was asked to speak on the radio (there used to be Radio Kef), I would always talk about the dam. I pinned all my hopes on the dam.

Since I’m in the region, I can tell you that I’m popular, almost everyone knows me. I’m the only woman driving a tractor, working the land, the sites, everyone knows it. Everyone’s known for a long time that there was only one thing I wanted to do: make the dam operational and irrigate the entire region, for the farmers to come back and life to resume. Everyone knew that was my dream.

I’ve always been hopeful that we could farm again in my village. 

A special delegation met with Mr Belgacem Klai, who called me to say, “Saida, there’s a chance, don’t get too hopeful, but we’ll try.” We didn’t know why, but the International Labour Organization had come, to talk about erosion and other things. They told me that if I wanted to pass on a message, I could. The meeting took place, the people got together, some spoke about public lighting and other subjects … I talked about the question of water and it worked, thanks be to God, my dream came true.

Why did I want the dam to be fixed and restored above all else? So that we’d have water, so that people would be motivated, so that the young people would no longer leave the land, so that they would stick to the land like the older generation did.

There was only one thing I wanted to do: make the dam operational and irrigate the entire region, for the farmers to come back and life to resume.

They say that every cloud has a silver lining. It’s true that COVID weakened the country and harmed many things, but it also contributed to something truly tangible. The people who left, especially those working in the hotel business, came back and were confined to their homes. The cafés were closed … what were they to do? Sometimes, when you’re bored, you take a pot and you plant something. They started to plant vegetables. From that moment, young people started to take the initiative. They all wanted to recover and work their land. They had understood something. And in fact, it was agriculture that held up the State during the crisis.

The State is represented by institutional bodies, such as the Ministry of Agriculture and the forest service - it’s present, it stands by us and supports us.  It’s understanding, but it lacks resources.

Now that the dam has been repaired and rebuilt, water is once again available for farming.

I’ve always had great confidence in the organizations, especially the International Labour Organization. At first, I thought it was politics, that they would sell us a dream and go away and leave us. But I’ve read a lot about the ILO’s work, I’ve seen what they’ve done in Algeria. I’ve seen the results. Before, the farmers were hesitant. I was the first farmer to follow the ILO, since it had been preceded by its reputation, in Rwanda as well. Thank God I wasn’t disappointed. The people whose hearts were heavy, now they’ve seen the results, they’ve become more optimistic and motivated. Now, everyone wants to work.

The thing that makes me really happy is that the region’s young people who are still studying want to specialize in agronomics. I’m self-taught. But they want to master the techniques and work with a good method.

Rural women make up a quarter of the world's population and work as farmers, entrepreneurs, and agricultural workers. 

The new local government code in Tunisia (2018) has informed the work of the ILO and its IPDLI project, which works with rural local authorities to prioritise infrastructure development such as the El Galâa dam near Saida's village.

The IPDLI project (Pilot Initiative for Integrated Local Development) is funded by the European Union. Its objective is to support a decentralisation process and to create a local economic dynamic that generates decent jobs in twelve municipalities in Tunisia.


Pilot Initiative for Integrated Local Development (in French)

ILO Office for Algeria, Libya, Morocco, Mauritania and Tunisia (in French)

Saida Zouaoui, who lives in Tunisia, was sad to see people leaving the countryside. She has always wanted to carry on her father's legacy, building dams in the Berber tradition. With courage and determination, she convinced the local authorities to support her idea. Today, the municipality of Galâa-Maaden-Forgsan has a dam that benefits both farmers and the local community.

A small dam brings a village back to life

I work as a freelancer on a digital platform. Like millions of other young people around the world, I find odd jobs on the web. So far, nothing special, except that when I log on to the internet to surf the ads, I do it from Kakuma, one of Kenya's largest refugee camps.

I arrived in Kakuma twenty years ago with my uncle, fleeing the situation in South Sudan. We came with nothing.  But I love to study and thanks to the education opportunities I found in the camp, I managed to complete high school and got a social work degree and a diploma in primary education. Now I am a primary school teacher and a social worker.

I have lived in Kakuma camp in Kenya for the past twenty years.

At the end of 2020, I participated in a course organized by the Refugee Employment and Skills Initiative (RESI) of the International Trade Center (ITC), and the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), in partnership with Upwork, a global freelancing platform. 

I already had a diploma in computer applications that helped, and I learned enough to be able to manage on digital platforms. For several months now, I have been finding jobs on the web, mainly as a translator of Dinka and Juba Arabic - languages mainly spoken in South Sudan - as well as Swahili.

The only place where I can work online in the refugee camp is at the internet centre.

This work provides me with much-needed extra money, but it’s not enough to make a living and it's not always easy: the connection is not always good, and you can't work from home. You need to go to the internet centre, which is only open at certain times of the day. 

The chances of a refugee landing a job on a digital platform are actually very small. Sometimes there are not enough jobs for everyone. There is always a lot of competition. And it is not easy to find a job that pays well. When there is an advert there will be a hundred applications, that’s the main challenge. Of the hundred or so students who attended the course, barely a dozen have found work.  

If we want to make working on digital platforms a reality for refugees, we need a lot more help.

If we want to make working on digital platforms a reality for refugees we need a lot more help: new computers, better connectivity, more opportunities. Otherwise, it will remain something we do from time to time. 

And it's not just technical problems. As refugees we do not have permanent identification. We have an alien card that expires every five years. This makes it much more difficult for us to get hired and paid, although the good thing about working as a freelancer is that you are not required to have a work permit. 

When I am not on the web, I like to come back to see my students from the chess club. I teach them new moves and how to improve their critical thinking, so they become better players in chess, and in life.

Kakuma refugee camp is home to 160,000 refugees from South Sudan, Sudan, Somalia, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Burundi, Ethiopia, and Uganda. It is one of the largest refugee camps in the world.

Sixty-eight per cent of Kakuma refugees live below the poverty line of $1.90 per day.

According to an ILO report on refugees and digital labour platforms, refugees must overcome many obstacles to work on digital platforms including low internet access, educational levels and IT skills; a lack of suitable payment systems; and a lack of labour regulation of platform work.

The ILO is a partner in the PROSPECTS programme, funded by the Government of the Netherlands, which seeks to improve access to employment, education and protection for refugees and host communities.

Under PROSPECTS , the ILO is looking at unlocking some of the challenges faced by digital workers like Thon, including partnering with online platforms that have regular work from international firms. 

Report: Towards decent work for young refugees and host communities in the digital platform economy in Africa: Kenya, Uganda, Egypt

Digital labour platforms offer young refugees a possible route to decent work

Partnership for improving prospects for forcibly displaced persons and host communities (PROSPECTS)

Global Call to Action for a Human-Centred Recovery 

The UN Global Initiative on Decent Jobs for Youth

For Thon Mabior Jok, a young refugee from Kakuma camp in Kenya, working on a digital platform has meant some extra income but there are many challenges.

From refugee to digital worker

My name is Linda Sarmento Manjazi, my mother's second daughter. I was born in the village of the 7th district of Chokwe in Mozambique. When I was two years old, I got sick. They suspect that it may have been polio. 

My parents took me to a hospital in Xai-xai, in Chicumabane, but they couldn't solve the situation. At the time this vaccination thing was rare. It's not like now, where a child is vaccinated at birth, then, as time goes by, when it's his turn to be vaccinated, it comes in doses. At the time, there was no such thing. So it seems that's what made me like this. The main difficulty was that I wanted to study, but I couldn’t walk.

COVID 19 and my disability won’t stop my search for work

It wasn't until I was thirteen that my parents put me in school. I started a little late because my parents didn't think I would make it to school as I walked on my knees.  But I walked. My sister would lift me up, take me to school, and we would come back together.

It was difficult to move on to secondary school because it was a bit far. I had to interrupt my studies for almost five years but I did grade 11, and the following year grade 12. 

In 2003, I started knocking on doors, thinking I was going to get a job, but I didn't.

I worked as a literacy tutor and taught at Chauleca school in 2016 and some white women volunteers too. I forget the name of the organisation they were in. But I taught them Changana (native language of Mozambique), to earn a little money.

Last year I did a small job with my sisters, but when the pandemic started, that ended. I got really upset, I even lost my strength. That's why everything is disorganised in my home. Because even to get up today, it wasn't easy. As soon as I got the news that the job was over, it wasn't easy for me.

As I'm not working, it's not so easy to take care of the house, because I have to ask someone to help me, and you have to pay them the little you have.

My daughters like to study.  The first one told me that at school she is the best of all. She usually gets the highest marks. Even today, she told me "mama I got 18 in mathematics". I cry sometimes when they ask me to buy something and I can't give it to them. It’s difficult because I am their father and their mother at the same time.

I started receiving benefits in the 2000s. It makes a difference compared to how it was before. Because before I had to depend on my father, but my mother was my father’s fourth wife. We were many in the family. There were about 22 children from the same father.

This money from INAS (National Institute of Social Action) helps, because even though it’s very little I can still buy some things I need, for example food, or even to pay for water and electricity. It helps.

The INAS benefit is 540 meticais (8.50USD) per month. It’s gone up in addition to the amount we used to get.

When Linda Sarmento Manjazi fell ill as a small child, it impaired her ability to walk. Undeterred, Linda was determined to go to school and as an adult, she found work where she could. The COVID-19 pandemic however has made a difficult situation much harder. The social protection benefit she receives from the Mozambique government has ensured that she can meet her basic needs and help her daughters attend school.

I will not let blindness define me

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