(MENAFN- AzerNews)
By Daphne Ewing-Chow
My hand trembled, uncertain, as I gripped the barrel of the pen,
slowly scratching the letters“AB-positive” into the visitor log-
each movement a jarring acknowledgement of the unspoken. My
heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out the anticipatory purr of
two ambulance engines idling nearby.
I was really doing this.
Only a month had passed since I met Heidi Kühn, the 2023 World
Food Prize laureate and visionary behind the NGO, Roots of Peace.
For 25 years, the organization has transformed the scars of war
into seeds of hope, working tirelessly to turn minefields into
fertile farmland. Guided by the simple yet profound formula-
demine, replant, regenerate- Roots of Peace has partnered with
demining teams across the globe, restoring irrigation,
infrastructure, and arable land to farmers in war-torn regions. It
is a mission that reclaims not just soil, but the dignity and
future of entire communities.
Heidi and I met at the Borlaug Dialogue- the annual food
security conference of the World Food Prize Foundation in Iowa- and
within minutes of our introduction, an unshakable bond formed.
When we discovered that we'd both be at the UN Climate
Conference- COP 29- in Azerbaijan a few weeks later, Heidi extended
an invitation that left me breathless in its audacity.“Join me,”
she said, her voice alight with purpose,“in walking the minefields
of Nagorno-Karabakh.”
The site of scarred lands ravaged by a decades-old territorial
conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan, Nagorno-Karabakh was once
well-known for its verdant agricultural landscape. Its fertile soil
and distinctive climate once supported a thriving agriculture
sector, famous for its viticulture and an annual production of up
to 160,000 tons of grapes- a testament to the region's rich
potential.
Heidi described a vision where landmine-ridden fields would give
way to sprawling vineyards.“Mines to Vines,” she called it- with
the fervor of a dreamer and the conviction of a mother- imagining
lush grapevines where there was now only danger, imagining hope
where there was despair.
“The grapevine is an ancient symbol of peace,” she said.“The
fruit of the vine produces grapes, raisins and fine wine, which
represents the seeds we have in common- rather than those which
separate us.”
And so, there we were- a month later- packed into the back seat
of a black International Eurasia Press Fund (IEPF) SUV, rumbling
down a four-hour stretch of road from Baku to Aghdam. The gravity
of what we were about to do was tempered by our shared laughter and
whispered confessions. We clutched each other's hands. Two mothers,
hearts brimming with conviction, trading stories of our children-
our shared humanity laid bare against the shadow of impending
peril.
In the front passenger seat sat Umud Mirzayev, President of
IEPF, a man whose quiet strength and humble resolve anchored the
journey before us. More than the head of an NGO tirelessly
advancing demining efforts and advocating for a safer Azerbaijan,
he is a son of Karabakh, born into a family of grape farmers. His
bond with Heidi, forged through shared purpose and a profound
belief in renewal, had grown into a friendship as enduring as the
land they both longed to see restored.
On one of her previous visits, they had knelt together in the
soil at the IEPF offices in Tartar, symbolically planting a
grapevine in soil long shadowed by war. The act was simple yet
profound, a silent promise that even in the aftermath of
destruction, life could begin anew. As our SUV rolled toward the
perilous fields of Aghdam, Mirzayev's steady presence carried the
weight of that promise.
Before us, Aghdam, once a vibrant urban hub, exposed the ugly
scars of war. The brutal six-year battle that began in 1988 left
Armenian forces in control, and renewed fighting in 2020, which
lasted for 44-days, saw Azerbaijan reclaim much of the land.
Remnants of homes, skeletal vehicles, and barren fields that mark
the area had become haunting testaments to war's devastation.
But beneath this ravaged site is a cradle of history where the
roots of Azerbaijan's ancient winemaking tradition run deep.
Archaeological excavations near the city of Aghdam have revealed
grape seeds and petrified clay jars that date back 3,500 years.
This land, once home to vineyards that birthed native grape
varieties unique to Azerbaijan, stands as a poignant reminder of
what was lost- yet also of what might bloom again.
My discussions with Elchin Amirbayov, Special Envoy of President
Ilham Aliyev, outline the war's staggering toll. Azerbaijan is one
of the five most heavily mined countries globally; over 1.5 million
landmines and unexploded ordnance planted since the 1990s have
contaminated 12,000 square kilometers- 13% of Azerbaijan's
territory. Over the last 30 years, the cumulative toll of landmine
victims in Azerbaijan is in the thousands, with 382 victims
recorded since 2020.
“This is not only about mines,” he said gravely,“but about
innocent lives lost to this scourge.”
A devastating blow to Azerbaijan's economy and food security
lies in the vast, idle expanse of land- 60% of it flat, fertile
agricultural fields- now deemed unusable by the lingering scars of
conflict. According to a report from the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs,“the presence of mines and other unexploded ordnance have
significantly disrupted the land, vegetation cover, water
infiltration, and the flow of water, and have rendered vast areas
of valuable agricultural land inaccessible.”
At the ANAMA base in Saricali Village, Khalid Zulfugarov, the
head of the ANAMA (Azerbaijan National Agency for Mine Action)
demining unit in the area and Shahin Allahverdiyev, IEPF's
Operations Manager described the efforts underway to rebuild the
city and restore it as a hub for regional development and
resettlement.
As of mid-2024, over 145,700 hectares of land have been cleared,
neutralizing more than 122,000 explosives, including 32,581
anti-personnel mines and 19,666 anti-tank mines. Despite these
advancements, less than 13% of the contaminated region has been
cleared, highlighting the immense scale of the challenge.
“Landmine clearance efforts are costly and require advanced
technology, skilled labor, and sustained international support,”
says Mirzayev.“Without urgent investment, the ongoing
environmental degradation will continue to escalate, threatening
biodiversity, natural ecosystems, and the livelihoods of
communities who rely on these resources. Accelerating the pace of
landmine removal is not just a humanitarian necessity but an
ecological imperative to prevent further damage to our planet's
biosphere.”
In June 2021, a mine map from Armenia exposed the alarming
presence of 97,000 mines in Aghdam alone. In 2023, under the
coordination of ANAMA, the UNDP, in collaboration with IEPF, Mines
Advisory Group (MAG), and APOPO, launched a project to mitigate the
landmine threat and help to resettle the area. In 2024, this joint
effort supported the deactivation of close to 3,000 mines in Aghdam
alone.
Through the desolate expanse of Aghdam, we arrived at a
roped-off clearing in Namirli Village. Here, we provided our blood
types, passed ambulances on standby, and stood before wooden crates
filled with recovered remnants of conflict. It was here, too, that
we met 14 male deminers, as they worked. Later, at the IEPF
offices, we would meet nine women deminers- a quiet yet powerful
testament to resilience and the shared determination to transform
fields of danger into landscapes of hope.
In Namirli Village, under a small, makeshift tent, we clasped
cups of scalding tea to thaw our cold fingers as Ramin Gadimli, of
MAG, shared his story. Serving as both translator and witness,
Ramin recounted the searing impact of the six-week war in 2020.
Then a member of the Baku police force, and originally from
Ismayilli where many young men were deployed as soldiers, he saw
the brutal toll firsthand.“I lost many friends, and many others
were badly injured,” he said, his voice steady yet burdened by the
tragedy.“The news during that time was relentless and
heartbreaking.” His words hung in the air, heavy as the work being
done just steps away.
Ramin tells me that much of the land cleared by MAG around the
world is agricultural, a reminder that demining is not just about
safety and survival- it is also about sustenance. Once freed from
the grip of hidden explosives, these fields can once again nourish
communities, restoring livelihoods with dignity and purpose.
Cleared land enables farmers to cultivate crops, rebuild irrigation
systems, and revitalize local economies. Every mine removed is a
step toward greater food security, unlocking the potential for
sustainable development and resilient food systems in regions
scarred by conflict.
According to a study reported in journal, Global Environmental
Change, one third of all cases of agricultural abandonment in the
Caucas region during post-Soviet times have been war-related, in
part due to landmines.
In her foreword in Heidi's memoir, Breaking Ground : From
Landmines to Grapevines, One Woman's Mission to Heal the World,
Queen Noor refers to landmines as '“weapons of mass destruction in
slow motion.” They continue destroying lives and livestock and
holding valuable agricultural land hostage long after conflict has
stopped.”
This is the legacy of war in Nagorno-Karabakh.
A year and a half before Heidi and I retraced what she called
the“footsteps of peace,” she stood in Alfred Nobel's private home
in Baku, Azerbaijan, receiving the official news that she had been
awarded the 2023 World Food Prize. Just two days earlier, she had
wielded Nobel's invention- dynamite- not for destruction, but for
renewal, detonating six anti-tank mines in Nagorno-Karabakh. In
that moment, history and purpose converged: a symbol of war
transformed into a tool for reclaiming life.
In 2023, Azerbaijan declared“A world without mines” as its 18th
National Sustainable Development Goal, aligning this bold vision
with the UN Agenda 2030. Landmines are more than remnants of
conflict; they are barriers to life itself, rendering fertile
fields untouchable and severing the lifeline of food security for
nations and communities alike.
Yet, the scale of the challenge demands global action. According
to Elchin Amirbayov, foreign assistance has accounted for only 5%
of the resources used for large-scale demining efforts since 2020.
Greater international support is urgently needed to accelerate
demining operations and enable the safe return of 800,000
internally displaced persons to their long-abandoned homes.
In Aghdam, across Nagorno-Karabakh, and in countless regions
worldwide- where up to 110 million mines remain buried across 60
countries- the promise of renewal is etched into the soil, waiting
to be healed.
Heidi and I were bound by an unspoken oath: to stand together in
defiance of fear, to carve paths of safety where others dared not
tread, and to carry forward the voices of those silenced by
conflict.
It was a connection, raw and immediate- fueled by the hope of
two mothers. Hope for the land. Hope for our children. Hope for a
world where vines would one day flourish, strong and unyielding, in
the place of mines.
Daphne Ewing-Chow is an award-winning food and environmental
journalist, renowned for her extensive contribution to global
discourse on food systems and the environment. The article has been
republished via Forbes.
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