The Gabbra are determined to maintain their way of life.
One early morning in February, Thalasso Badage is fastening two containers on the back of a sitting camel. Thalasso, a young Gabbra woman, is preparing for a two hour walk down to the rain basin of Afkaba. She will also bring her goats along.
Around her, more men and women are preparing their animals for the day. From their settlement -- home to some 30 people living in a cluster of a dozen ‘tukuls', igloo-like huts of animal skin covered by cloth — the men go out to graze the camels, while the women fetch water for the house and to water the goats.
It's been a month since they set up their huts here after coming from the Huri Hills 30 kilometres east, where they lived during the November-January rainy season until the mountain pools, which have no springs to feed them, became empty. Now, as long as there is rainwater in Afkaba and pasture for the animals, they'll stay.
Faltering rain
Once the load is fixed, the camels rise and the caravan leaves. On the plain leading to the landmark mountain of Afkaba where the basin sits, it's hard to imagine how this terrain of dark volcanic rocks interspersed with scant grass can be used for grazing. "It was white with grass when we came," says Thalasso, referring to the light colour of the vegetation. "When it's finished, we'll move on."
Gabbra, camel herders by tradition and estimated at some 50,000 people, have reared livestock around the Huri Hills for centuries and have adapted to their harsh environment. But with more mouths to fill and faltering rain, pressure is mounting. A study carried out in 2008 by the European Commission's Humanitarian Aid department (ECHO) in cooperation with Cooperazione Italiana revealed a population growth of over 500 percent since the 1960's against a fairly stable number of livestock and slightly declining rainfall.
An appeal for emergency relief for some 10 million people launched by the President of Kenya in January 2009, included over 3 million drought-affected people in Kenya's arid and semi-arid regions whose food security is at risk, in part due to a succession of poor rainy seasons since 2006.
No pasture
As part of its € 40 million Regional Drought Decision (RDD), ECHO teamed up with the Pastoralist Integrated Support Programme (PISP), a local organisation engaged in harnessing the precious water ressource of Afkaba. At the foot of the mountain, following a steep descent into a rocky gorge, trees appear and behind a solid stone dam, water, giving this place hidden in the midst of the surrounding dryness a magical aura.
Initially, with the help of the government and partners such as Caritas, the basin was desalted and the dam constructed. Then ECHO assisted in building a pipeline down the gorge, first to a tap, where Thalasso and other women fill up their containers, and further down to a trough for the watering of livestock.
"Animals are our wealth," says sixty-seven year old community elder Laga Wato, stressing the importance of the basin, especially in the dry season, when it provides water to some 1250 people from 27 surrounding settlements. "If there's no rain, there's no pasture," Laga says. "And without pasture, there's no livestock. And that's the end of us pastoralists." The alternative of moving to town is out of the question. "We would become slaves there."
The containers filled, Thalasso is about to return. She would rather stay at home, she says. "It's tiring to load the animals and to walk down and back again. The good thing about coming here, is to meet your friends and talk," she admits. Besides, she seems to have no choice. Laga Wato leaves not a shadow of a doubt: "In this environment, the pastoralist life is the only viable way."
