Sally Furniss
Well-known member
A sharp stench sweeps across the dusty villages. The brittle bones of dead cows litter the path leading to the eastern part of the vast Aberdare forest.
Near Gathariga, Kiandongoro and Pesi gates, jackals, wild cats and dogs bite and pull at carcasses. Flying scavengers tear into the sinewy flesh.
Curiously, locals dogs no longer eat the meat. They seem to have had enough. Many butcheries have closed down. The residents no longer need their meat.
With the arrival of emaciated cattle to the area, locals have substituted vegetables (a rare commodity nowadays) with meat.
The pastoralists are mainly from Samburu, Baringo and Laikipia districts. The losses they have suffered so far are huge.
As we get into the Aberdares through Gathariga gate, 10-year-old Ndumiar Lekorr wails loudly after the leading bull in his father's herd drops to the ground. The other animals also stop.
Fellow herdsboys pull out well-honed swords and, as the bull lies prostrate, they behead it. Getior Lesandra and Simon Lekorr (both 16) scramble for the protruding horns while the herders skin the animal.
Moses Ekero intervenes and separates the feuding boys. He says Lekorr already has eight pairs of horns, so the latest ones should go to Getior.
Getior beckons to his new-found friends - local errand boys. They come running, knowing it is yet another windfall. The bull's meat is shared out generously. As the boys carry huge chunks down the forest, tears flow freely on Ekero's cheeks.
A makeshift camp on the foot of the Aberdares.succumbs to a deadly disease reportedly made worse by the chilly weather.
He has been counting his losses every day as his herd succumbs to a deadly disease reportedly made worse by the chilly weather.
Very few cows are left from the big herd he inherited from his father. And back home in Laikipia the situation is even worse.
Since the herders left their homes three months ago, misery, hunger and death have been their constant companions.
"When we reached the edge of the vast Aberdare ranges in Nyandarua, one group went southwards through Mugunda and Mweiga zones," says Sithita Lemuli, 24. "But the majority opted for this nearer side."
Lemuli and Ekero had about 400 cows. About 100 have since died. Ekero's problems do not end there. His wife Esther Ekwee and other family members are facing starvation at their home in Mathenge village, Samburu. He has three children.
As Ekero tries to survive in the bush, his family has nothing to eat. He admits he is not able to help them.
"I don't know what they are feeding on. I hope they are okay," he says, adding: "My wife's hands are tied as she cannot sell or slaughter the sheep at home in my absence."
Samburu customs bar women from selling or butchering livestock in the absence of their husbands. "In any case, the animals are frail and unsellable," he says.
By last week, Ekero had lost 56 head of cattle. The toll would have been higher had he stayed in his home district. Some animals have even started to regain health.
For Kikanai Lekinor, 18, seeing animals die from a pneumonia-like disease - owing to cold temperatures in the ranges - is traumatising. However, pockets of pasture in the forest saved his entire herd from certain death. Twenty five cows died before the herd adapted to the chilly climate.
Other herdsmen rule out pneumonia as the cause of death. They blame the many pests hosted by wild animals.
"If a cow eats grass from the habitat of such an animal, it gets infected," says Mwarik Lemuli. He has lost 24 cows. However, he cannot identify the pest or the wild animal concerned.
Symptoms of sickness include shivering, running nose and loss of sight and appetite. A local veterinary officer says: "We are yet to establish the disease. It could be East Coast fever, pneumonia or even foot and mouth," he said. A cow takes three days to succumb to the disease.
Many herders have bore the brunt of the famine. Since they arrived in early January, they have lost more than 500 cattle. The family of James Kirany and Simon Lekorr is worried and desperate. When we visited their makeshift hut in Kiandongoro area, the elder Lekorr had left for Rumuruti.
"He could not stand any more deaths. He fell ill and left his cattle with us," says the younger Lekorr.
The prevailing drought saw practically all young men desert their manyattas to look for pasture and water. Any other engagement was postponed to save the animals.
Boys have also dropped out of school. Nine-year-old Ndumiar Lekorr is perhaps one of the youngest in the ranges. He dropped out of school (he cannot remember which one) to help his older brothers.
"All the men left the village. I could not be left with women alone. I will go back to school when the rains come," he says faintly.
Learned men are also among the herders in the mountains. Francis Lekinor, 24, was awarded a degree in education at Egerton University last year, just as the famine set in. He got a job at a school in Samburu district but declined.
"My curriculum vitae (CV) is impressive but cows are more important now," he says.
He is married to Julia Napole, who remained at their Rumuruti home. He says:" I do not know her fate. I cannot help her now, but she must have found her way out of hunger."
We caught up with him in Kiandongoro ranges. He said he had lost five cows - a big number considering the small size of his herd. He says: "Life here is not good. The weather is very cold, while the terrain is hilly and rocky.
A heavy downpour in the past three weeks has not raised the herders' hopes. They are not in a hurry to return home. There is severe cold following the rains - which the meteorological department doubts will last.
"We have developed chest pains and our noses run," says 16-year-old Fred Lodikok. He is one of the many boys who quit school to graze cattle. Surprisingly, he does not remember the school's name, only saying it is near Mararal town. He is in class five.
Like their cattle, the herders suffer from hunger and thirst. Streams continue to dry up. One major source of water, Kinyonga dam, is drying up. "The cattle have reduced it to a muddy water mass," says Lekinor.
Going up the slopes in search of seasonal streams has had a heavy toll. Many cows are too tired to walk, while some die on their way back.
Surrounding villagers have helped the herders to cope with life. Initially, the farmers were fearful and suspicious. The pastoralists' grazed their animals in the forest by day and slept on village paths at night.
But gradually the farmers agreed to host the herders on condition that they adhered to certain rules.
Daniel Njuhiga Mutonga, a village elder, says: "We had to be human. Their leader (Lemuli) promised to cooperate. They have not interfered with our family life."
At Gikonyo Kamondo's home, a spacious room has been left for herders. It serves as a bedroom and a kitchen.
Further afield, Thomas ole Parshello, 28, leads eight herdsmen to the homestead of farmer Godfrey Ndung'u. Parshello says they have been well received. He is comfortable here, but he misses his five children.
"Our main problem is getting vegetables and pasture. Milk is also inadequate as 20 cows can produce less than five litres.
Most of his colleagues are single. Rasyoki Nasiuki, 22, postponed marriage to save his father's cattle.
The group has about 300 cows. In total, about 10,000 cattle were moved to this side of the ranges.
When they arrived at Ndaragua scheme, fears over security rose. But local police boss Amos Owang says they have not received any complaint.
Lucy Wanjiku, Kamondo's granddaughter, says: "Hosting the herdsmen has changed my perception of them. At first, I was uncertain about their lifestyle. But they have not misbehaved."
Many locals describe the herders as social. They joke that they will elope with local girls when the rains start.
http://allafrica.com/stories/200603270753.html
Near Gathariga, Kiandongoro and Pesi gates, jackals, wild cats and dogs bite and pull at carcasses. Flying scavengers tear into the sinewy flesh.
Curiously, locals dogs no longer eat the meat. They seem to have had enough. Many butcheries have closed down. The residents no longer need their meat.
With the arrival of emaciated cattle to the area, locals have substituted vegetables (a rare commodity nowadays) with meat.
The pastoralists are mainly from Samburu, Baringo and Laikipia districts. The losses they have suffered so far are huge.
As we get into the Aberdares through Gathariga gate, 10-year-old Ndumiar Lekorr wails loudly after the leading bull in his father's herd drops to the ground. The other animals also stop.
Fellow herdsboys pull out well-honed swords and, as the bull lies prostrate, they behead it. Getior Lesandra and Simon Lekorr (both 16) scramble for the protruding horns while the herders skin the animal.
Moses Ekero intervenes and separates the feuding boys. He says Lekorr already has eight pairs of horns, so the latest ones should go to Getior.
Getior beckons to his new-found friends - local errand boys. They come running, knowing it is yet another windfall. The bull's meat is shared out generously. As the boys carry huge chunks down the forest, tears flow freely on Ekero's cheeks.
A makeshift camp on the foot of the Aberdares.succumbs to a deadly disease reportedly made worse by the chilly weather.
He has been counting his losses every day as his herd succumbs to a deadly disease reportedly made worse by the chilly weather.
Very few cows are left from the big herd he inherited from his father. And back home in Laikipia the situation is even worse.
Since the herders left their homes three months ago, misery, hunger and death have been their constant companions.
"When we reached the edge of the vast Aberdare ranges in Nyandarua, one group went southwards through Mugunda and Mweiga zones," says Sithita Lemuli, 24. "But the majority opted for this nearer side."
Lemuli and Ekero had about 400 cows. About 100 have since died. Ekero's problems do not end there. His wife Esther Ekwee and other family members are facing starvation at their home in Mathenge village, Samburu. He has three children.
As Ekero tries to survive in the bush, his family has nothing to eat. He admits he is not able to help them.
"I don't know what they are feeding on. I hope they are okay," he says, adding: "My wife's hands are tied as she cannot sell or slaughter the sheep at home in my absence."
Samburu customs bar women from selling or butchering livestock in the absence of their husbands. "In any case, the animals are frail and unsellable," he says.
By last week, Ekero had lost 56 head of cattle. The toll would have been higher had he stayed in his home district. Some animals have even started to regain health.
For Kikanai Lekinor, 18, seeing animals die from a pneumonia-like disease - owing to cold temperatures in the ranges - is traumatising. However, pockets of pasture in the forest saved his entire herd from certain death. Twenty five cows died before the herd adapted to the chilly climate.
Other herdsmen rule out pneumonia as the cause of death. They blame the many pests hosted by wild animals.
"If a cow eats grass from the habitat of such an animal, it gets infected," says Mwarik Lemuli. He has lost 24 cows. However, he cannot identify the pest or the wild animal concerned.
Symptoms of sickness include shivering, running nose and loss of sight and appetite. A local veterinary officer says: "We are yet to establish the disease. It could be East Coast fever, pneumonia or even foot and mouth," he said. A cow takes three days to succumb to the disease.
Many herders have bore the brunt of the famine. Since they arrived in early January, they have lost more than 500 cattle. The family of James Kirany and Simon Lekorr is worried and desperate. When we visited their makeshift hut in Kiandongoro area, the elder Lekorr had left for Rumuruti.
"He could not stand any more deaths. He fell ill and left his cattle with us," says the younger Lekorr.
The prevailing drought saw practically all young men desert their manyattas to look for pasture and water. Any other engagement was postponed to save the animals.
Boys have also dropped out of school. Nine-year-old Ndumiar Lekorr is perhaps one of the youngest in the ranges. He dropped out of school (he cannot remember which one) to help his older brothers.
"All the men left the village. I could not be left with women alone. I will go back to school when the rains come," he says faintly.
Learned men are also among the herders in the mountains. Francis Lekinor, 24, was awarded a degree in education at Egerton University last year, just as the famine set in. He got a job at a school in Samburu district but declined.
"My curriculum vitae (CV) is impressive but cows are more important now," he says.
He is married to Julia Napole, who remained at their Rumuruti home. He says:" I do not know her fate. I cannot help her now, but she must have found her way out of hunger."
We caught up with him in Kiandongoro ranges. He said he had lost five cows - a big number considering the small size of his herd. He says: "Life here is not good. The weather is very cold, while the terrain is hilly and rocky.
A heavy downpour in the past three weeks has not raised the herders' hopes. They are not in a hurry to return home. There is severe cold following the rains - which the meteorological department doubts will last.
"We have developed chest pains and our noses run," says 16-year-old Fred Lodikok. He is one of the many boys who quit school to graze cattle. Surprisingly, he does not remember the school's name, only saying it is near Mararal town. He is in class five.
Like their cattle, the herders suffer from hunger and thirst. Streams continue to dry up. One major source of water, Kinyonga dam, is drying up. "The cattle have reduced it to a muddy water mass," says Lekinor.
Going up the slopes in search of seasonal streams has had a heavy toll. Many cows are too tired to walk, while some die on their way back.
Surrounding villagers have helped the herders to cope with life. Initially, the farmers were fearful and suspicious. The pastoralists' grazed their animals in the forest by day and slept on village paths at night.
But gradually the farmers agreed to host the herders on condition that they adhered to certain rules.
Daniel Njuhiga Mutonga, a village elder, says: "We had to be human. Their leader (Lemuli) promised to cooperate. They have not interfered with our family life."
At Gikonyo Kamondo's home, a spacious room has been left for herders. It serves as a bedroom and a kitchen.
Further afield, Thomas ole Parshello, 28, leads eight herdsmen to the homestead of farmer Godfrey Ndung'u. Parshello says they have been well received. He is comfortable here, but he misses his five children.
"Our main problem is getting vegetables and pasture. Milk is also inadequate as 20 cows can produce less than five litres.
Most of his colleagues are single. Rasyoki Nasiuki, 22, postponed marriage to save his father's cattle.
The group has about 300 cows. In total, about 10,000 cattle were moved to this side of the ranges.
When they arrived at Ndaragua scheme, fears over security rose. But local police boss Amos Owang says they have not received any complaint.
Lucy Wanjiku, Kamondo's granddaughter, says: "Hosting the herdsmen has changed my perception of them. At first, I was uncertain about their lifestyle. But they have not misbehaved."
Many locals describe the herders as social. They joke that they will elope with local girls when the rains start.
http://allafrica.com/stories/200603270753.html