Climate Change is not about the future, it is about now. The mild February temperatures may not be a direct effect, but they are an undeniable signal nonetheless. My five-year-old daughter strides intently to her school bus every morning in a big parka, unicorn hat, and matching gloves, it strikes me that we are outfitting her for a winter that was, and may never be again.
Still, we’re the fortunate ones.
In the last year alone, Australia and the Amazon have been on fire. The Bahamas and the wider Caribbean suffered devastation on an unprecedented scale as they live through the 4th consecutive season of unusually strong hurricanes.
Intensifying drought across the Sahel, East and Southern Africa, are forcing subsistence farmers and their families to the brink. Devastating heatwaves and wildfires across Europe, the US, Australia, and even the Arctic Circle present convincing proof that climate change does not discriminate.
The cruelest injustice of climate change is that it impacts first and hardest on the world’s poorest and most vulnerable, those most dependent on the elements for survival, whose carbon footprint is almost non-existent, those who have contributed least to the problem and have the least capacity to adapt to it.
The evidence is grim. Extreme weather affected almost 62 million people in 2018, with 35 million people’s lives devastated by floods and 9 million people severely affected by drought across Afghanistan, Central America, and Kenya.
There are solutions. Further impacts are preventable. But we are not acting at nearly the scale we need to be.
So, what can any of us do about a problem of such dizzying scale? First of all, defaulting to the excuse that it’s all too much to grasp is a shameful cop-out.
For those of us living in the wealthy world, there are actually quite simple and straightforward behavioral and policy changes we need to make. We resist making them because they will inconvenience us, or have a perceived financial cost. In any case, we all know what we need to do.
In lower-income countries? Those most at risk, those bearing the greatest burden need our help. That’s what we must do. Support organizations working on the front lines of climate change in the world’s most vulnerable communities. Encourage friends to do the same. Lobby your lawmakers to preserve and expand foreign aid. It works.
Let’s bring it down to human scale. Ltagolon Lesurmat is a pastoralist – subsisting off a combination of farming and livestock rearing in Marsabit, a desolate region in northern Kenya.
This part of the country is a harsh place to live, made even harsher by recent, intensifying cycles of drought. Its semi-arid land and unreliable seasonal rainfall offer little opportunity for anything but survival. The people here are survivors by nature, but lately that capacity has been stretched to its limits — with scarcity of water the biggest challenge. In 2017, after successive rain failures, 480,000 children needed treatment for acute malnutrition; this year, some two million Kenyans will rely on food aid.
Arid and semi-arid areas make up 80 percent of Kenya's territory. 80% of Kenya is agriculturally unproductive. This leaves the grazing of livestock across large tracts of ‘rangeland’ as the only real livelihood available to those who live there. In Marsabit county, at least 80% of the population depend on livestock, mostly sheep and goats (or “shoat” as they’re known locally). The local breeds are hardy, but persistent drought is the enemy and their market value is low.
Concern is working with Ltagolon and 100,000 of his neighbors to build resilience to the changing climate. Resilience is one part of the equation. The other is stemming the tide of climate change. Resilience has its limits.
It’s a simple approach utilizing goats, gardens, grass, and solar power.
Concern introduced Somali Galla buck goats, a durable breed producing milk at greater volume, which are strengthening the local herds through interbreeding. To address the agricultural inhospitabilty of the drying landscape, we’re helping convert pastoralists, mostly women, into gardeners of tomato, spinach, and kale using sacks that are easy to shade and preserve moisture.
As grasses die off during drought, so do the livestock that rely on it. So we’re supporting the purchase of tools for bush clearance and protective fencing, and communities have been experimenting with new grass seed types, which are drought resistant and tolerate the increased salinity of the soil.
All of it is sustained through improved water systems across the region using solar-powered pumps and raising pipes to prevent corrosion.
Ltagolon tells us, “We hope to reach a point where we will harvest from our piece of plot and provide our milking herds with enough pasture for use during the harsh times.”
Hope is important, but we need to give Ltagolon more than that.
We need to work together as a global community to do more than build resilience. Prevention is essential to the long-term protection of lives and livelihoods in places like Marsabit.
Goats, gardens, and grass compose a great story of change on an ultimately miniature scale. Our future depends on us demanding rapid political action. It requires us voting with conscience this year.
We are all accountable. That, more than anything, is what I must remember every day when the bus comes for my child.
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