October 7, 2021. A searing sun beats down on Ganze, Kilifi County, turning the once fertile ground into a parched, cracked desert. The scent of desperation and struggle hangs in the air, carried by the hot wind that sweeps across the region.

Ganze, a rural community in Coastal Kenya where agriculture and livestock are lifelines, has been brought to its knees by an unrelenting drought. Families here live on the edge, constantly battling against nature’s fury.

The Struggle for Survival as Livestock and Livelihoods Collapse

Amid this harsh reality, a young boy stands under the skeletal branches of a dying tree. His red shirt, once vibrant, now looks worn and faded, much like the landscape surrounding him. His eyes are fixed on the distance, lost in thought as his hands rest atop his head. Behind him, the carcass of a cow lies motionless on the ground. What was once a symbol of wealth and survival for his family has now become just another casualty of the drought.

“We are watching our land die, our cattle die, and our hope fade. If the rains don’t come soon, I don’t know how we’ll make it through the next season.” Katana, a resident of Milore Village, told us.

The cattle in Ganze, central to the livelihoods of many, have been the hardest hit by this crisis. With water sources drying up, livestock have become frail, unable to survive the long journeys to find food and hydration. The boy’s expression tells the story of an entire community—resilience battered by loss.

Not far from the boy, Kazungu Kenga, 57, wades into a shrinking waterhole, gripping the horns of his remaining cow. He pulls the animal closer to the water, urging it to drink while there’s still time. His frail body, worn by years of struggle, moves slowly but with determination. Every drop of water is precious, every cow saved is a glimmer of hope in this desolate landscape. The cow drinks hungrily, its thin frame revealing just how close it too is to becoming another casualty of the drought.

Mutuma Karani, Local Herder: “Every day feels like a battle for survival. Our cattle are our lifeblood, but now, it’s a race against time to keep them alive. The rains used to be predictable, but now they’re just a memory.”

In Ganze, survival is a balancing act. The waterhole, once a haven for herders and their livestock, now struggles to provide for the few animals that remain. The banks, cracked and dry, are a reminder of just how much the climate has shifted. Elders recall a time when the rains were regular, and the pastures were green, but those memories are fading as the harsh realities of climate change take over.

Wekesa John, Ganze Elder: “I have lived through many droughts, but nothing like this. Our ancestors knew the land and the weather patterns, but the climate is no longer something we can predict. We pray for rain, but the skies remain silent.”

A short distance away, another herder stands by the edge of the waterhole, surveying his cattle. The once-lush grazing lands are now barren, and the only water source left is dwindling fast. He wears a look of resignation, knowing that even the waterhole, which has sustained his community for generations, may not last much longer. The cows, once symbols of wealth, are now desperate creatures fighting for survival, and their emaciated frames reflect the severity of the crisis.

Juma Hassan, Waterhole Guardian: “We used to have enough water for everyone, even the livestock. Now, it’s a struggle. We have to make difficult decisions about who gets water, and the animals are dying right before our eyes.”

For these pastoralists, climate change is not just an abstract concept debated in distant conference rooms. It is a daily battle for survival, a struggle for the most basic of needs—water, food, and shelter. The drought in Ganze has pushed communities to the brink, leaving them vulnerable to hunger, disease, and displacement.

Yet, even amid this devastation, there is resilience. The boy in the red shirt, though surrounded by death and loss, stands with his hands on his head, as if in defiance of the forces threatening to consume his world. The elderly man, tired but determined, refuses to let his last cow die. And the herder by the waterhole, though facing the loss of his livelihood, continues to stand tall, watching over his cattle with hope that the rains will one day return.

The drought in Ganze is a stark reminder that climate change is not a future threat; it is a present crisis. As global temperatures rise and weather patterns become increasingly unpredictable, the people of Ganze, like many others across Kenya, are left to grapple with the consequences. The question remains—will the world take notice before it’s too late?