Borana: the scorching sky

Borana: the scorching sky
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The Borana people live in southern Ethiopia near the Kenyan border, in an area of 45,435 km² where 75 per cent of the land is covered by arid plains. Estimated to number 1.1 million, these semi-nomadic pastoralists have traditionally relied on cattle herding for their livelihood. While their carbon footprint has always been negligible, they are now facing the direct consequences of climate change, which is threatening their herds, long a source of pride and social status.

2024 marked the fifth consecutive year of drought in the Horn of Africa, an unprecedented occurrence since rainfall records began in Ethiopia. Since 2020, 3.5 million cattle have died from hunger and thirst, representing 90 per cent of the livestock in the Borana region. This has resulted in a full-scale humanitarian crisis. Both the long rainy season, ganaa (March to May), and the short rainy season, hagayya (September to October), have disappeared. Across the region, many people, left destitute by the loss of their herds to drought, have been forced to abandon their villages and seek refuge in camps on the outskirts of towns, which now house approximately 240,000 people.

Today, these farmers are turning to gold mining and salt extraction – two perilous activities that are jeopardising their future. Yet all they need to return to a pastoral life is rain. The following report, written by French photojournalist Lucien Migné and published by Equal Times, documents the author’s encounter with the community in Ethiopia in August 2023.

 

The drought has claimed all 580 cattle in the village of Dembalabuyo, August 2023 .
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

Of the 150 Borana who once lived in the village of Dembalabuyo, only around twenty remain. Most left in 2021 and settled in the El Soda camp for displaced people.

 

Jarso Tatatche, 80, is blind. He left his village Ana Liban, located 70 kilometres from Dubuluk, after the last of his 42 cows succumbed to the drought in May 2021.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

Unprecedented in scale, this recurring drought has triggered a profound social and cultural crisis among the Borana. The traditional way of life they have led for centuries is now under threat.

 

Guyo Catelo, 30, has lost 110 of his 140 cows.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

To help his cows survive the drought, Guyo Catelo has had to bring in grass from Addis Ababa. Without any bulls to trigger the lactation cycle, only one of his cows now produces milk, which Catelo uses for his personal consumption.

 

In August 2023, the Dubuluk displacement camp, located next to the national highway, housed around 28,000 Borana climate refugees.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

The Dubuluk displacement camp is funded by the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) and the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). In 2023, the number of climate refugees in the Borana region living in displacement camps was estimated at around 260,000.

 

Godana Kenshora, 40, takes Tio Babo, 18, to the hospital in Dubuluk on his motorbike, as there is no ambulance available. Babo is suffering from acute malnutrition.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

Living conditions in the displacement camps are extremely harsh. While the Borana’s herds once provided them both a livelihood and savings, much of the community now lives in severe poverty, despite humanitarian aid from IOM and USAID.

 

Dama Boru Dabasso, 53, traveled by minibus from the town of Madaccio to buy cattle at the Dubuluk livestock market. She plans to sell them later for a higher price.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

During the last drought, 75 of the cows that Dama Boru Dabasso had just purchased (worth around €300 each) died of thirst. “I’m afraid of the next drought, but this time, I plan to change my approach and sell my cattle quickly before the dry season,” she says.

 

Didwardy, 16, Elguda Guyo, 56, and Tume Belisso, 30, are employed by a farmer in Dubuluk to manage hay reserves for cattle in preparation for the upcoming dry season. They each earn 300 birr per day, or around €5.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

As an alternative to livestock farming, many Borana have been forced to rapidly adopt another livelihood. Some have turned to agriculture, where yields are highly uncertain due to water shortages and a lack of fertilisers.

 

Gargalo Gababa and Jarso Gofu carry black salt mud, which Adissou has collected from the bottom of El Soda’s crater lake, to the shore. They are paid 250 birr (€4) a day for their work.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

Other Borana have resorted to cutting shrubs and selling bundles of wood or charcoal along the roadsides. While many men work in the gold mines of Dambi or Dabel, a smaller number are involved in extracting salt from the El Soda crater – both gruelling and dangerous activities.

 

Karu Ulufa, 46, walks from the town of Moyale, on the Kenyan border, to the small gold mine in Dambi, where she plans to work for a week to feed her six children, who are waiting for her at home. She is the only woman working at the mine.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

Yet the Borana have not given up hope of one day buying cattle again and returning to repopulate their abandoned villages.

 

Elema Dulatcha Libano, 70, pleads with Waaqa, the supreme God of the Waaqeffanna faith, to end the drought that has been ravaging the Borana region since 2020. “I had a beautiful home before I came here, and a beautiful life. Now, my entire herd is dead,” she says.
Photo: Lucien Migné/Agence Zeppelin

In Oromo, the language spoken by the Borana, there are two words for rain: robha, meaning “rain to come,” and boqa, meaning “rain that has fallen”. Regularly, during religious ceremonies, the Borana call upon Waaqa, their supreme God, asking that they may once again be able to use the word boqa.

This article has been translated from French by Brandon Johnson