One land's quest to defuse a climate 'timebomb'
By Belinda Goldsmith and Claudio Accheri
When Hawo Mohamed woke one morning to find about a dozen of her goats dead, she knew her life as a herder was coming to an end.
Raised in a remote village in coastal Somaliland, in northeast Africa, Mohamed remembers taking her family's goats to feed on green pasture flanked by a sprinkling of trees.
But in time the trees began to die, she said, and then, about eight years ago, seasonal rains grew much more erratic, seemingly worsening each year.
Hawo Mohamed, a former pastoralist affected by climate change and her daughter Yasmin are pictured in their plot in Berbera, Somaliland, on July 3, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
Little by little, her animals, starved of enough forage and water, grew weaker too.
"One day I went to collect the animals as usual and brought them home but the next morning 10 to 12 of them were dead," Mohamed recalled, sitting in the sand nursing her newborn son outside a corrugated iron shelter in the coastal city of Berbera.
"When only a few of our animals were left, I saw my neighbours had already started to move and I went with them ... I knew nothing would be the same again."
Mohamed, 32, her husband Ahmed Ali, and their four children this year joined an estimated 600,000 people in Somaliland who have fled rural villages to seek new lives in cities, unable to cope after years of drought decimated their livestock and crops.
Analysis by the University of California, Santa Barbara's Climate Hazards Center for the Thomson Reuters Foundation found average daily maximum temperatures in Somaliland have risen by about a degree over the last 30 or so years, to about 34 degrees Celsius (93 Fahrenheit).
Meanwhile there has been a marked increase in the number of dry seasons, with only three good March to May rains in 20 years. That has hit crops and the herds of goats, camel, sheep and cattle that are the backbone of Somaliland's economy.
Faisal Ali Sheikh, head of the Somaliland National Disaster Preparedness and Food Reserve Authority, said Somaliland faced greater challenges than other countries in part due to poverty and poor infrastructure, with little transport and few roads.
Head of the Somaliland National Disaster Preparedness and Food Reserve Authority Faisal Ali Sheikh pictured in Hargeisa, Somaliland, on July 2, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
Government data puts the republic's GDP at $646 per person, making it one of the 10 poorest places globally, according to World Bank figures. The government estimates 50% of urban and 64% of rural people are poor.
Adding to the complications is Islamic Somaliland's legal status.
It broke away from Somalia in 1991, and has operated independently since, largely without the terrorism and violence that plagues parts of Somalia.
But the self-declared state is not recognised as a country, which rules out direct aid or loans from most global institutions.
A dry riverbed in the the rural outskirts of Hargeisa near the Laas Geel caves in Somaliland on July 3, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
"We are different from other countries ... the challenges here are far greater," Sheikh said in an interview in his office in the government sector of Hargeisa, a dusty city of about one million where there are few tarmac roads and no street names.
"We don't have rivers or any water deposits. Our life on the whole in this country depends on water from rain ... and we can't get loans from other countries."
The United Nations' food agency, the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), said a third of the population of Somalia, including Somaliland, was now facing food shortages - 30% higher than estimated at the start of 2019.
With a crisis looming, the United Nations' Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) in May launched a call for $710 million in drought aid for Somalia.
The appeal came four months after a U.N. humanitarian bid for more than $1 billion, to support aid operations in Somalia during 2019, fell far short, as donor response to repeated drought appeals wavered.
The Sheikh Omer camp in the outskirts of Hargeisa, central Somaliland. The camp was designed to host people internally displaced in Somaliland. Today it counts 1,500 inhabitants. Picture taken on July 1, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
For many rural families in Somaliland, however, it is already too late to ride out the drought.
Much of the country's livestock is dead and families have been forced from their homes, leaving the future of the next generation uncertain, with nearly two out of three young people unemployed.
A government spokesman said about 600,000 people were believed to have left their homes in recent years, driven by pressures linked to climate change - and the number was rising.
Fatima Aden, who put her age at about 80, moved to the Sheikh Omer camp for people internally displaced in Somaliland about six years ago, abandoning a pastoral life that had supported her family for generations.
Fatima Aden, a former pastoralist impacted by climate change, is pictured next her niece in their shelter in the Sheikh Omer camp, near Hargeisa, Somaliland on July 1, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
In the camp of about 1,500 people, about 10 km (6 miles) from Hargeisa, Aden spoke about her childhood from her buul - a traditional hut that used to be built from branches and grass but is now made of wood, corrugated iron and pieces of cloth.
"When I was young it was green, with forests everywhere, and people had enough livestock in every family that could be sold to buy anything they needed," said Aden, a mother of six who lives with 15 members of her family.
"In my life I have seen many dry spells and different levels of drought but the severity of the drought we have had for the past 10 years really is the worst ever."
A street of the Sheikh Omer camp in the outskirts of Hargeisa, central Somaliland on July 1, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
Aden, who earns some money selling the stimulant leaf khat in the camp, said more and more people were coming to the cities and the camps with no work, nothing to do and no access to running water or electricity.
"We have never seen people lose all their animals before and get to the point where they risk losing their lives," said Aden, as cats sniffed around her feet searching for scraps of food.
"Life is changing every year, and every year is becoming more difficult," she said. "I worry for the future, for my children, their families.
Saleban Sead Ali, head of the village elders, said help was welcome but no one was able to provide for the goats and camels that were central to their lives, with many animals dying.
"After the cyclone people tried to carry their weak animals to another village for help but they came back with nothing. They all died," said the father of 10, who estimated his age at 47 and spoke via a translator.
Saleban Sead Ali, head of the Abdigeedi village elders Somaliland, July 6, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
"We can't move to another location. Our land is not suitable to farm so our only opportunity is to rear livestock again," he said. "I hope to (do so) again despite the harsh conditions, to be independent again."
Ayan Mahamoud, Somaliland's resident representative in Britain and the Commonwealth, said climate-driven crises were now nearly a constant in the state, weakening the traditional nomadic way of life and the clan system of Somaliland society.
"Every other year now we have something huge," Mahamoud told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
"The pastoral community has been affected the most, losing so many animals and their social structure," she said.
Camels approach a water source in the Abdigeedi village, Western Somaliland on July 6, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
As people move to cities, where youth unemployment is huge, "it is becoming a timebomb", said Mahamoud, who lobbies for Somaliland's official recognition and supports the 150,000 or so people from the republic now living in Britain.
Some efforts to help rural families adapt to the harsher conditions have started to pay dividends.
Local non-governmental organisation HAVOYOCO - the Horn of Africa Voluntary Youth Committee - set up a community seed bank in 2015 in Galoley.
The village, about 50 km from Hargeisa, is in an area known as the food basket of Somaliland.
Galoley, a village about 50 km from Hargeisa, is in an area known as the food basket of Somaliland. Picture taken on July 5, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
Project manager Mohamed Ali said the bank distributed drought-resistant, disease-free seeds - ranging from maize to sorghum and tomatoes - to local farmers who then contributed seeds from their own harvests back to the bank.
HAVOYOCO, which receives funding from a range of organisations, from The Development Fund of Norway to Oxfam, CARE and the FAO, also has improved water harvesting in the area, capturing rainwater for crops and animals.
"People had many challenges before. It was difficult to get seeds during drought seasons or good quality seeds," Ali said, surveying acres of green, healthy crops that contrasted vividly with the rest of Somaliland.
A woman gathers drought-resistant, disease-free seeds at the seed bank set up by HAVOYOCO in Galoley, Somaliland, on July 5, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
But now "people from the east and other regions are coming here for better pastures and food", he said.
With weather patterns becoming more extreme each year, "we support people because we want people to keep their livelihoods", he said.
But Edna Adan Ismail, Somaliland's first female cabinet minister and a former foreign minister, said many rural people had no choice but to move and try to find other work as traditional livelihoods were lost.
Seeds of sorghum in the seed bank set up by HAVOYOCO in Galoley, Somaliland, on July 5, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
"Their survival depends on it," said Adan, who set up the Edna Adan University Hospital in Hargeisa.
In a bid to diversify its livestock-dependent economy, Somaliland is courting overseas investors tempted by the country's position along a vital sea transport route.
Somaliland controls 760 km (460 miles) of coastland along the Gulf of Aden. In that zone, the United Arab Emirates is funding a $440 million upgrade of the deep-water port at Berbera as well as setting up a military base.
"It is critical that we diversify our economy to bring trade and jobs," Adan said.
But winning political recognition as a state is also critical to Somaliland's future, she said.
"When you are recognised, people will come and they will invest."
With limited foreign investment, the Somaliland government and other organisations are trying to create new jobs for young people in a republic where 70% of the population is under 30.
The government this year launched a year-long military service programme for 1,500 young men and women while HAVOYOCO is running a vocational training project to teach carpentry, welding, and administrative skills used in the workplace.
Oxfam has helped fund an innovation training facility in Hargeisa called HarHub where youngsters from camps for displaced people can learn IT skills at the Hargabits academy.
"We see youth unemployment as a major challenge in Somaliland and major investment is needed in that sector to create jobs and diversify," said Oxfam spokesman Abdiaziz Adani.
Hamse Sulub, uses a computer in the HarHub, a space in Hargeisa where unprivileged youngsters can learn IT skills at the Hargabits academy. Hargeisa, July 2, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
"The traditional ways of living as pastoralists, due to climate change and droughts, won't be the same again."
Hamse Sulub is one of those making the change.
The 19-year-old moved to Hargeisa seven years ago from a village near the Ethiopian border after drought killed most of his family's camels.
After studying at Islamic school, he saw an advertisement about Hargabits and dropped by the centre one day. The staff assessed him and took him on as a student, teaching him graphic design and how to use spreadsheets.
"When I was young in the village it was my responsibility to take care of the animals ... I didn't have any knowledge," said Sulub, sitting by a chicken coop at the shelter he shares with his mother and four brothers in Sheik Nuur camp.
Students practice at the Hargabits academy, where unprivileged youngsters can learn IT skills. Hargeisa, July 2, 2019. Thomson Reuters Foundation/Claudio Accheri
But "this has given me confidence. My plan is a few more years in education then I plan to have my own business," he said.
"I worry about my family having enough food every day to eat. What young people need is to get jobs and for that they need the skills and facilities to learn."
Without jobs or hopes for the future, increasing numbers of Somaliland youth could join the rising number of young Africans seeking to migrate, said Environment Minister Shukri Bandare, stressing migration due to climate change was a global concern.
"They will go to Europe, to the United States, across the ocean to get a life," she said.
"If we don't collaborate, hold hands to solve the world problems when it comes to climate change, we will be doomed. We won't be leaving anything for the coming generation, nothing."
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