From our special correspondent in Somaliland,
The tires squeal on the asphalt half-broken by potholes the size of 4X4 wheels with shattered edges. And when we leave the air-conditioned cool of the cabin, a barely bearable heat hits us in the face. Normal, the thermometer displays 39°C. Welcome to Somaliland! A small landlocked piece of land, located at the tip of the Horn of Africa, this territory self-proclaimed its independence in 1991, thus seceding from its country of origin: Somalia.
In all this time, however, Somaliland has still not been recognized by the international community as a true state. A somewhat bastard status which complicates his affairs somewhat. Because, since 2017, this area, which is at the end of the African continent, has seen its economy collapse. With a pastoral tradition, the livestock trade was, until now, the main source of income for many residents. Except that, drought after drought, breeders have had to, little by little, mourn their animals who died of thirst, hunger and heat, victims of the effects of climate change.
1,150,000 climate displaced people
Since 2021, Somalia, and with it Somaliland, has lost at least 45% of its goats and 10% of its camels. With five consecutive missed rainy seasons in a country that normally has two per year, a state of emergency is regularly declared by the authorities. And while the Somali territory suffered, in 2022, its worst episode of drought in forty years, it now has nearly 1.8 million internally displaced people. Including 1.15 million due to climate disasters.
Result: makeshift camps are springing up all over the territory, at great speed. Today, there are around 90 of them. Not migrants from elsewhere, but Somalilanders forced to abandon their lands which have become unusable. We call them climate displaced people.
“ I had a good life. I was happy with my flock. But because of climate change, I lost everything. »
A few kilometers from the port city of Berbera, known for its livestock market which Saudi Arabia and Ethiopia are fond of, is one of the three main cities of Somaliland: Burao. All around, lost in the bush, around fifty tents, made of fabrics damaged by the sun which hits hard on the fibers, form a small village. Led by NGOs, including Oxfam And Unicef which ensure, in particular, the water resources of its inhabitants.
Shara Geedi Ali, 50, arrived in this camp for displaced people three years ago, after losing her entire herd, decimated following major droughts. “I had a good life. I was happy with my goats. But because of climate change, I lost everything,” she says, her eyes vacant.
Surrounded by her mother and her daughters, she dreams of being able, one day, to find her animals. But prefers, in the meantime, to stay here in safety: “the men in the camp protect us. And we are lucky to have a water dispenser available. But life is not easy. We have little or no food, and no financial resources to buy it.” Resigned, she affirms that no one will come to help her get her life back, “not even the State”.
“I never imagined that one day we could get to this point”
Yet Somaliland, which has its own government, has years of experience on its side. At the head of its Ministry of Environment and Climate Change is a personality well known to citizens: Shukri Bandare.
Former climate activist, who got involved in the social-liberal party Kulmiye – which means “solidarity” – has been part of the executive for fourteen years. “I never imagined that we could, one day, get to this point because of climate change,” she explains to 20 minutes, straight away. We used to have dry spells, but not back to back. When it happened, everyone was in shock.”
However, she claims to have done everything since coming to power to try to raise awareness of the seriousness of the climate crisis. And assures that he has supported the breeders left behind by providing them with land so that they can settle there: “our economy depended on natural resources. Almost 100% climate. So today, we have no choice, we must adapt and change our lifestyles.”
Onions and tomatoes in the middle of the desert
In Caynabo, just a few turns from Burao, former breeders have understood the idea well. Supported by the NGO Oxfam, they have been learning to use a pickaxe for several months. Busy with turning the earth, it is under a blazing sun that several hundred of them meet to plow, cultivate and harvest vegetables from this farm of a new type for them. “I used to raise cattle. And then I lost everything because of the droughts. So, I came to this farm to learn a new job,” says Aisha Abdi, 28, a climate displaced person living in a nearby camp.
Onions, peppers and tomatoes: thanks to the drip technique and carefully chosen seed species, water-efficient crops grow almost effortlessly. In the greenhouses, an unusual freshness runs through the ambient air. “It’s thanks to the tomato plants. They release a lot of moisture. That’s why it’s so good. We could sleep here without any problem! », specifies, amused, Mustafe Hassen Ahmed, farm coordinator for Oxfam, and Somaliland of origin. After harvest, the vegetables are then sold at the nearby market. A way of responding, in part, to the food insecurity which still undermines the territory.
But if, today, several farm projects like this one are taking shape in the territory, the Somalilanders are not all ready to take a major step: agreeing to mourn a way of life ancestral, and engage in a life to which they did not necessarily feel destined. “I believed for a long time that I could get my life back. But I finally understood that it wasn’t going to happen,” recalls Aisha Abdi.
Growing fruits and vegetables in arid or semi-arid land remains a real challenge. Especially since according to a report from FAO SWALIM*, an organization managed by the United Nations, only 13% of Somali land is cultivable. And livestock still represents 60% of GDP today. But in a country that emits less than 1% of global emissions, adaptation is essential, even vital. But until when ? And at what price?