Cattle
herders in Kenya's central Laikipia highlands say they invade private land
simply out of the need to graze their cattle.
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Close by a narrow,
rickety bridge in Kenya's central Laikipia highlands two herders sit on
blistering hot rock next to the muddy trickle of the Ewaso Nyiro river to
explain why they routinely break the law, invading private land to graze their
cattle.
Too
many people with too much livestock have rendered Laikipia's rangeland
unliveable for the growing population, exacerbated by climate change.
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"The
reason we go there is not to grab the land, we go for pasture, nothing
else," says Lemerigi Letimalo, a 28-year-old Samburu herder in a
Manchester United T-shirt with a mobile phone hanging in a pouch around his
neck.
"The
white settlers are the ones who call the police forces to attack us," he
adds.
Violence
has spiked in Laikipia this year, with smallholder farms and huge ranches alike
invaded by armed herders, leaving dozens dead and uprooting hundreds more.
A
government-ordered security operation has so far failed to quell the unrest,
which some blame on drought and others on politics. Accounts of the attacks are
widely divergent.
The
victims of the incursions are mainly black Kenyans living on small patches of
farmland as well as white landowners, whose properties often run into the tens
of thousands of acres (hectares), dredging up long-festering resentment over
land ownership.
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Drought, law, violence -
The
March murder of British rancher and former soldier Tristan Voorspuy and the
April shooting of Italian author and conservationist Kuki Gallmann are among
the most high-profile acts of violence.
But
the young Samburu "morans" -- the warrior age set that ends with
marriage -- sitting by the river at Crocodile Jaw Bridge on a recent Wednesday
consider that they are the victims: of weather, of greed and selfishness, and
of state violence.
They
say poor rains have forced them to cut fences in search of grazing land,
accusing ranchers, farmers and conservationists of protecting their own
livelihoods at the pastoralists' expense. They also accuse security forces of
unfairly targeting them.
"When
we go grazing in there we get attacked by the police. We don't go in there for
war or planning to stay, we just go in to graze until there are rains back at
home," Letimalo tells AFP, offering a rare insight into the Samburu
herders' side of the story.
He
admits to illegally grazing the 50 cows and 200 goats that he is responsible
for on other people's lands and says police have shot dead two of his cows.
But
Letimalo recognizes neither the term "illegal herding" nor the law
itself, which he describes as "for the landowners".
"When
there's drought, a fence means nothing to me," he says, speaking in the
local Samburu language. "We blame the whites for bringing the police who
attack our cattle and kill our people."
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'No option' -
Fellow
herder, 30-year-old Lokimaniki Lekaal, agrees: "Despite the law, we have
no option. We cannot sit around and watch our animals die of hunger."
Violence
has spiked in Laikipia this year, with smallholder farms and huge ranches alike
invaded by armed herders.
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A
glance at an aerial view of Laikipia shows the stark difference between the
green of well-managed, fenced-off private land and the dust bowl free-for-all
of the over-grazed rangelands.
Too
many people with too much livestock have rendered the rangeland unlivable for
the growing population, a situation exacerbated by climate change.
But
in the immediate struggle for survival, talk of long-term planning or better
land management is a luxury Lekaal dismisses. "When all the grass is
finished we will die. It is up to God," he says. Until then he will keep
his cattle wherever grass can be found.
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'We don't fight twice' -
The
two men insist that drought is the reason they herd livestock onto private land
and deny any suggestion their actions are politically motivated as Kenya heads
towards a general election on August 8.
"There's
no leader who has influenced us to go to graze in someone's land, it is we,
ourselves, that decided to go and graze our animals inside the ranches,"
Lekaal says.
Nevertheless,
local MP Mathew Lempurkel, a Samburu, has been charged with incitement over the
murder of Voorspuy, while a politician in neighbouring Baringo county was
similarly charged over arson attacks on Gallmann's estate before his own murder
in May.
Some
invaders in Laikipia have been photographed wearing Lempurkel campaign
T-shirts. The MP himself, facing a tight election, has both denied the charges
against him and used them to burnish his credentials as the champion of
pastoralist interests.
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'Only ones suffering' -
Moran
culture plays a part too.
Young,
unmarried and often uneducated -- neither Letimalo nor Lekaal went to school --
the herders revel in aggressive displays of machismo and pride themselves on
not backing down from a fight. "We don't fight twice," as Letimalo
puts it.
Landowners
and herders alike complain that a late and half-hearted government security
response has made matters worse.
The
herders also say their acts of retaliatory arson and violence are provoked by
the security forces.
"There's
a time we set property on fire but that was because one of our colleagues was
killed," says Letimalo. "We had no option but to burn the property.
It's not as bad as killing someone!"
"We are the only ones
suffering," adds Lekaal.
Two
Samburu cattle herders say drought is the reason they herd livestock onto
private land and deny any suggestion their actions are politically motivated as
Kenya heads towards August 8 elections.
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