LocationsBy Michael Kibuku
From Bare Earth to Bountiful Fields: Stories of Resilience from Kenya’s Drylands
June 20, 2025
Isaac Jele, a farmer at Holwadeg Farm in Garissa, proudly displays harvest from his thriving watermelon farm
Michael Kibuku
The heat is different here. It doesn’t just warm the skin, it sits deep in the soil, in the bones of the land. In Kenya’s arid north, where the sun beats down without apology and rivers shrink into cracked beds, survival has long been a question of waiting, for rain that may not come, for relief that often arrives too late.
But something is changing.
Beneath the hum of solar pumps and the laughter of women gathering around green rows of vegetables, a new kind of resilience is taking root.
Through a series of coordinated investments in solar-powered irrigation, climate-smart agriculture, and community-led training, farmers across Tana River, Garissa, and Turkana are not only adapting — they’re thriving.
Equipment used across different irrigation schemes supported by UNDP Kenya
Michael Kibuku
From bare earth to better harvests
In Ngao, Tana River County, Morris bends low, brushing the leaves of his maize crop with a practised hand. The ground beneath him is firm and alive — a far cry from the brittle, fallow land he once knew.
“We used to get maybe 200 kilograms from this land,” he says, eyes scanning the neatly planted rows. “Now? Four and a half tonnes.” He lets the number settle. “That’s what’s changed.”
What began with bush clearing and a few solar pumps has blossomed into something deeper — not just new tools, but new knowledge. With support from UNDP, Morris learned how to irrigate smartly, how to stretch a single drop of water into a season of growth. Today, he lives in a permanent house — a symbol of stability. His children go to school. And his land? It feeds more than just his family.
On the left, Morris cultivates his farm at Ngao Irrigation Scheme; on the right, his newly built permanent house stands as a symbol of progress
Michael Kibuku
Women empowered, communities transformed
In another part of Ngao, Lucy kneels among orange trees, her hands wet from watering crops. Around her, the chatter of women and the cluck of chickens blend into a song of community.
Her journey began in a women’s savings group — a few friends, a few coins, and a shared dream.
“We started small,” Lucy smiles. “Then UNDP brought us machines — milling, baking, slicing. We began selling bread. Kajionee, we call it. Sweet, soft, ours.”
Today, Lucy runs a poultry business. She grows maize. She stands tall in her household — not just contributing, but leading.
“That’s what real empowerment means,” she says, steady and clear. “Not just being given, but being shown how to stand.”
Lucy, a farmer at Ngao Irrigation Scheme, harvesting oranges and watering crops on her home farm
Michael Kibuku
Farming that pays off and brings youth back
In Garissa County, Isaac Jele walks between neat rows of watermelon under the unforgiving sun. Around him, 85 acres bloom with promise — a staggering shift for land once dismissed as barren.
“We sold over 5.4 million shillings worth of melons,” says the chairman of the Alfaalah scheme, pride rising in his voice. “Next season, we’re aiming even higher.”
But it’s not just about yields. It’s about return — of dignity, of youth, of belief.
“There’s a 20-year-old who left a teaching job to farm,” the chairman says. “He now grows the biggest melons in Garissa. And a young woman? She’s flooding the market with bananas.”
University tuition, home construction, and investments — all now powered by tomatoes, melons, and grit. Young people who once left in search of better are coming back to build it themselves.
A variety of crops grown and harvested at Holwadeg and Alfaalah Irrigation Schemes in Garissa
Michael Kibuku
Turning the tide on land degradation
Before these changes, the only way many knew to survive was through charcoal — trees felled, landscapes scarred, ecosystems disrupted.
“Every tree cut meant a river lost its shade, a farm lost its soil, and the air lost its breath.”
But today, solar energy powers pumps, and sun-fed farms yield enough to sustain. Where there was smoke, now there is shade. Where there was ash, now there is abundance.
Charcoal production activities in Garissa County
Michael Kibuku
The land is alive again
In Turkana, where dry winds once whispered despair, Agis Lotadei now watches green rows stretch across the horizon.
“We’ve been harvesting ever since the solar pumps came,” she says, her hands rough with work, her smile soft with pride. “The land is alive again.”
And so is the spirit of the community.
At the Naoyawoi Irrigation Scheme, women gather each morning to tend crops — their hands feeding not just their homes, but the future of Turkana itself.
Women from Nakewapan Women Group working on their farm at the Naoyawoi Irrigation Scheme
Michael Kibuku
In the rustling of maize fields, the gleam of ripe melons, and the hum of water tanks and baking ovens, a quiet revolution is taking root. It may not be perfect, but it is purposeful — planted with hope and growing with resolve. What we’re seeing across Kenya’s drylands isn’t a patchwork of isolated efforts; it’s the rise of a people-powered movement — steady, rooted, and ready.
This is not charity. It’s partnership. Disaster Risk Reduction means acting before the crisis, not after — investing in solar-powered irrigation, backing youth-led agribusiness, and supporting women-led savings groups. It’s about building systems that can weather the next storm and communities that don’t just recover, but thrive. These efforts are not scattered interventions; they are interconnected steps in a long journey toward resilience.
This journey of resilience and recovery would not have been possible without the steadfast partnership of the Government of Luxembourg, the Kingdom of Denmark, and the Republic of South Korea. Their commitment to advancing sustainable development in Kenya’s most vulnerable regions continues to inspire lasting change — turning shared goals into tangible gains for communities determined to build a better future.
Because resilience isn’t a miracle. It’s a decision — made in the soil, in the sweat, and in the shared spirit of possibility. And across Kenya, that choice is being made every day. One seed. One farmer. One harvest at a time.
