Addis Abeba – Pastoralists in Ethiopia are extremely marginalized. Since the inception of the Ethiopian state, pastoralism has never been acknowledged (politically or legally) as a viable livelihood, nor has it been economically fully integrated into the country’s development agenda, or even recognized as being worthy of investment on par with agriculture. Even today, government policies undermine pastoralism, officially viewing it as “unsustainable” compared to agriculture. As a result, during cyclical droughts or floods that impact pastoralist communities, successive governments and regimes have turned a blind eye, failing to implement anticipatory measures or support recovery efforts after crises.
In the heart of the Awash Valley, in the semi-arid lands of the Fantalle District in Ethiopia’s Oromia region, pastoralism has sustained the Karrayyu Oromo – a population of 130,000 – for centuries. Currently, however, the Karrayyu are facing an unprecedented humanitarian crisis. A prolonged and severe drought, compounded by recurrent seismic activity, has devastated their livelihood. Since November 2024, the region has experienced a series of gradual yet intensifying earthquakes, with both the magnitude and frequency increasing over time. These tremors have significantly disrupted pastoralist lifeways, rendering vast stretches of pastureland unusable, uprooting trees, releasing clouds of toxic gas, making boreholes dysfunctional and leading to the destruction of entire villages.
Fantalle District comprises 18 administrative villages (kebeles), the smallest units of governance under Ethiopia’s administrative system. Among these, seven villages have been entirely displaced, with their inhabitants now categorized as internally displaced persons (IDPs). The scale of displacement continues to grow as environmental shocks persist, placing immense pressure on already scarce resources. The combined effects of the ongoing drought and seismic disturbances threaten not only the survival of the Karrayyu Oromo people but also the stability of the region as a whole. Urgent intervention is required to address the mounting humanitarian needs and mitigate further displacement.
Due to insufficient rainfall last summer, the district is already experiencing drought conditions at the maximum level of tolerance. If the dry spell continues any longer, the situation will escalate into a full-blown crisis. These conditions indicate that the community has already exhausted its traditional rangelands, spanning from north to south and west to east, in search of viable grazing areas. However, the recent earthquake has further exacerbated their predicament, disrupting access to these critical rangelands. This obstruction prevents them from utilizing the full extent of their grazing lands, which are essential for their resilience during extreme droughts.
The district has long endured historical injustices regarding rangeland access and land rights. Over the years, it has lost approximately 65% of its ancestral land—territory that was not only resource-rich but also fundamental to the community’s ability to withstand environmental shocks and sustain their livelihoods. The dispossession of these lands has had profound consequences, as the most fertile and strategically important areas have been repurposed for large-scale agricultural and development projects whose products are exported out of the area, such as sugarcane, fruit, and cotton plantations.
This ongoing loss of rangelands has triggered cascading impacts, steadily eroding the diverse and deeply rooted pastoralist way of life in the Upper Awash Valley of Ethiopia. Along with the Karrayyu, the Afar community are also impacted, on a broader scale. As these groups’ access to grazing lands diminishes, so too does their capacity to sustain livestock, practice traditional resource management, and maintain economic stability. The consequences extend beyond mere livelihood disruption. they represent an existential threat to what has been an extremely resilient and effective means of exploiting the meager resources naturally available in that ecological zone. Their unique cultural heritage means of food security, and overall resilience in the face of climate change and environmental degradation are all are under threat.
The Fantalle district’s Bureau of Communication and Public Affairs, along with its zonal counterpart (Adama), has prioritized social media as a tool for propaganda, flooding platforms with polished images of corridor development, small-scale seasonal irrigation along the Awash River, and choreographed peacekeeping dialogues with local communities. Yet, in a striking display of negligence, they have entirely ignored the region’s worsening crises—the ongoing earthquake and the escalating drought—which have already devastated pastoral communities, disrupted daily life, and inflicted severe damage on vital infrastructure, including the Djibouti highway and the railway line. This deliberate omission is not merely an oversight but a calculated effort, likely dictated by higher authorities, to manufacture an illusion of progress while turning a blind eye to the immense suffering of the very people they are meant to serve.
Over the past three decades, several dryland and lowland regions of the country (all home to pastoralist communities) have been officially recognized by the National Disaster and Risk Management Authority as drought-prone areas. In response, continuous humanitarian support has been provided to help these communities build resilience, allowing them to remain in their ancestral lands without compromising their cultural identity and traditional way of life, which is deeply intertwined with livestock rearing.
However, over the past six years, nearly all of these regions—especially districts and zones such as Borana—have been increasingly neglected. Support mechanisms have diminished, leaving these communities to face recurring droughts and environmental hardships with little to no external assistance. As a result, the burden they now carry is staggering—both in human and economic terms. Livelihoods have been decimated, food and water shortages have intensified, and the very survival of these pastoralist societies is under grave threat. The price they are paying is enormous and beyond imagination, as they struggle against the compounded effects of climate change, policy neglect, and dwindling resources.
Looking at the past, particularly in the southern part of the country, the Borana Zone of the Oromia region has faced severe and recurrent droughts, leading to catastrophic livestock losses. Over the course of three consecutive failed rainy seasons, the Borana pastoralist community lost approximately 3.8 million livestock, a devastating blow to their livelihoods and cultural heritage. Initially, the Borana people relied entirely on their own resilience and resourcefulness to survive. For nearly a year and a half, they sold their goats and sheep to purchase fodder in an effort to sustain their remaining livestock. However, as the drought persisted into the second year, their resources were depleted, and they ran out of animals to trade. As a result, their livestock began to perish in alarming numbers, pushing them further into economic and food insecurity.
Despite the escalating crisis, the government systematically obstructed any meaningful humanitarian response that could have provided lifesaving aid to the Borana people. Through a highly controlled bureaucratic system, relief efforts were either delayed or outright blocked, preventing timely intervention that could have mitigated the suffering. Even as the situation worsened, the government refused to officially recognize the unfolding disaster as a “humanitarian crisis,” effectively undermining any large-scale relief initiatives.
This deliberate inaction not only exacerbated the suffering of the Borana community but also raised serious concerns about the role of governance in crisis management. By failing to acknowledge the severity of the drought and its impact, the government’s response—or lack thereof—illustrated a broader pattern of neglect and control over humanitarian assistance, leaving vulnerable populations to bear the brunt of environmental catastrophes alone.
The situation in the Borana zone of the Oromia region became highly politicized because it directly conflicted with the Ethiopian government’s Prosperity Agenda. Under this agenda, acknowledging challenges such as droughts or floods was deemed taboo, as doing so could be perceived as undermining the narrative of national progress and economic strength. At the time, the Ethiopian government was heavily invested in projecting an image of stability and growth, leaving little room for discussions about crises that could challenge this vision. The real well-being of the Borana fell victim to this projection of prosperity.
Moreover, this period coincided with a devastating full-scale war between the Ethiopian government and the Tigray region—one of the country’s most politically and economically significant regions. The conflict, which resulted in the loss of over a million lives and inflicted more than $28 billion in economic damage, consumed the government’s focus and resources. In the face of such an existential struggle, the administration had neither the political will nor the capacity to acknowledge additional crises, such as the droughts in the south.
As a result, the Ethiopian government largely disregarded the humanitarian crisis that was unfolding. It was reluctant to permit humanitarian organizations to operate freely in the southern region, fearing that doing so might divert attention from the war effort or disrupt its broader political objectives. Consequently, vulnerable communities were left without crucial aid, further exacerbating the suffering of those affected by the drought.
Local people did leverage social media to expose the crisis, making it impossible for the government to suppress the information completely. But by the time the situation gained broader attention, the community had already plunged into a state of desperation and complete collapse. Food insecurity had reached alarming levels, and livestock—the heritage and backbone of the pastoral economy—were perishing at an unprecedented rate. Even camels, known for their resilience in arid environments, were succumbing to the harsh conditions. This underscored the severity of the drought and the far-reaching consequences that left no segment of society untouched. The loss of livestock, which had sustained families for generations, devastated livelihoods, forcing people to shift their focus toward sheer survival.
Amidst this catastrophe, support came not from the government or from large humanitarian agencies but from the diaspora residing largely in Western and Gulf countries, as well as small nimble grassroots organizations. These groups provided critical food supplies and temporary shelter to those displaced from their ancestral villages. Many were helped who sought refuge along roadsides, hoping for assistance from passersby or relief workers. With formal aid largely absent, survival hinged on the goodwill of individuals and small-scale humanitarian efforts.
Another major challenge was market access. Pastoralists in the Greater Horn of Africa—and in many other regions globally—operate within a largely informal market system that is deeply ingrained in their way of life. Livestock is not just an economic asset but a form of generational wealth, imbued with memory, attachment, and cultural significance. These animals are not merely commodities; they are integral to pastoral identity and survival.
When engaging in trade, pastoralists employ a strategic and layered approach to selling their animals. Goats and sheep serve as an immediate source of cash—akin to an ATM—while cattle are sold for more substantial financial needs. Camels, the most valuable and enduring of their livestock, are reserved for moments of significant crisis, functioning as a long-term savings mechanism. This nuanced relationship with the market reflects the delicate balance between economic pragmatism and cultural continuity, where decisions about selling livestock are driven by both immediate necessity and the preservation of a way of life.
When discussing the formal market, it is inevitable to address the principles of supply and demand, which generally function efficiently. However, this efficiency often fails to account for the unique challenges faced by marginalized communities, such as pastoralists in eastern Africa. Between 2020 and 2023, when an extreme drought devastated the region—particularly the Borana zone of southern Ethiopia—pastoralists found themselves in a precarious economic position. Desperate to sustain their livelihoods, they were willing to sell their livestock, including bulls, sheep, goats, and cattle, in exchange for fair prices from traders operating in the central part of the country.
However, these traders, driven by profit motives, sought to exploit the situation by purchasing livestock at the lowest possible price. At certain points, traders even resorted to buying animals on credit, further undermining the pastoralists’ ability to secure immediate financial relief. Recognizing these exploitative conditions, many pastoralists chose not to sell their animals, despite the dire circumstances.
This situation highlights the longstanding failure of the formal market to integrate and support pastoralism as a viable economic system. Policies that should facilitate market access for pastoralists and ensure fair trade conditions are either nonexistent or ineffective. Instead of fostering economic resilience, the structural inequalities embedded within the market deepen the vulnerabilities of pastoralist communities.
Moreover, the economic and geographic dominance of traders from the central part of the country adds another layer of complexity. The asymmetry in market information—where traders have greater access to pricing data and leverage, while pastoralists remain largely uninformed—exacerbates the crisis. In many ways, this lack of access to market knowledge is as destructive as the drought itself. It creates a barrier that prevents pastoralists from making informed economic decisions. Without structural reforms that acknowledge the timing and nature of livestock resources to support pastoralism within the broader market framework, these communities will continue to face systemic marginalization and economic precarity.
A significant portion of the Borana population in southern Ethiopia made the difficult decision not to sell their livestock during recurring droughts, despite the looming crisis. The rationale behind this choice was stark: the financial return from selling an animal was not only historically low, it would also put them into future obligation. They rationally determined that it did not justify the transaction. Faced with such harsh economic realities, many opted to let their animals perish rather than part with them to incur a debt they could not repay.
Today, the consequences of these devastating droughts have left most Borana pastoralists in extreme poverty. The recovery process has been painstakingly slow, compounded by the lack of meaningful intervention from either the Ethiopian government or international humanitarian organizations. A critical measure that could have facilitated recovery—restocking livestock—has been largely neglected, leaving pastoralists without the means to rebuild their livelihoods.
As a result, for the first time in Borana history, over 150 households have been displaced and now exist as internally displaced persons (IDPs) along the highway from Addis Abeba to Moyale. Stripped of their livestock—the foundation of their way of life—these families are entirely dependent on food rations for survival and their intimate knowledge of managing significant herds in semi-arid zones is squandered.
Research conducted by international institutions highlights an alarming reality: many of those affected by the droughts are experiencing severe trauma, compounded by a cycle of deepening poverty. The economic and psychological toll on these communities is immense, with many facing an arduous, years-long struggle to regain stability. The situation underscores the urgent need for long-term recovery strategies, including targeted humanitarian aid and sustainable policies that prioritize the resilience of pastoralist communities in the face of climate-induced crises.
Rather than addressing the root causes of drought and its impact on indigenous livelihoods, the government has shifted its focus toward constructing micro-dams. The underlying strategy appears to be leveraging the very drought that has impoverished the Borana indigenous pastoralists to push them toward sedentarization. To date, over 16 micro-dams have been built to harvest rainwater, utilizing gravity-fed irrigation systems to facilitate crop cultivation. The implicit expectation is that pastoralists will suddenly transition into full-time farmers, abandoning their traditional way of life.
However, pastoralism and agriculture are fundamentally distinct systems, each requiring a unique set of skills, experience, and environmental knowledge. Agriculture is an intricate practice that demands an understanding of soil composition, crop cycles, pest control, and the use of essential inputs such as fertilizers to ensure productivity. These competencies are not easily acquired overnight. For pastoralists, the challenge is even more profound—not only are they unfamiliar with agricultural techniques, but they are also being forced to adopt a livelihood that is fundamentally at odds with their indigenous knowledge systems and centuries-old adaptive strategies. In essence, they are not starting from a neutral position but rather from a deep deficit in agricultural expertise.
The politics surrounding drought and pastoralism in this context raises several critical questions. First, if southern Ethiopia—home to the Borana indigenous pastoralist communities—is classified as a semi-arid region, does this necessarily imply a scarcity of water? Or does it suggest that the landscape and rangelands are inherently more suitable for pastoralism and animal husbandry rather than intensive crop cultivation? If the latter is true, then isn’t large-scale agricultural development in this region not only ecologically inappropriate but also economically burdensome?
Second, if the objective is to support the Borana people, would it not be more prudent to engage them in extensive training, ensuring they have prior, informed consent and active participation in shaping their future? Should they not be provided with genuine opportunities to diversify their livelihoods rather than being subjected to a rigid, top-down approach? If these transitions are imposed without due consideration, and the initiative ultimately fails, would this failure then be used as a justification for further land dispossession—effectively legitimizing the appropriation of Borana ancestral lands? Such an outcome would mark an unprecedented and deeply troubling shift in Ethiopian history.
The latter is precisely what is unfolding in the Borana Zone of the Oromia region. First and foremost, elite capture of territories along the highway is creating a corridor accelerating dispossession at an alarming rate, akin to a surging wave, swiftly appropriating land for fencing, farming, and even large-scale animal husbandry. A significant portion of land has already been allocated to establish an extensive ‘cattle fattening’ zone, where nearly 100% of the livestock will be exported to Gulf countries. Underground water drilling has been ongoing for years, yet recent injections of fresh funding have further intensified the initiative. This additional capital aims to entice investors to expand their ventures into agriculture, further entrenching private interests in the region.
To facilitate these investments, a massive airport is currently under construction in Yabelo, to enhance mobility and bolster trade without consultation with the pastoralists on whose land it is built. While such infrastructure development may seem like a progressive move to some—promoting internal commerce and attracting investment—it comes at a steep cost. The livelihoods of local communities are being systematically eroded, as their generational holdings are passed to projects where only those with significant financial resources, primarily investors and elite capitalists, reap the benefits. The marginalized indigenous pastoralists, who have long relied on these lands for survival, are being completely dispossessed in favor of large-scale elite commercial interests.
The plight of the Indigenous Karrayyu people is no different from that of the Borana in southern Ethiopia. Their population, estimated at 130,000 and declining, remains one of the cultural icons of the Ethiopian Rift Valley, distinguished by their unique attire, traditional herding practices, and their role as key custodians of the Gada system. Despite this historical and cultural significance, the severe challenges they face threaten their very existence. The recurring droughts and natural disasters such as the current earthquakes exacerbate Karrayyu vulnerability. Meanwhile, human rights violations in the district continue to undermine their ability to navigate these harsh conditions. The execution on December 1, 2021 of 14 sitting Gada leaders deprived the Karrayyu of the knowledge and authority that provided the people the means to navigate and survive in the territory. Restrictions on their mobility—critical for the survival of pastoralist communities—have also been imposed, further marginalizing them. Their suffering is compounded by the historical loss of a substantial portion of their ancestral lands in the 1960s, a dispossession that occurred amidst promises to form the government of benefits that have yet to be realized.
Given the proximity of this crisis to the Ethiopian capital, one cannot help but question why the government has failed to respond adequately. Is this neglect merely administrative inefficiency, or is it a deliberate strategy to further weaken the Karrayyu economically, psychologically, and morally? If not, how can one explain the state’s persistent inaction in the face of such an urgent humanitarian and ecological catastrophe?
The ongoing developments in the Borana and Karrayyu regions highlight the broader structural injustices faced by Ethiopia’s indigenous pastoralists. If their way of life continues to be undermined without meaningful participation in decision-making processes, their displacement will not only erode cultural heritage but also threaten the ecological balance of these landscapes. The fundamental question remains: is the government committed to inclusive, sustainable development, or is it merely facilitating elite capture under the guise of progress?
The ongoing drought has been weaponized as a political tool to further weaken and marginalize already vulnerable communities, such as the Karrayyu. Pastoralism, once a resilient and adaptive way of life, now stands on the brink of extinction. At the national level, the institutional framework supporting pastoral communities has been systematically dismantled. The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, which was established a decade ago, has been dissolved under the current regime. In its place, pastoralism has been subsumed under mainstream agricultural policies, signaling a long-standing bias giving rise to a campaign against this traditional livelihood. This erasure is not incidental; rather, it is part of a calculated strategy to gain control over vast tracts of land, as pastoralists still occupy approximately 40% of Ethiopia’s landmass.
Despite this structural onslaught, pastoral communities have shown remarkable resistance, utilizing various forms of what James Scott terms “weapons of the weak”—subtle, everyday acts of defiance that challenge the state’s hegemony. However, their struggle has been exacerbated by shifts in international policy. Specifically, the United States’ foreign policy changes—most notably, the Trump administration’s executive order freezing USAID funding for humanitarian interventions—have effectively cut off critical hard-won lifelines for these marginalized populations.
As a result, the convergence of political marginalization, environmental devastation, and international aid restrictions has created a perfect storm, pushing Indigenous groups like the Karrayyu further into destitution. These crises are not just natural disasters, but deliberate opportunities seized by those in power to erase entire ways of life. Without immediate national and international intervention, the smallest and most vulnerable communities—such as the central Ethiopian pastoralists—face the very real threat of annihilation. In this context, drought is no longer just a natural phenomenon; it has been weaponized as a means of eradicating pastoral livelihoods and, with them, centuries of indigenous knowledge and cultural identity. AS
Editor’s Note: This commentary was written by the Karrayyu Advocacy Groups.
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