Greetings from the hats of Masaylan. My name is Dorcas Nashoro and I'm honored to be here today, not only as the first misclimate in the world, but also a daughter of the Savanna, hailing from the vast plains of Kajado County, Kenya. I bring with me a story of resilience, one shaped by the changing patterns of our land and the challenges we face in our world, grappling with climate change. Imagine waking up to the symphony of the Savanna, the gentle mowing of cattle, the vibrant calls of buds and the graceful sway of the golden grass, and the aesthetic sounds from the beautifully beaded clothing. This is the melody of my life, deeply intertwined with the well-being of our environment.
Cattle are not only our companions, but also our livelihoods. As the Masay community, we rely on our cows, not just for income, or to keep our children in school, but also for sustenance, as they form the foundation of our mills and provide the fuel that keeps our families going. However, this melody is changing. We are witnessing longer droughts and unreliable rains. The signs of climate change are becoming increasingly evident, the land that once sustained us now fasts. The struggle for limited resources, particularly food and water, pushes us into dangerous encounters with wildlife and other people as we fight for survival. It's a competition where the very ground beneath our feet seems to shift.
This is not just about food insecurity. It's about the erosion of our way of life. Let me provide a clearer picture of our daily lives. After milking their cows, the sale of the milk brings in our modest income, allowing us to purchase essentials and have our children go to school. At home, a simple mill of milk and ugali, a step of food, sustains us. However, this routine is often disrupted. The dry season presents a different reality. The once vibrant plains transform into graveyards for cattle with their skulls serving as a hounding reminder of the harshness of climate change. Our crops wither, leaving families with empty stomachs and skulls with empty plastrums. The impact extends beyond hunger.
Gals, already vulnerable, are forced to walk for long distances in such a water and this leads to increased health risks and also compromises their safety. Gals, in particular, bear the brunt of this harsh reality. Education is often sacrificed as families strive to make ends meet. In desperate attempts to survive, unimaginable things happen. Gals are traded for grass. What goes beyond this harsh reality is the right of passage from childhood to adulthood, which involves a painful circumcision, known as female genital mutilation, followed by alima rage. Gals are exchanged for grass to feed the remaining livestock to sustain the family for some time and save them live miserably for what they didn't choose. This desperate measure highlights the depths of our struggle, where gals are married off for as little as a hundred bells of grass to sustain the cattle for some time in times of drought.
Livestock have been our sole source of income. Now, due to the actions of others, our way of life must change. This is happening in any other pastoral communities as well, whether it's adapting to climate change or defending against attempts to seize their land. However, we, the Maasai, are not people who surrender. We are people who adapt. We are planting trees alongside our crops to create a shield against the scorching sun and to provide additional food and herbal medicine. We are transforming our new land into community ranches for beekeeping, and we are dividing our land into products to secure enough pasture for our livestock.
These efforts aims to embrace a more sustainable form of pastoralism, enabling us to better withstand the extreme dry seasons while also utilizing our land for agriculture. Renewable energy projects, such as solar power, are also taking roots. They allow us to produce water for nurturing, tree seedlings and contributes to combating climate change. Renewable energy also helps us produce and store food more efficiently, reducing waste and safeguarding our livelihoods. Education is also crucial, and empowering our communities with knowledge and skills to adapt to climate change is key to long-term resilience. By fostering climate resilience, livelihoods and diversifying our sources of income, we can provide alternatives during times of hardships. We are learning, we are evolving and embracing innovation to rewrite the narrative of our struggle.
But we cannot work this journey alone. We need both international and local support, collaborating with organizations that understand our unique challenges and respect our indigenous knowledge. We require policies that recognize and protect our land rights, as secure land is the foundation of our food security. Additionally, our learning systems for extreme weather will assist us in preparing and responding to climate-related disasters, ensuring the stability of our food supply.
As we work towards nourishing 10 billion people, that I believe we can, while restoring the earth, we must prioritize sustainability, equity and respect for the environment. From the hats of the Kenyan savannah, I urge you, let us not only nourish our bodies, but also nurture the spirit of resilience, the power of community and the unwavering hope for a sustainable future. Together, we can rewrite the ending of this story, where the Masai girl not only survives, but thrice, her laughter, echoing across the plains, a testament to the enduring spirit of our land. Thank you.