We visited in the middle of a terrible drought.
Every day we checked the skies for slivers of white cloud, but there was none.
Dusty billows spat from the wheels of our vehicle.
A yellow-brown coating covered the green bush on either side of the roads.
We hoped for rain; they were anxiously desperate for it.
Crops were withering on their stalks; months, years of preparation wasted, and potential starvation facing every family.
The Somali herders walked hundreds of miles with their herds, anxiously searching green bits to feed their charges.
Hope seems far away.
But as they’ve done for centuries, the people survive.
They survive, make do.
A dry and weary land in need of water.