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North Eastern Kenya: Agonies of a Community

East African Standard
Cathy Ochung
Nairobi

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The roads here are dusty, long and winding. Overhead, the bright, scorching sun shines without mercy, leaving behind telltale signs of an arid, barren land. All around, wildlife leap out of the scanty shrubs to the noise of a car engine, all without warning. Especially to us visitors, this is the typical feel of a day in Wajir District in North-Eastern Province, as well as its environs.

According to locals and visitors who frequent this remote part of the country, it is not unusual to bump into a lion as one treks in this dry land. A motorbike or a mechanical bicycle would be a viable alternative to walking, if one can bear the resistance to a rolling wheel of the vast loose soils.

As unwelcoming as the place may look, native pastoralists here are used to walking happily for long distances under the baking heat, sometimes only accompanied by their animals, in this case camels and a few donkeys. Leading their animals, herders trudge along.

The sight of the animals and those tending to them is a familiar one. As they move about, both men and women must look for water points, which are a rare sight in this arid region. It is a harsh life for the locals, majority of whom have migrated from the neighbouring war-torn Somalia.

Water unfit for human consumption

When they are not afflicted with the dry spell, occasioned by the chronic drought, and giving rise to a desperate lack of water for both humans and animals, these people are enmeshed in conflict with the militant neighbours.

More recently, however, the locals witnessed the infection of their camels by a mysterious disease that has left hundreds of the animals dead. So valuable are the camels to the natives that death amounts to the loss of income; for many, the camel is the only source of a livelihood. In the local market, the animal can fetch as much as Sh30,000. What's more, the mammal's milk is a delicacy.

Further into the district is a village with yet another kind of hardship. Approximately 86km from Wajir is Kursi, a small village. This is home to more than 300 Somali and Kiswahili-speaking pastoralists who settled here about four years ago. As is common with pastoralists, the Kursi migrated here, for example from neighbouring Somalia, in search of water and greener pastures.

Here, the only water available is too costly for the average natives. And while the water is readily available, it is too salty, making it almost unfit for human or animal consumption.

Kursi village is in the middle of nowhere, and not much activity takes place here, save for the grazing of animals. A clustered group of 'Herios' (traditional Somali huts), which are spread around the sleepy village, are the first sight one beholds. That is of course, after one has made acquaintance with the nagging heat.

And this is the final stop, after one has been navigating a never-ending drive that has nothing much to see. The arrival of four-wheel-drive vehicles here is nothing to marvel about. Officials of non-governmental organisations drive around these parts to offer assistance. Seeing the vehicles, children from Kursi Primary School noisily gather round them.

Pregnant mothers have to drink salty water

Adan Hussein, whom we find leading his camels towards a water point, is eager to give me some water to quench my thirst. According to reports, an excess of the chemical fluoride is the reason behind the characteristic staining of teeth for the majority of the inhabitants of the region.

This occurs as a result of a condition called fluorosis, which is the mottling of the hard, outer layer of the tooth (the enamel), caused by taking in excesses of fluoride, especially during the formation of teeth. In severe cases, brown stains develop on the teeth.

Uneasy but too thirsty, I think about the many brown teeth I have so far encountered. Might I stain my teeth after that one attempt? I know this cannot happen, but I am apprehensive, nonetheless. I drink, rather hesitantly. It tastes like a solution of salt and water, which one would use in gargling to soothe a nagging sore throat. For me, that single experience is disquieting.

But this is the stuff that both the local people and their animals must take every day of their life: their only option is dehydration. Their chocolate-brown teeth tell the whole story. Pregnant mothers have to drink this water too, not advisable for their state, but do they have a choice?

An elderly villager, Noor Rege, blames a swelling condition among some village women on the water. Elsewhere, 19-year-old Habiba Ismael, who is a mother of five, is struggling to roll a jerrycan of water towards her hut. On her back is her youngest son, who hasn't a clue as to the struggles the mother must endure. "This (the water) has cost me Sh25, but it is not enough because I need five more for my family and other household chores," she says. Neither she nor her husband has the source of money needed to buy fresh water, which is brought into the village from Wajir.

Twice a week, a truck brings fresh water all the way from Wajir Town. This is sold to the Kursi villagers at a price of Sh25 for a jerrycan. Majority cannot afford the fresh water and so settle for the salty type that is readily available from a nearby saline borehole. Habiba, who is among the few villagers with not-so-brown teeth, is cautious about the salty water and has found a rather expensive trade-off: "I am forced to buy the water from Wajir, then mix it with the salty water for my family's consumption," she reveals.

At a strategic point in the village is Kursi's only makeshift shop. Here, 21-year-old Abdi, who runs his father's shop, is busy catching up on the latest events on a copy of the The Standard. Though he gets an old copy every few days, at a price higher than is indicated on the cover, he says this is his favourite sports paper. The young shopkeeper says sugar is the most popular commodity. Apparently, villagers like their tea very sweet.

Abdi too is aware of the water condition, and particularly dreads bathing time. The water, he explains, forms a slime-like substance, "making bathing quite difficult." An accounts student in Thika, he tells of many cases of diarrhoea in his village, ostensibly occasioned by the unhealthy water the locals have no option but to consume daily.

The villagers say that the only time they get to drink fresh water is when it rains. Even then, rains come for only a short period, and are not reliable. In an attempt to trap water during the rainy seasons, villagers have dug water wells. These have, however, dried and are of no use. The wells are not professionally dug and are too small in size to hold much water when it finally does rain.

In spite of the scarcity of water, it may not be long before the village bids farewell to the problem of salinity. Here, they say, the Safaricom Foundation will expand existing water projects at a cost of Sh7 million.

Kursi looks forward to the project, and it may only be a matter of time before they forget their nomadic practice of deserting homesteads and disrupting established patterns, as they move about in search of the clean water and food for their animals.

Facts about fluorosis

A child may develop enamel fluorosis if he, or she, receives too much fluoride during the years of tooth development. Too much fluoride can result in defects in the tooth's outermost layer, the enamel. In really bad cases, fluorosis presents as discolouration of teeth, mainly with unsightly, brown markings. The surface of the tooth may be bumpy, rough to the touch, and quite difficult to clean. In mild cases, only tiny white specks appear.

According to the American Academy of Paediatric Dentistry, a child contracts fluorosis "by swallowing too much fluoride for the child's size and weight during the years of tooth development. This can happen in several different ways. First, a child may take more of a fluoride supplement than the amount prescribed.

Second, the child may take a fluoride supplement when there is already an optimal amount of fluoride in the drinking water. Third, some children simply like the taste of fluoridated toothpaste. They may use too much toothpaste, then swallow it instead of spitting it out."

To find out how much fluoride is healthy for children, talk to your dentist. She will advise on how much fluoride you ought to have in your drinking water. If you drink well water, your paediatric dentist can assist you in getting an analysis of its fluoride content. Adds the academy: " watch your child's use of fluoridated toothpaste as the second step. A pea-sized amount on the brush is plenty for fluoride protection."

Source: Standard, July 09, 2007