Ten kilometers west of Wajir town, in the dry and unforgiving plains of northern Kenya, a quiet revolution is stirring—born not of protest or politics, but of milk, resilience, and the will of Somali women refusing to be broken by climate or history.
Wagalla is a name that stirs deep pain. In February 1984, under the regime of President Daniel Arap Moi, this dusty expanse became the epicenter of one of Kenya’s most haunting human rights atrocities. Thousands of ethnic Somali men from the Degodia clan were rounded up by the military under the pretext of quelling clan-based insurgency. Detained at the Wagalla airstrip, they were denied food and water, tortured, and executed over several days. While official records claim fewer than 60 deaths, survivors and human rights groups estimate the toll to be well over 1,000. For decades, the massacre was buried in silence until the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission (TJRC) formally recognized it as a gross violation of human rights. A government apology followed, but healing for the community has remained elusive.
Yet today, in the very soil once soaked in sorrow, new life is being stirred—this time by women transforming adversity into innovation. In a humble, heat-beaten shed built of corrugated metal, a group of local women has come together to craft what many are now calling the sweetest, most natural yoghurt in northern Kenya. Made without preservatives, the yoghurt is created by hand—a product of necessity, learning, and stubborn hope.
Milk, for pastoralist communities in Wajir, is not just nourishment; it is currency, culture, and continuity. Wajir County spans over 56,000 square kilometers and is home to one of the largest livestock populations in Kenya. Livestock rearing accounts for 70% of household livelihoods, 75% of rural employment, and generates over Ksh 10.5 billion annually. But this lifeline is under siege. Soaring temperatures above 40°C, prolonged droughts, and unreliable rainfall patterns—hallmarks of a rapidly shifting climate—are making traditional pastoralism untenable. With no reliable refrigeration, milk spoils within hours, threatening food security and incomes.
This crisis gave rise to an idea: value addition. These women taught themselves how to ferment milk into yoghurt, extending its shelf life and creating a product that is as delicious as it is sustainable. When members of the Wajir Women Council (WWC) and OneStop Development Agency visited the site recently, the shed was abuzz. Demand far exceeded supply as people lined up for litres of the prized yoghurt, some placing bulk orders, others pre-booking for collection later.
This modest yet powerful enterprise is more than a business. It is climate adaptation in action.
WWC, a community-based organization formally registered in 2024, is the leading voice for gender equality and climate justice in Wajir. Founded in response to systemic marginalization, it has built a powerful network of women leaders, activists, and grassroots mobilizers. The Council works across peacebuilding, political inclusion, girls’ education, and sustainable development. It has trained women in water harvesting, climate-resilient agriculture, and alternative livelihoods—empowering them not just to survive, but to lead. Climate action is one of WWC’s core pillars, especially in helping women adapt to new economic realities caused by environmental instability.
Their efforts are complemented by OneStop Development Agency, a local nonprofit focused on sustainable community development. OneStop provides technical support, market linkage, and innovation training to vulnerable communities in Kenya’s ASAL (Arid and Semi-Arid Lands) regions. In Wagalla, the agency has been instrumental in helping the women transition their yoghurt-making efforts from a household necessity to a scalable enterprise.
Still, the road ahead is steep. The women of Wagalla lack refrigeration to store their yoghurt, packaging to meet retail standards, and reliable power to scale operations. The electricity grid in Wajir is inconsistent at best. But what the region lacks in infrastructure, it makes up for in sun—more than 80% of the year is bathed in strong, predictable sunlight. A solar-powered cold storage facility could change everything, allowing longer storage, higher production, and the ability to access supermarkets and broader markets across Kenya.
The yoghurt they produce is more than a product. It is a story of resilience. It is a quiet revolution led by women who refuse to surrender to climate devastation or historical erasure. In a place once known only for a massacre, they are creating new meaning—one spoonful at a time.
The ghosts of 1984 may still linger on the wind in Wagalla. But they no longer define this land. Now, it is the voices of women—laughing, stirring, building—that rise in their place. Their story is one of climate resistance, dignity, and hope. Even in the most sun-scorched places, sweetness can rise.
