The Challenge
Brahim's family has herded livestock across the same routes for generations. His grandfather taught his father, and his father taught him: when the first rains come, move north toward Adrar. By the heat of June, swing east to the wadis. Before the cold sets in, return south.
This knowledge kept herds alive. It sustained families. It worked for centuries.
It doesn't work anymore.
Three years ago, Brahim followed the traditional route north. The rains his grandfather's wisdom predicted never came. The pastures he expected to find were dust. Water holes that always held water were dry. He lost forty animals—half his herd—before he could react.
Last year, he tried something different. It didn't work either. The patterns that once made sense have dissolved into chaos. His grandfather's knowledge, that precious inheritance, has become unreliable in a world where nothing stays the same.
Brahim is one of hundreds of thousands. Across Mauritania, pastoral communities face a simple, terrible reality: the climate has changed faster than traditional knowledge can adapt. Rainfall has declined 30% since the 1970s. The Sahara creeps 5-10 kilometers south every year. Temperatures have risen 1.5-2°C in just a few decades.
And with each passing season, more animals die. More families lose their livelihoods. More communities abandon the land their ancestors stewarded for generations and drift into the cities, hoping for work that often doesn't exist.
This isn't just about economics. It's about the collapse of a way of life. About food security for millions. About identity and dignity. About whether pastoral communities can survive in a climate that no longer plays by the old rules.