By Lucas Kasosi (Maasai, CS Intern)
When Mona Omar (Somali/Maasai) was a child, the land still spoke. Elders could predict the rains by watching the sky, birds, and the flowering of certain trees. They knew when to move to better pastures, which rivers would swell, and how to prepare for the dry season. The land was alive until one day, it wasn’t.
"I remember my grandmother telling me stories of a time when the seasons were reliable," Mona recalls. "But by the time I was growing up, the land had changed. The rivers dried up. The cattle grew thin. The droughts stayed longer. The old ways of predicting the rains stopped working."
By 2017, a devastating drought had claimed her father’s entire herd of 70 cattle, not due to disease or theft but to the unrelenting heat of a land that no longer provided. It was more than a financial loss; it was a cultural devastation. "A pastoralist without livestock is like a fisherman without the sea," she says.
Mona had always dreamed of becoming a journalist, inspired by Jamila Mohamed of NTV Kenya. But when she was admitted to study meteorology, she resisted. "I wanted to tell stories," she says. "But then I realized the land was telling its own story, and no one was listening."
At the Kenya Meteorological Department, she analyzed climate data and produced forecasts warning of droughts and extreme weather patterns. But these warnings never reached the people who needed them most, her own community, which continued to lose livestock, land, and livelihoods.
"I couldn’t sit in an office, feeding data into a computer, while my people suffered," she says. "So I left. I needed to take action."
That action became Spring of the ASALs (SASAL), an Indigenous-led initiative bridging the gap between science and traditional knowledge. SASAL ensures that pastoralist communities are not just surviving climate change, but actively shaping their own solutions.
As the world marks International Women’s Day 2025 under the theme “Accelerate Action”, Mona’s story is a powerful reminder that Indigenous women are not victims of climate change, they are frontline defenders of their land, culture, and future.
The Role of Indigenous Knowledge in Climate Adaptation
For generations, Indigenous pastoralists have practiced rotational grazing, water conservation, and natural weather prediction. However, modern conservation policies often sideline these traditional methods in favor of Western approaches, many of which fail to consider local realities.
"My grandfather could predict the rains by watching bird migrations and the flowering of certain trees. He was never wrong," Mona says. "Then I studied meteorology and realized our ancestors had been doing what scientists do, just with different tools."
Mona Omar engaging with local Maasai women in Olkiramatian, Magadi, Kajiado County
Mona believes climate adaptation strategies must integrate Indigenous knowledge systems. “Our ancestors knew how to live in harmony with the land, but colonial conservation policies stripped many communities of their autonomy,” she explains. “True climate resilience means reclaiming that knowledge and merging it with modern science.”
Through SASAL, Mona and her team work to document Indigenous climate adaptation techniques and incorporate them into educational programs. Elders, who hold vast ecological knowledge, play a central role in training younger generations, ensuring that traditional wisdom is not lost in the face of climate change.
Digital storytelling is another powerful tool SASAL uses to amplify these Indigenous solutions. "We make sure that pastoralist voices are not just heard locally, but globally," Mona says. "Indigenous climate solutions are not folklore, they are proven, sustainable strategies that must be recognized."
Music, Storytelling, and Indigenous Knowledge as Tools for Climate Justice
SASAL’s work extends beyond research and community training. It is also about storytelling, about ensuring that Indigenous voices do not remain on the fringes of climate policy discussions, but at the center of them.
"Reports can be shelved. Statistics can be dismissed. But a song? A song lingers. A song stirs emotions. A song demands action," Mona says.
Mona Omar donates sanitary pads to young schoolgirls through her organization, Spring of the Arid & Semi-Arid Lands.
One of SASAL’s biggest projects is "Esipata Oloing’ange", a song that translates the struggles of pastoralist communities into a language policymakers cannot ignore. Through music, digital campaigns, and climate storytelling, SASAL ensures that Indigenous perspectives are not lost in technical reports but are felt in a way that moves people to action.
In addition, SASAL uses theater, poetry, and photography to document climate change’s impact on Indigenous communities. The organization works with local artists to weave traditional wisdom into modern digital platforms, making Indigenous knowledge accessible to younger generations.
"Our stories are our power," Mona states. "And through storytelling, we are reclaiming our role as leaders in climate justice."
Challenging Dependency and Changing Mindsets
Despite the progress made, Indigenous women in pastoralist communities still face systemic barriers to education, land ownership, and leadership. Economic dependency remains one of the biggest challenges.
"In the past, most aid programs provided short-term relief but failed to address the root cause of vulnerability, the lack of financial independence for women," Mona explains. "So when we call women for training, their first question isn’t ‘What will I earn?’ ‘Will there be transport reimbursement? Will there be food?’"
To shift this mindset, SASAL focuses on long-term empowerment programs, helping women access credit, business training, and sustainable income opportunities. Projects like Saen Lenkang’ Shop provide women with economic alternatives beyond livestock, ensuring their families can survive harsh seasons without relying on handouts.
A picture of Mona Omar leading a donkey to fetch water.
But Mona also recognizes that men must be part of the conversation.
"You can’t fight patriarchy without engaging men," she says. "If a woman comes home with new knowledge and financial independence, but her husband sees it as a threat, nothing changes. That’s why we train husbands, fathers, and community elders alongside women, so they see that an empowered woman strengthens, rather than weakens, the family."
Through SASAL’s community dialogues and leadership training, men are encouraged to view gender equality as a collective responsibility. This shift is critical in ensuring that climate solutions are inclusive, sustainable, and culturally rooted.
A Vision for the Future
Mona envisions a future in which pastoralist communities are not just at the mercy of climate disasters but actively shape their own resilience strategies.
"We are not just reacting to climate change anymore," she says. "We are planning ahead, building resources, strengthening our economic base, and ensuring women take the lead."
Mona Omar during the filming of Esipata Oloing’ange, an Indigenous Maasai song advocating for climate action.
She calls for direct funding of Indigenous-led initiatives, rather than channeling resources through bureaucratic institutions that fail to deliver impact on the ground.
"We don’t need external solutions imposed on us," she says firmly. "We have the knowledge, the leadership, and the commitment. What we need is the support to scale our solutions."
Land rights, she stresses, are essential. Climate justice cannot exist without securing the rights of pastoralists to their ancestral lands.
A Message to Indigenous Women
As we celebrate International Women’s Day 2025, Mona’s message to Indigenous women is one of courage and self-determination.
"If you are told you cannot lead, prove them wrong. If you are denied education, fight for it. If your voice is silenced, speak louder," she says.
To global policymakers, her demand is clear: "Indigenous women must be at the decision-making table. We are not beneficiaries of climate action; we are the architects of it. Fund us. Support us. Listen to us."
Mona’s fight is far from over. But with every Manyatta built, every woman empowered, and every pastoralist family strengthened, she is proving that the future of climate justice belongs to those who refuse to be left behind.
