In June 2025, Julius Toba Malika paid a visit to the Musul pastoralist community in Northern Kenya to gather insights on how grass reseeding is building climate resilience in this livestock- dependent community. While interacting with the community, Julius learned that reseeding is more than just a restoration strategy. He shares these insights in this blog.
In the vast rangelands of Northern Kenya lies Musul, a pastoralist community in Laikipia North- the northernmost sub-county of Laikipia County. Here grass is far more than simple ground cover. It is a living thread that stitches together community livelihood and cultural identity. For generations, the Maasai community here have relied on grass to sustain their cattle, goats and sheep. Prolonged years of drought have proved challenging for this livestock dependent community. As we explore how grass reseeding is helping the community remain resilient to the prolonged dry conditions, we discover how reseeding has created new roles and why grass, more than just animal fodder, holds deep cultural significance.
Musul’s Grass Reseeding Story
Musul’s story mirrors that of many rangeland communities across Kenya. Severe droughts have led to vast lands bare and broken. I visited Musul in the second week of June to understand how the community is adapting to the prolonged dry conditions. During my time there, I spoke with community members, the grazing committee and walked the rangelands with them, witnessing firsthand the scale of land degradation. In a discussion with the community’s grazing committee, the chair of the group explains:
‘The severe drought has left our land bare, forcing us to buy hay from private farms away from here just to keep our herds alive. The idea of reseeding was born from this crisis. Out of the urgency to act fast and with the support from Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) and encouragement from local leaders, we began setting aside parts of our landscapes. Training and resources from the NGOs has enabled us to dig a good number of semi-circular bunds and plant grasses.’
Indeed, gullies and dust patches are evident across the landscape, a clear sign of the serious challenge the community faces to graze their livestock.
Francis, a leader of the local cooperative, describes how reseeding even changed water dynamics.
‘The bunds slow down runoff. Where water once washed everything away, now the soil holds moisture and grass grows’.
Grass as Culture, Women as Change
Grass in Musul has always meant more than fodder or soil cover. It holds deep cultural and spiritual meaning. In one focus group, men described how grass is woven into Maasai rites. During circumcision ceremonies, young boys carry grass when they approach elders to ask for an animal to slaughter. It is a humble sign of their request – a tradition so serious that denying it is believed to bring misfortune. Elders use grass dipped in milk to bless boys, speaking words that tie prosperity directly to the land.
“Wherever he goes with the grass-tied stick, the land will become greener, livestock will multiply, and milk will overflow,”
One elder shared.
Women used to carry grass when visiting sacred trees or mountains, paired with gourds and this shows respect for spirits that dwell there. Although some of these cultural practices are slowly fading, community members hope that by replanting grasses, they are also restoring a sense of pride tied to their culture. Seeing the land green again is more than an ecological victory to Musul community, it is a reaffirmation of who they are.
The restoration efforts are not only reshaping the landscape, it is also shifting long-held community roles. The Kenya’s Community Land Act, 2016 was a game changer for the community. The law transformed how communities like Musul manage and share land. Now, women, youth, and marginalized groups have the right to own, use, and make decisions about communal land. Thanks to this law, women in Musul now serve on grazing committees and play an active role in shaping laws that ensure sustainable use of their land. Before this law came into effect, and when the community was still under group range ownership, only men could be registered. But now, following the full effect of the community land act and community empowerment about this Act, all adults including women, are on the land register, and even grazing committees must include at least one-third of the opposite gender in decision making.
Women clear land, build bunds, plant grass, and earn income that supports their families. Many have attended workshops on conservation, learning firsthand how soil health and grass cover affect everything from erosion to carbon sequestration. They have contributed to crafting by-laws that regulate when grazing can happen, taking part in imposing fines on anyone who breaks these rules and ensuring sustainable use of the community natural resources. One women who is a member of the grazing community and involved from the start, reflected on how much their participation in reseeding has changed daily life.
‘Before reseeding, the land was bare and dry. Now, after reseeding, the soil is softer, even when you walk you feel it. Where there is grass, there are small trees. Our livestock have more to eat and we can even store hay for dry times. We are proud because this is our work.’
A Promise Growing from the Soil
Challenges remain. Rain is never certain, wildlife often breaks into protected areas, and seeds are sometimes lost to birds or wind. Still, the community is hopeful. They are harvesting seeds from existing fields to keep planting on their own, determined to expand greener areas, encourage more shade, and bring stability to their families. As John, another elder, put it simply:
‘We want other communities to see what we have done here. They face the same droughts. They can learn from us.’
In Musul community, grass carries the weight of livelihood, culture, and now, transformation. Whether planted carefully in dusty soil by women and men alike or tied around gourds in sacred ceremonies, grass here is more than a plant. It holds the quiet possibility that the land could heal, and that resilience, like a seed, may begin small but grow strong with care.
Photo credits
The Author took all the photos used in the blog.
Information about the author:
Julius Toba Malika is an AFAS fellow from the 2nd master cohort based at the University of Nairobi in Kenya.
(juliusmalika91[at]gmail.com) (julius.malika[at]students.uonbi.ac.ke)