It's a challenger. It's an interesting challenge.
Abdekhadi Ramin used to have 120 head of cattle, now only 15 remain alive, most of them barely.
The rest can be found rotting in fields nearby, joining the carcasses of hundreds of thousands of dead livestock in the region, victims of Kenya's worst drought in living memory.
In all the droughts in the past we never experienced anything like this, he says. There was always somewhere where you could find pasture, but now there is nothing. All we can do is wait and pray for the rains.
But the rains haven't come now for most of the past three years. Experts blame climate change. The crisis has been made worse by overgrazing and overpopulation.
So herders like Amin are flocking to the region's waterholes, scraping up the last precious trickles of water in a desperate effort to survive.
The smell of rotting carcasses around this waterhole here is overpowering. In a region where cattle and other livestock are the only livelihood, herds here have already been killed off at the rate of 70%.
Cattle, once valued at $200 a head, are now selling for five. In a region with almost no industry or development, this is devastating.
I don't know how we'll survive, Amin says. Cattle herding is all I know. My family now only exists because of handouts.
Even if the rains return, the cattlemen say it will take a generation to rebuild their herds.
With the only source of food and income disappearing, malnutrition rates are soaring. Young children are always among the first victims.
Baby Shamsa Aden was admitted to hospital so badly malnourished, doctors had trouble finding a vein to feed her intravenously.
The baby is severely dehydrated, so even the veins are collapsed. And that is why we are having some difficulty getting the veins.
Her story is the same as many of the children here. Drought, death of family livestock, malnutrition, chronic diarrhea, dehydration.
Child malnutrition rates in Mwajir region are at 30% and rising. So far, only a third of the people most in need are getting food aid.
The UN, the Kenyan government and other aid agencies are appealing for urgent cash donations of 220 million US dollars to prevent a human disaster.
And unless there is a generous and quick response to that, the numbers who are at the moment moderately malnourished, quickly will become severely malnourished and many of them will die.
Some already are. Help came too late for Shamsa. She died shortly after this was filmed.
The CBC's David McGuffin in Kenya. Felicity? When we return, entertaining the visitors.
The
a small mountain country entirely surrounded by South Africa and it's struggling to remain
independent. Lasutu had a thriving textile industry based on trade rules that provided
priority access to the American clothing market. But when that deal ended last year the industry
collapsed. Now Lasutu is hoping that tourism can provide vital foreign income. Here's the
ABC's Zoe Daniel. In the mountains of Lasutu cow herds make their way home for another
day. Not a lot changes in these alpine villages where most live a subsistence existence in
this poor yet enchanting country. They've lived this way for generations weathering
harsh winters among some of Africa's highest and most magnificent peaks. Despite its beauty
and traditional appeal the tiny nation has never been able to support itself. Even its
trademark item of clothing, this traditional woven blanket is made of a traditional
clothing. But these rugged mountain people refuse to relinquish their national pride
and they're trying to weave a better future. In the mountain valley of Malia Lea lies one
of Lasutu's best chances at survival. Shew footed Basutu ponies are part of life here
and they may yet take Lasutu over the mountain she's trying to climb. The terrain cannot
be accessed by roads and stuff you have to ride a horse in order to access many places
in Lasutu. David Makale is something of a local hero when it comes to horses and he's
taking me for the last ride of the day. For the first time you know it's a bit scary
but after one trek you feel like a hero you know like if you just look oh I rode the horse
like up and down that mountain oh man. It's great. Yeah. While he may seem a simple mountain
man David Makale has seen the outside world. He trained as an equestrian overseas and even
featured in this fashion shoot in an Italian magazine. But he's known the deep poverty
of Lasutu life. My father was a miner he worked in the mines in South Africa but there was
the crisis in the mines so then he came home and it was really difficult because I remember
in 1986 I couldn't go to school because he had no money to pay for our school fees. Now
that financial assistance for his equestrian training has dwindled David himself is forced
to seek a living at home. He and his mother have made this small museum a hut built in
traditional style to draw the tourists. As you can see this is quite an artistic thing.
The loom soil horse manure cow dung is being mixed together and then the solution will
be stuck on the lines. They can only be found in the Sutu. And while he may have lost his
chance at international sporting fame David has discovered beauty in what he took for
granted through the eyes of visitors. Sometimes you know people as they live they just take
everything for granted. Everything becomes normal and then as people from other places
come in you start to realise the importance of living in your area. The Malilia Valley
has become a model for the Sutu's tourism industry. By night locals make money by singing
to visitors at the local lodge. By day pony owners can enjoy the beauty of the Sutu. By
night the pony owners line up their mounts for tourist tricks. Europeans, Americans
and the odd Australian come here to see traditional life from on high. How often have you been
on a horse? Never. Never? Never. I've got a horse since 12 years. Can we make it very
short? Sure. The pony guides refer to the tourists as their diamonds because of the
value they bring to an area that's otherwise on the brink of desperate poverty. But tourists
aren't the only precious gems in these mountains. Exploitation of Les Sutu's natural assets
is providing a glimpse of economic growth. The mountains have begun to pay. These are
the plus 10 karastres. I can't believe they're real. They're so big. How much is this worth?
A million at least. Excuse me while I prank. These diamonds are the real thing and they're
among the largest and clearest in the world. So what happens when you find one like this?
Every word gets excited. From Les Sutu's most remote peaks and valleys, the Let's
Eng diamond mine is pulling stones called gin and tonics as pure as the environment
from which they come. In terms of revenue per carat, we are the highest in the world.
That's what makes us very, very special. LaRooti Mpatswi has worked in everything from civil
engineering to weaving. Now he's the general manager of this South African owned operation.
He wants this mine to help local villagers climb out of poverty. But he knows he can't
help everybody. We realised that the mine can only employ not more than 400 people.
And we had close to 2000 applications and people standing at our gate.
It's hoped the diamond mine will bring tourists and some wealth into this valley. But it can't
solve Les Sutu's economic crisis by itself. Do you think it can continue to be independent?
There are people who are saying Les Sutu should be part of South Africa. Personally I think
it should stay independent. But we really have to double our efforts to make sure that
people survive in Les Sutu. There are so few options here that survival
for the people of Les Sutu, Africa's kingdom in the sky, will continue to be an uphill
struggle. That was the ABC Zoe Daniel in Les Sutu. Gloria.
Next, a plain burial with a casket fit for a carpenter.