Dead Cows, June 2015

The long horned, white cows.
Notice how thin they are and how little food there is.

Their bloated carcasses liter the sides of the roads.  Enormous, white bodies with limbs and tails 

standing erect under the merciless West-Africa sun.  Their pungent stench slaps your face as it's carried on the hot breeze, assaulting your senses until your car roars past. 

At this time of year, usually a handful of these victims of hot season can be seen.  This year there are scores of them.  They represent the intertwined challenges of climate change, diverse ethnic groups, 

and the struggle to extend sustainable agricultural practices in Senegal. 

It is the height of hot season.  Farmers in my community are braving the blistering, arid climate to prepare their fields for when the rains return after their nine month absence.  Unfortunately, much of their hard work is doing more harm than good. 

Organic ground matter (crop stubble) and intact roots make ploughing by horse much more difficult, so farmers burn these out of their fields.  Just in time for the strong pre-rain winds to blow away the now unprotected, nutrient rich soil.  Dust storms carry away the most fertile soil and leave only the nutrient-deficient sub layers, making future farming even more difficult.  Young trees are removed and burned indiscriminately with crop debris, so fields are devoid of the natural tools to combat wind and rain erosion common to 'monsoon' season. 

Lines of ash from a freshly burned field.  The farmers raked all
organic matter into lines before burning.  Ash and charcoal
do have a positive effect on the soil, but it too blows away with
the exposed top soil before crops are planted.

Furthermore, widespread peanut harvests complete the destruction of Senegal's farming soils.  Like cotton, peanuts seriously deplete the soil of crucial nutrients.  Local harvest methods of the nation's most popular (and only subsidized) crop include removing the entire plant and root, then sifting through the top soil. 

There is no question these practices, compounded by Senegal's growing population, are detrimental.  Increased access to health care has caused a dramatic increase in Senegal's population, leading to systematic deforestation to supply the demand for construction and more farm land.  And Senegal didn't begin this process with an overabundance of trees.  This progression has removed Senegal's natural line of defense against the creeping invasion of the Sahara desert.  Documented deforestation, chronic soil degradation. and creeping desertification are causing dramatically decreased annual rainfalls.  And the vast majority of Senegal (and sub-Saharan Africa) is comprised of subsistence farmer whose livelihoods rely on that rainfall.        

Recently deforested land.  A very sad sight on a recent bike ride.

Limited resources are further strained by cow, sheep, and goat herds brought onto farmland in the off season by the nomadic Pulaars.  Subsistence farmers, typically ethnic Wolofs or Sereers, peacefully co-exist with their Pulaar counterparts.  Wolofs build permanent houses in established communities, farming in the rainy season in the surrounding bush.  Ethnic Pulaars, by contrast, live at least half of the year in transient camps.  Temporary tent micro-communities spring up under a grove of trees outside a Wolof community so herds can graze on left over organic matter not valued by farmers. 

This is a semi-beneficial relationship since the herds survive off the field stubble not valued by farmers and the manure left behind re-inserts organic matter in the field.  Cultural, linguistic, and life style differences are overlooked as the two ethnic groups peacefully coexist.  Last year's drought, however, has caused roughly twice as many Pulaar herds down into my region in search of subsistence not found in the increasingly desertified North.

Cows ranging on fields in the off season.

The limited stubble from last year's reduced harvests combined with the increased demand from the extra Pulaar herds has spelled further trouble for Senegal's trees.  Tree limbs are cut down and entire trees are felled for the leaves to provide enough food for their herds. 

Beyond making me personally angry since all the shade has disappeared in the hottest months of the year, this creates a cyclical pattern of desertification.  Less trees facilitate the creeping invasion of the Sahara desert, meaning that farming fields are losing viability and Pulaar caravans will need to continue traveling farther to find food for their herds.  This year, herds are especially struggling to forage enough.  For each dead cow along the edge of the road, there are innumerous additional victims of starvation unseen in the bush.          

A Pulaar herder, wearing the typical scarf to protect
from dust, with his sheep herd.

Agroforestry Peace Corps Volunteers lament how their attempts to halt the creeping onslaught of the Sahara desert are stymied by the cultural acceptance of free range animals.  Household livestock are allowed to roam in and around the village (as it's seen as more economical than having to provide feed to tethered animals), making it necessary to protect new trees.  Crafty goats and strong cows can tear apart all but the strongest tree defenses, making it nearly impossible to establish trees where they are needed most- in the barren stretches of farmland. 

Agricultural Peace Corps Volunteers like myself are also frustrated by the constraints livestock pose for our work.  Off-season cover crops are an excellent method of restoring soil fertility and protecting the ground from erosion, but is rendered impossible by roaming herds.  Cows tear down garden fences.  Goats dig under the fence.  Chickens fly over it.  It's a miracle anything grows long enough to be harvested in a vegetable garden.  Food security is a mounting challenge for the Senegalese population, and free range animals have made my attempts to combat it outrageously difficult.    

While frustrated by the restrictions caused by combining agrarian and nomadic cultures, I am acutely appreciative of the acceptance of both groups.  Both groups are seen interacting with smiles, cross-cultural commerce, shared meals, and discussions about how to fix the agricultural problems.    

With food and forage resources dwindling, I am constantly forced to admire Senegal's ethnic tolerance. With global headlines about political criticisms, ethnic conflicts, and the inability to compromise, the world needs to be reminded that acceptance can be practiced in the face of mounting hardship.  The world needs to notice Senegal's dead cows.