During the 1990 Gulf Crisis, more than 4100 Bedouin families entered Jordan and about half of them walked the 1000 kilometres from Kuwait. Almost nobody knows about this migration because it was illegal. They were illegal immigrants and smugglers, having not paid the 5 dinar import fee for each of their animals. They brought 1.8 million sheep, goats, and camels into rangeland already overgrazed and fully occupied by resident tribes.
Jordan is the eye in the storm of the Middle East. It is the closest country to a democracy, the most open socially, the most peaceful, the most religiously pluralistic, and the most lawful. Too often, news about the Middle East that mentions “tribes” contains “lawless” in the same sentence. It’s true in Jordan that tribal law is strong and exists alongside government law, but that does not make it lawless. Tribal leaders in Jordan are struggling to adapt their laws and customs to the 21st century.
On August 2, 1990, when Saddam Hussein’s bombs began falling on Kuwait, Sheikh Al-Kuwaiti called his clan leaders together. (This is not his real name; I used a pseudonym for the Sheikh’s name and tribe’s name to protect their identity.) This took some time because many were scattered with their families and flocks across the arid rangelands. By the time they met, their situation was dire: tanks and troops were everywhere and their sheep and goats couldn’t graze. There was talk of other countries attacking to drive the Iraqis out of Kuwait; clearly, their animals could not survive in a war zone. Without their livestock, Bedouins are nothing. Saddam had ordered all able-bodied men to join the Iraq army on pain of death. Without her husband and sons, a Bedouin wife and mother struggles because she can’t show her face in public and would have no financial support. It takes the whole family to raise and market sheep and care for the goats, donkeys, and camels. No honourable man would leave his wife, mother, or daughters to such a fate. They must go. But were?
In the first days of the war, 1.4 million people, mostly foreign workers and students, fled Kuwait for Jordan, the only safe haven. Most booked a flight to Queen Alia airport, took a ferry to Jordan’s port of Aqaba on the Red Sea, or bought a bus ticket to Amman via Iraq to the Jordanian border outpost at Ruwayshid. Other Bedouins from Kuwait and Iraq had hired trucks to drive their animals to Jordan, and tens of thousands per day arrived at Ruwayshid. But these options were not open to the Al-Kuwaiti tribe. They were “bidoon jinseya,” people without citizenship in any country, a relic of the formation of the modern Gulf States. They could not legally enter any other country. The Sheikh made a decision that saved his tribe from destruction, but at a high cost: they would walk. They were Bedu, after all: people of the desert.
Travelling at night and hiding in wadis by day, they followed the ancient migration routes to avoid capture by the Iraqi army and the Saudi border patrols. Under the August sun, the trek took about six weeks for some and longer for those who veered south through Saudi Arabia or north through Syria to avoid the Jordan-Iraq border.
Only the Al-Kuwaiti know what rigours they faced, and they rarely speak of it to outsiders because of legal issues. Jordanian veterinarians working for the Ministry of Agriculture reported that their animals were starving and carried high disease and parasites burdens. The toll on the humans can only be guessed.
In 2002, my colleagues and I began interviewing the Al-Kuwaiti and other tribes and studying the ecology as part of Jordan’s claim against Iraq for damages to 7.1 million hectares of arid rangeland and wildlife habitat caused by the overgrazing. The land was already overgrazed before they arrived, but the doubling of the livestock population in just a few months forced the starving animals to eat every living plant, even pulling up shrubs to gnaw at the roots. Wildlife, such as the goitered gazelles, a species unique to the region, virtually disappeared. The Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (www.rscn.org.jo/) had started a captive breeding program for the Arabian oryx, which had been extirpated from the wild about 1973, and was about to begin releasing them back to the wild when the war broke out. But with such severe overgrazing, there was no suitable habitat left to release them into. The release was put on hold, and the program began winding down. When we surveyed the eastern desert in 2002 (our team included Jordani ecologists and engineers, British environmental economists and American lawyers), there were large areas with no shrubs at all, but with dead stumps of bushes proving that what was now bare desert had previously been a brushy, shrub-steppe grassland. By then, Jordan had granted citizenship to about 2000, but most of the Al-Kuwaiti were still living in tents.
Of course, this influx of livestock and people did not only affect the rangeland and the wildlife that live there. It also affected the resident Bedu, who had had to compete with the newly arrived Kuwaiti and Iraqi Bedu for grazing land. They also had to find a way to integrate them into the Bedu society, a process not easily accomplished for a tribal society with deep attachments to their lands and traditional affiliations and animosities among tribes.
In 2005, as a result of our work, the United Nations Compensation Commission awarded Jordan $161 million damages for the overgrazing. In 2006, we went back to help design the rangeland rehabilitation program and met with Sheikhs of all the desert tribes to seek their input. The damage to the Bedu, however, still persists and I believe is irrecoverable. The overgrazing was so severe that, along with other factors, the average number of sheep per family fell from about 400 to around 20, and many men were forced to leave the livestock business and seek wage employment. This tore the social fabric and disproportionately affected women, who for cultural reasons often cannot work outside the home. Before the Gulf Crisis, virtually all women were “employed” in managing the family livestock business. After it, those whose families could no longer make a living raising sheep were “unemployed” in that they had nothing to do and contributed little to the family’s livelihood. Many girls began to think about school or employment, causing tension with the traditional-minded men.
Even so, the Bedouin traditions are strong and their culture persists. Outside of the cities, about 98% of the population identify themselves as “Bedu,” and identify with one of the 40 or so Jordanian tribes. Almost all have at least a few sheep or goats, while those better off still count their wealth in camels. More than 60% are semi-nomadic, spending at least one season away from their homes in search of pasture, and 5–10% are fully nomadic, with no permanent homes. They have a deep attachment to the land and love the lifestyle. Nor are they without power. Land tenure and other issues pressured the government to apportion seats in Parliament by area. One consequence is that the tribes have strong, possibly even controlling representation. A family might have no money, but the tribe does and the Sheikh controls it. He and the clan leaders decide who can buy a new truck for the livestock, how the families will share it, which bright students will go to university, and what they will study.
Once, in 2002, to interview a clan chief in a remote part of the desert we had hired a local guide to find him and needed a good 4x4 to navigate the trackless desert. As we sat in his tent on killims (rugs of woven goat hair dyed in the beautiful patterns of his tribe), sipping tea, this man and his family appeared to be the personification of poverty. There was no furniture, no equipment that couldn't be easily loaded onto a camel, and the tent showed the wear of decades. He and his sons wore the traditional white robe and Hashemite-patterened kafiya, or man's shawl, and their dress also reflected the toil of life in the desert. His wife and daughters, of course, stayed in the private part of the tent. A hundred or so sheep and a few goats grazed outside and a lamb came into the tent, and was petted by the youngest son while we talked. Then his other son drove up in a new Lincon Escalade and got out wearing a business suit. Such are the contrasts of modern Bedouin life.
The rangeland restoration program is now underway. A new, large nature reserve is under development in the northeast, and a captive breeding program for the endangered Arabian oryx has been rejuvenated. The government is encouraging families to keep fewer sheep and goats to that the rangeland can recover, and is attempting to develop alternative sources of livelihood for them. How these tribes, clans, and families respond to the new reality will determine Jordan’s political, social, and economic future.
References
My Jordanian colleagues and I published the outline of this story in a journal article about the Arabian oryx [Harding, L.E., Omar Abu Eid, et al. (2007). "Re-introduction of the Arabian oryx (Oryx leucoryx) in Jordan: war and redemption." Oryx 41(4): 478-487].
Details of the UNCC claims and compensation awards can be found at http://www.uncc.ch/.
Information on the Bidoons of Kuwait is available at numerous Web sites including http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2001/nea/8268.htm, http://www.fco.gov.uk/en/travel-and-living-abroad/travel-advice-by-country/country-profile/middle-east-north-africa/kuwait?profile=all, http://www.unhchr.ch/tbs/doc.nsf/(Symbol)/1fae9818c5381a0a8025673e00390939?Opendocument.
Showing posts with label desertification. Show all posts
Showing posts with label desertification. Show all posts
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Strategic Implications of Climate change
In my prevous post, I mentioned the crisis in Sahelian countries as what we can expect from climate change. This post enlarges on the first paragraph. The climate change crisis is not about when it will affect us, but which country it will destroy next. Darfur is a prime example.
The carnage in the Sudan continues, even though climate change has pushed it to the back pages. Meanwhile, the neo-climate change news coverage is framed as, “if we don’t act now, then sometime in the future we will be in trouble.” It turns out that climate change and the humanitarian crisis in the Sudan are related.
The trouble in Darfur results from camel-riding nomads, or young men from nomadic cultures, who are mainly Muslim, attacking settled farming peoples of the south and west, who are mainly Christian. Clearly, the nomads have government support and encouragement, making the current phase of this crisis a political and religious crusade.
No one, except, apparently the jinjaweed themselves, can countenance their murderous attacks on the settled (mostly black) farmers, but the nomads from the north are not to blame for this crisis.
We are. The roots of this crisis are in the colonial enslavement in the first half of the last century, and in misguided international aid efforts that began in the 1960s. Prior to these western interventions, the nomads moved their flocks with the seasons in a relationship with their dry environment that had been stable for at least five millennia. Forced settlement by the colonial masters, followed by well-drilling to ease poverty and encourage farming, disrupted the pastoral patterns and caused large-scale desertification and loss of wildlife habitat. This resulted in continuous famine in various parts of the Sahel since 1968. The famines of 1973–1975 and 1984 were especially severe and burned into our minds the plight of starving people in Ethiopia, Eritrea, Sudan, Biafra (now returned to Nigeria) and other Sahelian countries. Climate change that began to be felt in the 1980s made it worse. The connection with climate change has been known for more than two decades and was discovered by Canadian wildlife biologists.
Firs, let’s correct an error that has crept into the new reports. The camel-riding nomads from the Sahel, the vast dry savanna and semi-arid desert that lies between the Sahara desert and the green jungles of tropical Africa, are not ethnic Arabs. Although Arabic has been widely spoken in the region since Muslim conquests around 1200 years ago, many people of Chad, northern Sudan and Ethiopia speak endemic minority languages such as Nubian, in the Nilo-Saharan language group; Beja, in the Cushitic language groups; and Kordofanian languages. Nilo-Saharan languages predominate in the south. To the west, in Niger, Mali and southern Algeria, the nomad peoples, such as the Tuareg, speak Berber languages. To lump these people in with “Arabs” as is so often seen in newspaper articles, distorts our perspective.
After forced settlement in the colonial era, desertification intensified with well-intentioned but short-sighted and misinformed development aid projects. Canadian wildlife biologists A. R. E. Sinclair and J. M. Fryxell of the University of British Columbia noted in 1985 (C J. Zool. 63:987-994) that until the mid 1950s, the normal land use in the north of Sudan and indeed throughout the southern fringe of the Sahel—the semi-arid rangeland that is drier than the grasslands to the south but moister than the arid Sahara to the north—was pastoralism with migration following the rain. Human movements mimicked wildlife movements.
In the southern part of the region, the migration was annual and regular. This was the pattern, or example, of some 800,000 white-eared kob, an antelope of southeastern Sudan. Human migration mirrored that of wildlife: pastoralists in the southern fringe of the Sahel took their livestock, mostly cattle, south to the grasslands and fringes of flood plains of Lake Chad and the Senegal, Niger and Chari river basins where vegetation was dominated by perennial grasses.
In the north, however, closer to the Sahara where rainfall was less, the vegetation was dominated by annual grasses, forbs, desert shrubs, and acacia trees. The large wild ungulates of this region, such as the red-fronted and dorcas gazelles, fringe-eared and scimitar-horned oryx, and addax, did not follow annual north-south migrations, and neither did the people. Cattle cannot survive in this dry country, and cannot be driven far enough to reach grasslands and water in summer. Instead, people raised sheep and goats, which can subsist on dry brush and need less water. They and their flocks, like the wildlife, moved nomadically within the region in search of forage. They camped where they found water and forage, and when it was gone they covered large distances in search of rainfall and grass.
After the Second World War, western countries increased their food and development aid to Africa. That encouraged the pastoralists and others to settle around dug and drilled wells. With the wells, farmers and settled pastoralists could increase their flock and herd sizes, but this caused severe overgrazing around the new wells. The famine of 1973–1975 followed periods of below-average rainfall, but the pastoral grazing system had withstood such droughts before. Those droughts were well within the naturally high variability of rainfall in the Sahel. The human tragedies were caused by massive starvation of livestock because of overgrazing, not lack of rainfall. What Sinclair and Fryxell, the wildlife biologists, discovered was that the climate had changed, rainfall was declining over time, and this had exacerbated desertification. Later famines, such as the one of 1984, were climate-related.
They did not know then that the climate change that they detected resulted in part from greenhouse gas emissions that cause global warming. Instead, they hypothesized that the human-caused overgrazing itself caused a decline in rainfall by making less moisture from plant transpiration available uptake by air currents and redistribution to the drier environments to the north. This is no doubt part of the story.
In 1988, a biologist writing about wildlife conservation (John E. Newby: Aridland Wildlife in Decline), also connected the deterioration of range conditions in the Sahel with conflict between nomad herders and farmers and began early in the colonial period:
“In the past, permanent use of sub-Saharan grasslands was not only difficult, since water resources were largely ephemeral, but also constrained by tribal warfare that dissuaded the establishment or activities of isolated groups of people. With the subjugation of the powerful nomadic tribes during the early colonial period, large areas of no-mans’ land, previously inhabited by wildlife, became available to man. Farmers were tree to extend their fields...farmers were perhaps for the first time able to extend their activities into the northern Sahel.”
The colonial masters brought large numbers of black slaves and serfs into the nomads’ territory, and with emancipation, they settled there. Newby further wrote that,
“With independence in the early 1960s, the new Sahelian states began to benefit from international aid programmes, foremost of which was the development of the waterless pastoral lands. Boreholes were sunk, deep wells cemented, and pumping stations installed, and for a short time the nomads had access to rich, new pastoral resources. What the developers failed to foresee, however, was the gross overgrazing that was to take place, the subsequent erosion and the desertification. Neither did they take into account the droughts of the late 1960s and 1970s. With changed herding patterns and increased livestock numbers, millions of head of cattle died for want of food, not water.”
The nomads were being hit from both ends: the wildlife that they had hunted for meat and leather was disappearing along with forage for their livestock in the arid north, and farmers were moving into their traditional dry-season territories areas to the south. The loss of wildlife such as oryx, addax, barbary sheep, two species of gazelles, and ostriches, was acute because these animals were important not only for meat, but for their importance in the cultures of these desert nomads. Oryx hide, for example, has particular uses not easily replaced by sheepskin or cowhide. Giraffes, which occur in the southern fringe of the Sahel where the nomads summer, provide another unique product: their tails are valued as wedding gifts (Ivory Wars: Last Stand in Zakouma by J. Michael Fay and Michael Nichols, National Geographic, March 2007). The cultural disruption caused by desertification has de-stabilized nomadic societies as much as the loss of livestock.
Since the rangeland and wildlife research in the 1980s, climate research has shown that global warming is playing a large part in desertification of the Sahel, and has done so for a quarter of a century.
In Darfur, the on-going human tragedy, although abetted by the current government for political reasons (albeit with a religious veneer), is fundamentally an ecological crisis caused first by poor land use, and second by climate change. The nomads are not to blame, except for those actually riding the camels and wielding the weapons. They are victims as much as the farmers they are attacking. The fight is not about religion, politics, or even land. It is about forage for livestock and the loss of rangeland productivity that has sustained the nomadic cultures of the Sahel for at least 5000 years. Disputes like these will spread as a consequence of global warming. We cannot sit in our comfortable homes and worry about what will happen to us in 50 or 100 years if we do not deal effectively with climate change. Canadian soldiers, diplomats, and, yes, even wildlife biologists, have already experienced the results of climate change in the Sahel and a good proportion of our international aid goes there. If we consider “us” to be all of us on this planet, the tragedy of climate change has already begun and it will get worse unless we stop it.
References consulted in this essay
Berger, Joel. 2004. The last mile: how to sustain long-distance migration in mammals. Conservation Biology 18:320–331.
Fryxell, J. M. 1987. Food limitation and demography of a migratory antelope, the white-eared kob. Oecologia 72:83-91.
Hulme, Mike, Ruth Doherty, Todd Ngara, Mark New, and David Lister. 2001. African Climate Change: 1900-2100. Climate Research 17:145-168.
Kabii, T. 1996. An Overview of African Wetlands. Ramsar Bureau, Switzerland. 6 pp.
Newby, John E. 1988. Aridland wildlife in decline, Pp 146-166 in A. Dixon, and D. Jones, (eds) Conservation and Biology of Desert Antelopes. London, Christopher Helm Ltd.
Sinclair, A. R. E., and J. M. Fryxell. 1985. The Sahel of Africa: ecology of a disaster. Canadian Journal of Zoology 63:987-994.
The carnage in the Sudan continues, even though climate change has pushed it to the back pages. Meanwhile, the neo-climate change news coverage is framed as, “if we don’t act now, then sometime in the future we will be in trouble.” It turns out that climate change and the humanitarian crisis in the Sudan are related.
The trouble in Darfur results from camel-riding nomads, or young men from nomadic cultures, who are mainly Muslim, attacking settled farming peoples of the south and west, who are mainly Christian. Clearly, the nomads have government support and encouragement, making the current phase of this crisis a political and religious crusade.
No one, except, apparently the jinjaweed themselves, can countenance their murderous attacks on the settled (mostly black) farmers, but the nomads from the north are not to blame for this crisis.
We are. The roots of this crisis are in the colonial enslavement in the first half of the last century, and in misguided international aid efforts that began in the 1960s. Prior to these western interventions, the nomads moved their flocks with the seasons in a relationship with their dry environment that had been stable for at least five millennia. Forced settlement by the colonial masters, followed by well-drilling to ease poverty and encourage farming, disrupted the pastoral patterns and caused large-scale desertification and loss of wildlife habitat. This resulted in continuous famine in various parts of the Sahel since 1968. The famines of 1973–1975 and 1984 were especially severe and burned into our minds the plight of starving people in Ethiopia, Eritrea, Sudan, Biafra (now returned to Nigeria) and other Sahelian countries. Climate change that began to be felt in the 1980s made it worse. The connection with climate change has been known for more than two decades and was discovered by Canadian wildlife biologists.
Firs, let’s correct an error that has crept into the new reports. The camel-riding nomads from the Sahel, the vast dry savanna and semi-arid desert that lies between the Sahara desert and the green jungles of tropical Africa, are not ethnic Arabs. Although Arabic has been widely spoken in the region since Muslim conquests around 1200 years ago, many people of Chad, northern Sudan and Ethiopia speak endemic minority languages such as Nubian, in the Nilo-Saharan language group; Beja, in the Cushitic language groups; and Kordofanian languages. Nilo-Saharan languages predominate in the south. To the west, in Niger, Mali and southern Algeria, the nomad peoples, such as the Tuareg, speak Berber languages. To lump these people in with “Arabs” as is so often seen in newspaper articles, distorts our perspective.
After forced settlement in the colonial era, desertification intensified with well-intentioned but short-sighted and misinformed development aid projects. Canadian wildlife biologists A. R. E. Sinclair and J. M. Fryxell of the University of British Columbia noted in 1985 (C J. Zool. 63:987-994) that until the mid 1950s, the normal land use in the north of Sudan and indeed throughout the southern fringe of the Sahel—the semi-arid rangeland that is drier than the grasslands to the south but moister than the arid Sahara to the north—was pastoralism with migration following the rain. Human movements mimicked wildlife movements.
In the southern part of the region, the migration was annual and regular. This was the pattern, or example, of some 800,000 white-eared kob, an antelope of southeastern Sudan. Human migration mirrored that of wildlife: pastoralists in the southern fringe of the Sahel took their livestock, mostly cattle, south to the grasslands and fringes of flood plains of Lake Chad and the Senegal, Niger and Chari river basins where vegetation was dominated by perennial grasses.
In the north, however, closer to the Sahara where rainfall was less, the vegetation was dominated by annual grasses, forbs, desert shrubs, and acacia trees. The large wild ungulates of this region, such as the red-fronted and dorcas gazelles, fringe-eared and scimitar-horned oryx, and addax, did not follow annual north-south migrations, and neither did the people. Cattle cannot survive in this dry country, and cannot be driven far enough to reach grasslands and water in summer. Instead, people raised sheep and goats, which can subsist on dry brush and need less water. They and their flocks, like the wildlife, moved nomadically within the region in search of forage. They camped where they found water and forage, and when it was gone they covered large distances in search of rainfall and grass.
After the Second World War, western countries increased their food and development aid to Africa. That encouraged the pastoralists and others to settle around dug and drilled wells. With the wells, farmers and settled pastoralists could increase their flock and herd sizes, but this caused severe overgrazing around the new wells. The famine of 1973–1975 followed periods of below-average rainfall, but the pastoral grazing system had withstood such droughts before. Those droughts were well within the naturally high variability of rainfall in the Sahel. The human tragedies were caused by massive starvation of livestock because of overgrazing, not lack of rainfall. What Sinclair and Fryxell, the wildlife biologists, discovered was that the climate had changed, rainfall was declining over time, and this had exacerbated desertification. Later famines, such as the one of 1984, were climate-related.
They did not know then that the climate change that they detected resulted in part from greenhouse gas emissions that cause global warming. Instead, they hypothesized that the human-caused overgrazing itself caused a decline in rainfall by making less moisture from plant transpiration available uptake by air currents and redistribution to the drier environments to the north. This is no doubt part of the story.
In 1988, a biologist writing about wildlife conservation (John E. Newby: Aridland Wildlife in Decline), also connected the deterioration of range conditions in the Sahel with conflict between nomad herders and farmers and began early in the colonial period:
“In the past, permanent use of sub-Saharan grasslands was not only difficult, since water resources were largely ephemeral, but also constrained by tribal warfare that dissuaded the establishment or activities of isolated groups of people. With the subjugation of the powerful nomadic tribes during the early colonial period, large areas of no-mans’ land, previously inhabited by wildlife, became available to man. Farmers were tree to extend their fields...farmers were perhaps for the first time able to extend their activities into the northern Sahel.”
The colonial masters brought large numbers of black slaves and serfs into the nomads’ territory, and with emancipation, they settled there. Newby further wrote that,
“With independence in the early 1960s, the new Sahelian states began to benefit from international aid programmes, foremost of which was the development of the waterless pastoral lands. Boreholes were sunk, deep wells cemented, and pumping stations installed, and for a short time the nomads had access to rich, new pastoral resources. What the developers failed to foresee, however, was the gross overgrazing that was to take place, the subsequent erosion and the desertification. Neither did they take into account the droughts of the late 1960s and 1970s. With changed herding patterns and increased livestock numbers, millions of head of cattle died for want of food, not water.”
The nomads were being hit from both ends: the wildlife that they had hunted for meat and leather was disappearing along with forage for their livestock in the arid north, and farmers were moving into their traditional dry-season territories areas to the south. The loss of wildlife such as oryx, addax, barbary sheep, two species of gazelles, and ostriches, was acute because these animals were important not only for meat, but for their importance in the cultures of these desert nomads. Oryx hide, for example, has particular uses not easily replaced by sheepskin or cowhide. Giraffes, which occur in the southern fringe of the Sahel where the nomads summer, provide another unique product: their tails are valued as wedding gifts (Ivory Wars: Last Stand in Zakouma by J. Michael Fay and Michael Nichols, National Geographic, March 2007). The cultural disruption caused by desertification has de-stabilized nomadic societies as much as the loss of livestock.
Since the rangeland and wildlife research in the 1980s, climate research has shown that global warming is playing a large part in desertification of the Sahel, and has done so for a quarter of a century.
In Darfur, the on-going human tragedy, although abetted by the current government for political reasons (albeit with a religious veneer), is fundamentally an ecological crisis caused first by poor land use, and second by climate change. The nomads are not to blame, except for those actually riding the camels and wielding the weapons. They are victims as much as the farmers they are attacking. The fight is not about religion, politics, or even land. It is about forage for livestock and the loss of rangeland productivity that has sustained the nomadic cultures of the Sahel for at least 5000 years. Disputes like these will spread as a consequence of global warming. We cannot sit in our comfortable homes and worry about what will happen to us in 50 or 100 years if we do not deal effectively with climate change. Canadian soldiers, diplomats, and, yes, even wildlife biologists, have already experienced the results of climate change in the Sahel and a good proportion of our international aid goes there. If we consider “us” to be all of us on this planet, the tragedy of climate change has already begun and it will get worse unless we stop it.
References consulted in this essay
Berger, Joel. 2004. The last mile: how to sustain long-distance migration in mammals. Conservation Biology 18:320–331.
Fryxell, J. M. 1987. Food limitation and demography of a migratory antelope, the white-eared kob. Oecologia 72:83-91.
Hulme, Mike, Ruth Doherty, Todd Ngara, Mark New, and David Lister. 2001. African Climate Change: 1900-2100. Climate Research 17:145-168.
Kabii, T. 1996. An Overview of African Wetlands. Ramsar Bureau, Switzerland. 6 pp.
Newby, John E. 1988. Aridland wildlife in decline, Pp 146-166 in A. Dixon, and D. Jones, (eds) Conservation and Biology of Desert Antelopes. London, Christopher Helm Ltd.
Sinclair, A. R. E., and J. M. Fryxell. 1985. The Sahel of Africa: ecology of a disaster. Canadian Journal of Zoology 63:987-994.
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