ON A FRAYED MAT ON ONE of the dusty streets of Kibera — Africa's largest slums — in Nairobi, Sophia Mohamed sells her wares: two mangoes, five oranges, a half-dozen calcium-based chewing stones and a pan brimming with bhajia (a potato snack).
As day breaks over the rusty tin roofs and makeshift homes of the sprawling Kibera slum in Nairobi, the water sellers are already at their water tanks, waiting for their first customers.
Selling water in one of the world's largest slums is a good business. On most days the vendors charge 5 cents for five gallons, 100 times the cost of piped water provided by the city. But the city does not send water to the residents of Kibera--at any price.
Frontline World is featuring the Pulitzer Center-sponsored reporting from the Common Language Project as part of a feature highlighting the human consequences of climate change.
As the morning sky lightens, the sound of machetes hacking through thick grass echoes along the lake's coastline. Fishermen, stripped to their underwear in the already stifling heat, are looking for silvery baby fish along the shoreline in defiance of laws against taking them in breeding grounds.
East Africa's Lake Victoria is the world's largest tropical lake—but some experts think it may disappear within twenty years.
Water levels have dropped dramatically in recent years thanks to climate change, hydroelectric dam projects and increasing pressure on the lake's threatened resources. The crisis endangers the livelihood of the more than 30 million people who rely on the lake for food and work.
Africa's Lake Victoria, the world's largest tropical lake, is shrinking. As its waters subside, battles over the lake's resources increase.
Chala Ahmed had a dream. He wanted to build a waterfront home for his family on the shores of Lake Haramaya, in eastern Ethiopia. Now, that's impossible. The lake has dried up. Lakes around the world are shrinking. Some blame climate change. Others believe poor water mismanagement is the root of the problem. Whatever the cause, the shrinking water supply is affecting communities across the globe. Jessica Partnow reports from Ethiopia.
"Just breathe," I comforted myself as I shuffled slowly through the dusty gravel. "One breath with each step," I repeated raggedly as 50 pounds of brackish water sloshed rhythmically against the sides of the muddy yellow jerrycan strapped to my back.
Sweat rolled down my hairline, dropped from my forehead and splashed in a shape like raindrops on the gray slate beneath me. To keep from slipping, I tried to follow exactly in the footsteps of the cracked plastic sandals in front of me.
As the first rays of sunlight streak into Lake Victoria, Idi Otwoma and his two sons leave their village, pick up their nets and board their old wooden boat for the port of Kisumu.
The sales from his catch put bread on the table for his family of two wives, eight children and nine grandchildren.
But in the last few years, the seasoned fisherman has barely caught enough fish to feed his family. The catch is dwindling and this is becoming a tall order for Idi and his sons.
Kenyan farmers are troubled by their newest neighbors — elephants. A growing elephant population is destroying crops and creating violent confrontations. Jessica Partnow reports on a plan to reign in the pachyderms.
While reporting on water scarcity, Alex Stonehill and Sarah Stuteville met Ethiopian journalist Eskinder Nega who has been imprisoned multiple times under the country's restrictive press laws.
On a warm January afternoon in southern Ethiopia, thousands of ill-tempered livestock stand in groups with the pastoralists who have guided them for dozens of miles to drink. The animals dot an expansive field of Acacia trees, severed bits and pieces of dead grass and dust.
Earlier in the day thousands of young goats, sheep and calves took turns to have their fill of water. And the show will not end with the cattle; camels are still waiting in line. For being the best able to resist drought, now they will be last.