Diversity and Adaptation: Pastoral Nomads

Since the origins of pastoralism, different pastoral groups have used different strategies to survive. The economies, subsistence systems, and cultural identities of pastoralists are adaptive strategies that exist because of there ability to provide a livelihood for the people who practice them. Taking a cultural ecological perspective we will consider the culture of pastoralists as a survival strategy. These strategies are adaptive, and have “evolved” in response to the ecology of the region where the pastoralists live. They are also responsive to the economic and political context in which the pastoralists find themselves. However, as ecologies, economies, and political climates change, pastoral strategies that were once successful may cease to be so.

Some pastoralists have developed survival strategies that combine multiple subsistence systems, multiple economic strategies, or multiple cultural identities. Many pastoral groups are diversified in more than one of these ways. Other pastoralists have evolved strategies that focus almost exclusively on one sector of production or one economic pursuit. These pastoral groups are the opposite of diversified, they have specialized economic or ecological niches.

Some pastoral societies have been much more successful than others at adapting to changing circumstances. This has been especially obvious in the last century with the combined effects of government policies, conflicts, introduced diseases, and naturally occurring droughts. These rapid changes and crises have hit some pastoral people much harder than others, causing large-scale sedentarization, loss of herds, loss of independence, and death.

Looking at this differential success we must ask: why have some pastoralists been better at adapting to rapid changes in the ecology, economy, and politics of the modern world? Have those pastoral groups with diversified survival strategies fared better in some way than more specialized pastoralists?

Examining those pastoral groups that have been most successful in coping with change and disaster we can see that indeed, diversification is a key factor in adapting to change and recovering from crises. This diversity can be manifested in any aspect of a group’s cultural survival strategy:  in their religious or ethnic identity, in the makeup of the herds, or in the environments exploited. Those pastoral people that are diversified in one or more of these ways have multiple options with which to approach change, and they have multiple sources of livelihood in case of disaster in one area.

Here, we can use a metaphor that is helpful in understanding the differences between a specialized pastoral group and a more diversified one. We can equate a pastoral cultural survival strategy with a toolbox, and specific cultural traits we will equate with different tools. A pastoral people, such as the Bedouin camel-specialists, only have a few tools in their relatively small tool box. In comparison, the Baluchi shepherds of Southern Iran, and the Ariaal herders of Kenya, have large toolboxes with many different tools; both of these pastoral groups have diversified survival strategies.

The exclusive, camel pastoralism of the Bedouin only evolved in parts of Arabia and North Africa. In The Nomadic Alternative, Barfield explains the specialization of this cultural survival strategy. “By making themselves at home in an environment where no other nomads could survive, they were able to exploit not only a unique ecological niche, but in time a unique political and economic position[…](1993:60)” All of the Bedouin’s tools revolved around the camel and included: raiding, military power, control of trade routes, and political negotiations or extortion of sedentary centers. These tools were specific to the ecological, political and economic particularities of the region at the time. Barfield notes the modern results of this specialization, “Bedouin camel raising has been on the decline for at least seventy years. This is a product both of the profound economic changes in the region and a changing balance of political power which has given sedentary states much more control over formerly autonomous tribes (1993:87).” Barfield attributes the decline of the Bedouin’s economy to its specialization.

Even a diversified cultural identity can give pastoralists an adaptive advantage. The Ariaal people of Marsabit district in Kenya are a perfect example of this phenomenon. The Ariaal are a bridge culture between a Nilotic culture, the Samburu, and a Cushitic culture, the Rendille. The Samburu are related culturally to the Maa speaking cattle keepers such as the Maasai. They herd their cattle in the wetter highlands and plains in Samburu district. The Rendille belong to the Cushitic speaking cultures such as the Gabra and Somali (Fratkin 2004).

In his ethnographic study, Ariaal Pastoralists of Kenya, Elliot Fratkin describes the origins of the Ariaal as a mixed culture. “During the last decade of the nineteenth century, poor Samburu migrated toward Rendille and formed mixed Samburu/Rendille communities of impoverished herders attempting to build up small stock, camels and cattle near the mountain bases. These groups were alternatively called Masagera (meaning roughly “those Rendille who follow the Maasai” in Samburu), Turia (Samburu for “mixture”), or Ariaal ( 2004:48).

The Ariaal have also combined the subsistence strategies that are at the cultural core of the Rendille and Samburu groups. They practice the camel and small stock herding of the Rendille and the cattle-dominated pastoralism of the Samburu. This mixed herding system of the Ariaal has several advantages. Because they rely on different animals with different grazing requirements and capabilities, the Ariaal can exploit different environmental zones.

With camels they can convert the irregular and widely dispersed leafy vegetation of more arid environments into camel milk, meat and transport potential. At the most, camels require water every four days; this, combined with their long distance walking makes it possible for them to be herded in areas with sparse vegetation. About 30% of Ariaal grazing territory is represented by arid brush from 700 to 100 meters. This area is used for camel grazing in the dry season. Another, even more marginal environment that  the Ariaal are able to exploit through their camels is the Kaisut desert lowlands. This area makes up 55% of the Ariaal grazing territories. The desert provides an opportunistic resource when seasonal rains produce extensive pastures in the short wet season; this pasture is grazed by Ariaal camels and small stock (Fratkin 2004).

In contrast to camels, cattle are the most productive at converting the grassy vegetation of wetter environments into milk and meat. The Ariaal are able to utilize the resources of the savanna between 1000 and 1400 meters altitude through their cows. At this altitude there is much more rainfall to provide for the needs of the cattle herds. These highland environments of Marsabit and the Ndoto Mountains are the most important grazing area for Ariaal cattle even though in terms of area, these highland pastures only comprise 10% of their total herding territory (Fratkin 2004).

It is obvious then, that the Ariaal exploit a diverse environment, comprising at least four distinct ecological zones. They are able to utilize these different ecologies because of their diversified herds. The different diets, mobility, and water requirements of their different animals allows them to convert the vegetative products of several ecosystems into human food and animal labor.

The Ariaal’s ability to use these environments is also a factor of their mixed identity and ability to relate to both the Samburu and the Rendille. “[…] the Ariaal have greater access to grazing lands than the Rendille, as they utilize their broad ties of intermarriage, descent, and friendship with both Samburu and Rendille clans and can herd in their areas (Fratkin 2004:3).” The Ariaal speak the languages of both the Samburu and the Rendille. They belong to Samburu clan-names and practice Samburu age-set rituals. They also practice the Rendille customs of annual blessings of camels and evening group prayers led by elders. These cultural traits allow the Ariaal to associate with and get help from both the Samburu and the Rendille. These traits are also valuable resources that the Ariaal rely on as much as they rely on the different environments that they utilize. In a new situation or new economic opportunity, the Ariaal have twice as many cultural options to choose from in approaching the circumstances.

Fratkin shows how the Ariaal have benefited from their mixed identity and their exploitation of a mixed environment. In many cases they have faired better than the neighboring groups of pastoralists with less diversification. When bovine pleuro-pneumonia swept through East African cattle herds in 1882, camels and small stock were unaffected. Those pastoralists, such as the Samburu, who were heavily dependent on cattle were hit the hardest. The same thing happened when the rinderpest epidemic decimated cattle in 1891 and 1898. However, when smallpox spread through the human population at the end of the nineteenth century, the Rendille, who were more isolated and had no resistance, lost many lives. The resulting lack of herders to care for the large camel herds was one of the historical events leading to the emergence of the Ariaal.
The appearance of the Ariaal as a mixed culture around the time of these disasters is extremely significant. The diversified survival strategy that defines the Ariaal evolved as a response to the problems faced by the Samburu and the Rendille. Therefore, it is not surprising when Fratkin notes that the Ariaal, with their big toolbox, have been more able to maintain a successful pastoral way of life then many of the neighboring pastoralists. By not putting all their eggs in one basket, the Ariaal are less susceptible to disaster.

Another group of pastoralists that have met changing circumstances with diversification are the Baluchi. In his studies of the Baluchi shepherds of Iran, Philp Salzman has come up with the idea of a “multi-resource economy” to describe their diversified strategies of production. Most Baluchi households pursue sheep and goat pastoralism, agriculture, date farming, raiding/trading, and even some hunting and gathering. This history of supplementing the pastoral economy has made it possible for the Baluchi to remain pastoralists or return to pastoralism despite losses in the herding sector. The Baluchi have also been better at incorporating the opportunities offered by global capitalism into their multi-resource economy than those Irani pastoralists with more specialized economies.

Salzman describes how the Baluchi have benefited from their diversification. “The plurality of skills and abilities needed for prosecuting the Sarhadi multi-resource economy has proved to be invaluable for the Baluchi in adapting to changing conditions. The audacity and mobility developed in raiding was adapted to migrant labor, smuggling, and trading. And the flexibility of residence group nomadism was used to accommodate irrigation cultivation as part of the multi-resource economy (Salzman:352).” In other words Salzman is saying that the Baluchi have a big toolbox.

The opposite of a diversified economy is a specialized one. A specialized economy is usually the most productive adaptation to a specialized ecological or economic niche. Rendille camel pastoralism is the most productive system in the driest parts of Marsabit district. The economy of the Basseri is also more specialized (Salzman 2000: 357). Intensive sheep production in the high quality pastures of the Zagros Mountains is so productive that Basseri culture has evolved to focus almost exclusively on that sector, putting little energy into other sectors such as grain cultivation. Specialization limits a culture’s options when confronting change and does not provide much of a backup plan in case of failure in the sector of specialization.

Salzman notes that unlike the diversified economies of the Balcuhi “[…] the economies of the Basseri (Barth 1961) and Qashqai (Beck 1991) were more specialized. Pastoral sheep production predominated, with only a limited amount of supplementary grain cultivation. Similarly specialized were nomadic pastoral peasants such as the Yoruk (Bates 1973), the Sarakatsani (Campbell 1964), the Komachi (Bradburd 1990, 1994), and the peasant pastoralists of India (Salzman 1986, 1988).” Notice  that Salzman has defined  many of these pastoral groups as “peasant pastoralists.” These specialists have lost much of their political and economic autonomy in recent times. Many households have become permanently removed from the pastoral economy and alienated from their respective pastoral cultures.

It is apparent that pastoralists whose survival strategies are already diversified are better at adapting to change; this does not mean however, that specialized pastoralists are doomed in the face of change. Those pastoralists whose small toolboxes and specialized tools have not been successful in adapting to change have not just rolled over and died; they have not just disappeared or sedentarized. In many instances they have discarded their old tools and diversified their toolboxes. While the Bedouin have seen the decline of their specialized camel pastoralism, they have responded by developing new sectors of their economy by becoming sheep herders, smugglers, traders, and mercenaries (Barfield 1993).

The collapse of particular cultural traits and economic sectors should not be seen as the failure of pastoral people to adapt; it is a vital part of the cultural survival strategy. The sloughing off of cultural mechanisms that are not beneficial is as important to adaptation as the development of new mechanisms, or the exploitation of new economic opportunities. As the Bedouin have exemplified, even specialized pastoralists, whose old techniques are no longer adaptive, are more than capable of adjusting their survival strategies to meet new circumstances. The key for policy makers and development organizations is to realize this, and make the economic and subsistence opportunities available for pastoralists, who will diversify, and who will adapt, if only given the chance.

My Fermentation Journey

Fibers and fruit skins floated on top of the bubbly, purple liquid. It must be vino de uvita by now I thought. My friend Alonso and I strained out enough of the concoction for two glasses full. The drink was very tart but also sweet with an intriguing yet difficult to describe character to it……..It was highly acceptable to my friend and I’s twelve year old palates. We quickly chugged the cups then ran off towards the river to harvest more of the wild palm fruits called uvitas. Luckily, the vino was barely fermented and not high enough in alcohol to get us into much trouble at that age.

My first ferment flourished in the warm kitchen of my dad’s house in Guanacaste, Costa Rica. The acidic purple fruit of the spiny native bunch palm, were the main ingredient. A couple generous scoops of cane sugar, some water, maceration, wild yeasts, and an ample helping of childhood curiosity were all that was needed. Luckily, I didn’t really know the tempting and socially useful taste of alcohol yet, nor did I have a hydrometer, or else things would have been different.

That first fermentation project was fueled by a common childhood fascination with mysterious alchemy, transformation, potions, and magic. I felt like I was doing some kind of chemistry experiment in the cluttered jungle lab of a mad scientist. Another compelling factor was the natural obsession with fruits, juice, sugars, and sours tastes that most children share. I spent most of my days climbing guava and mango trees, patrolling the river for the best fruit. How could I resist the concept of taking some of my beloved fruit and transforming them into a drink that I could enjoy with my friends?

My fermentation fervor would lie dormant for many years as I went through school in the U.S. Perhaps, this dormancy was in part due to my changing concepts about food. At some point in 6th grade I “realized” that it mattered what other people thought of you. I also learned that what other people thought of you was based a lot on what clothes and shoes you wore and what you ate. I soon was convinced that Pop-Tarts, Dr. Pepper, and flaming-hot Cheetos were requisites for being normal and accepted. Despite eating such things at school in the presence of other kids, my true tastes came out at home and when we went out for sushi or Dim Sum brunches. “Pass the chicken feet please!”

With the exception of a few batches of yogurt, a series of kombucha experiments,  and some “cheese accidents” most of high school and college passed without much fermentation. I still had not discovered a taste for alcohol and was more focused on baking as an outlet for “transformative food processing.” Gardening and agriculture were my other main ways of relating with my food during this time. And it was gardening and agriculture that would bring me logically back into the fervor of fermentation.

My childhood approach to fermentation could perhaps be likened to that of early hunter gatherer humans. Yet when I returned to fermentation, I came at it with the agroecological perspective of a farmer, the record-keeping of a scientist, and the passion of the newly converted. I had finally tasted artisan beers and home-made honey-wines so I now knew what was possible. The myriad environmental, nutritional, and social benefits of fermentation also presented more than enough reason for me to get excited about it in an intellectual way.

My new-found fermentation passion was focused almost exclusively on alcoholic beverages, primarily ales and meads with unusual ingredients. The approach that I almost immediately adopted was  very meticulous and formulaic with a focus on record-keeping. I most certainly brewed outside the box and rarely followed a recipe but I kept careful records and tried to isolate variables as much as possible. Creativity was focused on recipe formulation while a scientific approach was applied everywhere else. The literature and the logic seemed to support such a method. However, in hindsight, I suspect that my strict methodology would eventually be a factor causing me to burn out on brewing.

Lately, my fermentation work has become a more balanced and less obsessive part of my life. No longer do I spend hours meticulously recording the minute details of every batch and how many half peppercorns I added to the secondary. Gone are the days when I spend half my free time cleaning bottles and checking carboy temperatures. But once a fan of fermentation you can never go back to being a “normal” person again.

Marley’s Background Essay

Every aspect of a person is a reflection of their experiences. What we have seen, heard, or done makes us who we are.

One of the most important influences on my life is my family history. I was born into a family characterized by a convergence of diverse cultural, racial and class backgrounds. My mother’s parents included the son of an ex-slave who grew up on an Indian reservation and became a labor organizer and the daughter of Jewish immigrants form Lithuania who resisted Czarist pogroms. My father’s parents included the son of coal miners of German and Irish descent who became a labor relations expert and the daughter of a German immigrant milkman who at the age of 50 sailed around the world. When I was six years old my parents were divorced and soon thereafter my father moved to Costa Rica.

Exposure to many cultures within my own family provides me with awareness of and some insight into widely divergent ideas and worldviews. Being raised in such a diverse environment has fostered in me an insatiable curiosity and desire to understand the workings of the world and its inhabitants. This global family also gives me the chance to leave the world of most of my peers behind and experience life in other countries.

Since I was six years old I have had the privilege of spending part of almost every year living with my dad in Gunacaste Costa Rica. Being part of a rural Central American community has not only allowed me to become fluent in the language, but in the culture as well. Life on the farm where my dad lives is at polar opposites from life in San Diego, yet both of these places have been home for me. One is a metropolis with millions of people, criss-crossed by freeways while the other is a village of less than a thousand, surrounded by jungle and farmland. The dramatic shift from one home to the other has punctuated the yearly rhythm of my life and made me adaptable. This ability to adapt to new environments has proven useful in my life, especially in my travels.

Three weeks after graduating high school I began a year that would have unprecedented effects on my life. I decided to postpone my studies for a year to travel and work in Central America and Europe. During this time I lived in several European countries, taught English at a Costa Rican High school, and worked on a dairy farm in Denmark. That year of my life provided me with invaluable experiences as well as a newfound confidence and motivation.

Because of the diversity of my family and my experiences I have a unique way of seeing and responding to the world. I am accustomed to interacting with people from all over the planet and adapting to the culture which they belong to. My curiosity and global perspective thrive in today’s increasingly interconnected world.