Sweat dripped down my face, mixing with the layer of dust on my skin. The arid, desert heat is inescapable in Turkana, a remote region in northern Kenya. It drained every ounce of moisture from my body, parching my hands, lips, and throat as it had the thorny trees that dotted the otherwise desolate landscape.
Camels, which I spotted on many occasions, are the only creatures that can thrive in this climate. Yet about 200,000 people—refugees from across East and Central Africa—have fled to this unforgiving swath of land in search of safety and new beginnings.
As I interviewed mothers and fathers, business owners and students, who had fled violence in South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, local Turkana people laid the bricks for a solar mini-grid project that would bring electricity to camp residents. Set up with the intention of impermanence, the area around the camps of Kakuma has developed into a makeshift town.
A hardware store, a sparsely stocked grocery store, and a couple of hotels line the street. And, with intel from the right people, there is also a local bar to be found in Kakuma Town. Few things were more rewarding than grabbing a seat at one of the bar’s brightly colored plastic tables and cracking open a bottle of semi-cold Tusker Lager, a luxury import in a region of scarcity.
Words + Photoby Alicia Erikson