In Kenya, climate change is not a debate; it’s our reality. We don’t need charts or conferences to tell us that the world is heating, drowning and burning; we see it in our homes, our villages, our farms, and our water bodies. In 2024, during March, April and May, floods triggered by El Niño and a brutal indian ocean dipole swept through 43 out of 47 counties, impacting hundreds of thousands, with many displaced from their homes, others injured, and some losing their lives, with some reported missing to this day. Destruction of roads, schools, healthcare facilities and water sources was widespread, with significant loss of livestock, wildlife, crops and damage to small businesses reported. Nearly 2000 schools were turned into makeshift shelters for families who had lost everything.
Just before that, my country endured the worst drought in four decades, one that forced children in Turkana out of classrooms, left pastoralists watching their herds collapse from starvation, with nothing to do. In Kajiado, desperation forced parents to stand in line next to their children in schools to at least have a meal. Along the coast in my home town, fishermen see their nets come back emptier each year as warming seas and plastic pollution choke their main source of income. Markets are slowly dying. For indigenous communities, this crisis is not new. Our people have been living with its impacts for decades. But while my people struggle to adapt, the corporations and billionaires fueling this chaos continue to profit.
This is why Kenya is drawing the line. We’ve shown the world before what it means to fight back. The people of Lamu rose and stopped a coal plant from destroying their coast, culture and health. Young Kenyans have taken action on plastic pollution with clean-ups and campaigns that forced bans and restrictions. The green belt movement, led by women, planted more than 51 million trees and gave us a global symbol of people’s power. Time and time again, we have resisted. But resilience alone cannot carry us anymore. We are tired of rebuilding after every disaster, we are tired of political leaders standing up and giving a speech on how bad the situation is, after every disaster, donating food stuff and mattresses, but not taking protective measures and continuing with life until the next disaster, yet they have access to global spaces where they can demand action and change. We simply want a future that is just, safe, and ours to shape.
Drawing the line means saying no to fossil fuels and false solutions that exploit us. It means demanding a just transition that brings affordable, renewable energy to our homes, not profits to foreign investors. It means honouring indigenous knowledge, the wisdom of pastoralists in harsher climates. Drawing the line means demanding climate finance and debt relief that actually reach people, not boardrooms; it means defending human rights, and ensuring that no one is sacrificed in the name of “development”.
For us, this campaign is about our people, our future and our vision, not just survival. It’s about protecting our farmers, fishers, pastoralists and our culture. It’s about ensuring no girl has to drop out of school, it’s about keeping our oceans alive, our forests standing, Wildlife alive, and our people thriving. It’s not just about Kenya and my people; it’s also about standing in solidarity with communities from the Amazon to the Pacific who are also saying ENOUGH!!!.
This September, when the world rises, Kenya will rise too. Because our future is not for sale. Because our voices matter. Because our children deserve a safe planet.
We are DRAWING THE LINE against inequality, pollution, and destruction. And for life, justice and generations to come. We are demanding our tomorrow loudly and boldly, WE ARE DRAWING THE LINE.
Written By: Aqlila Alwy
Rise Up Movement/ Friday For Future Kenya