By Benadeta Mwaura - Reporter
November, 18 2025 - On my way to Moyale, my mind was full of questions. Marsabit County has long been known for inter-community conflicts, driven by competition over water and pasture, historical clan rivalries, political manipulation, cross-border tensions from Ethiopia, and the challenges of climate change.
Yet, one name kept surfacing in conversations: Turbi. Whenever people mentioned it, voices would drop, eyes would shift, memories of the 2005 massacre lingered. That tragic morning, over 60 people, including children, lost their lives, leaving thousands displaced and communities scarred.
Turbi Today: From Horror to Hope
Standing now in the heart of Turbi, it was hard to imagine the past horrors. The town is bustling with business. Traders negotiate confidently, children laugh as they run across road, and lorries rumble along the main roads. What was once a symbol of fear now hums with life. Smiling faces greet visitors, reflecting the resilience of people determined to rebuild. Turbi is no longer only defined by tragedy but by its journey toward coexistence and development.
Digging Deeper: Why Conflict in Marsabit Has Burned, and How Peace Is Growing
As I stood in Turbi I felt the weight of history, the same tensions that have simmered in Marsabit County for decades. These are not simple, random skirmishes; they are deeply rooted conflicts shaped by environment, identity, politics, and neglect.
The Origins: Drought, Disputes & Deep Scarcity
For generations, pastoralists in Marsabit have depended on a fragile ecosystem. When drought strikes, water and grazing land become lifelines, and when they dry up, they become battlegrounds. Locals and researchers alike point to drought as a key driver of conflict. In one study, community members said that resource scarcity caused by climate change was the main factor fueling inter-ethnic violence.
The County Government of Marsabit itself acknowledges this: their Public Climate Risk Assessment (PCRA) identifies “scarce water and pasture resources … within communally owned rangelands” as the top reason behind many clashes.
Clan Tensions and the Long Shadow of History
At the heart of many of these conflicts lie two communities who share a long, complicated past: the Borana and the Gabra. Although they coexist in Marsabit, their relationship has been fraught with rivalry, especially when resources are under stress.
This is not just about ethnicity, it's about survival, political power, and historical grievances. Some research shows that competition over limited natural resources and political supremacy fuels the violence.
Political Spark in a Powder-Keg
Marsabit’s conflict isn’t just environmental, it’s deeply political. During election seasons, old divisions get ignited. According to conflict analysis reports, political leaders often exploit ethnic identities, stoking fears and mistrust between clans. These political tensions intertwine with resource scarcity and clan identity, making conflict more volatile. What might start as a dispute over grazing land can quickly be cast as an ethno-political showdown.
Across Borders: When Ethiopia’s Proximity Matters
Marsabit sits near the Kenyan-Ethiopian border, and that geographical fact can’t be ignored. The movement of pastoralists between countries, especially during dry spells, increases pressure on shared rangelands, and fuels suspicion. Researchers have also warned that weak border management allows the easy flow of illicit arms into Marsabit, which further escalates tensions.
Cattle Rustling, Arms & the Business of Conflict
Conflict in Marsabit isn’t just traditional raiding, it has become more organized, more dangerous. Cattle rustling is no longer only a rite of passage or cultural tradition; it’s now entangled with political motives and weapons trafficking. Reports from security analysts show that many of these raids are linked with a growing illicit arms trade, which enables heavily armed groups to carry out attacks.
The Vacuum of Power: Weak State Presence
Perhaps most dangerously, for many years the government’s presence in Marsabit has been limited. Policing and security infrastructure were often inadequate, leaving clans to resolve issues on their own, sometimes violently. Traditional governance systems, like elders and customary law, remained central, but without strong state support, their ability to prevent major conflict was weakened.
The Shift: Intentional, Visible, and Community-Driven Change
But standing here in Turbi, I could also feel something different: hope. The changes are not by accident, they are deliberate, community-led, and supported by state and development actors.
Water Security, Building for Tomorrow
The turning of the tide started with water. The government, through the National Drought Management Authority (NDMA), has invested in rehabilitating boreholes. One major project is the Golole Water Project, which includes a rehabilitated borehole, a 400-meter pipeline, two 10,000-litre tanks, and a 15-meter water tower.
The Kenya Red Cross Society has also been at the forefront of these efforts, recently rehabilitating and digging new boreholes in Kinisa and Qate. These interventions are part of a broader strategy to support communities, ease resource tensions, and help families settle more peacefully in the region.
This kind of infrastructure makes a real difference: fewer herders walking long distances, fewer chances for conflict when water points fail. In other areas, repairing boreholes has eased tensions, as reported by locals who say they no longer battle over scarce water.
Diversifying Livelihoods: Farming Takes Root
Marsabit is slowly shifting from purely pastoralist life to a more diverse economy. The County Government, with development partners, is introducing crop farming, even in this arid land.
They’re also experimenting with fish farming, in drought zones. Some locals, once entirely dependent on livestock, are now raising tilapia This shift not only improves food security but reduces the pressure on grazing land.
Peace by Talking: Dialogue and Reconciliation
Perhaps the most powerful change is social: clans are talking again, not as adversaries, but as neighbors. There are resource-sharing protocols now. For example, elders from Borana and Gabra communities in Moyale sub-county have formalized written agreements around access to grazing and water.
These protocols aren’t just symbolic. They map out water points, designate shared grazing areas, and schedule access so that tensions don’t flare during dry seasons.
In parallel, the County’s climate risk strategy includes peacebuilding initiatives and participatory rangeland management as adaptation strategies. This means that water conservation and peace work are being done hand in hand, not as separate programs.
A New Chapter for Marsabit
I realized: these are not just policy decisions or donor programs. These are lived transformations. Water now flows where it once fractured communities. Farming is giving people new roots. Elders are sitting down, not under duress, but with intention. Conflict in Marsabit was born from scarcity, mistrust, and neglect. But its healing is being built from cooperation, infrastructure, and dialogue.
Turbi’s story, from a flashpoint of violence to a symbol of resource sharing and reconciliation, isn’t just a local lesson. It’s a powerful example of what’s possible when people decide to coexist, despite their past.
Voices From the Ground
I spoke to Ibrahim Diida, Sub-Chief of Kinisa Sub-Location, who shared the reality of these changes: “We no longer have inter-community conflicts between the communities living here. Even though we border Ethiopia, we have worked hard to maintain peace. The challenges we faced have been resolved because the underlying issues, water, dialogue, and understanding, were addressed.”
His words are a reminder that peace is not just a policy or program, it’s the lived reality of people making conscious choices every day.
Lessons from Turbi: Coexistence in Action
Turbi stands as a testament to resilience and the power of coexistence. The town has transformed from a symbol of violence to a beacon of hope, showing that:
1. Dialogue can replace division.
2. Shared resources, like water and farmland, can become bridges rather than battlefields.
3. Communities are capable of rising above historical trauma with support, initiative, and
determination.
Marsabit County’s story is more than headlines of conflict; it is a story of growth, adaptation, and the everyday work of peacebuilding. Turbi teaches us that coexistence is possible when
people commit to understanding, collaboration, and sustainable solutions.
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