Rooted in the Land: How Botswana’s Cattle Culture Endures Through Climate and Change

Near the edge of Botswana’s Kalahari, where scrublands stretch into horizon and sky, 62-year-old Koos Ramokate rises before dawn. The dust is still cool. The air carries the scent of acacia and dung. His herd—just under 80 cattle—moves slowly toward the day’s first water.

“To be Motswana,” he says, adjusting his faded hat, “is to be with cattle.”

In Botswana, cattle are more than livestock. They are wealth, status, dowry, history. For centuries, pastoralism has shaped social bonds, migration patterns, land use, and even political structures. Cattle feature in proverbs, in rituals, in the architecture of identity. And while the rest of the world has become more industrial, more distant from its food systems, Botswana’s agricultural backbone remains deeply tied to its herds.

But tradition is now navigating new terrain.

Cattle, Climate, and the Challenge of Holding On

Botswana is a dry country. And it’s getting drier.

Erratic rainfall and prolonged droughts have made cattle farming more unpredictable. In the Kgalagadi and Ghanzi districts—regions known for their cattle posts—grass is increasingly sparse, boreholes must be dug deeper, and young people are drifting toward the city, leaving fewer hands to tend the herds.

“We used to know when the rains would come,” says Koos. “We could read the trees, the birds. Now, even the animals are confused.”

Koos' granddaughter, Naledi, 26, is part of a growing cohort of educated youth returning to the land with a new approach. After studying agricultural sciences in Gaborone, she returned home—not to leave cattle behind, but to reimagine the system.

“I realized our strength was right here,” she says, gesturing to the dusty kraal. “But we needed data. Grazing plans. Rotation. Vet care. A business mindset.”

Tradition Meets Innovation

Naledi helped Koos enroll in a pilot program through the Ministry of Agriculture that equips small-to-medium-scale ranchers with tools for sustainable rangeland management. Using satellite imagery, soil moisture sensors, and traditional knowledge, the program helps farmers identify optimal grazing areas and avoid overgrazing—long a challenge in communal land systems.

She also joined a local cooperative that provides shared access to veterinary care and digital marketplaces to sell beef at better prices.

“This isn’t about replacing the old ways,” she says. “It’s about making them work in today’s climate.”

The cooperative structure also revives mafisa—a traditional practice in which wealthier cattle owners lend animals to herders without stock. The borrower cares for the cattle and benefits from the milk and offspring, while the owner retains rights to the original animals. In times of growing inequality, mafisa is being reframed as a form of social equity and resilience.

Culture as Infrastructure

Anthropologists often describe culture as an invisible infrastructure—shaping decisions, economies, even ecologies. In Botswana, cattle culture has always been that infrastructure.

From ceremonial exchange to land tenure systems, cattle link people to place in ways that Western agriculture rarely accounts for. This embeddedness, while sometimes seen as a barrier to modernization, may actually be Botswana’s greatest asset in adapting to climate shocks.

“Resilience isn’t just about drought-tolerant seeds or solar pumps,” says Dr. Mpho Lebotse, a rural sociologist at the University of Botswana. “It’s also about social cohesion, cultural continuity, and the ability to mobilize community knowledge. Botswana has that.”

Looking Ahead

For Koos, the changes are not always easy. He misses the days when cattle ranged freely and neighbors shared grazing lands without formal schedules or GPS maps. But he also sees the value in Naledi’s vision—and the way she bridges two worlds.

“I used to think she would leave,” he says. “But she came back. And now, because of her, the herd is strong.”

As Botswana navigates the twin pressures of climate change and youth migration, stories like Koos and Naledi’s offer a model—not of nostalgia, but of grounded innovation. A future that honors the past, adapts to the present, and quietly, powerfully, secures what matters most.