The dry season arrives with a fierce intensity in Sheru village, Dambatta. Leaving my Aunt's farm parched and arid. The sun burnt down relentlessly, the wind carried dust across the farm, swirling it into the air. As the desert encroaches the soil softens, and life seemed to slow under the weight of the season. But we understand that this is not a time for surrender.

Turning to the wisdom passed down through generations. Farm ridges and Zai pits—simple, straight depressions and shallow circular pits in the ground designed to trap and store what little rainwater might fall, to concentrate around the roots of crops. The technique, though old, proved invaluable. To further preserve what little moisture remained in the soil, myself and my cousins do spread organic mulch—made from dried leaves and plant waste—over the ground. The mulch insulates the soil, keeping it cooler and slowing evaporation.

Though the land remained hot, dry and the sky cloudless, my Aunt’s farm in Sheru village stands resilient with ingenuity. It is not easy, but we know that the soil, though parched, still held life prepared not just to survive the dry season but to thrive in it.