Where the Water Came Back, Springs of Hope

In semi-arid landscapes, water is not just life; it’s survival, memory, and magic. So, when the springs dried up in places like Kiborgoch, Leparua, and Nasuulu, it felt like more than just a drought. It felt like the land was giving up.

But the people didn’t.

In 2024, the Native PEP project joined hands with communities to begin a gentle revival. The strategy was simple: fence off the spring areas, remove invasive trees, and let nature do the rest.

In Kiborgoch, where four ancient springs had fallen silent, youth groups fenced the area and cleared out Prosopis trees. Within months, during a transect walk in June, something miraculous happened: the water returned. Grassy mounds began to swell. Wetlands began to stir. The swamp drank again.

In Leparua Conservancy, the focus was Darajani spring; once a lifeline, now choked by Lantana camara and overgrazed. The community came together with local government, Water Resource Authority (WRUA), and National Environment Management Authority (NEMA) to peg out and protect the sensitive zone. Soon, it will be fenced, reforested, and watched over; not just physically, but socially, with conservancy members acting as guardians.

Meanwhile, in Nasuulu, the story was more complex. Fences had been erected before, but without commitment, they failed. Native PEP went deeper, engaging youth groups, elders, and conservancy boards to build a shared ethic of stewardship. Not just fencing. Responsibility. Ownership. Legacy.

Spring rejuvenation is not about flashy interventions. It’s about healing hydrology with humility and human effort. It’s about communities remembering their springs and deciding they’re worth saving.

Because when water re-emerges from the earth, it does more than quench thirst. It restores belief.

Prepared by: Simon Njoroge