- In southern Ethiopia, the Konso people have maintained a 400-year-old stone terracing system, essential for farming in the region’s semiarid environment.
- This UNESCO-listed practice helps prevent soil erosion, conserve water and enhance agricultural productivity, and at the heart of it are the Konso elders who play a crucial role in passing down the knowledge of terracing to younger generations.
- However, population growth and climate change threaten the survival of the terracing system, and with land becoming scarce, many young Konso people are migrating to cities, leaving behind traditional farming.
- Combined with the unpredictable impacts of climate change, this exodus risks severing the transmission of critical knowledge and weakening the community’s agricultural practices and cultural identity.
KONSO, Ethiopia — Across rugged highlands, terraces crafted from stone and earth stretch over steep hillsides like giant ripples of water. They’re part of a 400-year-old agricultural system in southern Ethiopia that’s recognized as a U.N. World Heritage Site and enabled the region’s Konso farmers to thrive in a place that’s otherwise dry, arid and harsh.
For 97-year-old Gehano Guchiro Nekayto, these terraces aren’t just a method of farming; they’re the lifeblood of his community and represent a vital connection to land and cultural identity.
A father of 10 and grandfather of 15, Gehano has worked the land in the ward, or kebele, of Mechelo for the past eight decades. He’s cultivated a variety of crops, including soybeans, sorghum and fruit trees. Also a skilled craftsman, Gehano learned to build these terraces from his father, who himself learnt it from his elders.
Today, Gehano’s small farm, located in the semiarid, high-altitude hills of the zone named after his people, continues to thrive despite the challenging environment and climate change impacts.
The terraces, passed down through generations, are crucial for maintaining soil fertility, preventing erosion and conserving water. Rainwater harvested in drainage basins and runoff diverts from paths and roads to irrigate the terraces, allowing water to nourish crops during wet and dry season alike, and ensuring the land’s sustainability. Through these techniques, the Konso have developed a farming system that allows them to maintain agricultural productivity despite the harsh conditions, says Kussie Belay, head of the district agricultural office.
“Farming without terraces in this area would be unthinkable,” Gehano tells Mongabay.
One November morning, after attending a social gathering in the village, Gehano heads directly to his farm without pausing to change his clothes. Dressed in his traditional Konso attire, he begins his daily routine. He moves through the terraces, inspecting and maintaining them by collecting stones from his land to fill gaps and adjust those that have shifted over time.
“If I let these holes widen, the terraces will fall when it rains, that is why such regular maintenance is crucial,” he says. It’s not just stacking stones, he explains, there’s a skill and technique in the stonework and foundations. His rough, overworked hands tell the story of a lifetime of hard labor.
“I have worked this land all my life,” Gehano says. “It’s my duty to care for the land that has given so much to us. The terraces are our ancestors’ gift, and it is my duty to protect them for those who will come after me.”
The Konso people live in a steep, erosion-prone area with unreliable rainfall. Over the years, they’ve developed a complex system of agroforestry, water harvesting, terracing and manure composting for the soil to adapt to these challenges. The farming system is a blend of terracing, soil and water management, and forestry.
“I’ve planted everything the family needs on this small land: crops, fruits, and trees for animal feed,” Gehano says. “There’s no piece of land here without a purpose.”
At the heart of this tradition to maintain the terraces are the community’s elders, people like Gehano, whose deep understanding of the land and its rhythms has been critical in preserving the system. These skilled practitioners, often with little exposure to the outside world, are the custodians of centuries-old wisdom.
However, this traditional system is under increasing pressure, and there’s growing concern that this ancient knowledge is at risk. The younger generation, increasingly drawn to modern ways of life, is less inclined to learn traditional practices. While some remain committed to preserving the terracing system, others struggle to see its relevance in a rapidly changing world.
Population growth has led to rising demand for land, creating tension between land availability and the needs of a growing population. For example, Gehano’s third child, seeking better opportunities, moved to the nearby town of Yabelo for work. Employed as a daily laborer at a construction site, he’s since distanced himself from farming. Gehano says he’s not content about the shift and hopes to bring his child back to the village to continue the farming tradition.
Bussie Bekele, a 25-year-old from the ward, describes the growing challenges faced by families in the region. “The demand for agricultural land doesn’t match the supply,” he says. “For example, my family of 10 has a very small plot, not enough for all of us.”
Studies indicate that climate change is also worsening conditions for the Konso terracing system, with extreme rainfall and temperatures causing flooding, soil erosion and terrace damage. These impacts are reducing farmland productivity and disrupting traditional practices, threatening the transmission of Indigenous agricultural knowledge to future generations.
In the face of this uncertainty, Gehano and other elders continue to pass on their knowledge, trying to keep the terracing tradition alive. “Our terraces are the roots of our identity, let’s ensure they never fade, and pass their story to the next generation.”
Mongabay sat down recently with Gehano Guchiro Nekayto, one of the respected elders from the Konso community, a skilled practitioner whose hands have kept the 400-year-old system alive. He tells us of the methods he uses to keep the terraces standing and how they’re a solution to farming in arid solutions.
The following interview has been translated from the Konso language and edited for length and clarity.
Mongabay: The Konso Cultural Landscape has been recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its unique terracing techniques. What makes these methods so special to your community?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: The terracing systems here in Konso have been part of our community for a very long time. I’m not exactly sure when they started, but I’ve heard from our elders that our grandfathers were already building these terraces. The land is very steep and rocky, so farming would be impossible without them. The terraces were built to prevent soil erosion and help improve crop yields. Without them, we simply couldn’t farm in this harsh environment.
As an elder in the community, we play an active role in maintaining these terraces, especially during the repair season before the rains come. The terraces are crucial to our survival. Without them, the rains would wash away our crops, and we wouldn’t have food.
Every year, we replace any stones that have been displaced or washed away, and we make sure to reinforce the soil between the stones to keep the terrace walls strong. This is a vital part of preventing erosion, which is a constant challenge with our heavy rains.
I’ve seen with my own eyes how much of a difference well-maintained terraces can make. When they’re neglected, the crops suffer, and the soil erodes, making it harder to grow anything in the future. That’s why we take it so seriously — it’s about survival.
Maintaining these terraces isn’t just about stacking stones; it’s a skill that’s deeply rooted in our way of life. It requires careful, thoughtful work, almost like weaving. Each stone is chosen and placed just right so it locks into the others, ensuring the structure holds up under the weight of the soil and water. This technique was passed down to us by our ancestors, and it’s essential for our survival here.
Farming without terraces in this area would be unthinkable. They keep the soil in place and allow crops to grow. Without them, the rains would wash away the fertile land, and we would have nothing. That’s why, every year, we all come together to repair and maintain the terraces. It’s a crucial part of keeping our crops healthy and our way of life intact.
Mongabay: What are some of the key techniques and knowledge that have been passed down to you by previous generations in building and maintaining terraces?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: It starts with choosing the right stones. It’s not just about piling stones on top of each other; it’s a careful process, almost like weaving them together. Each stone has its place.
We pick stones that are just the right size, not too big or too small, so they fit together perfectly and can support the weight of the soil. The stones need to lock in place, like a puzzle, with no gaps that could let water seep through and wash the structure away.
Well-built and regularly maintained terraces can last 20 to 30 years. And it’s not just the terraces that are built this way. We also use dry stone to build our houses. Look at this house: it was built 30 years ago, and it still stands strong, looking as good as new with no damage.
The way we build and maintain these structures hasn’t changed for generations. We do it exactly as our grandfathers did, using the same stones and techniques. We continue to care for the terraces built by our fathers and grandfathers.
Building the terraces begins with digging a solid foundation. We start with the largest stones, then add smaller ones on top. Each layer is compacted with soil, and we work the soil in between the stones carefully.
The key is making sure the terrace is strong enough to handle the water flow while still allowing water to pass through gently to irrigate the crops. It takes time, and over the years, this process becomes second nature. But it’s crucial to understand how the land and water work together.
Today, I passed this knowledge down to my children and grandchildren. From a young age, they watch me as I build and maintain the terraces. They don’t just watch, though, they help too. They learn by being involved in the process, picking the stones, digging, and placing them. As they grow, they take on more responsibility, and eventually they learn to build terraces on their own. This is how we make sure the skills are passed on. Our community relies on learning by doing, where practice and experience shape the next generation of farmers.
Mongabay: Why do you believe the knowledge of the older generation is essential in this process?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: As elders, we are the guardians of this knowledge. We’ve lived through many seasons, faced countless challenges, and learned how to make these terraces strong and lasting. Our experience is what makes us valuable. We’ve come to understand the land and the natural forces that shape it in ways that younger generations can’t yet see. Without this deep knowledge, the terraces wouldn’t survive. They’d easily collapse when the rains come. That’s why the younger generation needs us, to guide them and teach them these small but crucial skills that make all the difference.
Building terraces isn’t just about physical strength; it takes patience, a keen eye for detail, and a real understanding of how the land interacts with the water.
For example, if you don’t understand how water flows across the land, your terraces won’t channel the water right, and your crops will suffer. As elders, we know these things instinctively. We’ve seen it, felt it and experienced it. And that’s why our role is so critical — we carry the wisdom that ensures the terraces stand the test of time.
Mongabay: In recent years, have you noticed any changes in the way younger generations approach the terracing techniques? Are they still as engaged in learning these methods, or is there a sense that this knowledge is fading?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: These days, there’s a real challenge. The population is growing, and our resources are becoming more limited. Many of the young people are leaving for the cities, looking for jobs in construction or other labor work. When they go, they miss out on learning the vital farming skills we rely on here, like building and maintaining terraces. As they get caught up in city life, the farming traditions we’ve always depended on begin to fade. Construction jobs in the cities offer quick money, but they take our youth away from the land and from the skills that have kept us alive for generations.
But for those of us who still live here and continue farming, we make sure to teach the younger generation about terraces. It’s not just about farming — it’s about preserving the land and our culture. In our community, there’s a strong cultural expectation that the younger ones respect and follow the old ways.
If a young person sees the terraces built by their father or grandfather and chooses to neglect them, the community won’t accept it. They would be looked down upon, even cursed by those around them.
Because of this, every young person here understands how important it is to take care of the terraces. They know that if they don’t, they’ll face rejection and shame from the community. That pressure helps keep the tradition alive. Even though more young people are leaving for the city, many still remain committed to maintaining the terraces, and even building new ones when needed.
There’s a deep cultural commitment to maintaining the terraces. It’s not just about the crops, it’s about respect for the land and for our ancestors. Our community ensures the younger generation doesn’t forget their heritage.
Mongabay: How can the community address these challenges like youth exodus, population pressure and climate change? Or how can you keep the tradition alive despite an increasing amount of youths leaving for cities?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: The biggest challenge is when young people leave for the cities, they miss out on learning how to build and care for the terraces. They also lose their connection to the land, and without that connection, it becomes harder for them to understand why this work is so important.
In our community, we try to keep the knowledge alive by involving the children from a young age. We teach them by doing, and as they grow, they take on more responsibility. But for those who leave, it’s hard to make them understand the importance of the terraces. We don’t have many ways to reach them, but I think if they could see for themselves how our terraces help us survive and how people from all over the world come to learn from us, they might appreciate it more.
The young ones who stay here are the ones who will carry this tradition forward, and we have to make sure they learn everything they can before they grow up.
Mongabay: Given the significance of this 400-year-old tradition, what would you like to see happen in the future to ensure that the terracing techniques and cultural landscape are preserved for generations to come?
Gehano Guchiro Nekayto: I am always amazed when tourists from abroad visit and express a strong desire to learn how our terraces have lasted through the centuries. Their eagerness to understand the techniques shows me just how valuable these terraces are, not just to us, but to the world. Many people feel proud when tourists come here, but they don’t fully understand why they visit. Tourists come to see our terraces, which are recognized globally for their uniqueness and value. This is why we must truly appreciate and protect them.
Every family has a responsibility to teach these skills to their children and ensure that the terraces are preserved for future generations. The terraces are not just a farming technique; they are part of our identity and are recognized globally for their significance. They demonstrate our resilience in surviving in such a harsh landscape, and we must value them as a precious resource. No one else can preserve them for us, it is our duty.
I believe that sharing our practices with the world could inspire others and help preserve our traditions for future generations. It’s important for us to continue doing this work, not only for ourselves but also for the world to see how our culture and practices have stood the test of time. If we share our practices with the world, it could inspire others and help preserve our traditions for future generations.
Banner image: For Gehano Guchiro Nekayto, these terraces aren’t just a method of farming; they’re the lifeblood of his community and represent a vital connection to land and cultural identity. Image by Solomon Yimer.
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