In Kenya’s arid north, livestock is more than a measure of wealth — it is a way of life. For pastoralists in counties like Marsabit, animals are both food and financial security, woven deeply into social identity.
Yet for generations, this has also been the reason pastoralism has been misunderstood. It is often described as cultural, rather than commercial — an image that hides the immense economic value of the livestock trade and the livelihoods it sustains.
As Liban Roba - Booran Ka’uu’s founder - often explains, the misunderstanding begins with perception.
“Livestock for us has always been labeled as culture. But it’s not culture — it’s a livelihood.”
Recognizing that distinction is crucial. For decades, the pastoral economy has been undervalued, seen as traditional rather than strategic. Yet it contributes significantly to Kenya’s meat supply and regional trade. Livestock represents both economic potential and dignity — the ability of communities to sustain themselves through their own labor and land.
The livestock trade has been unpredictable. In the past, vast distances, rough terrain, and limited communication meant pastoralists often relied on brokers and transporters who dictated prices.
“Anybody who controlled transport controlled the buying price,” recalls Liban.
Animals travelled long distances — often emaciated by the time they reached markets — reducing their value and exposing producers to loss. The volatility of open markets — fluctuating prices, middlemen, and a lack of finishing infrastructure — exposed the need for formalization.
And while the sector could be valued at billions, few of these profits stay with the people who raise the herds. Additionally, without structured finishing, weight targets, or disease management, the market punishes smallholders and rewards intermediaries.
Before formal infrastructure reached the region, local cooperatives served as vital market bridges. In Marsabit, the Olale Multipurpose Cooperative Society once allowed pastoralists to pool resources, access buyers, and share transport.
It was a modest but effective experiment in market organization — proof that structure could balance the scales between producers and brokers.
This early cooperative revealed an important truth: when pastoralists act collectively, they gain bargaining power. They can negotiate prices, share risk, and retain more of their animals’ value — something no individual herder could achieve alone.
As Kenya’s beef industry integrates into international markets, a new standard has emerged. Export markets require traceability, uniform weight, and strict quality controls.
In Oman, for example, the Al Bashayer Livestock Company operates finishing stations that “green-feed” cattle to achieve market weight before sale.
“The international market demands 350 kilos of live weight… Many of the cows we were getting were sub-300. In Oman, they have a station where they green-feed them to reach proper market weight. You start seeing the science.”
Such systems are data-driven and meticulously planned. They demonstrate that competitiveness isn’t about herd size — it’s about structure, consistency, and health standards.
(If you missed the full story of lessons learnt during the formative years of our Livestock Trading, read our first article: From Loss to Learning.)
As I mentioned at the beginning of this article, pastoralism is more than income for many communities — it is identity and pride. Booran Ka’uu attempts to converge this principle with innovation — showing that sustainability, profitability, and heritage can coexist in Kenya’s livestock industry.
The farm is building a systemic structure — combining irrigated fodder production, feedlot systems, and cooperative-style offtake — reflecting decades of insight drawn from the pastoral economy. By offering reliable market access and quality assurance, Booran Ka’uu aims to create stability for pastoral suppliers while meeting modern market standards.
Should Liban’s children one day choose to follow in his footsteps and take on the responsibility of running the farm, he hopes they will carry with them the lessons he has drawn from a lifetime of experience — as a pastoralist, a trader, and now, a modern-day farmer.
“The aim of this initiative is to ensure that members of my community, and other pastoral communities I trade with, have both food and financial security. I would therefore advise my kids that nothing defines dignity more than the ability to feed yourself,” says Liban.
“And if this — or any other passion you may have — can also become a business you run sensibly, without exploiting the people you trade with, and at the same time improve their lives, I think you will find a purpose strong enough to carry you through both trials and success."
That philosophy captures what the modernization of this sector should aim for: a pastoral economy that empowers without erasing tradition.