On a warm and dry morning, a group of labourers gather at the home of Neddy Khalayi in Waitaluk, Trans Nzoia district. The women enter the maize store to stuff maize cobs into gunny sacks. Young, muscular men carry the filled sacks out to a waiting tractor. They pour the maize into the shelling machine and then carry the grain to dry on large canvas mats laid out under the open blue sky.

With the changing weather patterns, maize diseases and the high cost of production, cassava could just be the answer to Kenya's food insecurity. “For me, cassava represents food, a source of income and a way of life,” says Peter Atanga, a 42-year-old man from the North West highlands of Cameroon. He is just in the process of measuring a basin of gari (also Garri or tapioca), one of the many ways that cassava is processed for value addition and storage purposes in Central and West Africa.

The early morning sun penetrates the thick canopy of trees lightly, revealing long pathways and shaded alcoves of the old cemetery. At the front entrance, an old woman walks with a stoop to the dispenser and buys a candle before proceeding to an elaborately marked grave. A young fitness enthusiast jogs through the trees, earphones plugged into her ears turning her completely oblivious to the buzzing and chirping sounds of insects and birds.

Neddy, a smallholder farmer in western Kenya, narrates how changing rain patterns have affected her maize farming enterprise.

The migration of people from upcountry to the coastal city of Mombasa is akin to the annual wildebeest migration in many ways. The rush for suddenly limited resources in form of accommodation, especially for poor planners, leads to a mad race on the Nairobi- Mombasa highway. Hippos at the park. An orphaned hippo was adopted by a tortoise here.