All language subtitles for years.of.living.dangerously.s02e04.1080p.web.h264-cbfm_track4_[eng]

As a veteran
New York Times reporter,

I've witnessed many
of history's painful moments.

This ranks high on that list.

Every week,
at this desert crossroads,

smugglers pack thousands

of desperate young people
onto trucks,

bound for a journey
they may never survive.

They come from places like Senegal,
Sierra Leone, Ivory Coast, Gambia.

But they all have one destination
in common: the shores of Europe.

What I want to know
is how much of this mass

of human migration
is being pushed by climate change.

This isn't the Sahara Desert.

It's my home state: California.

I've lived here most of my life,
and I've never seen it this dry.

I look down and it looks
like we're just in Brownsville.

Well, we're definitely

in the worst drought
in modern history.

I'm with Felicia Marcus,
the state's top water official.

Her board decides when and how
to ration water in California.

Folsom Lake should have water in it,

and as we get closer,
you'll just see how much is exposed.

There's the dam. Oh my God!

This should be full of water.

-What we're over right now?
-Yeah, right over here.

And they do dry down
during the summer, but not to this.

This is the drought.

Wow.

Those are floating docks,

well, they're supposed
to be floating.

That parking lot
is usually right next to the water.

And this reservoir is one
of California's main water supplies!

Is this where climate change
meets drought?

This is absolutely what our future
looks like under climate change.

We're seeing today what happens
when a drought

goes on for four years
and there's no snowpack.

According to Felicia,

the big fear now is a mega-drought,
one lasting decades.

If high emissions continue,
there's an 80% chance of that

in the second half of this century.

An 80% chance parts of our state
would basically be uninhabitable.

It's the Godzilla
of all wake up calls.

The tide of migrants fleeing war

torn African and Middle Eastern
countries continues to crash...

We're in the middle of a crisis.

Europe is suffering the worst
migration crisis since World War II.

Nearly two million people
in the last year alone

have been on the move.

Syrian refugees
dominate the headlines,

but that is not the whole story.

This shelter is home
to migrants from Africa.

I'm told its occupancy
has recently doubled.

Why did you originally come?

What were the forces that
brought you here?

Because there
is nothing where we live.

And there is no rain.

So people can't stay
if there is nothing to eat.

-No rain.
-No rain.

It's 113 degrees. 122 degrees.

How can a person live?

It's very difficult.

There is no sea
and the earth no longer works.

Even all the big trees
are all dead.

There is no sea,
and the earth doesn't work.

The shelter I just left
is actually in the suburb of Paris.

Less than a mile away,

the biggest environmental talks
in history are taking place.

The goal is to stop the advance
of man-made climate change.

This is the story
I came to Paris to report,

but the migration crisis
on its doorstep

is simply impossible to ignore.

Mr. Secretary, to what extent
is the European migrant crisis,

which we're really now in the middle
of right here in Paris,

to what extent do you think
that's climate-driven?

Well, there's a percentage, Tom.

It's not the majority.

We get a lot of African refugees,
particularly from the drylands.

The biggest challenge globally,
I think, is governance,

bad governance and corruption.

It could be more climate driven
in the future

and it's a real challenge.

Many leaders acknowledge climate
migration as some distant threat.

But could this
future already be here?

Every second

a person is now forced
to flee his home

because of an extreme
weather or climate event.

Every second.

Jan Egeland heads up
the Norwegian refugee council,

one of the world's
first refugee organizations,

now operating in 30 countries.

I asked to meet
with him one-on-one

to hear about the changes
he's been seeing.

What do you say when
climate skeptics come along and say,

"There've been droughts
and floods in Africa

from time immemorial.

It's very difficult to prove

a link between climate change
and these refugee migrations."

Our figures say and these,
these are our scientists,

say that a child born in the 1970s

compared to a child born today,

the child now is 60% more likely

to be displaced
by natural disasters.

Is it going to be 200 million
or a billion people

that will have to relocate
the next generation? We don't know.

Do they have rights?

No, no, there is no convention
on climate refugees

as there is for war
and human rights refugees.

So if you're tortured by a dictator,
you have certain rights.

If you're tortured by nature,
you have no rights.

You have no rights to seek refuge
in another place.

Of course the injustice in it,

those who did nothing
to cause climate change

are first and hardest hit,

we who caused climate change,

are last and least hit.

It's getting drier,
it's getting warmer,

it's getting tougher.

It's a question
of life and death now.

If what Jan says is right,

climate migration
is already happening.

But will hundreds of millions
really have to flee their homes

by the end of this century?

To find out, I'm heading
to the drylands of West Africa.

Even though I've lived
in Los Angeles

for about 35 years now,

I really don't know much
about the Central Valley,

the giant agricultural region
just north of me.

I'm amazed at its sheer size.

I'm four hours into my drive
and there's been no break:

it's farm after farm after farm.

And all of them, look bone dry.

There are water tanks
on many of the front lawns.

What must it be like
to work and live here?

Near the town of Porterville,
I meet Tom Barcellos,

whose dairy farm has been here
for almost 100 years.

The milk he produces
is made into Land o' Lakes butter.

So this is it?

Yup, this canal here has been dry

for going on almost three
years with no water.

Wow. Really.

What is that doing to the water
that you have to use now?

The water table in the aquifer,

which is the water that's below
ground that we draw from,

40 years ago that was at 60 feet.

So from this ground level,

if you went down 60 feet
you'd hit water.

Earlier this year,
I drilled a new one.

I went 800 feet at a cost
of 150 000 dollars.

Put a new pump,
pressure system in it

at a cost of 80 000 dollars
on top of that.

Almost a quarter
of a million dollars!

And you're in a similar situation
than your neighbors?

This entire valley right now
has to make those kind of decisions.

And what percentage of the food
in the world comes from this area?

It's huge. You have almonds,
pistachios, grapes,

grapes to make raisins
and grapes to make wine.

Citrus, alfalfa, corn...

Tom says almost half
of the nation's produce

comes from this valley.

80% of the world's
almonds alone.

This is important to the world.
What happens to worldwide food?

If we were to lose
this food supply here,

I think we'd have a real
national security problem.

A future without food.

It's a frightening prospect.

And one that seems far off.

But what if it isn't?

How are the smaller farmers
doing here?

The ones without
the financial resources

and corporate contracts
to weather the drought?

A few miles away I stop in
at a small oats and alfalfa farm

run by Adam and Gricelda Toledo.

Hello.

-Good to see you.
-Hi, nice to see you.

It's like a dream,
having a little farm.

The first year was regular year.

But the second year, just horrible.

The third year,
oh, you don't want to know about it.

-Oh, really?
-This is what we have left

after the third year.

But it used to be very nice.
Very green.

So where
does your water come from?

Our only sources
of water is our well.

Which three years ago,
was pumping pretty good.

Now, it's not even...

10% of what we had back then.

Really? Once the well dries,
you don't have another option.

Not option, nothing, that's it.

-Can't go deeper?
-Yes.

-But it costs.
-Half a million dollars.

-To go any deeper than it is now.
-To go deeper, yeah.

-Who's gonna bring up that money?
-Right.

I don't want to leave,
but if it doesn't rain,

it's just gonna be over pretty soon.

Do you ever talk about
climate change

or why it's happening
or how it's happening?

Well, we used to have rain,
we used to have the snow,

so we're doing something wrong.

-And not just me or you. Everybody.
-Right.

-How many kids do you guys have?
-Two girls.

-Two girls.
-And we're expecting.

About, almost five months.

-Is it a boy or a girl?
-We don't know yet. He wants a boy.

Another little farmer!

I'm struck by how fragile
the Toledos' situation is.

Adam has the money
to plant one more crop.

If the rains don't come, he won't
be able to make their payments,

and they'll be forced from the land.

Far from the richest state

in the richest country
on the planet,

I'm flying over one of the poorest:
Niger,

which I've read is the main route

for Africans
migrating to Europe via Libya.

I'm going to a region
known as the Sahel,

a vast transition zone
between desert and forest in Africa.

I'm accompanying
the UN's Monique Barbut,

whose job is to save fertile land
from turning into desert.

As we start our descent,
the pilot announces the temperature:

117 degrees Fahrenheit.

It's my first time in the Sahel.

-Pleased to meet you.
-Hello.

Leaving the airport,
we're escorted by the military.

Extremists from al Qaeda

have been known
to kidnap Westerners here.

A centuries-old desert trading post,
Agadez used to be

one of West Africa's
tourist attractions.

Today? Today it's a gateway
for African's fleeing the continent.

We drive a few miles out of town
to the desert crossroads.

-What country?
-Guinea.

And how long did it take
to get here from Guinea?

Guinea to here? One week.

So he's coming from a village,
his family's still there.

But he had to leave
and go to Conakry.

-The city.
-To cities.

Because there was no work
in the village.

-No work in the village.
-And now he has no work

in the city either
so he's going further away.

Officials here tell me
something that's hard to imagine:

as many as 17 000 migrants

pass through this exact spot
every week.

I leave the crossroads
and head off to a transit center

operated by the International
Organization for Migration.

This center provides aid to those
attempting this dangerous journey.

So let me ask a question.
There are all these young men here.

How many people are back home

who would like to come to Libya,
to Europe, to Greece to Turkey.

How many would like to get out?

Right now there are 12 people
who call me every day on the phone.

"I want to come. I want to come."

I say to them, "I wouldn't wish it
on my worst enemy."

But they'll see for themselves.

At first I am confused,
but then I realize:

these guys aren't heading
to the dream of Europe.

They're coming back
from the nightmare that is Libya.

What did you find in Libya?
What was it like when you got there?

I just struggled to survive,
barely hanging on.

Once I got there, the police
made life unbearable for me.

They locked me up
in jail for 3 or 4 months.

When you are in that jail in Libya,

tell us a little more
what it's like every day?

They beat us.
Morning, noon, and night.

We lost two people. They died.

They use electric shocks
so intense you cry.

I'm sore from the punches.

Does he want to go back home now?

All I want is to go back home.

Instead, these young men
are stuck here,

personae non gratae,
just about everywhere else.

The sense of failure is palpable.

I've seen before,

an emerging poverty of hope

which makes them easy
prey for those who have an agenda.

This year is setting record
temperatures across the globe.

And here in California, it's 108.

Adam Toledo has money
to plant one more crop of oats.

If it doesn't rain,
it could be his last.

Meanwhile, his well
has gone completely dry.

The family is down to the water
left in two giant reserve tanks.

How do you want me
to save water for the house?

It's gonna be a little harder.

Don't worry, you'll take a shower.

You're not gonna take
one hour in the shower, okay?

Two minutes and get out.

No, just playing.

Back in L.A., I'm terrified so much

of our nation's food supply
could be at risk.

I've come to NASA's
Jet Propulsion Lab

to find out just how bad
things really are.

-I'm Jay.
-Nice to meet you.

Jay Famiglietti is one
of the world's top hydrologists.

He's been using satellite technology

to measure the levels
of the world's groundwater.

Having seen what's happening

in the Central Valley
with these farmers,

and the desperate need
for water, I mean,

is there any hope
on the horizon for them?

I think the future of agriculture
in California is really at risk.

Over the last few years,
California's lost,

something like 4 trillion gallons
of water per year.

-I'm sorry, what?
-Yeah, trillion with a "t".

And a lot of that water
used to support agriculture.

According to Jay,
that's enough water

to sustain all of New York, LA,
and Chicago.

For five years.

Can you tie this
into climate change?

Absolutely.
The climate models predict

that, as temperatures warm,

the wet areas, the high latitudes
and the Tropics will get wetter,

and the dry areas will get drier.

-Drier.
-And we're seeing it.

So this is a map
of the United States,

and the trends over 12 years

and the blues
are places that are gaining.

And the reds are places
that are losing water.

You see those hot spots
in the Central Valley and in Texas,

those are our two big
food-producing regions

in the United States.

That part of Texas, will run out
of water in 20 or 30 years.

Then what? What are we gonna do
to grow food for our nation?

-Is this the global story?
-Unfortunately it is.

Around the world the mid-latitudes,

where all the major aquifers are,

they are past sustainability
tipping points.

-I mean this insane.
-This is insane.

What does this mean for global food?

What's this mean for how we do our
agriculture now around the world?

It stands to change
our food security,

our energy security,
our human security globally.

Are we talking about
a great migration again?

I mean, is man going to have
to completely pick up

-and move to places where...?
-I think, yes.

I mean this
is really scary stuff. Exactly.

I am getting to the point

where I'm not sleeping well
at night.

Leaving NASA, I think about my kids,
who just left for college.

Their future is starting to look
downright apocalyptic

under climate change.

So what are we doing to stop it?

Is anyone, at least in my state,
taking charge?

I'm heading towards Dirkou,

the last stop
before the Libyan border.

In the distance we can see a crowd
gathering by a transport truck.

All those people are from Niger.

They are internal migrants.

I have ask here are only men,
where are the families?

And all of them are saying

that their family
stays in the village.

How do their families
survive back home, without the men?

Before they left,

they tried to leave enough
for the family to sustain.

And this man was saying
that he just talked to his wife

who told him that now they have
finished all the crops.

And that now they
are in the hands of God.

-Now they are?
-In the hands of God.

Minister, what is going on in Niger
in terms of the climate,

the environment,

that so many people
would be tempted

to want to go up to Libya,
and even beyond to Europe?

The population lives,
for the most part,

off of agriculture and livestock.

The desert is advancing rapidly.

The sand dunes shift and they invade
our agricultural lands.

We lose about 104 000 hectares
per year.

-A hundred thousand hectares?
-Yes, every year.

-Every year?
-Every year.

-Every year.
-Wow.

So, it's the production base
of our poor population

that dwindles from day to day.

This invasion of sand dunes,

has that always been part
of Niger's history?

When I was young,

our parents always planted
after a heavy rain,

between the first
and the sixth of June.

We can get a rain in April.

And then we could have
a month without a drop of rain.

We may experience
serious floods that carry off

big chunks of soil,

sometimes even carry off men.

And for us, those are the effects
of climate change.

Do you think we in the West
are responsible for this also?

The answer is quite simple.

Who pollutes the planet?

The great responsibility
for polluting the planet

comes from the West.

And it's to the West to pay.

It boils down
to a question of security.

What will all of this lead to?

Our youth are unemployed.

They'll go elsewhere.

Or they'll respond to the siren
call of Boko Haram or the Jihadists.

The siren call of extremism.

With nowhere else to turn,
there is that darker option.

I'm seeing how conditions here
might touch American lives.

I wonder, do our leaders
back home understand

the full impact
of a changing climate?

Neither California
nor indeed the world

can ignore the growing assault

on the very systems of nature

on which human beings
and other forms of life depend.

7000 miles
from the deserts of Africa,

there is at least
one American politician who gets it.

California governor, Jerry Brown.

No stranger to environmental issues,

he's been battling the oil and gas
industries since the '70s.

And while he knows
he can't fight a drought,

he can fight climate change,

preventing far worse droughts
in the future.

And Brown has a radical solution:

a bill that would cut oil use
in the state in half by 2030.

We use about
18 billion gallons a year.

-Wow.
-Of diesel and gasoline.

-In California?
-In California.

To say we're going to cut
all that in half, in some way,

cut the fuel in half,
how are we going to do it?

Are we up against the clock in a way
that will make something like that

have to be fast-tracked
to have any success?

If we, as the 7.2 billion
people on Planet Earth,

yeah, we are up against it.

I think there's now
a billion cars in the world.

There was only 300 million
when I was governor 35 years ago.

And we'll be up
at two billion cars pretty soon.

What I want to do in California
is make sure we stay on course

and set a good example

so that other states,
the federal government,

and other countries
will join with us.

I like to do things that are big,
that are, that are significant.

Working on climate change
is working on something

that makes a difference.

My guess is the governor is going
to have a huge fight on his hands.

Last year, the oil industry

sold 86 billion dollars in petroleum
to Californians.

I can't imagine
they'll be too thrilled

about the prospect of having
their profits slashed.

But Governor Brown
plays the long game.

We met a family in Porterville.
The Toledos.

Their well has run dry.
They may have to move.

The world is going to change.

And whether you're
in that valley of California,

or you're on the eroding coast
of New Orleans and Miami.

How we handle that

with the millions of refugees
and migrants,

it's going to be really disruptive.

So what you saw in Porterville,

you'll just see a thousand
or a million times more.

Whether it becomes

completely universal
and catastrophic,

that depends
on how quickly we make the change.

This is what we do know,

well over 200 girls were kidnapped
by heavily armed gunmen.

Boko Haram, known
for mass abductions like this one,

is considered one of the world's
deadliest terrorist organizations,

and has been affiliated
with both ISIS and al Qaeda.

Could climate change
be having an influence

on the rise of extremism here?

Here I have three maps
I wanted to show you.

The first is the vulnerability
to desertification in Africa.

-And as you can see...
-Runs through the middle of Africa.

Yeah. Here, you have the food riots

and where they have exploded
the same year.

And if you take the map
of terrorist attack,

-al Qaeda type attack.
-Boko Haram?

We go exactly again.

Through the center of the continent.

-Yes, this is reality.
-Desert, food riots,

-al Qaeda, and ISIS.
-Yeah.

-Same map, same places.
-Exactly.

You can tell me that there is no
direct consequences

of one of another.

But denying that there is no links,

this is where I am kind of stunned.

By 2045, so 30 years from now,

they say that 60 millions people
may be moving

from south part of Africa
below the Sahara

to North Africa and to Europe.

Sixty million.

What you're talking about
is terrifying, Monique.

We have underestimate
what is happening

in terms of small farmers
losing their natural capital.

And the only natural capital

that people have around here
is the land.

Monique, you get
to be Queen for a Day.

You get to invest
in one big solution

for everything we're talking about.
What would it be?

You see, today in the world,

people are putting walls
all over the place,

and me also, I dream of a wall.

But it is a wall that we have called
the "great green wall."

Climate change is a major factor
in the deterioration of soil here.

The great green wall

would create a ribbon
of restoration projects

to conserve
every drop of water possible

and turn deserts
back into fertile land.

The project is almost a decade old
but it needs oversight and financing

to start making headway.

You know, to restore
a hectare of degraded land,

it costs between
100 and 300 dollars.

Okay? Compared to peace,
to security, to human dignity,

what is it we are talking about?
Not much.

Not much.

Sixty million refugees
fleeing Africa.

The West can't even manage
a million Syrians.

And what's so surprising

is that so many of the migrants
I've met here are from Senegal.

I've always thought that Senegal

was one of West Africa's most stable
and prosperous countries.

It appears that might be changing.

Adam and Gricelda Toledo
have planted

their make-or-break crop of oats.

But with their well now dry

and the water in their
emergency tanks running low,

they have to move their animals
to a nearby relative's.

Hey girls, come on in.

It's a stop-gap for now.
They can't spare the water.

Back in LA,
commercials have popped up,

slamming the governor's ambitious
bill to cut petroleum use in half.

It's about making it
harder for regular people

to drive to work
and drive home each day.

To find out who's behind
this advertising blitz,

I'm meeting up with Tom Steyer,

a billionaire
former hedge fund manager

who now spends his money
funding candidates

and initiatives
that fight climate change.

His group NextGen has spent
two million dollars backing bills,

including the governor's
gas reduction measure.

...penalizing drivers
for using too much gas.

-Let me just stop right here.
-Please.

I mean, as much money as they
spend, they can't get better actors?

Who are the "they"
we're talking about?

In California,

that is paid for
by a bunch of oil companies.

But the fact of the matter is,
they have very specific interests.

They're trying to scare people.

And also they spent
11 million dollars lobbying,

just going office to office
and arguing against this.

Is this something
you see across the country?

The oil and gas industry in the US

have decided they are going
to fight and deny the problem.

How do you fight against
something like that?

It's corny,

but, by far, the biggest thing
we have going for us is the truth.

We're going to see
the world get warmer.

Cities threatened.
Climate refugees around the world,

-which we're...
-Already seeing.

Yeah.

To the extent that we don't get
legislation in Washington,

then the change is going to have
to come at the states.

But I hear that, up in Sacramento,

oil lobbyists are having success

getting legislators
to echo their ideas.

Nobody ever says,

"Oh my gosh, I want to pay
higher gas prices."

This measure will lead
to substantial increases

in the cost of energy

and will hurt families who live in
our most disadvantaged communities.

We need to stop regulating,
we need more free market.

Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.

A defeat now
for Governor Jerry Brown

and his efforts
fighting global warming.

No state, no nation, has tried this.

To use the government
to force a drastic reduction

in gas consumption
by drivers in California.

About an hour ago, the governor
announced he has pulled that idea.

Oil has won a skirmish,
but they've lost the bigger battle.

Because my zeal has been intensified
to a maximum degree.

And nothing,
nothing is going to stop this state

from pushing forward
on our low carbon fuel standard,

and all the rest.

California will continue to lead.

Decisions made in our backyard

impact backyards
all across the globe.

I'm at Senegal's
Meteorological Authority,

with the head
of their climate division,

Dr. Ousmane Ndiaye.

-Hello.
-Hey! Dr. Ndiaye, Tom Friedman.

In Niger, I heard a lot about
how the desert is devouring farmland

but I need to know
the science behind it.

-How was it?
-Hot!

-Really? I'll show you something.
-Hot, hot.

As you can see here,

this is the temperature variabilit
over year-to-year.

The temperature is going up, up, up.

And, actually, we have observed
the difference of 2 degrees Celsius.

So between here and here,
is two degrees.

Two degrees.

You know, Dr. Ndiaye, when we were
at the Paris Climate Conference,

the whole objective
of that conference

was that the world
should get together

and prevent
the two-degrees-Centigrade rise

in average temperature.

What you're telling me is,
here in Senegal,

-you've already hit the two degrees.
-Exactly. Exactly.

We are living it.

Dr. Ndiaye tells me
Senegal is a sign of things to come.

Different regions
warm at different rates.

But the world's average
temperature has been fairly steady,

even dropping slightly of late.

But ever since
the Industrial Revolution,

it shot up.

The global average has risen
a full degree Celsius

and scientists warn

that just one more degree
would be catastrophic.

So what impact has that had
on agriculture and farming here?

It has a huge impact.

And you see that in the plants here.

When the temperature rise the plants
need and demand more water.

So in those conditions
it gets more and more difficult.

It gets hotter
and the plants need more water.

Exactly, needs, yes.

And the rainfall is diminishing
more and more due to climate change.

-What happens down the road?
-Let me show you something.

Dr. Ndiaye shows me a climate model
developed by leading scientists.

In 2010, we were thinking forward,
what will happen?

And the worst scenario
was the red one.

We were thinking, this won't happen.

And, actually,
we are following the red one.

So, we're talking about
a temperature rise,

average temperature,
of over four degrees?

Yes, at the end of the century.

Mother of God, I cannot imagine

what it would be like
to live in Senegal

at that end of the extreme range.

Yeah. It will be very difficult.
Very challenging for them.

With limited resources,
it will be...

very difficult.

I'm having a hard time
grappling with the fact

that this massive,
once fertile farmland

is starting to look more
like a Saharan landscape.

But it has rained
some in the Central Valley

and Adam Toledo's crop
of oats may have a fighting chance.

But his reserve tanks
have completely run out,

leaving the house
entirely without water.

He has one day off a week

and he spends it
making trips back and forth

to his parents' home to get water.

It takes ten trips like this,

and his entire day,
to fill the tanks.

And it's barely enough
to last the month.

Gricelda is now eight and a half
months pregnant.

I think I'm pretty close
to spraying for the weeds.

And if we get two or three rains,
we're going to make it.

-What if it doesn't rain?
-Keep on trying.

We cannot just let it go that easy.
One day it has to rain.

Maybe we're going
to think about moving or something.

Moving where?

And all the work and the money.

That's something that we'll have
to think about, we'll see.

I never expected
my first night in Senegal

to be my first rap concert.

This country
has long been considered

one of the few stable democracies
in West Africa.

But many of the men I kept meeting
in the desert in Agadez

came from here.

Who here wants to emigrate
and leave Senegal?

The rapper's name is Matador.
He's a huge star here.

Raise your hands
if you want to leave!

His song is called "Tukki,"
which means to leave, to travel.

Matador's message is to stay,

better to be poor
and help develop your own country

than to be a poor stranger
in a strange land.

The next day,
not far from the concert venue,

my guide, Adams Sie,
brings me to this market

to meet one of the young men
Matador sings about.

You'll meet my friend one
of the millions of young people here

who are hustling,
just trying to survive.

-Nice to meet you.
-Nice to meet you.

I learn he left
his farming village four years ago

and became a street seller.

Every day now, for 14 hours,
he mans his stall, selling trinkets.

How much can he make
in a day here?

Sometimes, he can have
something like 1000,

sometimes 1500 Francs CFA.

-So maybe a couple of dollars a day.
-Yeah.

And out of that,
he has to pay his rent, food,

and support
his brothers and sisters.

When we went to Matador's concert,

he kept using the word "tukki"
in his rap, leaving, migrating.

Does Djilly want to tukki?

I really think about it.
It's got to be better than here.

No future here?

I have no hope to be honest.

Would he like to go back?

Yes. If I had the means,
I'd go back to live there.

Farming used to work well for us,
but that's not the case anymore.

I miss it a lot, but without money,
I can't go back.

-Can we go see his village?
-Yes.

Djilly's village
is a four-hour drive north.

I'm finally going to get a chance
to see for myself

what's actually happening
to the farmland here.

I hoped Djilly would come with us,

but he simply can't spare
the time off work.

On the way, Adams tells me
it's the dry season,

but as we get closer,
it's far more than just dry.

It's a wasteland.

I'm reminded of something
the migrants in Paris told me:

the earth doesn't work here.

By the time we arrive,
we're in the midst a sandstorm.

Do you know a man named Djilly?

We met him in Dakar

and we wanted to come
and see his village and why he left.

I wonder if you could help us?

-He invited us to his house.
-Wonderful.

The young man's name is Serigne.

And he shares
his last name with Djilly

and the village
where they were both born.

-His wife.
-Oh nice to meet you.

-Oh, his mother.
-Mother, oh!

-Welcome, sit down.
-Thank you.

Serigne, when you were growing up,

was, this is just powder.

Was the earth like that here?

No, the soil was not
like this at all!

In the past, if you scooped it in
your hand, it'd feel sticky, oily.

But now, if you lift it like this,
it scatters away.

Serigne, of the young men
you grew up with,

how many are still
here in the village?

The friends I grew up with,

I don't think there is
one of them left here.

All my friends are gone.

Serigne's remaining family
gathers around us in the courtyard.

His mother tells me
that, of her five sons,

Serigne is the
only one left at home.

When you have a mother and father
to support,

but cannot even support yourself

and your mother and father fall ill,

and you can't provide care for them,

your heart is heavy.
You see no choice but to leave.

Serigne, Why didn't you leave?

I did leave and it was hard...

What country did you go to?

Spain. I lived there for 5 years.

I went there October 5, 2003
and left June 29, 2009.

What did you do in Europe?

I did all kinds of work there.

I was a scrap metal dealer.

I sold CDs in the street.

Sometimes I'd help
white people carry something heavy

and they would pay me.

I had no hope there
even though I am educated.

It was no better suffering there,

not being
with my mother and my father,

not being with any family.

That's why I came back.

I've seen many Serignes
on the streets of Europe

but I've never been
to the place they call home.

As I sit in my car, protected
from the heat and desperation,

I know that for Serigne
there is no air-conditioned escape.

It's spring in the Central Valley.

The rainy season has come and gone,
but it wasn't enough.

Adam Toledo's oat crop has failed.

Now, he's selling
what remains of last season's crop

to help pay the bills.

With drought ravaging
not just the Toledos,

but the entire state,

Governor Brown is more determined
than ever to find a solution.

There are many things
we can do together.

Transformation to low-carbon world

can be an occasion for increasing
the quality of our lives.

After losing his showdown
with the oil industry,

he has been
on an international warpath,

drumming up support
wherever he can.

The achievements made by California

has made great contribution

for the Chinese-US cooperation
on climate change.

He even forms
his own international climate pact,

signed not by countries.

Start signing!

But by cities and states,

to take action without waiting
for their national governments.

We're building a real force,
a global force,

to reduce carbon emissions,

and protect the well-being
of people everywhere.

With renewed support,
he returns home.

And this time manages to negotiate
a new bill with the oil industry.

One that will slash
statewide emissions by 40%

in 15 years.

California is doing something
that no other state has done.

You're putting into law
real measures

backed up by the real power
of the state of California.

It's an historic moment.

But it comes too late
for the Toledo family.

Fed up with life without water
and unable to make their payments,

Adam and Gricelda
have left the farm.

Thanks to the generosity
of a neighbor,

they are living rent-free,
for now.

And with a new member
of the family, Daisy.

Mami, do you like your new house?

Do you?

Are you happy in here? Are you?

Yes, I know you are.

We had a dream
of having a little farm.

And we had it!

We had four years over there.

But if we sit here
and talk about that,

we're going to end up crying.

But, just imagine,
like, Daisy's generation,

it's going to be worse and worse

because what makes you think
it's gonna get better?

While some towns back home

have just begun to experience
climate migration,

Adams has brought me
to a village in Senegal

that's feeling its full brunt.

What is it like to have
so many of your husbands and sons

out of the village your whole life?

It's a constant struggle.

My children are far away.

One of them is sick.
He hasn't been back in a year.

He's in Spain and can't get back.

I have another son in Libya.

He's also sick.

An older man gets up
to tell me that his son

also left for Libya
more than a year ago.

I haven't heard from him since.

He left his wife
and two children behind.

It's very painful.

He's said, very painful.

I don't have the heart to tell him
I was just near the Libyan border.

I think of those young men
getting ready to cross the desert.

So many die along the way.

Their bodies never found.

Their deaths never recorded.

When I was a strong young man,

my brothers and I farmed
for our father,

and brought the harvest home.

Our mothers would then feed us
from the harvest.

The whole family would be at home.

Everyone's children stayed here,
farming together.

If this situation continues,
we won't be able to stay here.

Because we won't make a living.

We will be compelled to follow
our children to other places.

I came here with a big question,
and I found my answer.

Migrants are leaving Africa
for many reasons.

But the ones I met
aren't fleeing war.

They're fleeing a land
that will no longer support them,

made worse by a man-made condition
they did nothing to cause.

As these villages dissolve,

I remember there could be
anywhere from 200 million

to one billion climate migrants
by the end of the century.

This is just the beginning.

Whether this trickle becomes a flood
is up to us.

Subtitles: Daiana Estefanía Díaz
plint.com