“There was a Bedouin, who had a huge herd of camels and he was singing to them, and there was a lot of harmony between him and them. It was this animal-human relationship that caught my eye,” says Köhler-Rollefson, 70. “Then I read up about them and realised how important they are to the way food is produced in deserts and drylands.”

Amid her time with the Bedouins of Jordan, she would complete a doctorate in camel domestication at the University of Veterinary Medicine in Hannover. She would also become a citizen of a world that revolved around these creatures; a world always on the move; a vestige of a long-gone era in which animals were vital, settlements were temporary, and habitation could be folded up and carried away, leaving no sign at all that humans had lived there for a season.

Lessons from her life with nomadic tribes — in Jordan, in Sudan and of course in India, which has been her home for 30 years — are condensed into her latest book, Hoofprints on the Land: How Traditional Herding and Grazing Can Restore the Soil and Bring Animal Agriculture Back in Balance with the Earth. Released earlier this year, it illustrates how ancient herding cultures continue to operate in partnership with animals, natural cycles and existing resources, rather than against all three. The book recently won a prestigious Gourmand World Cookbook Award, for exemplary writing on international food culture.

“The award was a total surprise,” Köhler-Rollefson says. “Now, of course, I am inspired to write a ‘camel cookbook’, highlighting camel cultures of the world and what they do with camel milk.” She has already begun work on such a book, she adds.

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Much of Hoofprints on the Land is dedicated to the nomadic Raika camel herders of Rajasthan, whom Köhler-Rollefson has lived and worked with since she arrived in India in 1990. The book explores how this and other nomadic herder cultures live, and how they are invisible and fading around the world, in a time when humanity is so actively seeking answers to the question of what really constitutes a circular lifestyle.

“The Raika really don’t use anything that they don’t need. There’s barely any carbon footprint left behind by them,” Köhler-Rollefson says.

But they also don’t know how to live a life that does not involve looking after their animals. And it is this that first captivated her when she arrived, because the tribe was already struggling. As vehicles and fossil fuels became cheaper, camels were no longer vital in the desert.

For two decades, Köhler-Rollefson worked with the Raika in a non-profit model that sought to contribute to camel healthcare, protect grazing rights, and document traditional knowledge. In 2012, she decided it was time to pivot to a business model, and set up Camel Charisma, a social enterprise that develops and promotes environment-friendly camel goods. Headquartered in Jodhpur, its co-founder is Hanwant Singh Rathore of the Lokhit Pashu Palak Sansthan (LPPS; an NGO that works for the welfare of herders).

“We started with products such as wool. We set up a camel poop paper unit; made camel-milk soaps. But none of these things really cut through the core, and none of them can make much of a difference,” Köhler-Rollefson says. “The only difference can be made through camel milk. So, the last two years we focussed on that.”

There are particular challenges to making camel milk work as a business for the Raika. “It is difficult because the Raika are nomadic and we want them to continue to be nomadic,” she says. “It is also a highly perishable product in the high temperatures of Rajasthan. So that makes the milk very expensive.”

Hope has come from a new direction. The community has managed to acquire cheese-making skills, Köhler-Rollefson says. Over about seven years, they have refined these skills. “This cheese is now in demand. Luxury hotels in the state are buying it.”

The following year will be a big one for her and the Raika. They can hope for better funding and more attention, with the United Nations declaring 2024 the year of the camelids (the two-toed ruminant of the family Camelidae, which includes camels, llamas and alpacas). Köhler-Rollefson’s book is drawing attention too.

Perhaps the renewed focus will draw attention, also, to more recent tangles, such as misguided legislation. In 2014, for instance, camels were declared Rajasthan’s second state animal (the first is the chinkara); the following year, in a bid to protect camels, the state passed a law banning their slaughter. It proved counterproductive, since selling camel meat was a key part of the herder’s new livelihood, Köhler-Rollefson says. “That was it. Nobody wanted the male camels anymore and it became impossible to keep the camels from disappearing.”

“The world can benefit so much from camels,” she adds, “but there is very little understanding and awareness of these animals among the policymakers.”

Köhler-Rollefson is now working on a new model for migrant camel herding, in the hopes that as this lifestyle finds ways to endure, it can be improved too. “We don’t separate the calves from the mothers any more. And we are trying not to stall-feed them but to let the animals choose their diets.” As new models emerge, it is important to be watchful and cautious, she adds. “Ultimately, the communities who have taken care of and acted as custodians of these animals should benefit, rather than outsiders and corporations who just want to use them to make money.”