A new use for camel's milk: Sell it abroad.

Twenty years ago, when times were tough, Mohamed Ould Tati had to sell one of his cherished camels to make ends meet. Today, he can just sell its milk.

Slightly saltier than cow's milk and three times as rich in Vitamin C, camel's milk has been a favorite drink for centuries in Mauritania, served to guests under the billowing folds of a traditional khaima tent or donated to the poor.

"But we never thought of selling it. It was a very shameful thing to do," Mr. Tati explains, raising his bushy eyebrows in remembered horror.

But now, nomads across the desert nation supply fresh milk to the Tiviski dairy in the capital, Nouakchott, where it is pasteurized, packaged, and sold. "Slowly the mentality has changed," Tati grins. "Before, milk was for drinking; now it's liquid gold."

The UN Food and Agricultural Organization said recently that the world market for camel-milk products could be as much as $10 billion, giving nomadic herders a key source of income while helping to provide more food to people in the world's most arid areas.

Tiviski was the brainchild of British engineer, Nancy Abeiderrahmane. On a visit to Mauritania as a student, she was struck by the absurdity of everyone drinking imported milk in a country where livestock outnumber people. It rankled so much, she decided to do something about it, setting up the first dairy in Africa – and only the second in the world – to pasteurize camel's milk.

It's a win-win enterprise in one of the world's poorest countries where, despite becoming Africa's newest oil producer this year, almost two-thirds of the population lives on less than $2 a day.

Thanks to the dairy, Mauritania's nomads have been able to connect to the ever-globalizing world without being swallowed by it.

"Aid doesn't aid. And neither does an economy forced on a country by globalization. It's about harnessing what's already there in terms of resources and talent," says Abeiderrahmane. "I'm proud of the business but more importantly the herders are too."

Tiviski pays 150 ouguiya (55 cents) a litre to the roaming herders, a significant boost to the income of the herders, whose nomadic lifestyle leaves them with few other economic opportunities.

The herders milk by hand wherever they happen to be.If they find themselves down the road from the dairy, they send their milk in a bucket; others use donkey carts or a network of pickup trucks to deliver their churns. That done, the nomads continue on their way, following the clouds by day and the stars by night.

There are cultural benefits for the residents of Nouakchott, too, as the dairy bridges the gap between their urban day-to-day life and their nomadic roots.

"We are the in-between generation with one foot in the town and another staying in the desert. We are part urban, part nomad," Seydou Sall, a local government official, explains at an evening tea party where guests sprawl on floor mats, their elbows propped on cushions as they sip from small patterned glasses.

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