Beekeepers harvest honey from an ABL hive in the Tana Delta, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

By Chemtai Kirui
GOLBANTI, Kenya, Apr 23 2026 (IPS)

Lydia Hagodana stands next to a bee yard (apiary) in Golbanti, Tana Delta, where she lives. The air carries a low, steady hum as bees move in and out in a constant stream. She lifts the back of one hive slightly, gauging its weight.

“This hive is mine,” she says. “I have two.”

Hagodana is one of 25 members of the Golbanti women’s group, which manages about 50 hives shared between them. Each member keeps a pair, harvesting honey a few times a year. Some of the income is kept individually, while a portion is pooled into group savings to support a small communal vegetable farm.

The apiaries sit along the southern banks of the Tana River, where it begins to split into the channels that form the lower delta. In the rainy season, the land opens into floodplains, drawing migratory birds and supporting wildlife, including hippos, crocodiles and the rare Tana River topi.

Lydia Hagodana in the area where she keeps one of her beehives in the Tana Delta, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Patches of gallery forest along the riverbanks are home to two critically endangered primates – the Tana River red colobus and the crested mangabey.

In recent years, beekeeping has offered an alternative source of income in a place where livelihoods have long depended on farming, fishing and livestock. For women in particular, managing hives marks a shift from more physically demanding work and from roles traditionally dominated by men.

Before the bees, these same floodplains were at the centre of proposals for large-scale biofuel plantations – plans that raised concerns about converting wetlands into industrial agriculture.

“This was linked to the European Union policy to blend biofuels with fossil fuels,” said Dr Paul Matiku, executive director of Nature Kenya. “Africa was seen as a place with ‘idle’ land that could be converted to these crops, including jatropha and sugarcane.”

At the time, the Kenyan government framed the projects as part of vision 2030 – a way to bring development and jobs to what officials described as an “empty” region.

Land clearing had begun. In some places, fields were ploughed before indigenous families had gathered their belongings. A wildlife corridor used by elephants and other species was carved into plantation blocks.

Tensions Rose

By 2012, violent clashes had erupted, turning the delta into what investors began calling a “red zone”.

“We woke up to a challenge about where the Tana Delta was going,” said Matiku, who helped lead the legal fight to stop the expansion. “You cannot convert wildlife land and food-producing land into fuel for cars. We had to unleash every bit of machinery we had to stop it.”

A coalition of conservation groups and local communities took the government to court.

In February 2013, Lady Justice Mumbi Ngugi halted the proposed large-scale developments in the delta, ruling that the state had failed to account for the rights of local people.

“The court said no one could move forward without a land-use plan developed with the people,” Matiku said.

Over the next two years, communities, county officials and conservation groups worked together to map the delta – dividing the landscape into zones for grazing, farming and conservation under what became the Tana Delta Land Use Plan (LUP).

For the first time, the delta had a formal set of rules.

But another question followed: could conservation pay?

A group of community members gather outside an African Beekeepers Limited facility in Kenya’s Tana Delta to discuss the business of beekeeping. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

From Idle Land to Natural Economy

With support from the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), researchers began calculating the economic value of the delta’s ecosystems – reframing them from “idle land” into a functioning natural economy.

The partners approached the Global Environment Facility (GEF), the world’s largest multilateral fund for the environment. In 2018, after a technical review process, the fund approved a USD 3.3m grant for restoration in the Tana Delta under the Restoration Initiative.

The funding aimed to stabilise a landscape long marked by land disputes and failed biofuel schemes. Working with UNEP and Nature Kenya, the program supported consultations, legal drafting, and the work needed to turn the land-use plan into law.

Between 2019 and 2024, the county enacted 29 policies and legislative instruments aimed at regulating land use, conservation and climate action.

“We have moved from loosely coordinated conservation projects to a law-driven governance framework that integrates land use, climate change and community engagement,” said Mathew Babwoya Buya, Tana River county’s environment executive.

Tana River county has set aside at least 2% of its development budget for climate resilience and ecosystem restoration.

For the 2024/25 fiscal year, the county’s total budget is about KSh 8.87 billion (USD 68.76 million). Of that, roughly KSh 3 billion (USD 23 million) is development spending, implying annual allocations of about KSh 60 million (USD 460,000) for restoration programmes.

The commitment helped secure new funding from the GEF, which approved a grant of about USD 3.35 million for the Tana Delta under its Restoration Initiative.

Project documents show the program mobilised roughly USD 36.8 million in co-financing, about eleven dollars for every dollar of GEF funding, a commonly cited measure of leverage in conservation finance.

“The Tana Delta project shows what is possible when country ownership is strong and priorities are clearly aligned. This level of leverage reflects deep national commitment, strong engagement from a wide range of stakeholders, and clear links to value chains and local business opportunities. The project’s integrated, landscape-based approach allows it to address multiple challenges at once, making it an attractive platform for partners to invest alongside GEF,” said Ulrich Apel, a senior environmental specialist at the GEF.

The composition of that financing shows that the bulk originates from public agencies and development partners, including multilateral programmes and philanthropic funding. Only about USD 341,000 – less than 1 per cent of the total – is attributable to direct private-sector investment.

Apel explained the figures do not necessarily capture the full extent of commercial activity.

“It is important to understand how co-finance is defined and recorded,” Apel said. “Only capital explicitly committed to a project through formal letters is captured. There can be private sector flows into these value chains that do not show up in the co-financing numbers.”

UNEP officials say the structure is intended to use public funding to reduce land-use risk and attract investment over time.

“The GEF grant was designed to play a catalytic role,” said Nancy Soi, a UNEP official involved in the project.

By funding land-use planning, cooperative structures, and governance systems, she said, the program has helped “derisk” the delta for commercial activity in sectors such as honey, chilli, and aquaculture.

In parallel, other partners are beginning to test that approach in specific value chains.

In aquaculture, the Mastercard Foundation, working with TechnoServe, is supporting a program aimed at about 650 young entrepreneurs in Tana River County.

How that model translates into sustained commercial investment is still being tested on the ground.

In Golbanti, where Hagodana’s hives sit along the riverbanks, one of the emerging value chains is honey production. The work is being developed through a partnership with African Beekeepers Limited (ABL).

Under the model, the company supplies modern hives and technical expertise, manages production, and buys the honey at a fixed price – removing one of the biggest risks in rural markets: price volatility.

Nature Kenya says it has deliberately avoided locking farmers into long-term contracts at this stage, allowing time to assess whether production volumes and pricing can prove viable.

“We managed to pay 76 farmers about KSh700,000 (USD 5,400) from honey harvested in the delta,” said Ernest Simeoni, director of ABL, referring to the project’s first production cycle.

Numbered beehives in a conservation area of Kenya’s Tana Delta. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Not Just Beekeeping, It’s the Business of Beekeeping

Simeoni said the approach differs from many donor-led initiatives, which typically focus on training farmers to manage hives independently.

“There are hundreds of modern hives across Kenya, but they don’t produce honey,” he said. “The missing link is expertise.”

Instead, ABL keeps production under the company’s control, deploying its teams to monitor colonies, harvest honey, and oversee processing.

“We’re not training farmers how to do beekeeping,” he said. “What we’re doing is business – showing how to make money from honey.”

Community groups provide land and security for the hives, while the company manages harvesting and processing. Simeoni said that structure helps maintain consistent production volumes.

Even so, he cautioned that the model remains fragile. Access to affordable finance is limited, and much of the sector still depends on donor-backed projects to absorb early risk.

“If donor funding disappears tomorrow, most of these projects stop,” he said.

Looking beyond small-scale value chains, the county is also trying to attract larger investments through a proposed development plan known as the “Green Heart”.

A 60-hectare site in Minjila has been earmarked for an industrial hub intended to support agroprocessing, logistics and green manufacturing, according to Mwanajuma Hiribae, the Tana River county secretary.

“We are working to establish an investment unit to coordinate engagement with private firms,” she said. Funds have also been allocated to develop a masterplan for the site.

But the project remains at an early stage. The land has yet to be formally transferred to the county’s investment authority, and proposals from potential investors are still under review.

Officials say any future development will need to align with the delta’s land-use plan and environmental safeguards.

For now, however, the flow of private capital to the delta remains limited.

Experiences elsewhere in Kenya suggest the model, while technically replicable, depends heavily on political will, security conditions and sustained public financing – factors that vary widely between regions.

In western Kenya, a similar land-use planning approach has been introduced in Yala Swamp, with mixed results. While Busia county has formally adopted the framework, neighbouring Siaya has yet to approve it, with local officials citing competing political and commercial interests around large-scale agriculture.

“The science is replicable,” said Matiku. “But political interests can slow or block implementation.”

In Golbanti, the idea of a restoration economy is beginning to take shape in small ways.

Beekeepers at the African Beekeepers Limited facility in Kenya’s Tana Delta. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Welcome Income

Income from honey, though modest and still irregular, is starting to filter into daily life.

For Hagodana, it helps pay school fees for her six children, supports a small farm, and contributes to a shared fund used to grow vegetables. Some of the money is spent, some saved, and some reinvested.

She has been keeping bees for two years. Before that, she says, life was harder. Now there is at least something to rely on.

She does not plan to stop. Whether or not outside support continues, she says she will keep the hives and hopes eventually to learn how to process honey into other products.

Back in the apiary, the bees move in and out of the hives in a steady rhythm.

Note: The Eighth Global Environment Facility Assembly will be held from May 30 to June 6, 2026 in Samarkand, Uzbekistan.

This feature is published with the support of the GEF. IPS is solely responsible for the editorial content, and it does not necessarily reflect the views of the GEF.

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Artisanal miners work at a mercury-free processing site in Bushiangala, Ikolomani, Kakamega County, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

By Chemtai Kirui
KAKAMEGA, Kenya, Apr 1 2026 (IPS)

They call this land Bushiangala. Gold has been mined here for nearly a century. In 1931, colonial prospectors arrived after traces were found in the nearby Yala River, setting off a rush that changed this quiet corner of western Kenya.

Colonial authorities quickly took control of the boom, introducing mining laws that restricted access, while companies like Rosterman Gold Mines dominated production, employing local labour even as profits flowed out of the region. When industrial operations collapsed in the 1950s, they left behind something more enduring: an informal mining economy that never disappeared.

For more than 70 years, artisanal miners, known locally as ‘wachimba migodi’, have worked these deposits by hand, digging, crushing and washing ore using techniques passed down through generations. Mercury came much later.

Josephine Liabule Mkhobi grew up around the pits. She remembers watching older miners process gold with water and pans.

“Our parents never used mercury,” Mkhobi says. “This method started around 2008.”

Introduced as a faster alternative, mercury quickly took hold, speeding up gold extraction – but leaving behind contamination that has not disappeared.

Over time, water sources across the Lake Victoria region became increasingly unsafe, with mercury in some wells reaching up to ten times the World Health Organization’s guidelines.

The contamination now stretches across a gold-rich belt that includes Kakamega — home to Bushiangala — as well as Vihiga, Siaya, Busia, and Kisumu, reaching toward Migori near the Tanzanian border.

A 2026 study published in Environmental Health found that the water and slurry used in these mining pits contain concentrations of arsenic, chromium, and mercury up to 100 times higher than local surface waters. The researchers warned that miners – and children living nearby – are in direct, frequent contact with these toxic mixtures, which eventually drain into the broader Lake Victoria ecosystem.

Mercury’s Slow Poison

Gladys Akitsa, an artisanal gold miner, mixes mercury with gold-bearing concentrate at the Bushiangala mining site in Ikolomani, Kakamega County, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

For the miners on the ground, these toxins are no longer a matter of abstract data.

Timothy Mukoshi, a miner, remembers a colleague who slowly began to lose his memory. The man would withdraw money from the bank and later forget where he had put it.

Like many miners here, he often burnt mercury-gold amalgam to separate the metal – a process that releases toxic vapours. After he died, Mukoshi says the cause was clear: a post-mortem found traces of mercury in his brain.

“Mercury is what you call a slow poison,” Mukoshi says.

For years, the risks associated with using mercury in mining went largely unrecognised. Now, Bushiangala is trying something different.

In the same processing sites where women crush ore and wash gold by hand, miners are forming cooperatives and introducing methods that can recover gold without the toxic metal.

Miners say the shift gathered momentum after training initiatives reached the area through the planetGOLD programme — a global initiative backed by the Global Environment Facility (GEF) and led by the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), with country-level implementation in Kenya by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) to reduce mercury use in artisanal and small-scale gold mining.

“The planetGOLD programme stands as our leading initiative to tackle mercury use in artisanal and small-scale gold mining. By helping countries identify, test, and scale up mining and processing techniques, we not only support improved gold recovery but also empower miners to transition away from mercury use,” says Anil Bruce Sookdeo, Chemicals and Waste Coordinator and Senior Environmental Specialist at the GEF.

“Our approach is comprehensive – we facilitate sector formalisation, broaden access to financing for technology upgrades, and connect miners to formal and more reliable gold supply chains. When cleaner technologies are economically viable, financing is accessible, and there’s a dependable market for their gold, miners are much more likely to adopt mercury-free methods,” Sookdeo added.

Bringing Artisanal Miners Out of the Shadows

Women miners gather at a gold processing site in Bushiangala, Ikolomani, Kakamega County, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

The planetGOLD Kenya project, locally known as IMKA, is partnering with the Ministry of Mining and the Ministry of Environment to tackle the root cause of the mercury crisis: informality. By bringing miners out of the shadows and into legal cooperatives, the project aims to replace toxic shortcuts with formal, mercury-free systems.

“At first, many miners were afraid of joining cooperatives,” says Mkhobi, the chairlady of the Bushiangala Women’s Mining Cooperative. “They thought it meant losing their money or being forced into something they didn’t understand. But after they understood the benefits, more people started joining.”

Kakamega currently has 24 registered mining cooperatives spread across several gold-producing sub-counties. Small welfare groups were brought together into registered cooperatives, creating a structure through which miners could access training, equipment, and formal recognition under the Mining Act of 2016.

A Capful of Mercury Replaced by Mechanical Processing

Miners stand at the entrance of a shaft at the Bushiangala mining site in Ikolomani, Kakamega County, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

An artisanal miner uses a sluice box to separate gold from crushed ore at the Bushiangala mining site in Ikolomani, Kakamega County, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Women process crushed gold ore at the Bushiangala mining site in Ikolomani, Kakamega county, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Mechanical processing systems are replacing mercury inside the cooperatives. Miners who once relied on a capful of mercury are now learning to master gravity concentrators and shaking tables – mechanical systems that use physical force, rather than toxic chemicals, to pull gold from the dust.

At Bushiangala, a mercury-free demonstration plant now serves as a training ground for miners to practise using the new system under supervision. Technical manuals that once existed only as engineering documents are being translated into practical steps that can be applied directly in the pits.

Training sessions are conducted by technical staff from the planetGOLD programme alongside regional mining officers and cooperative leaders, combining engineering guidance with the practical knowledge miners already bring from the pits.

Oversight of the site is handled through a Joint Implementation Committee that brings together national regulators, county governments and representatives from mining communities.

By providing land and routine supervision, county governments are gradually assuming greater responsibility for the sector — an arrangement designed to ensure the effort continues even after international partners step back.

Convine Omondi, the project’s chief technical adviser, said in a 2025 planetGOLD report that involving local authorities directly helps turn what began as a donor-supported initiative into something managed and sustained at the local level.

The training materials and tools being tested here are part of a wider effort under the planetGOLD programme to share lessons between countries. Experiences from Kenya are being documented and adapted for use in other artisanal mining regions, rather than copied wholesale.

As of early 2026, Kenya had identified six demonstration sites across Kakamega, Vihiga, Migori and Narok. Fencing and sheds have already been completed, and the sites are now entering the commissioning phase. Delivery of heavy equipment and full operation are expected later this year.

Even so, progress is gradual. A site is only considered fully operational once the machinery is installed, utilities such as water and electricity are reliable, and certified cooperatives are actively using the facilities.

“First we were sensitised about how hazardous mercury is,” says Mukoshi, who has worked the Kakamega gold fields since the late 1990s and now chairs the Kakamega Miners Cooperative Union. “People realised it is dangerous. Now many sites keep registers, and miners are also learning that when you mine, you must rehabilitate the land.”

Healing the Land, Working Together

This focus on healing the land has spread beyond Kakamega. In neighbouring Vihiga County, the shift toward environmental restoration is being led by women who see the forest’s health as inseparable from their own.

“The training also introduced environmental rehabilitation, encouraging miners to restore excavated land once extraction ends,” says Shebby Kendi, chair of the Elwunza Women Cooperative Society.

But for Mkhobi, the change is not only about soil or chemicals. It is also about bargaining power. By moving from scattered pits to organised cooperatives, miners are beginning to act collectively in a trade where individuals have little influence.

“Now through the training we are learning how to organise ourselves, keep records and work as cooperatives,” Mkhobi says. “When we come together, we have more strength in the market.”

In a region where gold prices are often dictated by middlemen, that collective strength is beginning to shift how miners negotiate.

Giving Women Voice

A woman at the Bushiangala artisanal gold mine in western Kenya, where mercury is commonly used in gold processing, raises health concerns among workers. March 23, 2026. Photograph: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

“When you are one woman with a gram of gold, you have no voice,” she says. “When there are a hundred of you with a kilo, the buyers have to listen.”

For Anthony Munanga, Kakamega’s county director for environment, natural resources and climate change, that “kilo” also represents something else: control. At a recent media engagement, he said that without organised cooperatives, the gold economy remains largely invisible to regulators.

“Without organisation, there is no way to ensure compliance,” Munanga says. His department is now mapping mining areas across the county, an effort aimed at moving miners out of scattered pits and into designated zones where licensing and environmental oversight become possible.

“This process allows miners to operate safely and legally,” he says.

Changing Face of Financial Support

But legal recognition requires more than a map. It requires financing — and the local banking system is still reluctant to lend to a sector long defined by risk.

Changing how gold is produced also means rethinking how the trade is financed. In Bushiangala, this is where the constraints begin to show.

The planetGOLD programme in Kenya was launched with relatively modest public funding, despite ambitions that stretch far beyond its initial budget. At its core is a USD 4.24 million grant from the Global Environment Facility, much of which has already been allocated.

The grant has largely supported technical assistance — including miner training, policy development and institutional systems designed to formalise the sector — rather than directly financing mining equipment.

Project documents estimate the programme could mobilise up to USD 26 million in additional financing from commercial lenders and private investors to support new processing plants and upgraded mining infrastructure.

In practice, that funding has been slow to materialise.

Although the project was backed by USD 16.6 million in co-financing from government and local partners, a 2023 mid-term review found that much of this support existed on paper as in-kind contributions rather than cash available for day-to-day operations. It also pointed to delays within government financial systems and the lack of a risk-sharing mechanism to draw in private lenders, factors that have slowed implementation on the ground.

A final evaluation due in 2026 is expected to assess how far the programme has managed to address these gaps and whether it can sustain its operations over the long term.

Several structural constraints help explain the shortfall.

A government moratorium on new mining licences between 2019 and 2023 froze formalisation during a critical phase of the project. Without licences, miners could not meet standard lending requirements, and commercial banks have been reluctant to lend to what remains a largely informal sector.

Even where discussions with lenders progress, approval processes within banks can take more than a year, often outlasting key phases of the programme.

The absence of a dedicated risk-sharing mechanism has also limited participation. Without a first-loss guarantee to absorb potential defaults, lenders had little incentive to finance investments in artisanal mining.

The COVID-19 pandemic slowed procurement and field operations, but programme assessments suggest that the deeper barriers were structural — particularly the shortage of licensed miners eligible for credit and the lack of financial instruments tailored to the sector.

As a result, the programme has made measurable progress in training miners and organising them into cooperatives, but access to capital remains constrained.

Harry Kimtai, principal secretary at Kenya’s Ministry of Mining, describes the sequencing as deliberate, arguing that formalisation must come first before significant private investment can enter the sector.

Lag Between Training and Implementation

Sharon Ambale, an artisanal gold miner, holds a gold-mercury amalgam at the Bushiangala mining site in Ikolomani, Kakamega county, Kenya. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

For those on the front lines, that “deliberate sequencing” feels like a race against their own health. Merab Khamonya, a 28-year-old mother who joined the Bushiangala cooperative in 2024, is one of those caught in the lag between training and implementation.

Though she has attended planetGOLD sessions and understands the neurotoxicity of the metal she handles, her reality remains unchanged. To support her family, she still submerges her bare hands in basins of ore and mercury—a necessity for survival.

“I feel things moving inside my eyes,” she says, describing a persistent, painful irritation. “I know it harms me. I even see traces of it on my clothes when I go home to cook for my children.”

For Khamonya, the promise of a mercury-free mechanical system is a lifeline that has yet to arrive. “We are ready for the shift,” she says, “but for now, we have no other way to clean the gold. We are just waiting for the machines.”

Benefits of Mercury-Free Mechanical Systems

The economics behind the shift are straightforward. Kenya’s 2022 National Action Plan on artisanal and small-scale gold mining estimates that traditional manual methods recover only about 20 per cent of the gold in the ore. By comparison, data from planetGOLD Kenya shows that mercury-free mechanical systems can recover up to 90 per cent—potentially increasing the amount of gold recovered from each load of ore.

Miners involved in the programme say they are cautiously optimistic. They understand the problems and the solutions needed and feel best placed to judge what works on the ground.

“We have seen the difference and learned about mercury-free alternatives,” Mukoshi says. “We are ready to make the shift.”

But the obstacles, he adds, are basic.

“For these sites to work, you need water and electricity. Many of them don’t have either.”

For Mukoshi, Mkhobi, Kendi, Khamonya and their colleagues, the work has shifted to practicalities – securing water and electricity, preparing sites, and waiting on machines. The early experiments are over; what remains is making the system function.

On most days, that means clearing land, assembling equipment and negotiating with miners who are still uncertain about abandoning the mercury methods they have relied on for years.

The change taking shape in Bushiangala is small for now — one processing site, one cooperative, a handful of machines. But the model is already drawing attention beyond Kakamega.

planetGOLD’s Global Reach

In various places in Africa, governments and development agencies are searching for ways to formalise artisanal gold mining without destroying the environments where it takes place. In the Congo Basin’s Cuvette Centrale, UNEP and the planetGOLD programme are supporting a USD 10.5 million initiative aimed at protecting one of the world’s largest tropical peatland systems from mining damage.

The region spans about 167,600 square kilometres of peatlands and stores an estimated 29 billion tonnes of carbon — roughly three years of global emissions. GEF project data suggests the effort is designed to keep gold production from driving damage in a peat swamp that is crucial to climate stability.

In Zimbabwe, a parallel programme has begun introducing mercury-free processing technologies across dozens of mining sites. The effort here is more centralised, tied to the state-run Fidelity Gold Refinery and legislative reforms under the Mines and Minerals Bill.

Kenya’s system, by contrast, relies on cooperative structures at mine sites with county-level oversight through Joint Implementation Committees (JICs) and national regulation under the Mining Act — a model the African Development Bank is using as a reference point, particularly its JIC structure, for scaling mercury-free artisanal mining across the continent.

Kenya’s Experience Now a Guideline For Africa, World Expansion

According to Ludovic Bernaudat, head of the chemicals and green chemistry unit at UNEP, Kenya’s experience is now being used to guide the next phase of the programme as it expands across Africa.

He describes the country as one of the original eight members now completing its first implementation cycle – a milestone for the global initiative.

“New countries in Africa have recently joined the programme, and through the global project, UNEP will make sure that connection is made with Kenya,” Bernaudat said.

He added that the Kenyan model will be featured at the 2026 planetGOLD Global Forum in Panama, where nations share technical expertise and compare approaches to ending mercury use.

Since its launch, planetGOLD has expanded from nine to 27 countries across Latin America, Africa, and Asia.

“This growth demonstrates both the scale of the challenge and the value of a programme that integrates environmental action with support for livelihoods, inclusion, and market transformation,” says Anil Bruce Sookdeo, from the GEF.

But the final proof will depend less on policy design than on whether miners themselves decide it works.

Chasing Thin Seams of Gold Safely

Back in Bushiangala, that test is only beginning.

Miners still arrive at the pits each morning as they always have, chasing thin seams of gold buried in the red earth. What is changing — slowly — is what happens after the ore reaches the surface.

If the new system holds, the mercury that once flowed through these streams may eventually disappear. And the miners here, in this corner of western Kenya, will find a way to keep working the land without the risks that have defined it for years.

Note: This feature is published with the support of the GEF. IPS is solely responsible for the editorial content, and it does not necessarily reflect the views of the GEF.

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Hawa Hussein Farah, a market trader in Garissa Town, Kenya, says extreme heat has shortened her working hours and reduced her daily earnings. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

By Chemtai Kirui
GARISSA, Kenya , Feb 16 2026 (IPS)

By 9 a.m. on a Wednesday, Hawa Hussein Farah is already watching the temperature climb. Awake since 6 a.m., she has prepared her three children for school before walking them to class and heading to Suuq Mugdi, an open-air market in Garissa town, to buy the fruit she will sell.

When she settles into her modest stall, built from wooden poles and covered with draped fabric, the heat is already intensifying beneath the canopy.

On a wooden table, yellow bananas rest in neat clusters beside green-striped watermelons. Mangoes, some blushed red, others golden, are stacked in small pyramids. The shade shields the fruits from direct sunlight, but the air beneath stays warm and dry.

“When it gets this hot, the customers disappear,” Farah says, lifting a bottle of water. “We have to close and go home to rest until it cools.”

Situated in Kenya’s arid northeast, Garissa is in its hottest season. Between January and March, daytime highs typically hover around 36°C (96.8°F).

In early February 2026, temperatures reached 38°C (100.4°F), with “feels-like” readings topping 41°C (107°F), according to Samuel Odhiambo, the county director of meteorological services.

While similar peaks have been recorded in previous years, Odhiambo said recent data show hot conditions are lasting longer, with more consecutive days above seasonal averages. The meteorological agency has issued a biometeorological advisory, warning residents that prolonged exposure increases the risk of heat stress, dehydration, and skin damage.

“If the current pattern continues, temperatures could exceed 40°C (104°F) in March,” he said.

For Farah, these degrees translate into a shorter workday. By noon, exhaustion sets in.

“My body feels weak and I sweat a lot. I drink two or three litres of water in the morning. I don’t even know if it helps.”

She now closes her stall roughly four hours earlier than in cooler months, cutting deeply into her already thin margins.

On cooler days, she brings in about 7,000 shillings (USD 54) in weekly sales. In prolonged heat, that falls to around 4,000 (USD 31), nearly half her usual takings.

Unsold fruit quickly softens, and after two days she lowers prices or sells it to nearby food kiosks for juice to avoid larger losses.

With no fixed salary or protections, each lost hour translates directly into lost income.

As the largest trade hub in northeastern Kenya, Garissa’s economy is anchored by its livestock markets. Data from the International Livestock Research Institute (ILRI)  indicate that this economic dependence makes the region uniquely vulnerable: when extreme heat degrades livestock health and keeps buyers away, the resulting financial contagion directly shrinks customer flow for small vendors like Farah.

Emily Ndung’e, a motorcycle taxi rider in Garissa Town, northeastern Kenya, says prolonged high
temperatures are affecting her income as fewer customers travel during the hottest hours. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

Emily Ndung’e, a motorcycle taxi rider, said she is facing similar losses.

Ndung’e says her daily income has plummeted from 1,500 shillings (USD 11.50) to just 500 (USD 3.80) during the heatwave.

Wearing  protective riding gear traps heat against her skin, and she often waits for hours between rides under the relentless sun.

“The heat gives me rashes and I sweat a lot,” Ndung’e says. “But I have to be out here. This is the work I depend on to feed my children.”

She describes the heat as devastating for both her income and her health. With few shaded areas along the roadside, she moves between scattered tree canopies, waiting for the next client.

Even after sunset, the heat lingers in Garissa’s concrete homes and corrugated roofs, offering little relief to those who have spent the day working outdoors.

Patricia Nying’uro, a climate scientist at the Kenya Meteorological Department who serves as the national focal point for the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), says that hotter nights strip away the body’s ability to recover between hot days.

“When temperatures approach 39°C, or even lower in humid conditions, the risk to outdoor workers increases sharply, particularly with prolonged exposure,” Nying’uro said.

Concerns over rising temperatures in Garissa have previously reached Parliament.

In 2022, Aden Duale, then the Garissa Township lawmaker, formally petitioned the Ministry of Environment regarding ‘public concerns’ over rising temperatures. The ministry acknowledged above-average temperatures linked to climate change. In Garissa’s markets, those shifts now translate into extreme heat events that disrupt daily survival.

Duale now serves as Cabinet Secretary for Health and in October 2025 presided over the launch of Kenya’s Climate Change and Health Strategy (2024–2029), marking the first time heat-related mortality is formally tracked at the national level.

Yet, responsibility for addressing the impacts of extreme heat remains limited.

Garissa has a County Climate Change Action Plan (2023–2028), but it focuses largely on drought, floods and livestock disease. Specific provisions for extreme heat, such as adjusted working hours, public cooling spaces or hydration points – are absent.

The National Drought Management Authority said its mandate centres on drought-related risks, adding that extreme heat on its own does not fall within its response frameworks. Officials directed heat-related enquiries to the Kenya Meteorological Department.

For Farah, that gap is tangible.

“We don’t get any help from the government. We need shade because we suffer in the heat,” she said. “I still pay taxes to the county, but the loss is mine to bear.”

Across Kenya, informal workers like Farah account for roughly 80 percent of the workforce. According to a July 2024 report by the International Labour Organization (ILO), Africa now faces the world’s highest heat exposure, affecting 92.9 percent of its workers.

The agency warns that labour capacity can decline by up to 50 percent under extreme heat—a productivity drain contributing to projected global losses of ISD 2.4 trillion by 2030.

Extreme heat poses a direct challenge to United Nations Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) 8.8, which mandates safe working environments for all.

Without safeguards against extreme heat, this promise remains unfulfilled, exposing a critical gap in Kenya’s climate strategy and undermining SDG 13’s call for national resilience.

The current National Climate Change Action Plan (NCCAP) prioritises large-scale agriculture and energy infrastructure. It offers few explicit protections for informal market labour.

While the heat is universal, its toll is gendered. Researchers say that women in Garissa face a “double exposure”, navigating extreme temperatures at the stall and then managing the unpaid care of children and seniors in overheated, unventilated homes, facing nearly a 24-hour cycle of stress.

A study by the The Atlantic Council’s Climate Resilience Center found that heat increases a woman’s total work burden by 260 percent when domestic labour is included.

“It’s a regressive tax,” says Kathy Baughman McLeod, CEO of Climate Resilience for All (CRA), citing research in cities like Freetown, Sierra Leone, where informal market women can lose up to 60% of their income during heat-driven disruptions.

“The body perpetually believes it’s under attack,” McLeod adds, “without tools like ‘heat insurance’, currently being piloted in India but absent in Kenya, the crisis erodes both income and physical recovery.”

Sierra Leone was the first country in Africa to adopt a national Heat Action Plan (HAP), which is a comprehensive policy framework designed to prepare for, respond to, and mitigate the health and economic impacts of extreme heat.

According to Dr Joyce Kimutai, who co-authored the State of the Climate Kenya 2024 report alongside Nying’uro, establishing localised Heat Action Plans is now the “most urgent task” for national adaptation.

“Heat continues to be a silent killer,” Kimutai said, adding that because the economic impacts remain poorly quantified, policy responses continue to lag behind the rising mercury.

Nairobi County is currently piloting a draft heat-response framework that would allow authorities to trigger adjusted working hours and open public cooling spaces during extreme conditions.

The proposal has not yet been formally adopted, but Kimutai says she hopes it could serve as a model for other counties.

As temperatures in Garissa edge toward 40°C, Farah’s adaptation strategy remains a solitary one. She packs her unsold, softening fruit, shutters her stall four hours early, and absorbs the financial blow.

For now, there is no policy to shield her livelihood, only the heat.

Note: This article is brought to you by IPS Noram in collaboration with INPS Japan and Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with ECOSOC.

Winnie Wambui, co-founder of Harcourt Agri-Eco Farm in Kenya, speaks to IPS outside the Dealroom at the Africa Food Systems Forum 2025, held at the Centre International de Conférences Abdou Diouf (CICAD) in Dakar, Senegal, September 4, 2025. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

By Chemtai Kirui
DAKAR, Sep 15 2025 (IPS)

Winnie Wambui leans forward on the panel stage, microphone in hand, scanning the room until she spots a raised hand.

Everyone in the room wears headphones, each voice isolated so that discussions don’t clash with sessions in adjacent halls. A question cuts through: how did a student science project become a commercial business?

At 24, Wambui, a Kenyan agripreneur, runs Harcourt Agri-Eco Farm, which recycles organic waste into animal feed using black soldier flies.

“Back then, I didn’t know it would become a farm or a business,” she said to a room of agripreneurs, researchers, and investors, describing her first experiments in 2022 as an energy engineering student at Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology (JKUAT).

Today, her eight-person team processes around 30 tonnes of waste each month and monitors the carbon emissions avoided.

The enterprise now generates at least USD 1,000 in monthly revenue, a modest but steady profit by Kenyan standards.

Inside the calm Knowledge Hub, on a panel organized by the International Centre of Insect Physiology and Ecology (icipe), Wambui tells her story to a dozen listeners in an intimate, almost subdued setting. But just outside, at the leafy Centre International de Conference’s Abdou Diouf (CICAD) in Dakar, Senegal, the atmosphere is charged.

Presidents, cabinet ministers, development banks, and agribusiness executives pace the halls at the annual Africa Food Systems Forum (AFSF) 2025, the continent’s flagship platform for agricultural policy and investment.

This year, the forum positioned youth at the center of Africa’s food security agenda.

Wambui is part of a new generation of innovative agripreneurs that governments and financiers promise to support.

For the first time, youth agripreneurs joined heads of state on the Forum’s opening stage, a symbolic gesture of recognition in a region where nearly 400 million people are under 35.

“Our median age is just 19. And by 2050, one in three young people in the world will be African,” said Claver Gatete, Executive Secretary of the UN Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA).

He said that if given land, finance, technology and markets, the youths can feed not only Africa but also the world.

However, turning such vision into reality is where the continent struggles.

The African Development Bank (AfDB) often says that Africa holds roughly 60 percent of the world’s uncultivated arable land, yet poor infrastructure, limited financing, and climate shocks keep much of it idle.

With the continent collectively importing approximately USD50 billion worth of food annually, according to the African Export–Import Bank (Afreximbank), the stakes are high.

At the national level, countries like Kenya continue to face hunger crises at emergency levels.

At the start of the year, the World Food Programme estimated that around two million people were experiencing acute hunger—a recurring crisis in a country with relatively better infrastructure and higher investment flows than many of its East African neighbors.

Experts say that despite localized crises, structural issues in African agriculture worsen food insecurity across the continent.

“We have relied on grants and aid to keep agriculture afloat, and this has made the agriculture sector stuck in a risk perception trap,” said Adesuwa Ifedi, Vice President of Africa Programs at Heifer International.

Ifedi said that commercial banks and investors avoid the sector, leaving grants to fill the gap. But grant dependence can undermine ventures in the eyes of private financiers.

“Grants should leverage commercial capital so the ecosystem can thrive,” Ifedi said.

This year’s Forum coincided with the recent African Union’s rollout of its Kampala Comprehensive Africa Agriculture Development Programme (CAADP) Strategy & Action Plan (2026–2035), or CAADP 3.0.

The new 10-year plan aims to mobilize USD 100 billion in investment, raise farm output by 45 percent, cut post-harvest losses in half, triple intra-African agrifood trade by 2035, and place youth inclusion at the core of Africa’s food future under the AU’s Agenda 2063.

In Dakar, over 30 agriculture ministers gathered under the chairmanship of former Ethiopian Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn Boshem, pledging to move beyond policy drafting toward delivering tangible results for agribusiness investment.

Their top priority, they said, was to shrink Africa’s food import bill by strengthening regional value chains.

Dr. Janet Edeme, head of the Rural Economy Division at the African Union Commission, told IPS that the Forum provides mechanisms to operationalize CAADP 3.0, aiming to empower at least 30 percent of youth in the agri-food sector while closing a USD 65–70 billion annual financing gap for agricultural small and medium-sized enterprises (agri-SMEs).

She said AFSF offers a rare opportunity for youthful agripreneurs to showcase bankable projects, access mentorship, and meet investors who would otherwise be out of reach.

“There are dedicated spaces—deal rooms, youth innovation competitions, investment roundtables—where these innovators can connect with governments, development finance institutions, and private investors,” said Edeme.

Organizers pointed to new spaces for youth to meet investors, but agripreneurs like Wambui said those opportunities felt distant.

She had never heard of the AU’s new flagship plan.

“I’m only hearing about that from you. If it’s meant to guide Africa’s food future, why aren’t there clear materials or programs I can see and use?” Wambui said. “Otherwise, we leave without knowing what strategies exist to support our work.”

By day two of the six-day forum, she had found her way into the deal room, the flagship space to connect entrepreneurs with investors, but instead of streamlined matchmaking, she found confusion.

“We are looking for the investors, and they’re looking for us—yet we don’t meet. Deals still depend on connections. That’s why I came to Dakar.”

Wambui, who co-founded Harcourt Agri-Eco Farm with two other partners, said the business has grown enough to cover wages, taxes, and debt repayments. Banks now extend her loans.

But that access to financing remains an exception in a system stacked against most, said Dr. Eklou Attiogbevi-Somado, the African Development Bank’s Regional Manager for Agriculture and Agro-Industry in West Africa.

He said that AfDB data shows commercial banks in Africa channel just 3–4 percent of their lending into agriculture.

Dr. David Amudavi, CEO of Biovision Africa Trust, said this capital drought is a huge concern in a sector that drives most livelihoods on the continent.

Amudavi, whose non-profit organization promotes ecological agriculture, said that the squeeze leaves farmers, and especially young agripreneurs, struggling to access credit for starting or scaling their agribusinesses, even though nearly 60 percent of Africa’s unemployed are under 25.

“Without finance, many youth-led ventures stay stuck at micro-scale or collapse,” Amudavi said.

Not far from the Youth Dome, at the deal room, Tanzanian agripreneur Nelson Joseph Kisanga, the co-founder of Get Aroma Spices, is also navigating the same maze.

Seven years ago, he left a banking career to try poultry farming, losing almost everything in his first three years.

Kisanga regrouped, merged his venture with that of his wife, Deborah, also a young agripreneur, and built Get Aroma Spices, now working with more than 50,000 farmers across southern Tanzania.

“Agriculture back home is seen as not for young people,” he said. “Even now, scaling means loans at high interest rates. There’s no other way.”

The family-run company exports turmeric, ginger, cardamom, and avocado oil while operating a youth- and women-led agro-processing hub through a public-private partnership.

His presence at the AFSF forum has already borne fruit.

“My intention coming here was to break into the West African market, and I’m happy to say I have clinched a supply deal in Ghana. All that’s left is for the lawyers to finalize the contract.” Kisanga said, before moving to the Youth Dome, a separate pavilion for young participants.

Inside, some groups chatted, others played basketball and table tennis, while others listened as young agri-food innovators pitched their ideas to a panel of investors.

Despite the fanfare, the forum ended without revealing how much capital reached youth-led ventures.

The most visible funding for youth at the summit came via the GoGettaz Agripreneur Prize, a pan-African initiative under the Generation Africa movement. The prize awarded USD 50,000 each to Egypt’s Naglaa Mohammad, who turns agricultural waste into natural products, and Uganda’s Samuel Muyita, who uses nanotechnology to reduce post-harvest fruit and vegetable losses.

An additional USD 60,000 impact award brought total prizes to roughly USD 160,000.

Other announcements included a USD 6.7 million trade programme from the United Kingdom (UK), the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA), and the African Union (AU).

Senegal also launched a USD 22.5 million pilot for Community Agricultural Cooperatives, with financing linked to the African Food Systems Resilience Fund.

Yet there was no breakdown showing how much, if any, flowed to youth-led ventures.

The opacity mirrors past patterns.

Public summaries from the 2023 deal room reported only USD 3.5 million in closed investments, with no traceable flows to youth-led enterprises.

With AFSF positioned as Africa’s premier delivery platform, observers measured the announcements against CAADP 3.0’s USD 100 billion mobilization target, saying the gap is stark.

“We have seen this pattern before: big pledges at the summit, but little clarity or follow-up on how much actually reaches youth and smallholder farmers—the backbone of African food production,” said Famara Diédhiou, a Senegal-based food systems program manager with a regional civil society network.

“Without such accountability and inclusion of all stakeholders, these forums risk becoming mere showcases rather than platforms that deliver,” he said.

For now, even with the youth-first theme, AFSF still leaves young founders stuck in the same cycle of chasing visibility, hustling for contacts, and stitching together their own contracts.

As Wambui found, Kisanga, who has attended three previous Forums, said that in AFSF access is everything: you need to know in advance who to meet and be in the right room at the right moment.

“All visibility is currency,” said Kisanga. “That’s how you survive.”

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Tera workers inspect plots where biochar-blended fertilizer is applied to boost soil health and trap carbon. Credit: Chemtai Kirui/IPS

By Chemtai Kirui
KISUMU, Kenya, Jul 22 2025 (IPS)

In June 2025, Kenyan climate-tech firm Tera became the first African project developer to have its carbon removal initiative independently validated and registered under Riverse, a European standard for engineered climate solutions.

The validation confirms that Tera’s project design and digital monitoring framework meet Riverse’s strict scientific criteria—making it eligible to issue carbon credits once verified.

The project is now listed on Riverse’s public-facing Rainbow Registry, which provides transparent documentation of validated projects and will track credits through issuance and retirement.

Tera collects bagasse—the dry, fibrous material left after sugarcane is crushed—from mills around Kisumu, Kenya’s third-largest city in the Lake Victoria basin, known for its sugarcane farms and factories.

At its pilot facility, the sugarcane waste is fed into a pyrolysis unit, a specialized machine that heats the material in the absence of oxygen to produce biochar, a porous, carbon-rich substance.

When applied to soil, biochar helps the ground retain water and nutrients, boosting crop health while locking carbon in place so it cannot escape back into the atmosphere as carbon dioxide (CO₂), according to Dr. Eng. Erick Kiplangat Ronoh, a biosystems and environmental engineering expert at Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology.

“Unlike ordinary plant waste that decomposes and releases carbon, biochar stabilizes it in a form that can remain in soils for extended periods,” Ronoh said.

It is often described as turning agricultural residues into a ‘sponge’ that improves water retention, soil fertility, and long-term carbon storage.

Tera blends biochar into organic fertilizer sold to farmers across the region, aiming to improve harvests and restore degraded soils while creating the basis for carbon credit generation.

“We are bringing the soil back to life,” said Rob Palmer, Tera’s CEO. “Biochar improves yields, reduces dependence on inorganic fertilizers, and boosts drought resilience. But for us to scale up, we needed to prove the science—which is what validation under Riverse provides.”

Palmer described the validation as “a crucial step,” enabled by Tera’s tracking system, which monitors every stage from bagasse collection to biochar application.

Tera did not work alone. To ensure carbon savings are measurable and verifiable, it partnered with another Kenyan company, CYNK—a technology firm that builds digital systems for environmental data tracking—to design a custom Measurement, Reporting, and Verification (MRV) system that tracks and documents carbon removal data at every stage.

CYNK’s system uses internet-of-things (IoT) sensors and real-time dashboards to create an auditable, tamper-resistant record of the entire process—from weighing biomass to monitoring pyrolysis temperatures and mapping where biochar is applied.

“That level of detail is essential for full traceability,” said Kelvin Gitahi, CYNK’s head of technology.

Gitahi said traditional carbon credit systems often relied on paperwork and spreadsheets to prove the credits they claimed, making auditing difficult.

“Registries typically want evidence of what you produced and where it was applied,” he said. “Historically, it meant assembling files manually. That lack of automation made trust hard to build.”

By contrast, CYNK’s automated system converts sensor readings and spatial data into quantifiable carbon removal estimates, minimizing human error and enabling independent audits.

“It’s designed to be tamper-proof,” Gitahi said. “From the weighbridge measuring truckloads of bagasse to the exact kilos of biochar applied, everything is logged automatically.”

It’s evidence-based and traceable—“so there’s no cooking the books,” as he put it.

Such rigorous monitoring is essential under Article 6 of the Paris Agreement, which requires transparent, robust MRV to prevent double-counting in international carbon markets.

Riverse, one of 13 global standards endorsed by ICROA, the voluntary carbon market’s main accreditation body, said Tera is the first project it has certified that can scientifically demonstrate its biochar will keep carbon stable for many years.

“Tera had to meet twelve criteria,” said Samara Vantil, Riverse’s certification operations lead. “That included demonstrating full traceability, using only waste biomass, and proving the project was financially additional.”

Each year, more than 20 data points are reviewed to confirm ongoing compliance.

Validation under Riverse generally takes two to three months, with projects subject to annual audits for at least five years and periodic reassessment to remain listed.

Riverse also operates a public platform disclosing project-level data—from feedstock sourcing to credit issuance—in an effort to address transparency concerns in the voluntary carbon market (VCM), where companies and organizations purchase credits to offset emissions outside regulated compliance schemes.

Such scrutiny is seen as vital as Europe looks to source more carbon removals from Africa

A recent European Union proposal includes possible allowances for member states to use “high-quality international credits” to offset hard-to-abate emissions starting in the mid-2030s. If adopted, it could significantly boost demand for rigorously verified projects like Tera’s, which remain rare on the continent.

“Kenya is an emerging hotspot for carbon removal in Africa,” said Ludovic Chatoux, co-founder and CEO of Riverse. “Its renewable electricity mix, reliable feedstock supply, and supportive policies make it attractive for engineered carbon removal.”

That policy environment includes Kenya’s Carbon Credit Trading and Benefit Sharing Bill, which establishes a body to manage carbon trading and benefit-sharing, and the Climate Change Act, which provides a legal framework for carbon markets.

The Climate Change (Carbon Markets) Regulations, 2024, further detail the mechanics of registration, certification, and the creation of a National Carbon Registry.

Diagram showing how the DMRV system developed by Kenyan firm CYNK tracks Tera’s biochar production from bagasse to farm application.

Chatoux said Riverse is also assessing projects in Nigeria and Ghana, reflecting what he called a “bullish outlook” for the region.

He added that Riverse’s goal is to channel financing into projects that demonstrably remove or avoid CO₂, arguing that greater transparency is needed to counter greenwashing in the voluntary market.

Globally, engineered carbon removal credits—such as biochar or direct air capture—command significantly higher prices than most nature-based offsets.

Data from tracking platforms CDR.fyi and Puro.earth show that in 2024, engineered removals averaged around USD 320 per tonne, with biochar trading at roughly USD 140 by mid-2025.

By contrast, even high-quality forestry credits typically fetched USD 8 to USD 15.

This price gap reflects the greater durability and auditability of engineered removals,” said Dr. Ronoh.

Unlike trees, which can lose stored carbon to fires, pests, or logging, biochar locks carbon in soils and is designed to keep it stable for hundreds to thousands of years.

Still, he cautioned that although biochar is widely regarded as a promising climate solution, its benefits depend on strict quality controls and sustainable production.

“If the biomass is contaminated, it can introduce heavy metals or toxins into the soil,” Dr. Ronoh said. “And if it’s applied in excess or made without standardized methods, biochar can harm soil structure and nutrient uptake.”

Despite global efforts to cut greenhouse gas emissions, atmospheric concentrations continue to rise—especially carbon dioxide, the primary driver of human-induced climate change.

According to the World Meteorological Organization, CO₂ levels are now more than 50% above pre-industrial concentrations, setting yet another record high. This has heightened calls for permanent carbon removal to complement emissions cuts.

Agricultural carbon removal strategies, once considered marginal in climate policy, are gaining recognition as essential complements to emissions reductions, especially in sectors that are hard to decarbonize.

This shift is underscored in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) AR6 Working Group III report (2022) and analysis by Carbon Direct, which emphasize that achieving the 1.5°C target will require not only deep emissions cuts but also large-scale deployment of carbon dioxide removal (CDR), including land-based approaches like biochar.

In Kenya and the wider region, there is growing momentum to help farmers both adapt to climate change through climate-smart practices and mitigate it through carbon farming techniques.

Peter Wachira, regional advisor for carbon projects at Vi Agroforestry—a nonprofit that promotes sustainable land use through initiatives like the Kenya Agricultural Carbon Project (KACP)—said these approaches offer significant climate and economic benefits.

“By adopting sustainable techniques such as composting, agroforestry, and agricultural waste recycling, farmers can sequester carbon, improve food security, and raise household incomes,” Wachira said.

But he cautioned that carbon credit schemes must be designed to serve those doing the work.

“The carbon market must first and foremost improve farmers’ livelihoods,” he said. “And we cannot forget—emissions reductions must remain the responsibility of the Global North. Communities here are paying the price for a crisis they didn’t create.”

Kenya’s carbon market debates have also evolved—from initial resistance over fears of enabling continued pollution to ongoing discussions about ensuring transparency, robust credit verification, and equitable benefit-sharing with local communities.

Gitahi said Kenya has demonstrated it can deliver the kind of credible, transparent systems the world is demanding.

“Kenya is offering what the global market needs. It’s proof that projects here can be validated to global standards,” he said. “Our digital transparency shows the strength of local technological capacity, the local expertise, and how communities are willing to engage and give feedback.”

He added that it is rare to see all these players—from governments creating policies to communities shaping projects and investors showing trust—working together.

“It just shows Kenya is now ready for this,” he said.

For Tera, the challenge is now building on that readiness and scaling its model across the continent.

“There’s not a rulebook for America and a different rulebook for Africa,” said Palmer. “What we have proven is that an African carbon project can meet the same global standards. Now that we have a way to prove our model works—that it’s not limited by feedstock, site, or demand—we just need the capital to scale it.”

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