Malawian Farmers harvest sweet potatoes in fields where no chemicals have been used. Credit: Albert Khumalo

By Benson Kunchezera and Tanka Dhakal
LILONGWE & VIENTIANE, May 7 2026 (IPS)

For decades, pesticides have been a quiet pillar of Malawi’s agriculture, guarding crops against pests, improving yields, and sustaining millions of livelihoods. But beneath this success story lay a troubling reality: weak regulation, unsafe handling practices, and growing threats to human health and the environment.

Between 2015 and 2023, USD 2.55 million by the Global Environment Facility (GEF) set out to confront these challenges head-on. Today, it is leaving behind a legacy that is transforming how Malawi manages pesticides from importation to disposal and reshaping the way farmers think about crop protection.

At the centre of this shift is a stronger institutional framework. The project supported a comprehensive review of national pesticide regulations, bringing them closer to international standards. It also invested in training regulatory staff in pesticide registration, monitoring, enforcement, and lifecycle management, areas that had long remained underdeveloped.

“We invested heavily in strengthening systems, not just solving immediate problems,” said Precious Chizonda, Registrar of the Pesticides Control Board of Malawi and former National Coordinator for the GEF project. “This has positioned Malawi to better manage pesticides across their entire lifecycle, from importation to disposal.”

A major milestone was the development of a strategic plan for the Pesticides Control Board (PCB), aimed at improving efficiency and aligning operations with global best practices. Collaboration played a crucial role. The Malawi Bureau of Standards provided laboratory services for pesticide quality testing, while the Ministry of Agriculture ensured policy coordination. Together, these institutions helped elevate the PCB’s effectiveness and national visibility.

Some examples of pesticide-free farming include bananas grown using manure and tomatoes grown using neem water to deter pests and a woman farmer is shown mixing ash with her pigeon peas for storage to protect them from weevils. Credit: Albert Khumalo

Obsolete Pesticides

The project also delivered concrete environmental results. Approximately 208 tonnes of obsolete pesticides — including highly hazardous persistent organic pollutants — were safely destroyed through high-temperature incineration. Another 40 tonnes of contaminated waste were secured in an engineered landfill. These efforts eliminated long-standing sources of soil and water pollution, protecting ecosystems and communities.

Equally significant was the introduction of a pilot system for managing empty pesticide containers. Initially constrained by regulatory challenges, the initiative has since gained traction and continues beyond the project’s lifespan. Supported by industry stakeholders such as CropLife, it now collects used containers from farms across the country, demonstrating a viable model for environmentally sound waste management.

A field of irish potatoes grown without using chemicals. Credit: Albert Khumalo

Farm Level Changes

But perhaps the most profound change is happening at the farm level.

In Lichenza, under Chiladzulu’s Thumbwe Extension Planning Area, 39-year-old farmer Emily Zuwedi recalls how deeply rooted pesticide use once was. “We used to believe in pesticides when growing our crops, but that is now a thing of the past,” she said.

Zuwedi joined a farmer training group in 2017, where she learned about integrated pest management (IPM) and alternative methods that reduce reliance on chemicals. Today, she grows onions and beans using these techniques, cutting costs while protecting her health and the environment.

“I am spending less money now, and my crops are still doing well,” she said.

Her experience reflects a broader shift among smallholder farmers. Albert Khumalo, an Extension Development Officer in Chiladzulu, said the transition was not immediate. “At first it was difficult for farmers to accept, but after the trials they get along,” he explained.

Since 2024, Khumalo and his team have trained at least 100 farmers in pesticide-free farming methods. The results are encouraging – farmers are reducing production costs, improving soil health, and becoming more environmentally conscious.

“This program is helping farmers conserve the environment while also saving money,” Khumalo said. “And those who learn are now able to share knowledge with others.”

The project has also strengthened Malawi’s compliance with international chemical conventions by building expertise in risk assessment and regulatory procedures, an area where the country previously faced challenges.

While gaps remain, particularly in scaling up initiatives to reach more smallholder farmers, the progress is undeniable. Malawi is demonstrating that agricultural productivity and environmental protection do not have to be at odds.

Across the country’s fields, a quiet transformation is underway – one in which safer practices, stronger systems, and informed farmers are cultivating not just crops but also a more sustainable future.

In Lao PDR, the UNDP and the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry lead a $4.2 million GEF-funded FARM project. Credit: Lao farmer network

Laos Sustainable Farming

However, GEF funding is being used in several parts of the world, including Asia.

In Lao PDR, GEF funding is helping farmers adopt and apply practices that promote sustainable agriculture.

Laos farmers are being trained and given extension support to “reduce dependence on hazardous pesticides while integrating environmentally friendly pest management approaches”, Saithong Phengboupha, project manager at the Department of Agriculture under the Ministry of Agriculture and Environment, said.

“This aligns their practices with good agricultural standards, translating upstream policy gains into tangible on-farm change.”

According to the Ministry, GEF funding has been helpful to create the foundation by strengthening the legislative and regulatory environment governing pesticide and agricultural input management.

“Key milestones include the promulgation of the Law on Crop Production and the development of decrees on fertiliser regulation and good agricultural practices (GAP), currently in the final stages. The instruments establish the legal basis for sustained enforcement and compliance beyond the project lifecycle,” Phengboupha said, explaining how FARM funding is being used to improve the agricultural future of the country.

The $4.2 million initiative through the FARM project is led by the UNDP and the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry.

The FARM project is establishing a pilot on agrochemical container and plastic waste management in Viengphoukha District, Luang Namtha Province.

Smallholder farmers have responded to the pesticide management training and promotion of alternatives to chemical pesticides. Credit: Marco J Haenssgen/Unsplash

Integrated Pest Management

According to the ministry, the pilot is designed to demonstrate the effectiveness of a structured approach for the collection, interim storage, and environmentally sound management of empty pesticide containers.

“It also aims to strengthen institutional coordination among relevant government agencies, local authorities, and private sector stakeholders, while enhancing farmer awareness and compliance with recommended practices, including triple rinsing, segregation, and safe return mechanisms,” he said.

The project has supported awareness-raising and capacity building among local authorities, extension workers, and farmers on the risks associated with obsolete and banned pesticides, as well as on safe handling, repackaging, and temporary storage practices. In selected locations, pilot measures have been introduced to improve containment, labelling, and secure storage to minimise environmental and health risks.

Phengboupha says smallholder farmers in Lao PDR have generally responded positively to Integrated Pest Management (IPM) training and the promotion of alternatives to chemical pesticides supported by the FARM project. He added “training interventions have contributed to improved understanding of pest ecology, safer pesticide use practices, and the benefits of adopting non-chemical and low-toxicity control methods, including biological control, cultural practices, and mechanical measures.”

However, adoption rates vary depending on access to extension services, market pressures, availability of alternative inputs, and perceived short-term effectiveness of chemical pesticides.

“Constraints remain, including limited access to certified biopesticides, weak input supply chains for IPM alternatives, and continued reliance on agrochemical vendors for technical advice in some areas,” he added.

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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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.

Inter Press Service (IPS) UN Bureau Report

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A heavy storm caused flooding in areas of San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador, on August 16. These phenomena mostly occur during the rainy season, partly due to the environmental degradation of a water recharge area known as El Espino. Credit: Cruz Roja de El Salvador

By Edgardo Ayala
SAN SALVADOR, Aug 25 2025 (IPS)

Two construction projects pushed by the government of El Salvador, in a water recharge area adjacent to the country’s capital, on the slopes of the San Salvador volcano, threaten to make the area more vulnerable and increase the risk of flooding in the city’s poor neighborhoods downstream.

That is what environmentalists, and especially residents of communities who have lived for decades in this green area and witnessed the impact of urban expansion, told IPS.  Like a cancer, it is slowly eating away at the 800 hectares of what was, in the 19th century, one of the main coffee farms, El Espino, in what is now the western periphery of San Salvador.“I was born here, I am a native of this farm, and I have seen how everything has been deteriorating” –Héctor López.

“I was born here, I am a native of this farm, and I have seen how everything has been deteriorating,” 63-year-old Héctor López, a member of the El Espino Agricultural Production Cooperative, told IPS. The cooperative has 100 members who are mostly dedicated to coffee cultivation.

“It was all pure coffee plantations, owned by the Dueñas family, and over time El Espino has been affected by the constructions”, said López.

The two new government projects continue the pattern of deforestation that the property has been subjected to since the 1990s, a product of the unstoppable advance of the real estate sector.

These are the El Salvador National Stadium, which will hold 50,000 seats and whose construction began in September 2022 on an area of 55,000 square meters, and is expected to be ready in 2027.

Meanwhile, the new Center for Fairs and Conventions (Cifco) will begin construction in the coming months on an area of similar size. Both would cover about 10 hectares.

The cost of the stadium is around 100 million dollars, but the authorities have not revealed the figure for the Cifco.

Runoff coming down from the San Salvador volcano overflows a river, downstream, and floods areas populated by low-income families in the southern part of the city. The capacity to absorb rainwater will be affected by two large construction projects promoted by the Salvadoran government. Credit: Edgardo Ayala / IPS

The forest turned to cement

With each new construction, the soil absorbs less rainwater, and each storm turns the runoff into a river that reaches the poor neighborhoods of San Salvador, a city of 2.4 million inhabitants, including its metropolitan area, within a total country population of six million.

“When everything is paved, the water flows downward and causes flooding in neighborhoods like Santa Lucía,” Ricardo Navarro of the Center for Appropriate Technology (Cesta) told IPS, referring to a residential area of low-income families located in eastern San Salvador.

“When rainwater soaks into the forests, there isn’t much runoff, but without the forest, flooding increases,” adds Navarro, who founded Cesta 45 years ago, the local branch of Friends of the Earth.

The coffee plantation that still survives in El Espino is a forest populated with a rich diversity of tree species and wildlife.

Both the stadium and the convention center are funded by non-reimbursable funds from China, which also donated a US$54 million library, inaugurated in November 2023, as a sort of reward because El Salvador ended the relations it had maintained for decades with Taiwan in 2018.

China considers Taiwan part of its territory and rewards nations that break ties with Taiwan, which is currently recognized as an independent nation by only 12 countries.

Additionally, as part of this package of donations, China built a US$24 million tourist pier in the port city of La Libertad, south of San Salvador on the Pacific coast, and is constructing a water purification plant at Lake Ilopango, east of the capital, among other projects.

Elsa Méndez, together with Ever Martínez, from the El Espino Agricultural Production Cooperative, laments that urban development in the area affects them every rainy season, to the west of San Salvador. Credit: Edgardo Ayala / IPS

Navarro lamented the lack of environmental awareness among the authorities, and more specifically, of the country’s president, Nayib Bukele, who has governed with a markedly authoritarian style since taking office in June 2019. In 2024, he won a second consecutive term, something previously prohibited by the Republic’s Constitution.

Lawmakers from his party, New Ideas, who control the unicameral Legislative Assembly, amended the constitution on July 31 to allow Bukele the option to run for the presidency as many times as he wishes.

Because of this authoritarian style, it is known that in El Salvador, nothing is done without the consent of the ruler.

“President Bukele: Not long ago there was a storm, which caused serious flooding in the lower parts of the city. President, the climate is changing, I can guarantee you, with absolute certainty, that the climate situation is going to get much worse due to climate change,” Navarro urged.

The environmentalist suggested that, in any case, if the construction is not stopped, the convention center should be built adjacent to the stadium, so that common spaces, such as the parking area, could be shared.

The El Espino farm belonged to the Dueñas family, one of the wealthiest in the country, in the 19th century, then linked to coffee production. Land reform seized the property in 1980 and handed it over to dozens of families who worked there as colonists, peasants who labored on the farm in semi-slavery conditions and received a portion of land to build their house.

However, a court ruling decided in 1986 that a part of the farm, around 250 hectares, was urbanizable land and should be returned to the Dueñas family.

Since then, that segment of the farm has been turning into an area of permanent construction of shopping malls and luxury residences, developed by Urbánica, the real estate arm of the Dueñas family.

“If we analyze the companies that are building there and if we pull the thread, we end up at Urbanística,” economist José Luis Magaña explained to IPS.

“There should be clarity about what the infrastructure needs are,” said the expert on the two government projects. “Instead of financing a school repair project with a loan from the Central American Bank for Economic Integration, the government could have asked the Asian power to rebuild those educational centers”, he adds.

In 2022, several families from the El Espino cooperative participated in the “San Salvador sponge city” project, to increase rainwater filtration levels through the construction of trenches and absorption wells, to prevent runoff from causing floods downstream. Credit: Edgardo Ayala / IPS

The usual floods

On the night of August 15, a heavy storm caused flooding in several sectors of the Salvadoran capital, whose avenues seemed to turn into rivers and lagoons, with hundreds of cars stuck.

In some areas, trash clogged the city’s storm drains and the water rose and flooded into residential areas. Around 25 families were evacuated and sheltered in safe locations.

San Salvador was founded in 1545 at the foot of the San Salvador volcano, a massif rising 1893 meters above sea level, and this location has placed the city at risk of floods and landslides.

In September 1982, a mudflow came down from the volcano’s summit and buried part of a residential area called Montebello, killing about 500 people.

The southern zone of the capital is the most affected by flooding during the rainy season, from May to November. The rain and runoff coming down from the volcano feed small streams along the way, which in turn flow into the El Arenal stream and the populous Málaga neighborhood.

In July 2008, heavy rains caused that stream to overflow, and 32 people drowned when a bus was swept away by the current.

As a way to reduce the vulnerability of this southern zone, in 2020 the city was part of the “Sponge City” project, promoted by the United Nations Environment Programme.

Some 1,150 hectares of forests and coffee plantations were restored in the upper part of the San Salvador volcano, seeking to reactivate the capacity to absorb rainwater through the construction of catchment tanks and trenches amidst the coffee fields.

Urbánica is the real estate arm of the Dueñas family, which builds luxury residences in the capital of El Salvador, in the area of the former El Espino farm, like the one in the image, called Alcalá. Credit: Urbánica

Environmental hope remains

Members of the El Espino cooperative actively participated in that project, as the communities of former colonists of the Dueñas family continue to live on the segment of the farm the land reform granted them, which currently totals 314 hectares and are also hit by the constructions in the upper part, called El Boquerón, near the volcano’s crater.

Deforestation continues there to make way for more restaurants and luxury residences.

“We are worried that more and more construction keeps happening, and there are fewer trees, and more water runoff flowing downstream,” said cooperative member López, who took part in a meeting of the organization’s board members on August 19 when IPS visited the area.

Elsa Méndez, also a cooperative member, stated: “We try to infiltrate water with the trenches, but when the ground is already too saturated with water, we can’t do everything as a cooperative either. Everyone must raise awareness among all people, because the runoff from the volcano carries trash, bottles, plastic, etc.”

On Saturday, 16 families from the community went to reforest the upper area, and the task also served “to teach our children how to reforest,” said Méndez.

Social movement Todos Somos El Espino (We Are All El Espino) has called for a second rally to protest against the construction of the convention center on Saturday, August 23, as part of their plan to defend the increasingly threatened forest.

“At this march, we will be doing the first preliminary count of the signatures collected in physical form… so that Salvadorans can say, ‘I defend El Espino,'” Gabriela Capacho, who is part of that movement, told IPS.

A farmer pours cow dung into the biodigester to be converted into energy. Credit: Robert Kibet/IPS

By Robert Kibet
ZOUNGOU, Burkina Faso, Jul 18 2025 (IPS)

In the heart of Burkina Faso’s drylands, in the village of Zoungou, a quiet transformation is underway. Alhaji Birba Issa, a smallholder onion farmer, bends over neat rows of lush green crops, the hum of solar-powered pumps audible in the background.

“This land used to sleep during the dry season,” he says, dusting soil from his hands. “Our diesel pump would break down. Crops died. But now, we farm all year.”

Issa leads one of 89 farmer cooperatives participating in the Renewable Energy for Agriculture and Livelihoods (REAL BF) programme, which is equipping smallholder farmers, especially women and youth, with clean energy technologies that are reshaping agricultural productivity and dignity across Burkina Faso’s drought-prone regions.

When Energy Meets Agriculture

Burkina Faso faces some of the highest levels of climate vulnerability in the world. Over 80 percent of its population depends on rain-fed agriculture, which has become increasingly unreliable due to erratic rainfall and rising temperatures.

In response, the REAL BF program—implemented by Practical Action with support from multiple development partners—has taken a holistic approach. It connects off-grid solar systems, biodigesters, and energy-efficient processing technologies to smallholder farming, helping communities extend their farming seasons, preserve harvests, and reduce reliance on polluting fuels.

By July 2024, the programme had reached 15,937 smallholder farmers, more than 80 percent of them women, and achieved 82 percent activity completion and 90 percent budget execution.

“These are not drop-and-go technologies,” says Issouf Ouédraogo, Practical Action’s West Africa Regional Director. “We co-designed the solutions with farmers, supported them to organize in cooperatives, and trained them to manage the systems. The results are community-owned, and that’s why it’s working.”

Fields that Grow Beyond Rain

In places like Komki Ipala, solar-powered irrigation now reaches 115 hectares of farmland. Farmers grow vegetables, rice, legumes, and onions throughout the year—no longer limited to the short rainy season.

“Before, we farmed three months,” says Aminata Zangre, a cooperative leader in Zoungou. “Now we plan for eight. My children eat better. We sell the surplus. And we use cow dung to generate energy. It’s like turning waste into hope.”

Zangre’s cooperative uses biodigesters to turn livestock waste into biogas and compost, reducing deforestation and creating a sustainable cycle of cooking fuel and organic fertilizer.

In Gon-Boussougou, Molle Nossira supervises a fish processing cooperative that once struggled with spoilage and smoke. “The fish used to go bad before midday. Now we use energy-efficient ovens and solar cold rooms,” she says. “Our fish stays fresh. We sell at better prices. We even sell cold drinks, which attract more customers.”

Quantifying the Impact

The numbers tell a compelling story:

• 180 MWh of clean energy is generated annually by the systems installed.
• 148 tonnes of compost and 1,268 kg of butane-equivalent biogas are produced yearly.
• 722 tonnes of firewood saved per year, helping preserve 135 hectares of forest.
• An estimated 1,437 tonnes of CO₂ emissions are avoided annually.
• Each smallholder farmer has seen a minimum income increase of 50,000 CFA francs (around USD 80) annually—often more.

“Food security has improved. Post-harvest losses are down. Women no longer spend hours collecting firewood,” says Farid Sawadogo, a field coordinator with Practical Action. “We see resilience growing in very real ways.”

Women in the Lead

While energy infrastructure is often seen as a male domain, this programme has turned that perception on its head.

In Koulpelé, Awa Convolbo leads a women’s cooperative focused on shea butter processing. “We used to work entirely with firewood, which was exhausting and harmful,” she recalls. “Now we use improved cookstoves and solar-powered water pumps. Our income has grown, and I’ve been able to support my children’s education.”

Convolbo participated in a knowledge exchange visit to Rwanda and returned home inspired to restructure her cooperative’s finances. “Clean energy didn’t just change how we cook—it changed how we lead,” she says.

Youth Shaping the Future

Young people, too, have found new roles in their communities—maintaining solar systems, managing cooperative finances, and digitizing agricultural planning tools.

“Young people now see farming and energy as a future,” says Sawadogo. “They are staying in their villages, building careers, and bringing new ideas.”

To further support access to knowledge and resources, Practical Action launched the Yiriwali Platform, a multilingual digital tool where farmers can choose clean energy technologies, find technology providers, and connect with microfinance institutions. Available in French, Moore, Dioula, and Fulfulde, the platform strengthens ties between smallholder farmers, tech suppliers, and financiers.

Scaling Lessons Beyond Borders

The REAL BF programme aligns with the UN’s Local Climate Adaptive Living Facility (LoCAL) and supports the Sustainable Development Goals—particularly SDG 2 (Zero Hunger), SDG 7 (Affordable and Clean Energy), and SDG 13 (Climate Action).

With demonstrated success in rural Burkina Faso, the model is attracting interest from agencies like UNDP, FAO, and ECOWAS as a blueprint for scaling across the Sahel.

Practical Action hopes to expand the programme and deepen its impact through additional investment, particularly for the remaining cooperatives that could not yet be funded due to budget limitations.

“We’re showing that smallholder farmers aren’t victims of climate change,” says Ouédraogo. “They’re agents of climate resilience—when they have the right tools and power.”

Farming with Dignity

Back in Zoungou, Birba Issa reflects on the change he has seen in his community: children returning to school, women leading cooperatives, and farmers planning not just for the season but for the future.

“We’ve turned drylands into green fields,” he says. “And we farm with dignity.”

As the sun sets over the Sahel, these solar-powered communities are not just surviving—they are showing the rest of the region how to thrive.

New mangroves have been created in various areas to reduce climate change risks in Badamtoli village of Dakop upazila (sub-district) of Khulna district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

By Rafiqul Islam Montu
SHYAMNAGAR, Bangladesh , May 16 2025 (IPS)

Golenur Begum has faced 12 cyclones in her life. As a child, she witnessed her father’s house destroyed, and as an adult, she watched her home smashed. Saltwater brought by the tidal surges that accompanied the cyclones wrecked their farms and livelihoods.  And with climate change, these impacts are becoming more intense and frequent.

“Sixteen years ago, in 2009, my house was washed away by Cyclone Aila. At first, we sheltered on a raised dirt road near our house. After the road was submerged, we rushed to a shelter two kilometers from the village to save our lives. The next day, when we returned to the village, we saw that many more houses had been destroyed. Shrimp farms, vegetable fields, chicken farms, and ponds submerged in salt water,” Golenur (48), who lives in Sinhartoli village, remembers.

She is not alone. Sahara Begum (32), Rokeya Begum (45), and Anguri Bibi (44), from the same village, spoke of the same crisis.

A new mangrove in front of Golenur Begum’s house in Singhahartali village of Shyamnagar upazila (sub-district) of Satkhira district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Neelima Mandal points to the mangrove in front of her house in Chunkuri village of Shyamnagar upazila (sub-district) of Satkhira district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Climate-vulnerable Sinharatoli village is part of Munshiganj Union of Shyamnagar Upazila (sub-district) in the Satkhira district in southwestern Bangladesh. The Malanch River flows past the village.

On the other side of the river is the World Heritage Sundarbans—a mangrove forest area in the Ganges Delta formed by the confluence of the Ganges, Brahmaputra, and Meghna Rivers in the Bay of Bengal.

Most of the people in the villages along the Malanch River lost their livelihoods and homes due to Cyclone Aila. Not only Aila—Golenur has faced 12 cyclones.

Neelima Mandal, 40, of Chunkuri village, a village adjacent to the Sundarbans, says, “Due to frequent cyclones, the embankments on the riverbank collapsed. The tidal water of the Malanch River used to enter our houses directly. As a result, both our livelihoods and lives were in crisis.”

The southwestern coast of Bangladesh is facing many crises due to climate change. The people of this region are very familiar with the effects of tides, cyclones, and salinity. They survive by adapting to these dangers. But, despite their resilience, there are not enough strong embankments in this region. Although embankments were built in the 1960s, they are mostly weak. If cyclones become more intense with a changing climate, people’s lives will be even more affected.

New mangroves protect houses at risk of climate change on the embankment in Chunkuri village of Shyamnagar upazila (sub-district) of Satkhira district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

What kind of benefits are the villagers getting from the newly created mangrove forest? This graph shows the results of the opinions gathered from 100 people from villages near the Sundarbans. Graph: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Despite the mangrove-rich Sundarbans, which include four enlisted and protected areas by UNESCO, which should protect them, the southwestern coastal districts of Bangladesh. The Sundarbans themselves are also facing a crisis due to frequent cyclones. The 2007 cyclone Sidr caused extensive damage, which took several years to recover from. According to a study by the Change Initiative, dense forest covered 94.2 percent of the Sundarbans in 1973. In 2024, it had decreased to 91.5 percent. The people of this region face extreme events during the cyclone season when the tide height reaches up to 3 meters (10 feet).

Mangrove Wall for Vulnerable Communities

In 2013 the women in this community began building a mangrove wall—a sign that they were not going to let the climate dictate their future.

The wall now stands where the water from the storm surge entered Golenur’s house during Cyclone Sidr in 2007 and Cyclone Aila in 2009. Now she does not have to worry about her livelihood and home as much. Apart from protection from natural hazards, the forest provides her with many other economic benefits.

“When we started planting mangrove seedlings here, the entire area was devoid of trees. Tidal water once submerged the area. In a few years, a mangrove forest has formed in the vacant space. More than 500 people from about 100 houses in the village are now free from natural hazards,” says Golenur.

A mangrove safety wall now also covers Chunkuri village, which was similarly vulnerable. The villagers take care of the mangroves and benefit from them.

Many women in Banishanta village of Dakop upazila (sub-district) of Khulna district are happy and financially better off after starting a mangrove nursery. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Abandoned seeds floating from the Sundarbans are processed into seedlings in the nursery at Namita Mondal’s nursery in Dhangmari village of Dakop upazila (sub-district) of Khulna district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

“Mangroves help us secure our livelihood. We can collect fodder for our cattle from the forest. Mangroves help us reduce heat,” added Sabitri Mondal, a resident of Chunkuri village.

Various organizations, including the Bangladesh Resource Council of Indigenous Knowledge (BARCIK), Bangladesh Environment and Development Society (BEDS), and Friendship, are working to restore mangroves in different parts of Khulna, Satkhira, and Bagerhat districts.

Since 2008, BARCIK has planted 1,800 mangrove trees in coastal villages, including Koikhali, Burigoalini, Munshiganj, Gabura, Padmapukur, and Atulia in the Shyamnagar upazila of Satkhira. BEDS has planted over one million mangrove saplings in 146.55 hectares of land in Shyamnagar, Satkhira, and Dakop, Khulna, since 2013.

Maksudur Rahman, CEO of BEDS, says, ‘To save mangroves, we need to involve the local community. If we can provide alternative livelihoods to the local community, the mangroves will also be saved and the people will be protected. The initiative that we have been continuing since 2013 is already reaping the benefits of the community.’

Abandoned seeds are a source of livelihood

“The mangrove nursery is now the driving force of my family. The income from the nursery is what keeps my family going. My husband and I no longer have to go to the risky Sundarbans to catch fish and crabs. Alternative livelihoods have made my life safer,’ said Namita Mandal of Dhangmari village in Dakop upazila of Khulna district.

Women plant mangrove seedlings in Dakop upazila (sub-district) of Khulna district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

Namita Mandal maintains a mangrove nursery in Dhangmari village in Dakop upazila (sub-district) of Khulna district. Credit: Rafiqul Islam Montu/IPS

The mangrove seeds are a source of livelihood for women in villages near the Sundarbans. Once upon a time, families used to wait for seeds and leaves that floated from the Sundarbans to cook. They would dry them and save them for cooking. But many women like Namita have started nurseries with those abandoned seeds. Seedlings are being grown in the nursery from the seeds and new mangroves are being formed from those seedlings. Many more women in villages near the Sundarbans have chosen mangrove nurseries as a source of livelihood.

Seedlings suitable for mangroves are grown in the nursery. The tree species include keora (Sonneratia apetala), baen (Avicennia alba), gewa (Excoecaria agallocha), khulshi (Aegiceras corniculatum), kankra (Bruguiera gymnorrhiza), golpata (Nypa fruticans), and goran (Ceriops decandra). The seeds of these trees float down from the Sundarbans.

Her income from the nursery has increased significantly in the past few years. ‘I sold seedlings worth 50,000 taka ($426) in a year. My nursery has expanded. The number of employees has increased. In 2023, I sold seedlings worth about 4 lakh taka ($3,407) from my nursery to some clients, including the Bangladesh Forest Department, international NGO BRAC, and BEDS,’ added Namita.

Rakibul Hasan Siddiqui, Associate Professor at the Institute of Integrated Studies on Sundarbans Coastal Ecosystem, Khulna University, said, ‘The Sundarbans and its surrounding settlements are severely affected by rising sea levels and frequent cyclones in the Bay of Bengal. Sundarbans Restoration is helping to protect coastal residents from any kind of natural disaster.”
Note: This feature is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.

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Excerpt:

CGIAR Science Week closing plenary. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

By Joyce Chimbi
NAIROBI, Apr 11 2025 (IPS)

More than 13,600 participants from around the world registered for the inaugural CGIAR Science Week at the UN Complex, Nairobi, April 7-12, 2025. Dr. Ismahane Elouafi, the organization’s Executive Managing Director, said, “This is a testament that people are thirsty for science and for good news.”

“They are thirsty for hope, and that’s what science brings. And that’s also what CGIAR brings. We bring solutions to the country level and the community where science could really thrive.”

Through a video message, Amina J. Mohammed, the Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations and Chair of the United Nations Sustainable Development Group, said the science conference has come just a few months ahead of the 2nd United Nations Food Systems Summit Stocktake (UNFSS+4) to be held in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

“We will have the chance to reflect on the progress we’ve made and, more importantly, chart the way forward. Progress on the SDGs requires accelerating the transition to sustainable food systems. Partnerships are essential in accelerating progress, bringing together diverse expertise to drive science-based solutions,” she observed.

Stressing that by aligning research with policy and action and working with partners like CGIAR and the high-level panel of experts on the Committee on the Role of Food Security, “We are building food systems that are resilient, sustainable, and inclusive, ensuring lasting impact in the face of climate change and global hunger.

“Yet we must also remain mindful of the challenges we face, such as geopolitical tensions, the impacts of climate change, economic uncertainty, and the urgent need for a reformed international financial architecture that supports these efforts.”

Reflecting on the past five days, Dr. Eliud Kiplimo Kireger, Director General and Chief Executive Officer of the Kenya Agriculture and Livestock Research Organization (KALRO), the conference co-host, said the past week provided a critical platform for dialogue, collaboration, and innovation, bringing together global leaders, researchers, and partners to address the pressing challenges of food security.

Observing that the discussions underscored the role of science, technology, and partnerships in transforming food systems for a more sustainable and equitable future. Stressing that the event has “uniquely convened agriculture, climate, and health stakeholders to address interconnected challenges threatening food security and sustainability. By integrating these domains, we have moved beyond cycle approaches to systemic solutions.”

Further emphasizing that the Science Week showcased transformative tools from AI-driven architectural decision-making to climate-smart groundbreaking technologies that are ready for scaling and that “these innovations provide actionable pathways to resilience… the next step is prioritization of localized adaptations of proven technologies, particularly for smallholder farmers.”

Juergen Voegele, Vice President, World Bank/Chair of the CGIAR System Council, told participants that as populations continue to grow, the need for CGIAR’s role is stronger than ever as increasingly severe weather events make food production more and more risky. And growing conflict around the world makes more and more people food insecure.

“And changing trade policies, as we see in the last few days, will affect hundreds of millions of people. At the same time, we see a decline in public spending for the needs of poor countries broadly. That also means competition for scarce research dollars is much fiercer now. For us as a CGIAR system, it becomes ever more critical to have a compelling narrative.”

Voegele said investing in agricultural research has the highest return on the dollar and is a key part of the solution to a changing climate, migration, and conflict and that “we do need to tell a story about how many lives drought-resistant wheat varieties save or flood-tolerant rice or nutrition-dense crops. It is impact and scale that matter and will be the most convincing in lower capitals.

“And we must ask ourselves some fundamental questions. For starters, is our new research portfolio still 100 percent relevant or do we need to prioritize even more for impact?”

Dr. Rachel Chikwamba, Group Executive for Advanced Chemistry and Life Sciences at the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR), affirmed that CGIAR is uniquely positioned to serve and complement ongoing initiatives through its extensive network of partnerships, and it remains a leader in fostering collaborative efforts to address these seemingly intractable global challenges.

“They have done it for the past 50 years in a shifting environment, and they continue to do this so very proudly, as we have witnessed this past week. For the youth that are in the room, I hope you have been inspired, and I do hope you take up careers in science and technology; in particular, I hope you take up careers in agriculture,” she said.

“You have seen what is possible, you have seen the role of technology therein, and you have seen its potential to transform not just our lives, but indeed how we engage the youth and how the youth can take charge of our common destiny.”

No matter how complex the issues in the agrifood systems, the world must listen to what the scientists are saying, and they are saying that the solutions are in science, innovation, inclusion, and partnerships and that no one should be left behind.

CGIAR works with more than 3000 partners in nearly 90 countries around the world to advance the transformation of food, land, and water systems in a climate crisis. Regional director generals from these partners supported the urgent calls for innovation, collaboration, and partnership.

The organization’s research centers include the International Livestock Research Institute (ILRI), the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture, the International Crops Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics (ICRISAT), The International Potato Center (CIP), AfricaRice, and The International Water Management Institute (IWMI).

In his closing remarks, Kenya’s Principal secretary state department for Agriculture, Dr. Paul Kiprono Ronoh, made an impassioned plea for youth to make a case for themselves and their involvement in resolving challenges in the agrifood systems. Further emphasizing that the time when decisions were made on behalf of farmers is long gone and that farmers must be at the table and at the center of developing and implementing innovative solutions.

“A crisis like this is an opportunity to find better solutions,” he said. “together we can transform science systems through science. Let us leave here inspired but also resolute in our commitment to using science, thus creating a future that is sustainable for generations to come. Kenya remains committed to being a leader in agricultural transformation and looks forward to working with all of you.”

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Dr Ismahane Elouafi, Executive Managing Director of CGIAR. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

By Cecilia Russell and Busani Bafana
NAIROBI, Apr 11 2025 (IPS)

This week presented a beacon of hope for young people so that the “girl from the South and the boy, of course” could stay in the developing world, Dr Ismahane Elouafi, Executive Managing Director of CGIAR, said during a press conference on the final day of the CGIAR Science Week.

Science and innovation could whet their appetites, especially as research and innovation can change the perception that it is a drudgery-filled occupation to one where there is room for ambition – and it made business sense.

“In the face of slow productivity and rising risks, the case is clear. Investing in agricultural research is one of the smartest and most future-proof decisions that anyone can make,” she said.

Elouafi, along with the other panellists Dr Eliud Kiplimo Kireger, the Director General of KALRO and Eluid Rugut, a youth agri-champion at the Ban Ki-moon Centre, alluded to the broad value chain of agriculture, which will make it attractive to young people.

Dr Eliud Kiplimo Kireger, the Director General of KALRO. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

Kireger commented that people say, “Agriculture is not sexy, and so we need to make it sexy,” and encourage young people into science. Apart from encouraging young kids into science, there was a space in it for young people who don’t want to see returns on their investments in years but in months.

Rugut’s personal experience backs the claim up; he told the press conference that he first had to convince his father to give him a little land – and this wasn’t an easy task. Rugut, who represents both the youth and a smallholder, said it was only once his father saw the benefits of the new technologies that he was prepared to give his son the benefit of the doubt.

“It was very hard to convince my dad to give us land, but over time, these technologies that I was trying to bring to the farm – like drip irrigation, water pumps and drought-tolerant seeds,” Rugut said, but in the end, “I was able to convince him. Also, my mom was able to convince him.”

Kireger said the week-long conference had shown the power of collaboration, especially because research was expensive and the need was great. However, digitisation had meant that a lot of the research was no longer stuck in the labs and was now in the hands of farmers.

Eluid Rugut, a youth agri-champion at the Ban Ki-Moon Centre. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

He encouraged farmers (and the journalists at the conference) to take a look at the Google Play store, where there are KALRO apps.

“So, if you go to Google Play Store, you will find many KALRO apps which you can download onto your phone. So, if you’re a coffee farmer, for example, you can download a guide on your phone.”

This digitisation is key to scaling research and making it accessible.

Elouafi, too, said investment in agribusiness was crucial to transforming the sector There was a need for public-private partnerships so farmers were no longer only involved in production but down the value chain too.

“So strategic investment in agricultural research isn’t just necessary; it is economically smart. We have seen a USD 10 return on every dollar spent on research and development in the agriculture sector.”

She provided several examples. Participating in the value chain could transform USD 300 of wheat into USD 3000 through pasta production. Likewise with quinoa, millet and sorghum, which cost USD 4 in the market, with production, can fetch USD 50 to USD 100 per kilogram in the market.

This opportunity is where policies and subsidies come in, to put this potential into the hands of the farmers. “This is a gap we need to bridge,” Elouafi said.

Elouafi reported significant progress this week, particularly in addressing food insecurity. The achievements included the launch of the CGIAR research portfolio, the International Potato Centre (CIP) and KALRO biotech agreement, the IWMI water security strategy for East Africa, and the publication of CGIAR’s flagship report, Insight to Impact: A decision-maker’s guide to navigating food system science.

“Science week  has demonstrated the strength of partnerships. How together we can generate powerful tools, innovation, technologies, knowledge, institutions, policies – all of it – to deliver real-world impact for the communities that we serve.

“In the era of fake news and misinformation, our work, our impact, our partnership, and our commitment to the communities we serve are real, and our impact is real, and we need to have a much louder voice. We cannot let it up because the gap will be filled by misinformation.”

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Dr. Ismahane Elouafi at the launch of CGIAR's flagship report, 'Insight to Impact: A decision-maker’s guide to navigating food system science.'

By Joyce Chimbi
NAIROBI, Apr 10 2025 (IPS)

“To have impact, it was crucial to understand what impact was wanted,” CGIAR’s Executive Managing Director Dr. Ismahane Elouafi said at the launch of the organization’s flagship report, Insight to Impact: A decision-maker’s guide to navigating food system science.

“The report is called Insight to Impact because the key message is that impact starts with insight. So, it is very important that we invest in science if we are to have an impact,” Elouafi said.  “But what is very important as well is to really have a proper engagement of policymakers… This report gives real examples and insights into what works and what does not work as well.”

To give a perspective on the importance of policy in relation to nutritious foods, she said that in many ways, the farmers will produce what they produce because there is a market for it and that to produce more healthy foods requires creating a market for it through policy. Policies can subsidize or incentivize farmers to produce more nutritious foods.

“And for me, this is what we have not been doing. We have not been pushing enough for policies that are pro-climate, that are pro-nutrition, and that are pro-poor as well. So, all of this is doable. And what we need to do is make sure we provide the genetic breed that we know is nutritious, but also go and talk to policymakers to get the policies to make sure it makes it to the market.”

In a world confronted by serious interconnected challenges of climate change, environmental degradation, persistent poverty, and food and nutrition insecurity, there is an urgent need for evidence-based decision-making to resolve complex issues that now transcend boundaries, demanding cohesive and science-driven solutions – and that is where the guide comes in.

“The reality is that today we are facing challenges, particularly in the last few years, that were unimaginable even five or ten years ago. The speed at which climate change is coming at us and farmers around the world, is not what anyone expected… The rate of return of investing in agricultural research is increasing by the minute, while the costs of not doing it are phenomenal,” by Jüergen Vöegele, Vice President, World Bank/Chair of the CGIAR System Council.

A Decision-Maker’s Guide To Navigating Food System Science was launched at CGIAR Science Week. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

While decision-makers at global, national, and local levels recognize the urgency of taking decisive action and also understand that safeguarding the resilience, health, and livelihoods of vulnerable communities, particularly in low- and middle-income countries, requires sound, science-backed policies, many also struggle to access the right information in the right format, slowing the translation of research into action.

As the world’s largest agricultural research partnership, CGIAR developed the report as part of a wider bundle of decision-making resources to meet these challenges head-on, recognizing that, although agricultural research cannot solve every problem, food system transformation must be part of the solution.

CGIAR’s global partnership of 13 world-leading research centers provides solutions to transform food, land, and water systems in a climate crisis to ensure food security in low- and middle-income countries. For over 50 years, the organization has supported decision-makers at global, regional, national, and local levels by providing timely, policy-relevant, impactful innovations, data, and expertise to ensure food security in target countries.

In this regard, the report provides science-based insights and practical recommendations to help decision-makers navigate the pressing challenges of agriculture, food security, and sustainable development while preparing for future risks. Importantly, it is a way to continually improve the accessibility and relevance of our research to decision-makers.

Grace Mijiga Mhango, president of the Grain Traders and Processors Association of Malawi, stated that one of the main barriers to using science as a transformative tool is the “gap in communication between the scientist and the private sector, including the farmer who is supposed to be the key beneficiary of the materials and innovations the scientists are coming up with.”

In the right hands, food system science and innovation can transform food systems to deliver across the 2030 Sustainable Development Agenda. It is the foundation that decision-makers at local, national, regional, and global levels can use to make informed decisions.

Decisions that result in food systems supporting regeneration rather than driving environmental degradation and becoming a net sink rather than a source of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions, protecting biodiversity rather than depleting it, and providing culturally appropriate, affordable, available, diverse, and safe diets that ensure nutrition, health, and food security.

Solutions steeped in science and innovation can contribute to producer stability and resilience, supporting livelihoods and reducing poverty for smallholders and benefiting over 500 million women while also creating new opportunities for 267 million young people.

Overall, the report is designed for leaders, policymakers, and researchers; it focuses on translating science into action. The report simplifies scientific findings into practical, understandable, and relevant information with links to tools and real-world applications.

CGIAR research shows a good return on investment. For every dollar invested in CGIAR agricultural research and development, investors see USD 10 worth of benefits. With CGIAR’s annual research portfolio of just over USD 900 million and more than 9,000 staff working in over 85 countries Insight to Impact is the first in a series that will deliver plain-language roadmaps to help decision-makers tackle complex food and nutrition security and sustainability challenges.

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Lingadbael homestay dining hall with its doorway decorated with an illustration of crawling ants, which are ground to make the traditional “saavli” chutney. Credit: Rina Mukheerji/IPS

By Rina Mukherji
LINGADBAEL VILLAGE, Karnataka, India, Mar 10 2025 (IPS)

The Siddi community, descendants of slaves from Africa, is now becoming more involved with mainstream enterprises, including a forest homestay venture—which is changing their fortunes after years of discrimination on the Indian subcontinent where they were originally enslaved.

In the 15^th century, when the Portuguese arrived on the western coast of India, they brought with them several thousand slaves from the southeastern coast of Africa. These slaves, possibly hailing from African language-speaking tribes, were initially brought to the Portuguese colonies of Goa, Daman and Diu and were then sold to local Indian rulers at a profit.

Much later, around the early 19^th century, once slavery was declared illegal, the slaves were released by the Portuguese. Some, as per local lore, also managed to escape the clutches of their cruel masters. But even when released, such was the fear of the barbarity they had been subjected to that they feared recapture. Hence, they fled into the forested tracts of the present-day Indian state of Karnataka, bordering Goa. Other African slaves settled down in the forested tracts of Gir, near Junagadh in Gujarat, after the Portuguese had sold them to nawabs in the western Indian state of Gujarat.

The Portuguese were not the first to introduce African slaves into India. The first African slaves were brought from Abyssinia (present-day Ethiopia) by the Turco-Afghan Muslim invaders in the 11^th century when they conquered India. Hence, African slaves came to be called Habshi (from the Urdu term Habsh—meaning Abyssinia). Known to be excellent soldiers, some rose to become generals and petty officers—this gave rise to the term Siddi (African governor). Nevertheless, the majority of these slaves remained poor and exploited, looking forward to freedom.

Distinctly different in their looks, the Siddis of Karnataka continued to live in fear for centuries, despite escaping enslavement from their erstwhile Portuguese masters. Hence, they confined themselves to dwellings in the dense forests, living as hunter-gatherers. This was where they were ‘discovered’ by Gowdas (and revenue officials of the local rulers). Impressed by their physical strength, local officials employed Siddis as farm labor. The skills Siddis acquired in agriculture made them give up hunting and start farming small patches in the forest. But limited familiarity with the outside world and lack of literacy often saw them cheated of their wages or wrested off their farms by upper-caste landowners.

Siddi-run homestay at Lingadbael using mud-brick architecture. Credit: Rina Mukherji/IPS

Although Indian independence brought government schools to nearly every village, Siddi children would often be forced out of schools due to racist slurs and ridicule. Socially, they were placed below the lowest untouchables in India’s caste hierarchy, resulting in the community shying from interaction. Things started looking up for the Siddis only after 2003, when they were given the status of a scheduled tribe, entitling them to several benefits, including quotas in education and employment. India’s 2006 Forest Rights Act, too, empowered them as a forest-dwelling tribe to gather and sell non-timber forest produce, such as honey, wax, and cane. During the monsoon months, when farm employment is lacking, the Department of Social Welfare gives every Siddi family dry food hampers.

Siddi Culture, Religious Beliefs and Skills

The Siddis have no memories of their original African homeland. However, they are talented musicians and dancers and have a great sense of rhythm. Gagged and bound and dumped into sailing vessels, the only object from their homeland that the Siddis carried along was the Dammami, which they continue to play to this day. The Dammami is a drum made out of a log of wood, covered with animal skin. Originally fashioned out of wood and the skin of wild animals, the Dammami is now made out of wood from the Nandi (Spathodea or African tulip tree) or Rumda (cluster fig tree), with one end covered with a patch of sheep skin and the other with goat skin. The Dammami is a necessary accompaniment to the songs sung at every Siddi feast.

Whichever part of India the Siddis settled in, they assimilated and adopted local customs and religious beliefs. Gujarat Siddis have adopted clothing styles prevalent in Gujarat, while the Siddis of Karnataka are dressed like the people of Karnataka. The Siddis of Junagadh in Gujarat, who used to serve Muslim rulers, are Muslim, while those in Karnataka are generally Hindus, with a few Christians and a smaller number of Muslims. However, all Siddis, irrespective of religion, revere Siddi Baba. The shrine of Siddi Baba, in Ankola, attracts Siddis from all parts of Karnataka during an annual feast dedicated to the deity. Worship of the deity is conducted by a mirashi, or priest, who follows rituals modeled on Hindu practices and is a local patriarch. Sanu Siddi, who works as a forest guard in Lindabael, for instance, is a mirashi, who is an expert in Siddi oral history, despite being unlettered.

Siddis in Karnataka use Siddi bhasha (Siddi language—a mix of the local Goan Konkani, Marathi, and Urdu, with a few Kannada words). The influence of Goan food and language is strongly evident in their cuisine, with a typical Siddi meal comprising rice, amti (a sweet-sour syrup using a local fruit), cocum and coconut-flavored curries, meat, bananas, and mango. Drinks like kashayam (a warm milk-based drink) and cocum sherbet, common to coastal Maharashtra and Goa, are part of Siddi cuisine and are indicative of Siddi history. Remnants of their erstwhile hunter-gatherer skills define the Siddis; they are skilled at gathering honey and wax and are good at beekeeping. Several species of plants and their leaves are used to make fritters, cooling drinks, and heal afflictions.

Siddi community that runs the Damami homestay. Credit: Damami.in

In the ‘80s, a nationwide talent hunt by the Sports Authority of India (SAI) in remote regions of the country picked up and nurtured some talents from the community and got them trained to represent India in athletics, given their naturally athletic strength and build.

Notwithstanding the community continuing to depend on farm labor, literacy levels have risen with government schools being set up all over Idagundi gram panchayat and Yellapur taluka—this has enabled some Siddis to progress into more remunerative professions, such as acting in movies, teaching, and business, notwithstanding the discrimination they face.

Homestay Venture: A New Beginning

Of late, the National Rural Livelihoods Mission (NRLM) has set up homestays in Lingadbael village, owned and managed by Siddi women through their Nisarga Sparsha Self-Help Group (SHG). The venture was long in the making, though, as NRLM District Officer Nagraj Kalmane revealed to me.

“We were working among the Siddis, organizing them into self-help groups, and preparing them for livelihoods over the last decade.” To start this venture, NRLM joined hands with Suyatri, a Bangalore-based social enterprise, and Nirmiti Kendra, a government organization, to build the homestay cottages.

The venture was named Damami, after the unique drum whose notes spell the last vestige and only link of the Siddis to their lost African homeland. Even so, persuading the Siddis to take the idea up was not easy.

“The Siddis feared that running this homestay would undermine their culture,” Uttara Kanara Zilla Parishad’s Chief Executive Officer (CEO) Ishwar Prasad Kandoo tells IPS.

This meant interacting with the Siddi community using the offices of the Gram Panchayat (Village Self-Governing Body) and the local Siddi Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA), meeting and reaching out to Siddis in the Gram Sabha (Village Council) for months, before the community saw the advantages of the project.

“Since they work at the grassroots level, Suyatri was particularly useful as a bridge between the administration and the community,” Kandoo tells me. But once they were convinced, things were easy. Manjunath Siddi, who now works as a local guide to visitors at the homestay, came forth to part with some family land for the cottages to be built on and was instrumental in getting other members of his community to collaborate in the venture.

To start with, the Siddis were trained in basic housekeeping, carpentry, and electrical work to maintain the homestays by Suyatri. “We took them to Wynad in Kerala, where we run a homestay with women from the local community. They were taught the basics of hygiene and how to serve food to visitors,” Sumesh Mangalassery of Suyatri tells IPS. Of course, some were more receptive than others. For instance, Hema Hari Siddi, who served in Bengaluru and Mumbai in restaurants, took to the training effortlessly, unlike many of her counterparts.

The homestays, which opened to the public in May 2024, use traditional mud-brick architecture that the Siddis specialize in and comprise spacious rooms with tiled roofs and modern amenities. The cottages were hand-illustrated with Siddi folklore by Siddi women using limestone chalk.

Jevan Mane (dining hall in Siddi Bhasha) has its doorway decorated with an illustration of crawling ants, which are ground to make the traditional “saavli” chutney, a sauce made of crushed ants, ginger, onions, and garlic.

“It protects us from colds and builds our immunity,” say Hema Hari Siddi and compatriot Savita Ravi Siddi. The women are happy earning Rs 600 (USD 6.89) per day at the homestay, which is around twice the amount they made as farm labor.

Being a forest village in the interior and off the highway, Lingadbael is an attractive retreat away from the bustle of city life. NRLM’s collaborative tie-up with the Forest Department to conduct hikes along forest trails and marketing through Suyatri has already ensured a warm response from research scholars and students keen to study the Siddi community.

But being tucked away from urban centers has its disadvantages too. For one, electricity is erratic, and there is no mobile network. Every time the electricity goes off, the Wi-Fi connection is gone too. Neither is there any reliable transport to Lingadbael. Hence, visitors must rely on private transport to and from Hubli or Yellapur towns.

“We are planning to explore using solar power for uninterrupted electricity,” Rajmane tells me. There are also plans to build a modest platform to serve as a stage for the Siddi music and dance performances visitors enjoy here.

The Zilla Parishad (District Administration) is already in talks with Karnataka Tourism to include Lingadbael homestay as part of a tourist circuit. Talks are also on with private players to obtain tourist vehicles under their Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) initiatives.

“We are in talks with forest officials and the Eco-tourism Development Board to promote Lingadbael as an ideal site for birdwatching and star-gazing, given its greenery, clear skies, and tranquil environs,” says Kandoo. Once the homestay catches on, the Zilla Parishad plans to open a Sanjeevani Mart counter wherein woodcraft, pickles, and handicrafts can be sold to visitors to help the Siddi community earn some additional income.

For a community that has remained in the margins for so long, the homestay venture in picturesque Lingadbael, with its gushing waterfalls and gurgling streams, holds the promise of opening up a window to the wider world.

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Nasir Haji, a sponge farmer, cleans sponges in the Indian Ocean. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
JAMBIANI, Zanzibar, Mar 5 2025 (IPS)

In the early morning, as the tide pulls away, Zulfa Abdallah ties her scarf tightly around her head. She adjusts her goggles, places a snorkel across her forehead, and wades into the chest-deep waters off Jambiani village in Zanzibar. The Indian Ocean is her livelihood now, its waves offering a lifeline to women like her who confront challenges of poverty and climate change.

Years ago, Abdallah would have been hauling heavy bundles of salt-encrusted seaweed. Seaweed farming had long been a lifeline for Zanzibar’s coastal women, but rising ocean temperatures have made the crops nearly impossible to grow. In their place, farmers have turned to sea sponges.

“It’s a miracle crop that has given me my life back,” Abdallah said one Saturday afternoon as she inspected the porous orbs hanging from polyethylene ropes of her underwater farm. “They need patience and care—just like raising a baby. And like with children, you get so much in return.”

At 34, Abdallah, a divorced mother of two, has been farming sponges for four years, learning the craft through training programs run by Marine Cultures, a Swiss nonprofit. Her farm is a network of ropes suspended between floating buoys, each dotted with porous sponges that sway gently with the currents. Every sponge must be cleaned, monitored, and protected against predators. It’s hard work, but it has changed her life.

A New Beginning

Abdallah once earned less than USD 30 a month from seaweed farming, barely enough to support her mother and her children. Now, sponge farming triples her income. She has renovated her mother’s house, bought new furniture, and saved money for purchasing her own plot of land.

“Many women here were hesitant at first because of fear or tradition. They thought I was wasting my time,” she says, recounting the early doubts of her neighbors.

Abdallah’s story is part of a larger narrative along Zanzibar’s southeastern coast. Over the past decade, Marine Cultures has trained a dozen women in Jambiani to farm sea sponges, providing them with the tools and knowledge to transition from struggling seaweed farmers to successful aquaculturists. These women are pioneers, navigating the challenges of a new industry and the societal expectations of a conservative, patriarchal community.

“For a long time, we were told that women belong at home,” says Nasir Haji, one of the trainers involved in the program. “These women have proved that they can work and earn a good income for their families.”

The sponges, sold for USD 15 to USD 30 each in tourism shops, are used in cosmetics, bathing products, and baby care. A local farmers’ cooperative ensures that farmers keep 70% of the sale price, with the rest covering operational costs.

“It feels better to earn your own income. You’re free to use it as you please,” says Abdallah.

Hindu Rajabu, second from left and her colleagues sort dried sponges ready for sale. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Overcoming Challenges

The transition to sponge farming hasn’t been without hurdles. In 2018, a population explosion of brittle sea stars—tiny starfish-like creatures that burrow into sponges—devastated the farms, killing nearly half the sponges. The following year, a thick bloom of green algae threatened to suffocate the young sponges, forcing farmers to spend extra hours cleaning the ropes. Each season brings new challenges, but the farmers have learned to adapt.

“We learn new tactics every now and then to keep away pathogens and ensure our sponges are healthy,” says Abdallah.

The resilience of these women has drawn attention from across the globe. Marine Cultures has begun working with communities in mainland Tanzania, Madagascar, and the Seychelles to replicate the model. The organization’s founder, Christian Vaterlaus, believes sponge farming could transform coastal economies while protecting fragile marine ecosystems.

“Sustainable, community-based aquaculture is a win-win,” Vaterlaus said. “It provides income for people who need it most and helps preserve the environment.”

Leonard Chauka, a marine scientist at the Institute of Marine Sciences, University of Dar es Salaam, agrees. “Sponge farming is a lifeline for women, providing stable incomes without depleting marine resources,” he says. “Ecologically, sponges are nature’s filters—they clean the water and create habitats for marine life.”

Chauka explained that the simple farming process requires minimal equipment and no external feed, making it affordable and sustainable.

Ripples of Change

Chauka’s comments are echoed by Vaterlaus, who sees sponge farming as a sustainable solution to economic and environmental challenges.

“These women are showing us what’s possible,” Vaterlaus says. “When you invest in communities and the environment together, everyone benefits.”

Unlike wild sponge harvesting, which has harmed ecosystems in other parts of the world, farming sponges is environmentally benign. The sponges filter water, support marine biodiversity, and may even help combat climate change by playing a role in regulating the ocean’s carbon cycle.

A Brighter Future

For women like 31-year-old Hindu Rajabu, the stakes are deeply personal. As a mother of two, Rajabu struggled to support her children on the meager income she earned growing seaweed. Sponge farming changed everything.

“I have earned good income, and I am using part of it to build my own house,” she says, as she gently clears algae from a sponge. “I’m proud of myself.”

The initiative hasn’t cleared all obstacles. Many in Jambiani still view swimming as taboo for women. Marine Cultures has made swimming lessons mandatory, a critical skill for farmers working underwater.

“I was very scared to get into the sea. But after learning how to swim, I feel confident, and I actually enjoy being out there tending my sponges,” says Abdallah.

Back onshore, the women gather at a small processing center to prepare their sponges for market. They clean, sort, and package each one, their laughter and chatter filling the salty air. Every sponge carries a label: “Sustainably Farmed in Zanzibar.”

A Lifeline

At sunset, Abdallah walks home with her gear slung over her shoulder. Her children run to meet her, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves.

“The ocean is giving us a chance—a real chance—to build something better,” she says.
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José Carlos Castro, founding partner and former president of the Arteza Cooperative in Ribeira, Paraíba state, northeastern Brazil. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

By Carlos Müller
CABACEIRAS, Brazil, Nov 11 2024 (IPS)

The small community of Ribeira stands out in the Northeast, the poorest region of Brazil. There is no unemployment here. One in five inhabitants make a living directly or indirectly from the Arteza Cooperative of Tanners and Leather Artisans.

“An idea has the power to transform your world,” said in a philosophical tone Ângelo Macio, president of Arteza, recalling the creation of the cooperative in 1998 under the impulse of a Dutch priest who no longer lives in the region.

“You come to the community and you don’t see unemployed young people, they all work in the workshops, they have their income, they raise their children, they have their houses… their transport. Everything comes from the leather activity”, he said, while showing a sandal made by one of the cooperative’s artisans.

This is the case of Tarcisio de Andrade, 29, and a member of the cooperative for seven years. “I am married and have a son. My wife doesn’t work, but we all live off my work in Arteza. I don’t plan to leave Ribeira,” he said while making a sandal.

The expansion of the cooperative, which has a tannery, a shop selling supplies and tools, other shops selling its products and online commerce, has boosted the local economy. At first, the tannery processed 800 hides per month, then it spiked to 12,000, a number the members had never thought they would reach. Nowadays they process 20,000 hides.

The 1,700 residents of Ribeira seem to believe that anything is possible.

Before, there was no petrol station, no department shops, and no pharmacy. Thanks to the cooperative’s earnings, now they have all that, and people don’t have to travel 13 kilometres to Cabaceiras, the capital of the municipality of 5,300 inhabitants, of which Ribeira is a part.

The headquarters of the Arteza Cooperative in Ribeira, municipality of Cabeceiras, in the microregion of Cariri, with a long tradition of leather work. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Solar energy, the driver

The cooperative’s success is largely due to solar energy. In 2018, it received equipment worth US$ 58,728 from the government of the state of Paraíba, where the municipality is located, with resources from the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD).

The savings obtained with the 170 panels installed were decisive.

“Solar energy was a milestone in our history. Today we would be paying 10,000 reais (US$ 1,755) in electricity bills in the tannery alone, and now it’s down to 600 reais (US$ 105). We were able to buy two new machines that allowed us to increase production and improve the quality of the hides,” Macio said.

There was no longer any need to increase the number of panels because when they were installed they were already double what was needed at the time. Today, with this energy, it would be possible to double production and process 40,000 hides.

The original plan was to install photovoltaic panels on the roof of the tannery, but the cooperative’s board of directors came up with a better idea: to build a new roof.

Thus, they increased the drying area for the hides and they seized the opportunity to collect water from the scarce rainfall for the water-consuming treatment of the hides. Apart from the economy, the old roof could only dry 300 skins. Under the solar panels it is possible to dry 2,500.

There is no unemployment in Ribeira, a community of 1,700 inhabitants in northeastern Brazil, says Ângelo Macio, president of Arteza cooperative. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Tradition in leather

At the beginning, the 28 founding members of Arteza were supported by the Brazilian Micro and Small Business Support Service (Sebrae), a private entity financed through a compulsory contribution from the companies. There are now 78 partners, benefiting some 400 families.

The entire micro-region of Cariri, where the municipality is located, and especially Ribeira, have a long tradition of leather work.

Macio’s great-grandfather worked with leather, but his product was rustic and consisted mainly of coarse clothes, hats and work utensils used by the herders to navigate the caatinga, the predominant biome in the northeastern interior with many thorny plants.

The cooperative’s production evolved from traditional products due to the decline of extensive cattle raising and young people’s desire for more modern products. Today, work clothes account for some 10% of the total.

Currently, the flagship product are sandals, which account for about 60% of the total production, including wallets, women’s bags and backpacks, the most expensive product, which cost the equivalent of 150 dollars.

By joining the cooperative, artisans can buy inputs such as glue and tools, as well as leather at cost price. Those who are not members and have other suppliers pay 40% more on average. Members do not need to worry about sales: they hand over the product to the cooperative, which negotiates it with the traders.

When the cooperative receives the money from the sales, it deducts the value of the inputs that the members have withdrawn. In the end, they receive a 30% profit in average.

Some artisans, however, remain faithful to traditional products. This is the case of José Guimarães de Souza, who specialised in the production of quaint ‘horn hats’.

Zé, as everybody knows him, is not a member of the cooperative, although his workshop is 100 metres from it. He learned the trade from his father, whom he reveres with a photo next to a crucifix as if he were an icon. He buys the raw material and sells his hats through a local merchant.

The cooperatives’ products are sold in craft shops all over Brazil, especially in the cities of the Northeast, where the Arteza brand is already recognised. That is why, with Sebrae’s support, the cooperative is working to establish the products’ designation of origin with their own seal next year.

The Arteza cooperative in northeastern Brazil has built a new warehouse to expand the drying of hides and install 170 solar panels, enough to generate twice the energy currently consumed by the tannery. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

“Tomorrow, anything can happen…”

In front of Souza’s workshop, called ‘Zé’s Crafts – The King of the Horn Hat’, a graffiti catches the eye. It reads: “Don’t worry, everything can happen tomorrow, even nothing”. It is the first verse of a local folk song called “The nature of things”.

The tannery was processing 16,000 skins when the pandemic started, forcing the cooperative to suspend work for more than six months. It has now reached 20,000 units. The cooperative’s income grew by 70%, including leather and handicrafts.

“The pandemic’s impact was huge. We went almost to the bottom of the well,” Macio recalled. In late 2021, the cooperative started promoting its products through Instagram and other social media to sell online. At first, this type of sales amounted to 20% of the total. Today it reaches between 35% and 40%.

In Cariri there is not so much leather and the cooperative is forced to buy it from other states. Now the cooperative’s problem is finding raw materials and labour because everyone in the community, especially young people, is already employed.

“Handicrafts have been my survival. Through it I have raised my whole family without having to leave my beloved land”, said José Carlos Castro, a founding member and former president of the cooperative. He currently works in the tannery, doing heavy work: removing the hair and defective parts of the skins.

The “chapéus de chifre”, as the traditional horn hats are called, handcrafted by José Guimarães de Souza and displayed in his workshop, next to the Arteza Cooperative, in the Ribeira community. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Sustainability

Arteza is the only tannery that works with natural products, such as the bark of anjico (Parapiptadenia rígida), a tree native to several South American countries. The tanning process lasts one month. If chemicals, such as chromium, were used, it would only take two days.

“We maintain a natural process to avoid environmental damage and harm to people. The natural process is in our DNA,” Macio explained. But difficulties arise. Existing trees in the region are not enough, although the cooperative avoids predatory consumption.

A few years ago, when the bark was removed, the tree died. Nowadays, the tree is cut down and sprouts again, and can be cut down again after five to six years. From what has been cut, the bark is removed, put through a shredder and placed in tanks with water where it releases the tannin.

When the tannin is gone, the bark is used as mulch for planting fodder palm, a type of cactus used for animal feed in the dry season.

The water is treated and disposed of in the wild and the shelled sticks of the anjicos are used for fencing.

Members of the Masehual Siumaje Mosenyolchicauani women's cooperative, who teach weaving and other crafts of the Nahua people, in Cuetzalan del Progreso, central Mexico. Credit: Courtesy of Taselotzin

By Emilio Godoy
MEXICO CITY, Nov 5 2024 (IPS)

What began as a search for fair prices for indigenous handicrafts in 1985 has evolved into a women’s organisation in Mexico that promotes climate justice while advocating for land and environmental rights.

“We set ourselves the very broad goal of achieving access for women to a more dignified life, and we did that through various activities,” Rufina Villa, an indigenous Nahua woman, told IPS.

“We thought we were only going to make handicrafts, but with the meetings we saw that it was important to do other things,” said the founder of the Masehual Siuamej Mosenyolchicauani (indigenous women who support each other, in the Náhualt language) cooperative.“We are constantly training to improve our services. We started learning about the problems of pollution in our environment, to see places with deforestation, damage caused by mass tourism”: Rufina Villa.

These initiatives include women’s literacy, human rights training, product quality improvement, economic autonomy and environmental protection in Cuetzalan del Progreso, in the central state of Puebla, some 297 kilometres south of Mexico City.

Nestled among mountains in the region known as the Sierra Norte, Cuetzalan is a rural municipality, called a ‘magical town’ because of its location, with cloud forests, waterfalls and caves, among other scenic beauties, and a majority indigenous population.

Founded by 25 women, in its first stage the cooperative focused on protecting the environment by separating waste, making compost for their crops and farming with agro-ecological practices. It has also always protected the springs that supply water to Cuetzalan and encouraged energy transition to less polluting alternatives.

“We were pioneers in supporting community tourism to protect the territory. We are constantly training to improve our services. We began to learn about the problems of pollution in our environment, to see places with deforestation, damage caused by mass tourism,” continued the 69-year-old activist and mother of four daughters and four sons.

Although the cooperative does not explicitly link its activities to the search for climate justice, they aim to solve, at least in their community, the environmental and climate problems that others have created.

Cuetzalan del Progreso, in the central state of Puebla. Credit: Secretary of Tourism

Climate justice revolves around economic equity, security and gender equality and seeks solutions to the inequalities created by the causes and consequences of the climate crisis among individuals and groups of people.

After building a hotel in 1997, whose caretaker is Villa’s husband, the organisation invested some USD 20,000 in 2022 in the installation of solar panels, an amount already recouped, in a push for energy transition in an area where hydroelectric and fossil plants supply most of the electricity.

To cut gas and electricity costs, they also installed solar water heaters the following year.

The Taselotzin (Nahuatl for ‘offshoot’) Hotel, set in a nurturing environment, offers private rooms, cabins and dormitories, as well as ecotourism services, highlighting the value of the forest and water sources. On the premises, members of the cooperative also teach how to make and appreciate Nahua weavings and other handicrafts.

It belongs to the Huitziki Tijit (Náhualth for ‘hummingbird’s path’) Tourism Network, which operates in five Puebla municipalities with a majority Nahua population and great ecological value, among them Cuetzelan.

In 1997, a cooperative of Nahua women founded the Taselotzin ecotourism hotel, in the indigenous municipality of Cuetzalan del Progreso, in the state of Puebla. Credit: Courtesy of Taselotzin

Growing risks

Like other regions of Mexico, a country vulnerable to the effects of the climate crisis, Cuetzalan, with some 50,000 people in 2020, is suffering from climate impacts.

Between March and June this year, the municipality experienced severe, extreme and exceptional droughts, which had not happened so far this century, according to the governmental National Meteorological System’s Drought Monitor.

In addition, it lost 1,000 hectares of tree cover from 2001 to 2023, equivalent to a 12 percent decrease since 2000, according to data from the international platform Global Forest Watch. In 2023, it lost 86 hectares, the highest figure since 2019 (108).

“The land is bountiful. We have been through a lot and we are still standing,” said Doña Rufi, as she is affectionately known in the area, which cultivates milpa, an ancestral system that combines the planting of corn, beans, squash and chili peppers, as well as coffee, bananas and medicinal plants.

This century, the communities of Cuetzalan have faced threats to water, such as mass tourism, mining and hydroelectric initiatives, as well as electricity and oil projects of the state-owned Petróleos Mexicanos and Federal Electricity Commission.

A woman weaves on a loom in the indigenous municipality of Cuetzalan del Progreso, central Mexico. Credit: Government of Puebla

The Cuetzalan Ecological Territorial Planning Program, created in 2010, regulates land use in the municipality.

Most of Cuetzalan’s water supply relies on springs. More than 80 community water committees operate and are responsible for water transfer infrastructure and maintenance, but the drought is affecting these sources.

“The drought has been hard, although now it is raining. We protect the springs and that is why we have opposed projects of death”, as the Nahua villagers call works that destroy the environment, said Villa.

The cooperative is made up of 100 Nahua women from six of the municipality’s communities. It is one of some 100 women’s cooperatives, out of a total of 8,000 operating in the country.

Two farmers check the flow of water coming from the springs, the main source of supply for the indigenous municipality of Cuetzalan del Progreso in the Mexican state of Puebla. Credit: Cupreder

Absent

Mexico’s public policies lack a climate justice perspective, which is reflected in the territory.

The latest update of Mexico’s Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC), the set of voluntary climate policies that each country adopts as part of the Paris Agreement, mentions climate justice only once and does not link any of the measures to it.

The same is true of Puebla’s 2021-2030 State Climate Change Strategy.

Hilda Salazar, founder of the non-governmental organisation Mujer y Ambiente, believes the ‘powerful’ concept of climate justice has permeated little in Mexico’s municipalities and communities.

“There has been no vision of climate justice. In recent years, because of the severe impacts, they have begun to introduce the concept, but without much clarity about what we are talking about,” she told IPS in an interview in Mexico City.

“The state and municipal governments have a great lack of knowledge. When it comes to implementation, it is seen as an environmental issue, not as development, and it is divorced from the climate agenda”, she adds.

A banner rejecting megaprojects in the indigenous municipality of Cuetzalan del Progreso, in the central Mexican state of Puebla. Credit: Cupreder

In Mexico, the courts have received at least 23 lawsuits related to climate issues, a far cry from Brazil’s 89 cases. Few have been successful and fewer still were linked to climate justice.

In this scenario, processes such as those of the Cuetzalan cooperative could motivate more local communities to undertake their own.

Villa appreciated several lessons learned from the cooperative’s longstanding work.

“We know how to organize, which one person cannot achieve alone—to continue establishing networks, to know what is happening in other regions, it is important to take care of our environment and our culture, defend our collective rights, our autonomy as women, as people, as indigenous people,” she stressed.

And she believes it is important to pass this on to younger women. “Women used to work at home, but now they go out to sell their products, such as coffee, cinnamon, honey, or work in tourism,” she said.

According to Salazar, who is also a member of the non-governmental Gender and Environment Network, there is a lack of legislation, programmes and land policies.

“It is a structural problem. It does not reach the dimension it should have because of the impacts, and policies divorce economic, technological, social and cultural aspects. There are disadvantages (for women) from access to information to participation and implementation,” she said.

In her opinion, the gender approach has the virtue, in environmental and climate issues, of putting asymmetries and inequalities at the centre. “It strikes at the heart,” she said.

IPS UN Bureau Report

This feature piece is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.

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Excerpt:

The headquarters of the Capribom agro-industrial cooperative with its roofs covered with photovoltaic panels, in Monteiro, northeastern Brazil. Credit: Courtesy of Capribom

By Carlos Müller
MONTEIRO, Brazil, Nov 1 2024 (IPS)

“Ixe! If it wasn’t for solar energy, we would have closed down, you can be sure. We had to stop due to the pandemic on 15 March 2020, but the energy costs were fixed,” said Erika Cazuza, administrative and financial manager of the Brazilian Cooperative of Rural Producers of Monteiro (Capribom).

Ixe is a word used in the Northeast region of Brazil, which means Virgin and reflects its deep-rooted religious culture.“The solar system caused a 90% reduction in energy costs, which guaranteed operations, even during the pandemic”: Fabricio de Souza Ferreira.

Monteiro, with just over 33,000 people, is a municipality in the driest part of the semi-arid ecoregion, with an area of 1.03 million square kilometres covering several states in the Northeast and a population of 27 million, where rainfall averages only about 600 millimetres per year.

The semi-arid region is also affected by severe droughts that can last for several years, as happened in 2012-2017 in most of the ecoregion. Located on a plateau, at an altitude of 600 metres, Monteiro has a pleasant climate in its 992 square kilometres.

Thanks largely to Capribom, Monteiro, where extensive livestock farming has been the main economic activity since the 18th century, has gone from ranking 126th in gross domestic product (GDP) to 14th among the municipalities of the state of Paraiba, of which it is the largest.

Erika Cazuza, administrative and financial manager of Capribom. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

When talking about solar energy, Cazuza was referring to the 316 panels and other photovoltaic generation equipment installed in 2018 on the roofs of the cooperative’s plant headquarters, in the district of Fazenda Morro Fechado, a transition zone between the rural area and the urban centre of Monteiro.

The investment was made with non-refundable resources from an International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) loan to the government of Paraíba, equivalent to US$62,970, with a counterpart of US$1,830 from the cooperative itself.

“The solar system caused a 90% reduction in energy costs, which guaranteed operations, even during the pandemic,” the cooperative’s president, Fabrício de Souza Ferreira, told IPS. These costs used to be as high as US$2,280 dollars a month.

Goats are better adapted to the semi-arid biome and family farmers have improved their herds by crossing rustic breeds with others that produce more meat and milk in this ecoregion of northeastern Brazil. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Savings brought trucks

The savings enabled the purchase of a truck for distribution of products, which was previously carried out by hired transporters.

Now, the cooperative has six trucks for milk collection and product distribution (yoghurt, cheese, butter, dulce de leche, cottage cheese and others), which have grown from six to 20, with different flavours and presentations.

In recent years, the governments of the Northeastern states have been promoting the production and consumption of goat cheeses. Between 23 and 26 October, the Paraíba Cheese and Cachaça Salon was held in the Paraiba capital, João Pessoa. Capribom presented 12 products and all of them won medals: eight gold and four silver.

Capribom faced great difficulties when the covid-19 pandemic hit the region and the public procurement programmes for food from family farming were suspended for four months.

“Before the pandemic, we had 400 members, four of whom died. With the pandemic, the number of those still supplying milk dropped to 250 because we were still working and could not leave them stranded, although all our employees got sick,” said an emotional Ferreira.

What sustained production then was the supply of milk to the army and the emerging local private market. Deliveries to schools resumed after a few months. Despite the suspension of classes, students still picked up their processed meals.

As the pandemic passed, recovery was vigorous. Today, Capribom, founded in 2006, has 583 registered members and 80 members awaiting approval of their applications by the members’ assembly.

Solar energy enabled dramatic savings in electricity that allowed the Capribom dairy cooperative to buy its first truck. Now it has six trucks collecting milk from producers and distributing their dairy products. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Increased production

In September this year, the dairy plant was processing 18,000 litres of milk per day, of which 12,000 were cow milk and 6,000 were goat milk. Some 15% was produced in three settlements (communities of farmers settled by the agrarian reform) in the region.

Before the pandemic, there were 10,000 litres in total, which in 2020 was reduced to 7,000, of which 3,000 were from goats, explained Ferreira during a tour of the plant.

Initially, the solar installation generated surplus energy, which was used in the milk coolers at the collection centres. The recent expansion required the installation of another 100 solar panels and related equipment, now with the cooperative’s own resources.

“We still have a deficit because the new machines, cooler, pasteuriser and yoghurt maker (3,000 litres) consume a lot of energy, but they have reduced losses. We will need 50 more”, said Ferreira, with satisfaction. Expanding production will require another cold room and more energy, he adds.

In fact, turnover has multiplied. Before the pandemic, Capribom sold the equivalent of two million litres a year; now it’s around seven million.

And the results directly benefit the cooperative’s members, who are guaranteed placement of their production and receive the equivalent of US$0.40 per litre delivered, while other buyers pay only US$0.32.

The president of the Capribom cooperative, Fabrício de Souza Ferreira, with milk treatment equipment. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Capribom’s achievements do not only benefit its members. Although cooperatives in Brazil are exempt from some taxes, the agribusiness contributes around 25% of the revenue of the municipality of Monteiro.

In addition to tax benefits, Brazilian cooperatives have preferential treatment in public tenders.

This allows family farming cooperatives to place their products with stable prices and terms, but has bureaucratic drawbacks and relies on public policies.

Among these initiatives is the National School Feeding Programme (PNAE), which reaches 41 million students in public schools throughout the country, with resources from the federal government transferred to states and municipalities.

This is also the case of the Food Acquisition Programme, through which the government buys food produced by family farming and transfers it to public and welfare entities and so-called popular restaurants.

Public procurement used to absorb 90% of Capribom’s production, a percentage that is now down to 70%. Reducing dependence on government programmes and expanding its market are two of the cooperative’s objectives.

“With other family farming cooperatives, we created a central cooperative, called Nordestina, to jointly sell everything from dairy products to fruit pulp, tubers, free-range chickens and eggs, which allows us to reach more markets with reduced costs,” Ferreira said.

Wesley Cristyan Batista da Silva, a graduate in agroecology who has been working for two months on the evaluation of milk delivered by producers at the Capribom agroindustrial plant. Credit: Carlos Müller / IPS

Slaughterhouse recovery

The most important project for the end of 2024 is to put into operation the Goat and Sheep Slaughterhouse of Monteiro, located next to Capribom’s own slaughterhouse.

This agro-industry was built by the national government in 2000 and handed over to a consortium of municipalities. The management contract expired and the facilities were never put into operation. They were looted or became scrap metal.

“In the current government, technicians visited us and saw the potential. We negotiated with the state government and the mayor’s office. The national government passed the facilities to the state, which passed them on to the mayor’s office, and the mayor’s office gave Capribom a transfer of use,” Ferreira said.

The cooperative recovered part of the equipment. The government of Paraíba is acquiring new cold rooms and installing them on site.

With a capacity to slaughter 120 small animals daily (goats and sheep, and eventually pigs), the slaughterhouse will be the only one in Paraíba complying with the sanitary standards required by Brazilian legislation and will be able to participate in public procurement programmes.

Deboned cuts of sheep and goat meat will be sent to schools. Whole pieces will be sent to other entities, but Ferreira does not lose sight of the market for special cuts. “It’s a small market, but it’s a gourmet type market,” he explained.

Capribom has 50 employees, and another 30 will work in the slaughterhouse when it starts to operate normally.

According to administrative director Cazuza, 80% of the employees are children of the cooperative members.

This is the case of Wesley Cristyan Batista da Silva, who has a degree in agro-ecology and has been working for two months evaluating the milk delivered by the producers to the dairy and providing them with technical assistance.

Historically, young people from family farming emigrated from the semi-arid region due to a lack of study and work opportunities.

Da Silva is part of a different generation. He has a university degree and combines collaboration in the family property with employment in the cooperative. “Am I satisfied? Yes. It was what I wanted and what I intend to continue doing,” he told IPS confidently.

Residents pose behind the sprinkler that irrigates an alfalfa field thanks to the energy generated by a photovoltaic panel installed on Fanny Lastra's property in Mirador de Bío Bío, Chile. Credit: Courtesy of Fresia Lastra

By Orlando Milesi
SANTIAGO, Oct 29 2024 (IPS)

The production of solar energy by means of panels installed on small farmers’ properties or on the roofs of community organisations is starting to directly benefit more and more farmers in Chile.

This energy enables technified irrigation systems, pumping water and lowering farmers’ bills by supporting their business. It also enables farmers’ cooperatives to share the fruits of their surpluses.

The huge solar and wind energy potential of this elongated country of 19.5 million people is the basis for a shift that is beginning to benefit not only large generators.

The potential capacity of solar and wind power generation is estimated at 2,400 gigawatts, which is 80 times more than the total capacity of the current Chilean energy matrix.

The mayor of Las Cabras, Juan Pablo Flores, first on the left, on the roof of the building of his Municipality along with employees who installed the photovoltaic panels that will allow energy savings of more than US$ 10,000 per year. Credit: Courtesy of Municipality of Las Cabras

Two farming families

Fanny Lastra, 55, was born in the municipality of Mulchén, 550 kilometres south of Santiago, located in the centre of the country in the Bío Bío region. She has lived in the rural sector of Mirador del Bío Bío in the town since she was 8.

“We won a grant of 12 million pesos (US$12,600) to install a photovoltaic system with sprinklers to make better use of the little water we have on our five-hectare farm and have good alfalfa crops to feed the animals,” she told IPS from her home town.“We used to irrigate all night, we didn't sleep, and now we can optimise irrigation¨: Fanny Lastra.

She refers to the resources provided to applicants who are selected on the basis of their background and the situation of their farms by two government bodies, mostly through grants: the National Irrigation Commission (CNR) and the Institute for Agricultural Development (Indap).

“Before we had to irrigate all night, we didn’t sleep, and now we can optimise irrigation. The panel gives us the energy to expel the water through sprinklers. In the future we plan to apply for another photovoltaic panel to draw water and fill a storage pool,” Lastra said.

The area has received abundant rainfall this year, but a larger pond would allow to store water for dry periods, which are increasingly recurrent.

“We have water shares (rights), but there are so many of us small farmers that we have to schedule. In my case, every nine days I have 28 hours of water. That’s why we applied for another project,” she said.

Lastra works with her children on the plot, which is mainly dedicated to livestock.

The conversion of agricultural land like hers into plots for second homes, which is rampant in many regions of Chile, has also reached Bío Bío and caused Lastra problems. For example, dogs abandoned by their owners have killed 50 of her lambs in recent times.

That is why she will gradually switch to raising larger livestock to continue with Granny’s Tradition, as she christened her production of fresh, mature cheeses and dulce de leche.

Marisol Pérez, 53, produces vegetables in greenhouses and outdoors on her half-hectare plot in the town of San Ramón, within the municipality of Quillón, 448 kilometres south of Santiago, also in the Bío Bío region.

In February 2023 she was affected by a huge fire. “Two greenhouses, a warehouse with motor cultivators, fumigators and all the machinery burnt down. And a poultry house with 200 birds that cost 4500 pesos (US$ 4.7) each. Thank God we saved part of the house and the photovoltaic panel,” She told IPS from his home town.

Pérez has been working the land with her sister and their husbands for 11 years.

“We started with irrigation and a solar panel.  After the fire we reapplied to the CNR. As the panel didn’t burn, they helped us with the greenhouse. The government gives us a certain amount and we have to put in at least 10%,” she explained.

The first subsidy was the equivalent of US$1,053 and the second, after the fire, was US$842. With both she was able to reinstall the drip system and rebuild the greenhouse, now made of metal.

“Having a solar panel allows us to save a lot. Before, we were paying almost 200,000 pesos (US$210) a month. With what we saved with the panel, we now pay 6,000 pesos (US$6.3)”, she explained with satisfaction.

In her opinion, “the solar panel is a very good thing.  If I don’t use water for the greenhouses, I use it for my house. We live off what we harvest and plant. That’s our life. And I am happy like that,” she said.

Ignacio Mena, Coopeumo network administrator, in front of the warehouse where photovoltaic panels were installed. Credit: Orlando Milesi / IPS

The cases of one cooperative and two municipalities

The proliferation of solar panels is also due to the drop in their price. Solarity, a Chilean solar power company, reported that prices are at historic lows.

In 2021 its value per kilowatt (kWp) was 292 dollars. It increased to 300 in 2022, then dropped to 202 and reached 128 dollars in 2024.

In 2021 the Cooperativa Intercomunal Peumo (Coopeumo) commissioned the first community photovoltaic plant in Chile. Today it has 54.2 kWp installed in two plants, with about 120 panels in total.

The energy generated is used in some of its own facilities and the surplus is injected into the Compañía General de Electricidad (CGE), a private distributor, which pays its contribution every month.

This amount contributes to improving support for its 350 members, all farmers in the area, including technical assistance, the sale of agricultural inputs, grain marketing and tax consultancy.

Coopeumo’s goals also include reducing carbon dioxide (C02) emissions into the atmosphere and benefiting its members.

It also benefits the municipalities of Pichidegua and Las Cabras, located 167 and 152 kilometres south of Santiago, as well as school, health and neighbourhood establishments.

“The energy savings in a typical month, like August 2024, was 492,266 pesos (US$518),” said Ignacio Mena, 37, and a computer engineer who works as a network administrator for Coopeumo, based in the municipality of Peumo, in the O’Higgins region, which borders the Santiago Metropolitan Region to the south.

Interviewed by IPS at his office in Pichidegua, he said the construction of the first plant cost the equivalent of US$42,105, contributed equally by Coopeumo and the private foundation  Agencia de Sostenibilidad Energética.

Constanza López, 35, a risk prevention engineer and head of the environmental unit of the Las Cabras municipality, appreciates the contribution of the panels installed on the roof of the municipal building. They have an output of 54 kilowatts and have been in operation since 2023.

“We awarded them through the Energy Sustainability Agency.  They funded 30 percent and we funded the rest,” she told IPS at the municipal offices. “This year is the first that the programme is fully operational and we should reach maximum production,” she said.

In the case of the municipality of Las Cabras, the estimated annual savings is about US$10,605.

An expert explains to a group of small farmers at Mirador de Bío Bío the benefits and operation of solar panels. Credit: Courtesy of Fresia Lastra

Panels and family farming, a virtuous cycle

There is a virtuous cycle between the use of panels and savings for small farmers. The Ministry of Energy estimates this saving at around 15% for small farms.

“The use of solar technology for self-consumption is a viable alternative for users in the agricultural sector. More and more systems are being installed, which make it possible to lower customers‘ electricity bills,” the ministry said in a written response.

Since 2015, successive governments have promoted the use of renewable energy, particularly photovoltaic systems for self-consumption, within the agricultural sector.

“There has been a steady growth in the number of projects using renewable energy for self-consumption. In total, 1,741 irrigation projects have been carried out with a capacity of 13,852 kW and a total investment of 59,951 million pesos (US$63.1 million),” the ministry said.

The CNR told IPS that so far in 2024 it has subsidised more than 1,000 projects, submitted by farmers across Chile.

“This is an investment close to 78 billion pesos (US$82.1 million), taking into account subsidies close to 62 billion pesos (US$65.2) plus the contribution of irrigators,” it said.

Of these projects, at least 270 incorporate non-conventional renewable energies, “such as photovoltaic systems associated with irrigation works”, it added.

According to the National Electricity Coordinator, the autonomous technical body that coordinates the entire Chilean electricity system, between September 2023 and August 2024, combined wind and solar generation in Chile amounted to 28,489 gigawatt hours.

In the first quarter of 2024, non-conventional renewable energies, such as solar and wind among others, accounted for 41% of electricity generation in Chile, according to figures from the same technical body.

Farmers, traders and consumers at the Mbare Musika Territorial Market in Harare, Zimbabwe. Credit: Isaiah Esipisu/IPS

By Isaiah Esipisu
HARARE, Oct 4 2024 (IPS)

African policymakers, local leaders and the private sector have been asked to create an enabling environment that will help African traders and farmer folks build reliable systems for food security and resilience through territorial markets.

During a week-long 2024 Africa Agroecological Entrepreneurship and Seed Festival in Harare, Zimbabwe, experts observed that persistent crises have shown the importance of resilient close-to-home ‘territorial’ markets that feed billions of people every day—from public markets and street vendors to cooperatives, from urban agriculture to online direct sales, and from food hubs to community kitchens. 

“For instance, following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, global food prices spiked by 15 percent, forcing policymakers around the world to question how to reduce dependency on volatile global markets and strengthen food self-sufficiency,” said Dr. Million Belay, the General Coordinator at the Alliance for Food Sovereignty in Africa (AFSA). 

“Further, questions have been raised about how people are actually fed and by whom, prompting us to ask: in this century of crisis, what kinds of food supply chains and markets can build resilience and help fulfill the right to food—nourishing people around the world more sustainably and equitably?” asked Belay.

To answer the question, experts are calling for policies and a sound working environment that will empower territorial markets that promote dietary diversity and affordable nutritious foods for all, allow producers and food workers to retain control over their livelihoods, and produce food that is adaptable to climate change shocks and emerging crises.

These markets have been broadly defined as markets that are centered on small-scale agroecological food producers and business owners that produce and sell a variety of commodities, and often meet the preferences of the majority of farmers, traders and consumers.

Studies have shown that these markets play a crucial role in making food accessible and affordable, especially for low-income populations in the Global South, allowing for the purchase of small and flexible quantities of food, price bargaining, informal credit arrangements, and being located in or near low-income neighborhoods.

A new study launched on the sidelines of the Harare event that culminated into the fifth Biennial Africa Food Systems Conference, however, shows that profit-oriented corporate value chains are highly concentrated in Africa’s market places.

The report, titled ‘Food from Somewhere,’ by the International Panel of Experts on Sustainable Food Systems (IPES Food), finds that just seven grain traders control at least 50 percent of the global grain trade, six major corporations control 78 percent of the agrochemical market, the top eight carriers of freight account for more than 80 percent of the market for ocean freight capacity and globally, 1 percent of the world’s largest farms control 70 percent of the world’s farmland.

This, according to experts, amounts to a corporate capture of Africa’s food systems.

The report is therefore advocating for a paradigm shift, urging governments to reinvest in local and regional supply infrastructure, relocalize public purchasing and develop food security strategies for a more resilient and equitable approach to food security.

“The problem for smallholders is not of being connected to markets (most are already involved in markets) but rather the conditions of their access and the rules and logics by which markets operate—who determines prices and on what criteria, who controls the costs of production, who holds market power, among other issues,” said Mamadou Goïta, a member of IPES and the lead author.

A spot check at the Mbare Musika territorial market in Harare found a variety of foodstuffs sourced from all eight regions of Zimbabwe, among others from neighboring countries, such as apples and other fruits from South Africa, fish and ginger from Mozambique, groundnuts from Malawi, sorghum from Botswana, as well as grapes from Egypt and tamarind from Tanzania, among others.

“This is the central hub for smallholder farmers and traders, supporting over seven million people from all over Zimbabwe and other parts of the continent,” said Charles Dhewa, Chief Executive Officer, Knowledge Transfer Africa (KTA), whose flagship known as eMkambo (eMarket) is to create a physical and web-based market for agriculture and rural development, integrating the use of mobile phones and the internet to create, adapt and share knowledge.

Mbare Musika Market, which is in the outskirts of Harare, is located next to the main bus-park, through which food is brought in using informal means such as passenger buses and vans from different parts of the country, in small and big quantities, and of different varieties and qualities.

“The evidence is clear—localized food systems are vital for feeding an increasingly hungry planet and preventing food insecurity and famine,” said Shalmali Guttal, the Executive Director of Focus on the Global South. “They provide nutritious, affordable food and are far more adaptable to global shocks and disruptions than industrial supply chains,” she added.

Jennifer Clapp, professor and Canada Research Chair in Global Food Security and Sustainability at the University of Waterloo, Canada, pointed out that during this time of rising hunger and ecological fragility, global industrial food chains will be catastrophically liable to break down under the strain of frequent crises.

“To have a chance of reaching the world’s zero hunger goal by 2030, we need to re-imagine our food systems, and we need to bolster the food markets that serve the poor,” she said.

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Water partner Aparna Khuntia tests on-premises drinking quality water from a tap for a slum household in Bhubaneswar. Credit: Manipadma Jena/IPS

By Manipadma Jena
BHUBANESWAR, India, Aug 2 2024 (IPS)

“Daily squabbles at the lone water point in Bhubaneswar’s slums, where hundreds of households depended on this single non-potable water source, have now receded into the past,” says Aparna Khuntia, a member of a large cohort of water volunteers who have played an important enabling role in ensuring households in the eastern India city now have their own on-premises potable running tap water available all 24 hours.

No mean feat this, considering that the capital city of India’s eastern state, Odisha, is flooding with much of the outbound rural to urban migrants. Of Odisha’s 8.86 million rural households, one in three has an out-migrant according to government data. Of this, 70% move within the State, a majority landing up in Odisha’s fast developing capital city.

For new migrants into a city, they may set up a shelter using discarded flex advertisement banners with a few bamboo poles but access to water, let alone potable water, remains a huge challenge.

“Even government-recognized slums like our colony in 2019 got just two hours of water supply in a day. Large families who could not store enough faced untold difficulties. Many had to pay for a water tanker every other day. Illegal water connections were rampant, resulting in huge revenue losses for the government,” 36-year-old Khuntia told IPS.

By 2030, 2 billion people will still live without safe drinking water

“The midpoint of our journey to 2030 has passed. The world is on track to achieve only 17 per cent of the targets under the Sustainable Development Goals (SDG),” reveals the recent 2024 United Nations SDG report card.

Goal 6 focusing on ensuring availability and sustainable management of water and sanitation for all, found between 2015 and 2022, the proportion of the global population using safely managed drinking water increased from 69 to 73 per cent according to report. Although more people now access safe drinking water, in 2022, 2.2 billion still went without this basic human right. Achieving universal coverage by 2030 will require a sixfold increase in current rates of progress for safely managed drinking water, it warns.

In 2022, the UN said, roughly half the world’s population experienced severe water scarcity for at least part of the year. One quarter faced “extremely high” levels of water stress.

Such situations were experienced this extreme summer 2024 in India’s largest economic hubs Bangaluru and Delhi.

Climate change worsens these issues. Rating agency Moody’s in June warned water shortage may hit India’s future economic growth.

Even so, according to the report 93.3% of India’s population are now using at least basic drinking water services which UN rates as “moderately improving.”

Women Benefit the Most From Women Water Managers

To further progress on SDG-6, in 2020 when Odisha launched the ‘Drink from Tap Mission’ to dispense certified quality drinking water 24X7 from piped supply installed at each urban household, it created a pool of the women water volunteers. Designated Jal Sathi or water partner, they were stringently selected from among local Self-Help Groups (SHGs), trained and raring to make a difference.

And a difference they did bring about. The government’s implementing Housing and Urban Development department “increased their water tariff collection by around 90 percent,” said Khuntia. Representing community partnership in urban water management, they are key stake-holders in a novel initiative.

A key government official G Mathi Vathanan, who once headed the State-owned non-profit company Water Corporation of Odisha (WATCO) that rolls out the water mission for the State government, even went on to write a book on the women volunteers giving them much of the credit for the initiative’s success.

“The women from SHGs are the ones who helped make reality the goal of bringing water to the doorstep of each household. The mission’s success was due to (their ability to) building people’s trust in the government,” he said.

The service these women volunteers provided to households turned the tide against diarrhea, jaundice, and poor gut health that plagued the poor, especially children.

The UN’s Sustainable Development Report 2024 ranks India on SDG progress at 109 out of 166 indicating a “score moderately improving” but “insufficient to attain goal.”

India’s federal government is mulling replicating Odisha’s Pure Water Scheme’s success in other States.

These women managers helped other householder women by bringing drinking and cooking water to their doorstep, eliminating the disproportionate burden of water on women in India.

Change-Makers’ Contribution: A Working Day in a Water Partner’s Life

Each woman volunteer works with 1,200 designated households, both in her own tenements and higher-end households. This familiarity with her gives her an edge with her clients—of trust, of openness in interactions helping her to achieve what government staff are unable to.

Every month she visits her households, reads the installed water meter, generates the bill and often gets paid too. But for those who are unable to pay, the water-partner will visit again and again urging, cajoling payments.

“We urge them not to waste such a precious commodity like water, and for those who lagged in taking new connection we convinced them to do so,” said Khuntia. With water meters installed and payments mandatory, households tend not to waste water. In slums, bills often were no more than 50 to 65 rupees (less than one dollar), affordable even for the poorest.

“So, this tap drinking water mission was a win-win for both government and consumers,” Khuntia, a mother of two told IPS. It also ensures Sustainable Cities and Communities under SDG-11. Revenue accruing to the government ensures water infrastructure maintenance.

On water-users’ request, Khuntia said they tested the tap water with kits they carried. They also reported water-related issues and information of pipe leaks that compromised water purity, to the government’s maintenance staff who attended immediately.
“Earlier, people would rarely call the staff if they noticed water pipe damages; sometimes it was deliberate, for water theft. But because we visit families often and they are comfortable with us, we get this information very quickly,” she added.

The SDG targets 6–1 of the 2030 Sustainable Development Goals call for universal and equitable access to safe and affordable drinking water for all. The drink from tap mission is a move to achieve this.

According to WATCO, by March 2023, 4.5 million urban residents in 29 Urban Local Bodies out of 115 ULBs in Odisha State have access to or be in line to drink from tap utilities.

Under the scheme, not only water equity is ensured, but sustainability is also ensured by fixing water meters for every household water pipeline. Since households pay for their water, they tend not to waste it.

However, after four years of service, these women volunteers have been demanding better pecuniary recognition for their services. What they get now is 5% of their total bill collection as an incentive, 100 rupees if she enrolls a new customer for a water connection, and a bicycle. Aparna Khuntia told IPS she gives 4 hours a day to this work while her monthly income approximates 5000–7000 rupees (60–84 USD). Much of it is spent supplementing her husband’s 15000 rupees (180 USD) income from plying a three-wheeler auto rickshaw for household expenses, including their one-room rent. What is left over is spent during festivals or when we visit relatives in the village.

“With a government change in the June election this year, Odisha’s new government is reorganizing the entire women’s self-help group set-up. The Jaal Sathis will possibly get a new designation but the programme which has been highly successful, will continue,” WATCO’s chief operating officer, Sarat Chandra Mishra, told IPS.

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

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Leide Aparecida Souza, president of the Association of Residents of the Genipapo Settlement in the rural area of Acreúna, a municipality in central-western Brazil, stands next to breads and pastries from the bakery where 14 rural women work. The women's empowerment and self-esteem have been boosted by the fact that they earn their own income, which is more stable than from farming, and provide an important service to their community. CREDIT: Marina Carolina / IPS

By Mario Osava
ACREÚNA/ORIZONA, Brazil , Apr 16 2024 (IPS)

A bakery, fruit pulp processing and water pumped from springs are empowering women farmers in Goiás, a central-eastern state of Brazil. New renewable energy sources are driving the process.

“We work in the shade and have a secure, stable income, not an unsteady one like in farming. We cannot control the price of milk, nor droughts or pests in the crops,” said Leide Aparecida Souza, who runs a bakery in the rural area of Acreúna, a municipality of 21,500 inhabitants in central Goiás."The Network is the link between the valorization of rural women, family farming and the energy transition. We chose family farmers because they are the ones who produce healthy food." -- Jessyane Ribeiro

The bakery supplies a variety of breads, including cheese buns and hot dog buns, as well as pastries, cakes and biscuits to some 3,000 students in the municipality’s school network, for the government’s school feeding program, which provides family farming with at least 30 percent of its purchases. Welfare institutions are also customers.

The bakery is an initiative of the women of the Genipapo Settlement, established in 1999 by 27 families, as part of the agrarian reform program implemented in Brazil after the 1964-1985 military dictatorship, which has so far settled 1.3 million families on land of their own.

Genipapo, the name chosen for the settlement, is a fruit of the Cerrado, the savannah that dominates a large central area of Brazil. Each settled family received 44 hectares of land and local production is concentrated on soybeans, cassava and its flour, corn, dairy cattle and poultry.

Six solar panels will reduce the costs of the women’s bakery, installed on the former estate where 27 families were given land in Acreúna, in the Brazilian state of Goiás, as part of the country’s ongoing agrarian reform program. CREDIT: Mario Osava / IPS

Bakery empowers rural women

The women of the Association of Residents of the Genipapo Settlement decided to create a bakery as a new source of income 16 years ago. They also gained self-esteem and autonomy by earning their own money. In general, agricultural and livestock income is controlled by the husbands.

Each of the women working at the bakery earns about 1,500 reais (300 dollars) a month, six percent more than the national minimum wage. “We started with 21 participants, now we have 14 available for work, because some moved or quit,” Souza said.

A year ago, the project obtained a solar energy system with six photovoltaic panels from the Women of the Earth Energy project, promoted by the Gepaaf Rural Consultancy, with support from the Socio-environmental Fund of the Caixa Econômica Federal, the regional bank focused on social questions, and the public Federal University of Goiás (UFG).

Gepaaf is the acronym for Management and Project Development in Family Farming Consultancy and its origin is a study group at the UFG. The company is headquartered in Inhumas, a city of 52,000 people, 180 km from Acreúna.

Due to difficulties with the inverter, a device needed to connect the generator to the electricity distribution network, the plant only began operating in March. Now they will see if the savings will suffice to cover the approximately 300 reais (60 dollars) that the bakery’s electricity costs.

Iná de Cubas stands next to the biodigester that she got from the Women of the Earth Energy project in the municipality of Orizona, in the center-east of the Brazilian state of Goiás. The biogas generated benefits the productive activities of small farmers in rural settlements, as do solar plants on a family or community scale. Image: Mario Osava / IPS

“It’s not that much money, but for us every penny counts,” Souza said. Electricity is cheap in their case because it is rural and nocturnal consumption. Bread production starts at 5:00 p.m. and ends at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. from Monday to Thursday, according to Maristela Vieira de Sousa, the group’s secretary.

The industrial oven they use is low-consumption and wood-burning. There is another, gas-fired oven, which is only used in emergencies, “because it is expensive,” said de Sousa. Biogas is a possibility for the future, which would use the settlement’s abundant agricultural waste products.

Alternative energies make agribusiness viable

Iná de Cubas, another beneficiary of the Women of the Earth Energy project, has a biodigester that supplies her stove, in addition to eight solar panels. They generate the energy to produce fruit pulp that also supplies the schools of Orizona, a municipality of 16,000 inhabitants in central-eastern Goiás.

The solar plant, installed two years ago, made the business viable by eliminating the electricity bill, which was high because the two refrigerators needed to store fruit and pulp consume a lot of electricity.

The abundance of fruit residues provides the inputs for biogas production, an innovation in a region where manure is more commonly used.

The refrigerators in which Iná de Cubas keeps the fruit and fruit pulp that she prepares for sale to schools in Orizona in central Brazil consume a great deal of electricity. CREDIT: Mario Osava / IPS

“I only use an additional load of animal feces when I need more biogas,” said Cubas, who gets the manure from her neighbor’s cows, since she does not raise livestock.

On her five hectares of land, Cubas produces numerous species of fruit for her cottage industry.

In addition to typical Brazilian fruits, such as cajá or hog plum (Spondias mombin), pequi or souari nut (Caryocar brasiliense) and jabuticaba from the grapetree (Plinia cauliflora), she grows lemons, mangoes, oranges, guava and avocado, among others.

For the pulp, she also uses fruit from neighbors, mostly relatives. The distribution of her products is done through the Agroecological Association of the State of Goias (Aesagro), which groups 53 families from Orizona and surrounding areas.

Agroecology is the system used on her farm, where the family also grows rice, beans and garlic. The crops are irrigated with water pumped from nearby springs that were recovered by the diversion of a road and by fences to block access by cattle, which used to trample the banks.

“The overall aim is to strengthen family farming, the quality of life in the countryside, incomes, and care for the environment, and to offer healthy food, without poisonous chemicals, especially for schools,” explained Iná de Cubas.

Biodigesters made of steel and cement, solar energy for different purposes, including pumping water, rainwater collection and harvesting, are part of the “technologies” that the Women of the Earth Energy project is trying to disseminate, said Gessyane Ribeiro, Gepaaf’s administrator.

In the area where Iná de Cubas lives, the project installed five biodigesters and seven solar pumps for farming families, in addition to solar plants in schools, she said.

The eight solar panels on the roof of the Cubas family’s house, in the rural area of Orizona, make small agro-industrial processes viable, adding value to the wide diversity of native fruits from different Brazilian ecosystems, such as the Cerrado savannah and the Amazon rainforest, along with species imported throughout the country’s history. CREDIT: Mario Osava / IPS

Network of rural women

The Women of the Earth Energy Network, brought together by the project and coordinated by Ribeiro, operates in six areas defined by the government based on environmental, economic, social and cultural similarities. In all, it involves 42 organizations in 27 municipalities in Goiás.

The local councils choose the beneficiaries of the projects, all implemented with collective work and focused on women’s productive activities and the preservation of the Cerrado. All the beneficiaries commit themselves to contribute to a solidarity fund to finance new projects, explained agronomist Ribeiro.

“The Network is the link between the valorization of rural women, family farming and the energy transition,” she said. “We chose family farmers because they are the ones who produce healthy food.”

“We offer technological solutions that rely on the links between food, water and energy, to move towards an energy transition that can actually address climate change,” said sociologist Agnes Santos, a researcher and communicator for the Network.

Recovering and protecting springs is another of the Women’s Network’s activities.

Two solar panels run a pump installed in a spring in the forest to pump the water needed by the 29 cows owned by Nubia Lacerda Matias’ family in Orizona, in the state of Goiás, near Brasilia. Thus the cows stopped drinking water in the springs, which are now fenced off, vital to protect the water source for local families living downstream. CREDIT: Mario Osava / IPS

Nubia Lacerda Matias celebrates the moment she was invited to join the movement. She won a solar pump, made up of two solar panels and pipes, which bring water to her cattle that used to damage the spring, now protected by a fence and a small forest.

“It’s important not only for my family, but for the people living downhill” where a stream flows, fed by various springs along the way, she said.

But the milk from the 29 cows and corn crops on her 9.4-hectare farm are not enough to support the family with two young children. Her husband, Wanderley dos Anjos, works as a school bus driver.

Iná de Cubas’ partner, Rosalino Lopes, also works as a technician for the Pastoral Land Commission, a Catholic organization dedicated to rural workers.

In his spare time, Lopes invents agricultural machines. He assembles and combines parts of motorcycles, tractors and other tools, in an effort to fill a gap in small agriculture, undervalued by the mechanical industry and scientific research in Brazil.

By restoring the ponds, the community at Patqapara Village, a small hamlet in India's West Bengal State, was able to save their village and livelihoods. Credit: Umar Manzoor Shah/IPS

By Umar Manzoor Shah
PATQAPARA VILLAGE, India, Mar 28 2024 (IPS)

The people of Patqapara Village, a hamlet in India’s West Bengal State, were until recently reeling under absolute distress due to water scarcity. The lack of irrigation facilities in this far-flung and inaccessible hamlet had resulted in a steady decline in agricultural activities.

With a population of around 7,000, as per government estimates, the village primarily depends on agriculture for its livelihood. However, in recent years, drastic changes in weather patterns, including unseasonal rainfall, delayed monsoons, and soaring temperatures above normal levels, led to the drying up of irrigation canals and wells in the village. This left the local population in chaos, as their cultivable fields were bereft of any irrigation facilities.

According to the latest report from the Center for Science and Environment (CSE) on India’s state of the environment in 2023, West Bengal has experienced a significant escalation in the severity of climate change within a short span of one year. The report, released on the eve of World Environment Day in June last year, draws attention to the alarming increase in extreme weather events in Bengal. So far, since 2023, the state has already experienced 24 such events, a stark contrast to the total of 10 events recorded throughout the entire year of 2022.

Furthermore, the report highlights that in 2022, India encountered a staggering 314 extreme weather events out of 365 days, resulting in the loss of over 3,026 lives and damage to 1.96 million hectares of crops. While heatwaves predominated in early 2022, hailstorms have taken precedence as the predominant extreme weather event in 2023.

Babu Ram, a local villager, along with his wife, was contemplating leaving the village and moving to the city to search for menial work for sustenance.

“The irrigation canals used to provide us with livelihood. Besides watering our fields, we used to catch fish from there and sell it in the market, earning a living. But the weather changed everything. No, no—it actually dried everything up,” Ram told IPS.

Teams of workers from the village eagerly participated in the restoration of the ponds. Credit: Umar Manzoor Shah/IPS

Sanjoy Kumar, another farmer, says the water scarcity in the village had taken such a toll that it was feared that people would die due to hunger.

“Our crops failed and our fields became barren. We had no option but to migrate and leave our homes behind. I even worked as a daily wage laborer in the city at a private firm. The wages were meager and the living was getting wretched with each passing day,” Kumar told IPS News.

However, it was last year when the villagers mooted an idea to overcome water scarcity in their hamlet. Extensive deliberations were held between the villagers and local headmen, also known as ‘Panchs’ in the local language.

Through these discussions, a proposal to restore the village’s ponds emerged.

“The irrigation facilities were minimal. In the past, there used to be ponds in almost all major areas of the village, but they were left unutilized as the villagers were unaware of their benefits. Our proposal was to restore these ponds,” explained Babu Sarkar, a senior member of Caritas, a non-government organization that helped the villagers in the restoration of the ponds.

The agency, along with local villagers, identified 30 villagers who were tasked with working two hours every day on a rotational basis for the restoration of these abandoned ponds. Understanding the benefits of this initiative, the villagers formed several groups and enthusiastically undertook the task at hand. They identified and rehabilitated an estimated 15 ponds that had been abandoned, dried up, and forgotten.

Through their tireless efforts, the villagers cleared dust, dirt, and debris from the ponds, allowing water levels to increase and hopes to soar among the once-perturbed villagers.

“Soon, with the arrival of monsoons, rainwater was harvested in these ponds, bringing them back to life. Not only is the project now irrigating local crops, but the villagers are also developing fish farms in them,” Sarkar told IPS News.

Jadhav Prakash, a local farmer, is now involved in fish farming due to these restored ponds and earns a good living.

“I earn about 3 thousand rupees (30 USD) a month by selling fish. Other villagers are also benefiting from the restoration of ponds,” Prakash said.

Sunjoy Kumar, who had left the village, returned to his village earlier this year, hopeful that the fields would never be bereft of water and the lands wouldn’t turn barren again. “I am sowing the crops again with the eager hope that I will never face the hardships again. This is my land and my world. I do not want to go back to the city and face hardships there. I want to live here and work here,” Kumar told IPS.

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Ethnic women in Bangladesh had to traverse a long hilly path to fetch water for their households, but now they can easily collect water from newly-revived springs after the village common forests conservation project. Credit: Rafiqul Islam/IPS

By Rafiqul Islam
RANGAMATI , Mar 22 2024 (IPS)

Just a few years ago, Sudarshana Chakma (35), a resident of the remote Digholchari Debarmatha village under Bilaichari upazila in the Rangamati Hill District, had to traverse a long hilly path to fetch water for her household because there were no local water sources.

“Unchecked deforestation and degradation of village common forests (VCFs) led to the drying up of all-natural water sources in our village. We struggled to collect drinking and household water,” Chakma explained to IPS. 

Ethnic communities in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) rely significantly on forests for their lives and livelihoods. They gather water from natural sources like streams and practice jhum (shifting cultivation) in nearby forests. However, indiscriminate deforestation of the natural resources had dried up springs and streams, causing water scarcity in many areas.

The tide turned when the USAID-funded Chittagong Hill Tracts Watershed Co-Management Activity (CHTWCA) engaged surrounding communities, including those living in Digholchari Debarmatha village, as conservation volunteers to protect Village Common Forests (VCFs) in 2020. This initiative successfully revived springs, ensuring a year-round water supply.

The Strengthening Inclusive Development in Chittagong Hill Tracts Project, which the Ministry of Chittagong Hill Tracts Affairs implemented, has transformed many lives, including Chakmas’.

“Now we can easily fetch water from nearby springs, bringing peace to our lives. Due to the arduous journey ethnic women had to make to fetch water, quarrels over who was going to fetch the water were common in the village and among families. Now, we live in harmony,” said Sudarshana, a mother of four.

Silica Chakma of Digholchari Hajachara village echoed her sentiments, highlighting the voluntary conservation efforts by ethnic communities to ensure an adequate water supply during the dry season.

“Before the restoration of our forests, we faced water scarcity. Now, we have no water crisis, as we collect water four to five times a day from the springs revived in the forests,” she said.

Silica emphasised that village common forests are conserved voluntarily, with strict regulations against harvesting forest resources without the approval of VCF management committees.

Barun Chakma, President of the Digholchari Debarmatha VCF Management Committee, emphasised the shift in mindset, stating that locals now protect the forests voluntarily, contrasting with past practices where trees were felled indiscriminately.

Enhancing Small Agriculture Sustainability

The CHT faces aggravated water crises during the dry season, impacting agriculture and homesteads.

To address this, local ethnic farmers in Digholchari Debarmatha have constructed bamboo-made dams on streams, creating water reservoirs fed by springs from the village common forest.

Pujikka Chakma, a 45-year-old female farmer, is grateful for the progress.

“After conserving the local forests, farmers do not face water scarcity for their agriculture and homesteads. We store spring water in the reservoir to irrigate cropland during the dry season.”

Thirty-seven-year-old Lika Chakma also acknowledged the benefits of the expanded use of spring water in agriculture, including cultivating various crops and ensuring food security for the community.

Conserving Medicinal Plants

In addition to addressing water security, ethnic communities in the Rangamati Hill District have been actively conserving medicinal plants for healthcare and treatments.

Lika Chakma explained, “We conserve medicinal plants in our local forests for use when we fall sick.”

Poitharam Chakma emphasised the importance of these efforts, given limited access to healthcare facilities in remote hilly areas. “Once our forests were degraded, we faced problems collecting medicinal plants. Now, we are conserving those in our forests.”

Barun Chakma provided details of the planting, a few years ago, of various medicinal plants, including Haritaki (myrobalan), Bohera (Terminalia bellirica), and Amloki (Indian gooseberry), in the Digholchari Debarmatha VCF. While acknowledging that it will take time for these plants to yield herbal medicines, he expressed confidence in the community’s ability to support health treatments in the future.

The conservation initiatives run by ethnic communities in Bangladesh address issues with water security, support agricultural sustainability, and protect priceless medicinal plants.

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Seaweed farming using the off-bottom seaweed farming approach—tying algal fonds or seaweed seeds to ropes attached between wooden pegs driven into the ocean sediment. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

By Joyce Chimbi
MWAZARO BEACH, Kenya, Mar 8 2024 (IPS)

Nearly two kilometers into the Indian Ocean from the Mwazaro beach coastline in Lunga Lunga Sub-County, Kwale County, women can be spotted seated in the shallow ocean waters or tying strings to erected poles parallel to the waves. It is a captivating sight to see rows of seaweed farms in the Indian Ocean.

Seaweeds are a group of algae found in seawater and come in green, red, and brown species. The seaweed farms are a predominantly female-dominated form of aquaculture and their owners can only be spotted during low tide, especially in the morning. Once the tide comes in, the women will begin their journey back to the shores as the waters slowly rise.

Saumu Hamadi tells IPS that in 2016, residents of Mwambao village along the Mwazaro beach coastline started a community-led, community-driven initiative to conserve mangroves, protect the environment, and restore their fisheries, which had been destroyed by significant mangrove forest degradation.

“We realized that the more our mangroves disappeared, the fish ran away and so did the fishermen. We rely on fish for food and money. Men sell the big fish, such as the kingfish, shark, and rayfish, to the beach hotels, and women sell crabs and prawns by the roadside or in small village markets. The situation was threatening our daily bread and we decided to volunteer as a community to restore and protect our mangroves,” Hamadi explains.

Rehema Abdalla walking to her seaweed farm, located nearly 1.7 km away from the Mwazaro Beach coastline. Seaward farming is conducted in the ocean during low tides. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Rehema Abdalla and Saumu Hamadi walking to their seaweed farms, where other women are already hard at work, sorting and packing their harvests. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Rehema Abdalla and Saumu Hamadi weigh seaweed using a home scale. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Women at work at the seaweed farm. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

“There were too many people cutting down mangrove trees, destroying the places that the fish we depend on call home. There was also a lot of soil erosion and the water flowing along the River Hamisi that pours into the Indian Ocean within this village’s coastline carried the soil into the ocean, polluting it. We formed two community groups: Mwambao Mkuyuni Youth and Bati Beach Mwambao. Women make up 80 percent of the members in both groups.”

Abdalla Bidii Lewa, a community coordinator on mangrove restoration in Pongwe Kikoneni ward where Mwambao village is located and chair of Bati Seaweed Farmers, tells IPS, “Mangroves have protected our villages and surrounding areas from extreme weather and disasters such as those that affected large parts of the coastal region during the heavy floods in November and early December 2023. Where houses were swept away and farmlands destroyed, we were safe from the disaster.”

Seaweed farming. Credit: Joyce Chimbi and Cecilia Russell/IPS

Research shows mangroves significantly prevent the progression of climate change while also playing a major role in limiting its impact. This is critical as temperatures rise dangerously, sea level shoots to alarming levels, and coastal climate-induced disasters become frequent, intense, and severe, with catastrophic results.

To avert coastal climate hazards and secure mangrove-related benefits for present and future generations, the community undertook mangrove conservation and restoration activities in earnest.

Then, in 2017, a scientist conducting research into seaweed farming using the off-bottom seaweed farming method—tying algal fonds or seaweed seeds to ropes attached between wooden pegs driven into the ocean sediment—approached women in the community.

“Of the two seaweed strains that grow on Kenya’s south coast, cottonii and spinosum, the scientist recommended that we plant spinosum and gave us the seeds. Seaweeds do not need something to grow on. We erect sticks into the ground inside the ocean water during low tides and plant seaweed seeds by tying them to strings fastened on these sticks. We harvest every 45 days. We have to tie the strings and place the sticks properly so that they are not swept away during high tides,” says Rehema Abdalla, a seaweed farmer in Mwambao village.

On concerns that aquaculture could form the entry point for mangrove degradation, Hamadi says, “It is not the case with seaweed. The mangroves are important to the survival of our seaweeds by ensuring that we have normal, safe tides and waves. When seaweeds are swept away, they stay trapped within the roots of the mangroves and we collect them from there. It is rare, but once in a while, the tides can be very strong.”

Lewa says seaweed farming is emerging as a new and sustainable climate change mitigation strategy while offering communities adjacent to mangroves and coastlines an alternative livelihood, reducing dependency on fishing and natural resources inside mangrove forests and the oceans. Seaweeds are superfoods, highly nutritious, can be used in sushi, soups, salads, and smoothies, and are an asset in the feed industry, cosmetics, and pharmaceuticals.

“The amount of seaweed harvested depends on the amount planted and every 45 days, you will get a harvest. At the moment, one kilogram of seaweed goes for USD 0.22 (Ksh 35). I am currently targeting making USD 467 (Ksh 75,000) every 45 days from seaweed. We also sell seaweed seeds to other women doing mangrove conservation, such as Imani Gazi and the Gazi Women Mangrove Restoration Group, from within Kwale County,” Hamadi says.

Seaweeds compliment mangroves by absorbing nutrients such as nitrogen, phosphorous, and carbon dioxide. They do not require soil, fertilizer, freshwater, or pesticides, and they significantly improve the environment in which they grow. Seaweeds efficiently absorb carbon dioxide, using it to grow and even when harvested, the carbon remains in the ocean.

Research shows that seaweed can pull more greenhouse gases from the water compared to seagrass, salt marshes, and mangroves based on biomass. Mwazaro’s beach community is on track to add seaweed as part of their blue carbon sink, setting the pace for other coastal communities.

All the same, the women are facing challenges such as a lack of mortar boats to help transport their harvest to the shore. Currently, they use a tedious process whereby they tie sacks of seaweed on their waste and wait for the onset of high tide in the early afternoon to push them from the seaweed farms to the shore. They are also struggling to access a larger market, currently relying on one major large-scale buyer and small buyers within the village and other mangrove conservation groups from neighboring villages.

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Women are the unsung mangrove restoration heroes. Planting and caring for mangrove seedlings and boosting preservation and conservation of Kenya's coastal blue forests. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

By Joyce Chimbi
TSUNZA, Kenya, Feb 22 2024 (IPS)

Tsunza Peninsula is a natural wonder that sits just inside the many inlets of Mombasa Island on the border between Mombasa and Kwale Counties—a little-known spectacle of lagoons, islands, and thick mangroves in Kinango Sub-County, Kwale County, on Kenya’s coastal region. 

This natural paradise is a beehive of activities, with fishers meandering through the creeks and returning to the shores after a dawn harvest. Dhows and motorboats glide from shore to shore, with tourists and locals travelling between the two neighboring counties.

What holds these activities together are the efforts of the 45 people, 35 of them women, of the Tsunza Fish Pond and Mangrove Restoration community project. They protect, preserve, conserve, and restore Tsunza’s mangrove forest and the entire ecosystem. Mangroves are not only a critical biodiversity hotspot; they are also coastal superheroes, a first line of defense against climate-induced coastal hazards.

The Tsunza Peninsula is a natural wonder that sits just inside the many inlets of Mombasa Island on the border between Mombasa and Kwale Counties. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Tsunza is a little-known magical spectacle of lagoons, islands, and thick mangroves in Kinango Sub-County, Kwale County, in Kenya’s coastal region. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Mangroves are one of the most carbon-dense habitats on Earth. Its entire ecosystem of seagrass, coastal salt marsh, and coral reef vegetation is also known as a blue forest, capturing large amounts of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and storing them in natural sinks—known as blue carbon. Their complex root systems and structure are a safe haven for fish and other aquatic species to live, eat, and breed, keeping them within the fisherman’s reach.

“Tsunza used to be a sleepy village, especially in the years following a series of mysterious oil spills between 2003 and 2006. Over five million liters of oil spilled into the Indian Ocean and into the mangroves. Over three million seedlings were destroyed. The mangrove forest was in danger of dying out and the fish disappeared into the deep water. Where Tsunza was once the leading producer of fish at the coast, Tsunza Bay became a no-go zone for fish,” Lucy Kazungu from Tsunza village, a member and one of the four leaders of the community project, tells IPS.

Mangroves are high-quality trees, most preferred for building materials, charcoal, and firewood. In this context, the logging and heavy degradation of mangrove forests were unfolding in Tsunza and along Kenya’s coastline, estimated to be 1,420 kilometers long. Overall, the country lost approximately 20 percent of its mangrove cover between 1985 and 2009, translating to 450 hectares of mangrove forest lost annually.

Government data shows more than 2.5 million people live in communities adjacent to mangrove forests, heavily depending on their resources for day-to-day survival and economic activities, unsustainably extracting from the forest until Mother Nature started fighting back. Minority and indigenous ethnic groups, who are the predominant groups on Kenya’s coastline, including the Digo, Duruma, Shirazi, Wapemba, and Wagunga peoples, were pushed to the frontlines of climate change.

Tsunza Fishpond and Mangrove Restoration community project members They protect, preserve, conserve, and restore the mangrove forest and the entire ecosystem. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Mangroves complex root system and structure are a safe haven for fish—a place to live, eat, and breed—bringing them closer to the fishermen. Credit: Joyce Chimbi/IPS

Women were particularly affected. Already vulnerable and largely excluded, the loss of mangrove cover and the entire ecosystem of swamps, shrubs, coral reefs, salt marshes, and seagrass vegetation meant even more exposure to severe coastal hazards and the loss of livelihoods.

“The fish started to disappear and only those who could fish in the deep waters fished. Women were heavily affected because we buy fresh prawn fish and Dagaa fish—the silver cyprinid—from fishermen, which we deep fry and hawk. This is the main source of income for women along the coastline. Women depend on the small fish and they are usually the first to disappear when the weather conditions are bad for them,” Hamisi Juma, a resident of Vanga Bay, adjacent to the Vanga Blue Forest, tells IPS.

“Then came the floods; we did not know that mangroves are a wall protecting us from the ocean. Our rice farms, which are also female-dominated activities, were completely destroyed. Our young children could not go to school during heavy rains due to flooding.”

The destruction of mangroves in Vanga Bay was particularly severe. Between 1991 and 2016, the community over-harvested mangroves at a rate of 0.5 percent per year, translating to 451 hectares or 1,114 acres of mangroves lost in 25 years.

“The coastal communities were unaware that mangrove forests and swamps and the entire ecosystem of seagrass and salt marsh vegetation are the most important ecosystems in battling climate change. Without the ecosystem to serve as the barrier between the community and the deadly Indian Ocean water, it would be a catastrophe such as what we saw in Libya, where a quarter of a city was destroyed by storms and floods in 2023,” says Omar Hassan Aden, an independent researcher and expert in climate change.

But as science trickles down to the community, women are emerging from the frontlines of climate change with the lessons, determination, and commitment to be at the center of climate action. Planting and growing mangrove seedlings to restore coastal mangrove forests while significantly contributing to preservation and conservation efforts.

“As women, we are the silent champions of saving mangroves. Last year, we planted more than 300,000 seedlings. We do not just put the seedlings into the ground; we care for them until they can grow with no other intervention. The Tsunza mangrove forest cover is one of the best, thick, and with very few spaces in between, and we are now being rewarded with high production of fish,” says Kwekwe Tsuma, from Tsunza village.

“We have even started a fish pond project and women no longer have to buy fish from the fishermen. We tend to the mangrove forest, sell mangrove seedlings, keep fish, and we also have a beekeeping project. Mangrove honey is smooth, unique, delicious, one of the best and treats several diseases.”

There are 8,536 hectares of mangrove forest in Kilifi, 8,354 hectares in Kwale and 37,650 hectares in Lamu, translating to 61 percent of the total mangrove forest cover, according to the most recent Ministry of Environment and Forestry statistics.

Research shows an estimated 16 percent of Kenya’s coastline is at higher levels of exposure to coastal hazards and if left unmitigated, this could rise to 41 percent. In November and early December 2023, deadly El Niño floods rocked the coastal region in regions such as Mombasa, where mangrove cover is minimal. The floods were severe.

Kwale County community-led initiatives such as Tsunza and Vanga Blue Forest are helping restore 3,725 hectares of degraded mangrove forest. Kenya’s Mikoko (Mangrove) Pamoja community-led committee is constituted of five women and eight men and is the world’s first successful coastal ‘blue carbon’ project.

The Ngomeni Marereni community project restores and protects 640 hectares of highly degraded mangroves, significantly contributing to the restoration of 3,422 hectares of degraded mangroves in Kilifi County.

In Lamu, the Mtangawanda Mangrove Restoration Women Group is leading mangrove conservation, preservation, and protection efforts, contributing to the restoration of 14,407 hectares of degraded mangroves. It is expected that ongoing low-cost, high-impact community-led, community-driven efforts will restore Kenya’s blue forest back to its former natural glory, saving coastal communities from the climate change onslaught.

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Zimbabwean women's informal savings clubs have been hit by high inflation and the low value of the country's currency. Credit: Ignatius Banda/IPS

By Ignatius Banda
BULAWAYO, Jun 28 2023 (IPS)

For years, self-employed and unemployed women in Zimbabwe formed neighbourhood “clubs” where they pooled money together for everything from buying bulk groceries to be shared at the end of the year to meeting funeral expenses.

But as inflation renders the local currency virtually worthless, with, for example, the price of a loaf of bread reaching ZWD4,000, women rights advocates say this has thrown local saving initiatives into a mind-numbing tailspin.

In recent weeks, the local dollar has been on a frenzied free fall against the greenback, and in one week alone, the parallel market rate went from USD1:ZWD2,000 to anything between USD1:ZWD3,000 and ZWD4,000.  Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency put Zimbabwe’s annual inflation rates at triple digits, with inflation rising 175.8% in June from 86.5% the previous month.

“We cannot buy foreign currency on the street to keep our savings club operating. You can’t plan anything with such an ever-changing exchange rate,” said Juliet Mbewe, a Bulawayo homemaker who sells snacks, sweets and other small items on a roadside not far from her township home.

“It was better when the country was using the USD as the official currency,” she said, referring to the period of the country’s government of national unity between 2009 and 2013.

That period is widely credited with taming  Zimbabwe’s economic turmoil and also helped make savings possible for women such as Mbewe.

Women’s savings clubs contributed monthly instalments of anything from as little as USD5, and from this pool, the club operated as an informal bank or microfinance lender where they issued loans at a small interest.

The accumulated savings were shared at the end of the year, while other such clubs bought groceries in bulk to be shared in time for Christmas.

And this was also a time when local banks encouraged women’s clubs to partner with registered financial institutions to incubate their savings and earn interest at the end of the year.

But with banks not being spared the decades-old economic turmoil, which has seen even banks close shop, financial institutions that remain are not known to offer ordinary account holders interest on their savings.

However, the return of rampant inflation is making the operation of women’s savings clubs increasingly difficult, says Mavis Dube, who formerly led a group of women’s clubs as their treasurer.

“It’s no longer easy because of the unstable currency. It now means having to raise more local dollars in order to buy foreign currency,” Dube said; as the authorities struggle to put breaks on a currency on free fall, these have been upended by inflation and an unsteady local currency.

For those who can afford that, the women are cushioning themselves from this by buying livestock which they say is guaranteed to store value.

International NGOs such as World Vision are assisting rural women navigate increasingly tough economic circumstances, supporting projects such as raising and selling poultry.

However, such projects have not been made available to more women in a country where self-help efforts face incredible odds as inflation gnaws into small enterprises.

While the Ministry of Women Affairs, Community, Small and Medium Enterprises Development has made efforts to encourage women’s participation in the country’s economic development agenda, it has struggled to keep up with the increasing number of women seeking assistance to start their own businesses.

The ministry recently launched what it says are “Women Empowerment Clubs” with the aim to assist women access funding, but concerns remain that the red tape involved in accessing the loans only enables a cycle of poverty for women.

Rights advocates say the high unemployment rate among women has meant that women have no access to the formal banking sector, where they access loans.

“Most banks and lending institutions require collateral for them to release loans which most women do not have. Profits from the informal sector are so meagre and only allow women to feed from hand to mouth,” said Sithabile Dewa, executive director of the Women’s Academy for Leadership and Excellence.

“In order to address these challenges, the Government must put in place laws and policies that protect women in small businesses, such as discouraging lending institutions from putting too much interest or demanding collateral on women, something they know they do not have,” Dewa told IPS.

While women have attempted to keep up with the volatile exchange rate, it has exposed their vulnerability to poverty at a time when agencies such as UN Women lament that women’s economic empowerment in Zimbabwe has been “impeded by their dominance in the informal sector and vulnerable employment.”

While saving clubs served as a bulwark against such uncertainties, Dewa says contemporary economic circumstances have made it near impossible to run such schemes that hedged against poverty.

“The savings clubs are still there though they have been modernised to meet the changing times,” Dewa said.

“The problems facing these clubs are hyper-inflation, an unstable and unpredictable economy. Those which are still viable are the ones being done using USD, but how many women have access to the foreign currency,” she added.

For now, women such as Mbewe and Dune continue to live hand to mouth, their ambitions to save for a rainy day effectively on pause.

“It’s harder now than ever, and the pain is that there is no sign this will end anytime soon,” Mbewe said, the little she makes selling sweets barely enough to meet her daily needs.

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Jaggery making on a sugarcane farm in Mandla. Small-scale farmers in India are benefitting from a scheme where they are able to diversify their farms and get support through Farmer Producer Organisations. Credit: Rina Mukherji/IPS

By Rina Mukherji
MANDLA, JHARGRAM & AHMEDNAGAR, INDIA, May 26 2023 (IPS)

Until a decade ago, marginal farmers Gangotri Chandrol and Sunitabai lacked livelihood options in the post-monsoon season.

With farm holdings of just 2-6 acres in Katangatola village in the tribal-majority Mandla district of Madhya Pradesh, they could only grow wheat, paddy, and sugarcane in the wet season for a living.

“Our earnings depended on price fluctuations in the market and the little paddy and wheat procured by the government.”

But now, they can sell their produce at higher than the prevailing market price to their farmers’ collective set up by Ekgaon Technologies, using existing women’s microfinance self-help groups (SHGs).

Furthermore, value-added products like flavoured jaggery obtained from sugarcane ensure a good income.  Farmers like Gangotri and Sunitabai, who were organised into clusters, and trained to form collective bargaining as buyers of agricultural inputs and suppliers of produce, are better off as a result.

While agriculture is India’s primary employment source, agricultural productivity has remained low. This is because the average size of an agricultural plot is less than 2 hectares (4.942 acres) (as per 2001 figures), with a quarter of rural holdings as low as 0.4 hectares (0.988 acres).

Furthermore, poverty and illiteracy make it difficult for most farmers to apply modern scientific inputs to enhance yield. Climate change has further added to the problem, with erratic weather, unseasonal rains, and frequent storms taking their toll on standing crops.

Realising this, India’s National Bank for Agriculture and Rural Development (NABARD) developed its Producer Organisation Promoting Institution (POPI) scheme in 2015. This saw several Farmer Producer Organisations (FPOs) flourish around 2015, and farmers were inducted into registered companies, holding a certain number of shares, each priced at a nominal sum.

Women farmers in West Bengal buying inputs for their Farmer Producer Organisation. Credit: Rina Mukherji/IPS

Ekgaon and its mission in Mandla

Once a single crop with migration-prone villages, Mandla district has seen a facelift ever since Ekgaon Technologies brought together its rural women and organised them into a Farmer Producers Organisation (FPO). Encouraged to buy seeds and fertilizer to distribute within their organisation, the women emerged as small-time entrepreneurs.

Traditionally, paddy cultivators, the farmers here, were trained to move to multi-cropping using natural organic farming methods. Local farmers now grow a mix of paddy, wheat, lentils (Masur), pigeon pea (arhar/tur), green gram (mung), and sugarcane on their marginal farms, using improved techniques and inexpensive homemade organic fertilizers.

Vidhi Patel, a widow and marginal farmer with a one-acre farm, tells IPS, “We were using 40 kg of seeds on our one-acre farm to grow paddy, besides spending on urea, which cost us upwards of Rs 1000. Under the System of Rice Intensification (SRI) method, we now use only 25 kg of seeds, which has halved costs.”

Gangotri Chandrol, Sunitabai Chandrol, and Devki Uikey have not just learned to make optimum use of their marginal 2-6 acre farms to grow a variety of traditional crops such as wheat, paddy, sugarcane pigeon pea, masur (lentils), mung (green legumes), and millets, but have now ventured into cash crops like arrowroot, flaxseed, nigerseed, and marigold, which fetch them good returns.

Similarly, Laxmibai and Devki Uikey of the neighbouring Khari village grow sugarcane on one acre of their 3-acre farm and paddy, wheat, marigold and beetroot on the rest.  Besides operating as a small-time entrepreneur, selling agricultural inputs to other members of her FPO, Devki Uikey made organic yellow and maroon colours for the Holi (spring) festival out of beetroot and marigold with some other members of her collective.

“We procured 25 kg of marigold at Rs 40 per 250 g and 10 kg of beetroot at Rs 160 per kg. After making and selling the colours, we earned Rs 2300-Rs 2500 per member,” Devki Uikey told IPS

Besides selling premium varieties of rice such as Chindi Kapur and Jeera Shankar that are native to Mandla but not available elsewhere, Ekgaon has developed value-added products such as millet-ginger-raisin nutribars, millet noodles, amla ( gooseberry) candy, which it markets alongside ( collected) forest products like medicinal herbs, beeswax, and honey, on its e-commerce platform.

Since sugarcane is a major crop in the district and jaggery-making is an important enterprise, Ekgaon has developed ginger and tulsi (basil) flavoured jaggery cubes to brew flavoured tea.  Being part of the FPO has other benefits too. Farmers can access government funds for rainwater harvesters and borewells easily.

A tie-up with Rajdhani Besan, which markets gram flour, helped farmers who cultivate gram, while a tie-up with Lays saw the entire produce of white peas bought over in bulk for (Lays) chips and wafers. The FPO is also grading and procuring wheat for the government, earning the women farmers a small sum.

Consequently, marginal farmers who earned around Rs 50,000 (USD 608) per acre in the past are easily making Rs 3,00,000  (USD 3647) per acre now. Migration has stopped in most villages, and the literacy level has improved.

PRADAN’s initiatives in Jhargram and Bankura

Professional Assistance for Development Action (PRADAN) has also converted existing women’s microfinance self-help groups (SHGs) into FPOs in the resource-poor, tribal-majority Bankura and Jhargram districts of West Bengal.

Despite good monsoon rains, water scarcity is the norm in these paddy-growing districts, owing to rocky terrain. Of late, erratic rains have made matters worse, spurring out migration. To withstand the vagaries of the weather, the women farmer-shareholders of the Amon Mahila Chashi Producers Company Limited (Amon Women Farmers Producers Company Limited) and other FPOs now grow hardy, traditional paddy varieties using homemade organic fertilizers.

Sumita Mahato, whose family lives off a one-bigha (0.625 acres) farm, and  Swarnaprabha Mahato, whose three-bigha (1.875 acres) farm must provide for an eight-member family, told IPS: “Chemical fertilizers cost Rs 5000 per 0.625 acres, while homemade organic fertilizer costs us only Rs 80-90 for the same per bigha.”

It has helped them get organic certification for their produce, comprising traditional rice varieties like Malliphul, Satthiya  (red rice), and Kalabhat (black rice), earning them Rs 35 per kg (as against  Rs 12 per kg that rice grown with chemical inputs).  Rainwater harvesters accessed as members of the FPO, under the state government’s scheme for the region, have helped, too, increasing productivity from 25-30 quintals per acre to 40-45 quintals per acre.

As multi-cropping is impossible here owing to limited moisture in the rocky soil, the farmers grow turmeric as a cash crop on the village commons. In Jhargram, Sonajhuri (Acacia auriculiformis) and Cashew are grown for timber and nuts, while in Bankura, farms along the Kankabati River grow watermelons for collective profit.

Traditionally, women in these regions made plates from sal (Shorea robusta) leaves collected from the jungles. They now process and mould plates for urban markets using moulding machines, selling them with their other products online on IndiaMart, earning ample profits to lead well-settled lives.

Watermelon crop in Bankura. Credit: Rina Mukherji/IPS

WOTR’s Efforts in Maharashtra

In Parner taluka (sub-division) of Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra, the community-led Ankur Farmer Producers Organisation (FPO), facilitated by the Watershed Trust (WOTR), comprises 762 farmer-shareholders from the villages of Hiwrekorda, Bhangadevadi, and Dawalpuri, with farm holdings of 3-15 acres range, who supplement their incomes through dairy farming.

Being a rain-shadow, the drought-prone region with limited water resources, farming was always rainfed here, with large tracts of land lying barren.

Once Ankur was formed, the farmers could avail of Rs 80 lakh from the State Government (of Maharashtra) contributing the rest to lay a 7.5 km pipeline to bring water from the Kalu river and fill up a lined farm pond, and set up a pump-house for collective benefit.

This enabled them to bring 100 acres of farmland under cultivation to grow onions, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and other crops for the market. Their rainfed single-crop lands also grow two crops with the additional moisture available.

The farmers have opted for organic inputs like vermicompost, which they prepare and sell, both within and outside their FPO, although, as farmers Somnath Palwe and Chandrakant Gawde say, “Our members use both organic and improved seeds, as per preference.”

From growing a single crop of bajra (pearl millet), jowar (sorghum), and pulses, the farmers now grow maize, green gram, marigold, chrysanthemum, and onions, besides cauliflower and tomato. Incomes have grown from as low as Rs 50,000 ( USD 61) for an acre of cultivable land to as high as Rs 5 00,000 (USD 731).

Ankur sells its products online to Ninjacart and offline-in wholesale markets. In both cases, the sale is direct and without middlemen. Farmer Ashok Phalke, tells me. “Onions used to fetch us Rs 10 per kg, while the market price was Rs 12 per kg. We would lose Rs 2 per kg. Now that we sell directly in markets as a group, we earn more. The same goes for tomatoes and flowers.”

Besides promoting organic farming, the FPOs stress natural multi-cropping methods to control pests, such as growing horse gram in combination with maize or sorghum. This attracts birds, which, in turn, help control harmful pests naturally. Kitchen gardens are encouraged as they counter nutritional deficiencies in farming families.

Government Encouragement of FPOs

The Indian government intends to set up 10,000 FPOs all over India for Rs 6865 crore. Under this scheme, FPOs are to receive financial assistance of up to Rs 18 lakh for three years, with each farmer-member being eligible for an equity grant and credit guarantee facility. However, not all existing FPOs have been co-opted into the government scheme.

Since millets are hardy and impervious to erratic weather patterns, the government has been pushing for their cultivation in regions where they were traditionally grown. But the government’s dictum of “one District, one Product” has invited criticism, especially from grassroots organisations, who see multi-cropping as the only guarantor against natural disasters such as hailstorms and cyclones.

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A picture of photovoltaic panels in the solar park in the small town of Armstrong, in the Pampa region, the heart of Argentina’s agricultural production. The park belongs to an electric cooperative, which until 2017 only bought energy to distribute, but now generates electricity as well. CREDIT: FARN

By Daniel Gutman
BUENOS AIRES, May 26 2023 (IPS)

When the residents of Armstrong, a town of 15,000 in western Argentina, began to meet to discuss a renewable energy project, they agreed that there could be many positive effects and that it was not just a question of doing their bit in the global effort to mitigate climate change.

“The proposal was to use the rooftops and yards of our houses to install solar panels. And I accepted the idea basically because I was excited by the prospect that one day we would become independent in generating our own electricity,” Adrián Marozzi, who today has six solar panels in the back of the house where he lives in Armstrong with his wife and two children, told IPS.“Community-based projects, which are feasible, have several advantages: they improve local autonomy in the generation of electricity, they allow money to be saved from the energy that is not purchased, which can be reinvested in the city, and they promote the decentralization of decision-making in the energy system.” -- Pablo Bertinat

His home is one of about 50 in Armstrong with solar panels generating power for the community, added to the 880-panel solar farm installed in the town’s industrial park. Together they have contributed part of the electricity consumed by the inhabitants of this town in the western province of Santa Fe since 2017.

This is a pioneering project in Argentina, built with public technical organizations and community participation through a cooperative where decisions are made democratically, which has since been replicated in various parts of the country.

With an extensive area of ​​almost 2.8 million square kilometers, Argentina is a country where most of the electricity generation has been concentrated geographically, which raises the need for large power transmission infrastructure and poses a hurdle for the development of the system.

In this context, and despite the financing obstacles in a country with a severe long-lasting economic crisis, renewable energies are increasingly seen as an alternative for clean electricity generation in power-consuming areas.

Marozzi is a biologist by profession, but is dedicated to agricultural production in Armstrong, almost 400 kilometers northwest of Buenos Aires. The town is located in the pampas grasslands in the productive heart of Argentina, and is surrounded by fields of soybeans, corn and cattle.

How to bring electric power to widely scattered rural residents was the great challenge that the Armstrong Public Works and Services Provision Cooperative, made up of 5,000 members representing the town’s 5,000 households, grappled with for years.

The institution was born in 1958 and in 1966 it marked a milestone, when it created the first rural electrification system in this South American country, with a 70-kilometer medium voltage line that brought the service to numerous farms.

Once again, in 2016, the Armstrong cooperative pointed the way, when it began to discuss in assemblies with community participation the advantages and disadvantages of venturing into renewable energy production by means of solar energy panels.

“Those of us who accepted the installation of panels in our homes today receive no direct benefit, but we are betting on a future in which we can generate all of the electricity we consume. In addition, of course, we care about environmental issues,” Marozzi said in a conversation from his town.

The 880-panel solar park with 200 kW of installed power is currently being expanded to 275 kW thanks to the money that Armstrong saved from energy that was not purchased in recent years from the national grid. The local residents who make up the cooperative decided that the savings from what was generated with solar energy should be invested in the park.

Two workers carry out maintenance tasks at the solar park in Monte Caseros, a town in the Argentine province of Corrientes, in the northeast of the country. The park was inaugurated in 2021 by the local cooperative, which provides electricity to the residents and is also involved in agricultural activity. CREDIT: Monte Caseros Agricultural and Electricity Cooperative

A replicated model

In Argentina there are about 600 electrical cooperatives in small cities and towns in the interior of the country, which were born in the mid-20th century, when the national grid was still quite limited and access to electric power was a problem.

These cooperatives usually buy and distribute energy in towns. But the members of dozens of them realized that they too could generate clean electricity, after visiting Armstrong’s project, and launched their own renewable energy initiatives.

One of the cooperatives that also has a solar park is the Agricultural and Electricity Cooperative of Monte Caseros, a city of about 25,000 inhabitants in the northeastern province of Corrientes.

“The cooperative was born in 1977 out of the need to bring energy to rural residents,” engineer Germán Judiche, the association’s technical manager, told IPS. “Today we have a honey packaging plant and a cluster of silos for rice, the main crop in the area. Since 2018 we have also distributed internet service and in 2020 we partnered with the province’s public electricity company to venture into renewable energy.”

The Monte Caseros solar park has 400 kW of installed capacity thanks to 936 solar panels. It was inaugurated in September 2021 and has provided such good results that a second park, with similar characteristics, is about to begin to be built by the 650-member cooperative, because it supplies only rural residents of the municipality.

“We have done everything with the cooperative’s own labor and the design by engineers from the National University of the Northeast (UNNE), from our province,” said Judiche. “It is definitely a model that can be replicated. Renewable energy is our future,” he added from his town, some 700 kilometers north of Buenos Aires.

Solar panels can be seen in the backyard of Adrián Marozzi, a resident of the town of Armstrong. Neither he nor the other residents who agreed to give up part of their yards or rooftops receive direct advantages, since the energy savings are capitalized by the cooperative, which thus has to buy less electricity from the national grid. CREDIT: FARN

A slow and bumpy road

According to official figures, the distributed or decentralized generation of renewable energy for self-consumption, which allows the surplus to be injected into the grid, has 1,167 generators registered in 13 of Argentina’s 23 provinces, with more than 20 megawatts of installed power.

Electricity cooperatives that have their own renewable energy generation projects operate under this system.

In total, in this country of 44 million people, renewable energies covered almost 14 percent of the demand for electricity in 2022 and have more than 5,000 MW of installed capacity, although there are practically no major new projects to expand their proportion of the energy mix.

Most of the electricity demand is covered by thermal generation, which contributes more than 25,000 MW, mainly from oil but also from natural gas. Hydropower is the next largest source, with more than 10,000 MW from large dams greater than 50 MW, which are not considered renewable.

Pablo Bertinat, director of the Energy and Sustainability Observatory of the National Technological University (UTN) based in the city of Rosario, also in Santa Fe, explained that in a country like Argentina it is impossible to follow a model like Germany’s widespread residential generation of renewable energy, because it requires investments that are not viable.

“Community-based projects, which are feasible, have several advantages: they improve local autonomy in the generation of electricity, they allow money to be saved from the energy that is not purchased, which can be reinvested in the city, and they promote the decentralization of decision-making in the energy system,” added Bertinat, speaking from Rosario.

The UTN Observatory was in charge of the Armstrong project, in a public-private consortium, together with the cooperative and the National Institute of Industrial Technology (Inti).

The expert said that the cooperatives’ renewable energy projects are advancing slowly in Argentina, despite the fact that there is no credit nor favorable policies – an indication that they could have a very strong impact on the entire electrical system and even on the generation of employment, if there were tools to promote renewables.

“Our aim is to demonstrate that not only large companies can advance the agenda of promoting renewable energy and the replacement of fossil fuels. In Argentina, cooperatives are also an important actor on this path,” Bertinat said.

The case of Armstrong also sparked interest from the environmental movement, which is helping to drive the growth of renewable energy in the country.

Jazmín Rocco Predassi, head of Climate Policy at the Environment and Natural Resources Foundation (FARN), told IPS that this is “an illustration that the energy transition does not always come from top-down initiatives, but that communities can organize themselves, together with cooperatives, municipal governments or science and technology institutes, to generate the transformations that the energy system needs.”

Soledad Arnedo is head of the La Negra del Norte cooperative textile workshop, which works together with other productive enterprises of the popular economy in the Argentine municipality of San Isidro, on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

By Daniel Gutman
BUENOS AIRES, May 5 2023 (IPS)

Nearby is an agroecological garden and a plant nursery, further on there are pens for raising pigs and chickens, and close by, in an old one-story house with a tiled roof, twelve women sew pants and blouses. All of this is happening in a portion of a public park near Buenos Aires, where popular cooperatives are fighting the impact of Argentina’s long-drawn-out socioeconomic crisis.

“We sell our clothes at markets and offer them to merchants. Our big dream is to set up our own business to sell to the public, but it’s difficult, especially since we can’t get a loan,” Soledad Arnedo, a mother of three who works every day in the textile workshop, told IPS.

The garments made by the designers and seamstresses carry the brand “la Negra del Norte”, because the workshop is in the municipality of San Isidro, in the north of Greater Buenos Aires.“In Argentina in the last few years, having a job does not lift people out of poverty. This is true even for many who have formal sector jobs.” -- Nuria Susmel

In Greater Buenos Aires, home to 11 million people, the poverty rate is 45 percent, compared to a national average of 39.2 percent.

La Negra del Norte is just one of the several self-managed enterprises that have come to life on the five hectares that, within the Carlos Arenaza municipal park, are used by the Union of Popular Economy Workers (UTEP).

It is a union without bosses, which brings together people who are excluded from the labor market and who try to survive day-to-day with precarious, informal work due to the brutal inflation that hits the poor especially hard.

“These are ventures that are born out of sheer willpower and effort and the goal is to become part of a value chain, in which textile cooperatives are seen as an economic agent and their product is valued by the market,” Emmanuel Fronteras, who visits different workshops every day to provide support on behalf of the government’s National Institute of Associativism and Social Economy (INAES), told IPS.

Today there are 20,520 popular cooperatives registered with INAES. The agency promotes cooperatives in the midst of a delicate social situation, but in which, paradoxically, unemployment is at its lowest level in the last 30 years in this South American country of 46 million inhabitants: 6.3 percent, according to the latest official figure, from the last quarter of 2022.

Women work in a textile cooperative that operates in Navarro, a town of 20,000 people located about 125 kilometers southwest of Buenos Aires. Many of the workers supplement their income with a payment from the Argentine government aimed at bolstering productive enterprises in the popular economy. CREDIT: Evita Movement

The working poor

The plight facing millions of Argentines is not the lack of work, but that they don’t earn a living wage: the purchasing power of wages has been vastly undermined in recent years by runaway inflation, which this year accelerated to unimaginable levels.

In March, prices rose 7.7 percent and year-on-year inflation (between April 2022 and March 2023) climbed to 104.3 percent. Economists project that this year could end with an index of between 130 and 140 percent.

Although in some segments of the economy wage hikes partly or fully compensate for the high inflation, in most cases wage increases lag behind. And informal sector workers bear the brunt of the rise in prices.

“In Argentina in the last few years, having a job does not lift people out of poverty,” economist Nuria Susmel, an expert on labor issues at the Foundation for Latin American Economic Research (FIEL), told IPS.

“This is true even for many who have formal sector jobs,” she added.

On five hectares of a public park in the Argentine municipality of San Isidro, in Greater Buenos Aires, there is a production center with several cooperatives from the Union of Workers of the Popular Economy (UTEP), which defends the rights of people excluded from the formal labor market. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

The National Institute of Statistics and Censuses (INDEC) estimates that the poverty line for a typical family (made up of two adults and two minors) was 191,000 pesos (834 dollars) a month in March.

However, the average monthly salary in Argentina is 86,000 pesos (386 dollars), including both formal and informal sector employment.

“The average salary has grown well below the inflation rate,” said Susmel. “Consequently, for companies labor costs have fallen. This real drop in wages is what helps keep the employment rate at low levels.”

“And it is also the reason why there are many homes where people have a job and they are still poor,” she said.

Social value of production

La Negra del Norte is one of 35 textile cooperatives that operate in the province of Buenos Aires, where a total of 160 women work.

They receive support not only from the government through INAES, but also from the Evita Movement, a left-wing social and political group named in honor of Eva Perón, the legendary Argentine popular leader who died in 1952, at the age of just 33.

The Evita Movement formed a group of textile cooperatives which it supports in different ways, such as the reconditioning of machines and the training of seamstresses.

“The group was formed with the aim of uniting these workshops, which in many cases were small isolated enterprises, to try to formalize them and insert them into the productive and economic circuit,” said Emmanuel Fronteras, who is part of the Evita Movement, which has strong links to INAES.

“In addition to the economic value of the garments, we want the production process to have social value, which allows us to think not only about the profit of the owners but also about the improvement of the income of each cooperative and, consequently, the valorization of the work of the seamstresses,” he added in an interview with IPS.

The 12 women who work in the Argentine cooperative La Negra del Norte sell the clothes they make at markets and dream of being able to open their own store, but one of the obstacles they face is the impossibility of getting a loan. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

The high level of informal employment in Argentina’s textile industry has been well-documented, and has been facilitated by a marked segmentation of production, since many brands outsource the manufacture of their clothing to small workshops.

Many of the workers in the cooperatives supplement their textile income with a stipend from the Potenciar Trabajo government social programme that pays half of the minimum monthly wage in exchange for their work.

“Economically we are in the same situation as the country itself. The instability is enormous,” said Celene Cárcamo, a designer who works in another cooperative, called Subleva Textil, which operates in a factory that makes crusts for the traditional Argentine “empanadas” or pasties in the municipality of San Martín, that was abandoned by its owners and reopened by its workers.

Other cooperatives operating in the pasty crust factory are involved in the areas of graphic design and food production, making it a small hub of the popular economy.

The six women working at Subleva Textil face obstacles every day. One of them is the constant rise in the prices of inputs, like most prices in the Argentine economy.

Subleva started operating shortly before the COVID-19 pandemic, so it had to adapt to the complex new situation. “They say that crisis is opportunity, so we decided to make masks,” said Cárcamo, who stressed the difficulties of running a cooperative in these hard times in Argentina and acknowledged that “We need to catch a break.”

Miguel Barraza, secretary of the Chigualoco fisherpersons union in northern Chile, leans against a pile of Chilean kelp that has been drying in the sun for three days. The kelp used to fetch 1.5 dollars per kg, but the price has collapsed. CREDIT: Orlando Milesi/IPS

By Orlando Milesi
SANTIAGO, Feb 28 2023 (IPS)

Management areas in Chile for benthic organisims, which live on the bottom of the sea, are successfully combating the overexploitation of this food source thanks to the efforts of organized shellfish and seaweed harvesters and divers.

Benthic organisms are commercially valuable marine species that live at the lowest level of a body of water, including sub-surface layers, such as molluscs and algae.

The most widely harvested molluscs in Chile include the Chilean abalone (Concholepas concholepas), razor clam (Mesodesma donacium) and Chilean mussel (Mytilus chilensis), and the most harvested algae is Chilean kelp (Lessonia berteorana).“When there is free unregulated access, the resources do not recover, they tend to be overexploited and in the end there is nothing left. The only places where you can see these resources is in the management areas because fisherpersons are obliged to take care of them and help them recover.” -- Luis Durán Zambra

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The Undersecretariat for Fisheries and Aquaculture told IPS that in this country with a long coastline on the Pacific Ocean there are currently 853 Benthic Resources Management and Exploitation Areas (AMERB), with a total combined surface area of ​​close to 130,000 hectares.

The areas vary in size from one to 4,000 hectares, although 91 percent are under 300 hectares and the average is 150 hectares. They range from beaches and rocky coastal areas to places that are a maximum of five nautical miles offshore.

They were created in 1991, when geographical sectors were established within reserve areas for artisanal fishing in order to implement management plans, which set closed seasons, regulated catches and outlined recovery measures, and which are only assigned to organizations of legally registered artisanal fisherpersons.

The aim is to regulate artisanal fishing activity, restricting access to benthic organisms, under the supervision of the authorities.

Leaders of three local fishing coves or inlets that operate as production units where artisanal fisherpersons extract and sell marine resources told IPS about the efforts made to prevent poaching, and underscored the benefits of sustainable exploitation of these resources.

They said they managed to make a living from their work but expressed fears about the future.

This South American country of 19.2 million people has 6,350 km of coastline along the Pacific ocean and is among the world’s top 10 producers of fish.

Luis Durán Zambra presides over the Association of Guanaqueros Fisherpersons in Chile, which brings together 170 members, 70 of whom are registered for the assigned management area. Durán poses in his boat where he drives up to 20 tourists around the bay, an activity with which he earns extra income during the southern hemisphere summer. CREDIT: Orlando Milesi/IPS

It has 99,557 registered artisanal fisherpersons, of whom 25,181 are women. There are 13,123 registered artisanal fishing vessels and 403 industrial fishing vessel owners. The country also has 456 fishing plants that employ 38,014 people, according to data provided by the Undersecretariat of Fisheries in response to questions from IPS.

As of October 2022, there were 1,538 aquaculture centers and 3,295 aquaculture concessions, 69 percent of which involved companies that employ a total of 10,719 people.

The Undersecretariat said it is in the process of creating 516 new AMERBs, and that in more than 30 years under the system 435 proposals have been rejected and the status of 34 sectors has been canceled.

Leaders of fisherpersons unions describe different realities

Luis Durán Zambra, president of the Fisherpersons Association of Guanaqueros, a town in the Coquimbo region, 430 kilometers north of Santiago, said that these areas have been very successful.

“When there is free unregulated access, the resources do not recover, they tend to be overexploited and in the end there is nothing left. The only places where you can see these resources is in the management areas because fisherpersons are obliged to take care of them and help them recover,” he told IPS during an interview in his cove.

Durán, 64, is the fifth generation of fishermen in his family.

The unions, advised by marine biologists, analyze each management area, its conditions, the reproduction of resources and then inform the Undersecretariat of Fisheries to authorize the size of the annual harvest.

Tasting seafood and fish ceviches – a local dish – in the market of the Tongoy resort town, in the Coquimbo region in northern Chile, is also an opportunity to educate tourists on the flavor and nutritional value of these products fresh from the sea. CREDIT: Orlando Milesi/IPS

Miguel Tellez, president of the Mar Adentro de Chepu Artisanal Fisherpersons Union, on the island of Chiloé, 1,100 kilometers south of Santiago, told IPS that they have worked for 20 years in four 300-hectare management areas that start at the Chepu River, where they harvest different molluscs.

The main species they harvest is the Chilean abalone, although there are also mussels, sea urchins (Echinoidea) and red seaweed (Sarcothalia crispata) that is harvested in the southern hemisphere summer. The production of Chilean abalone varies, but in a good year 400,000 are caught.

“We are 34 active members, half of us divers, who monitor the entire year, with four people taking turns overseeing day and night for six days,” Tellez said from his home in the town of Chepu.

He explained that poaching “has been our main problem, especially when we just started.”

He was referring to illegal fishermen and divers who enter the management zones, affecting the efforts of those legally assigned to exploit and protect them.

His union installed surveillance booths on the coast of Parque Ahuenco, a reserve belonging to some fifty families that preserve 1,200 hectares along the sea.

Tellez is worried about the future because the average age of union members is 40 years old.

“I don’t know how much longer we can do this. There are very few young people and because of their studies they are involved in other things,” he said.

In Chepu, fisherpersons sell Chilean abalone in the shell to a factory in the nearby town of Calbuco where they are cleaned and packaged for sale within Chile or for export. The price depends on the market. It has now dropped to 60 cents of a dollar per abalone.

“This is a low price given that we have to oversee the shellfish year-round, paying dearly for fuel, motors and boats and making a tremendous investment. An outboard motor, like the ones we use, costs 40 million pesos (about 50,000 dollars),” said Tellez.

At the pier in Tongoy, a seaside resort in northern Chile, shellfish divers prepare piures (a kind of sea squirt), which they try to sell to tourists by explaining how to eat them. CREDIT: Orlando Milesi/IPS

He is dubious about moving towards industrialization, asking “How much more could we harvest and how much more would we have to invest?”

Proudly, he said his was “one of the best unions in the country. Partly because we are from the same area,” since all of the members live in Chepu or nearby towns.

In the Coquimbo region, Miguel Barraza, secretary of the Chigualoco fisherpersons union, 248 kilometers north of Santiago, is enthusiastic about transforming his cove.

At the cove, he told IPS that “1.1 billion pesos (1.37 million dollars) are going to be invested to make this a model cove. A new breakwater will be built, along with a bypass on the freeway and facilities to serve tourists.”

The new breakwater will protect boats from waves as they enter and exit the cove.

Thirty members and their families, including shellfish divers, fisherpersons and kelp harvesters, live in Chigualoco.

They have three management areas, the largest of which is 5000 square meters in size. From these areas they harvest 100,000 Chilean abalones and 300 tons of Chilean kelp a year.

“We earn enough to live year-round,” Barraza said, adding that they were not interested in processing their catch because “fishermen like to come ashore and sell.”

“We have overseers, but poachers come in from various sides. They are stealing a lot. We won a project to buy a drone to monitor the shore to find them,” he said.

In Guanaqueros, where Durán’s union is located, despite their seniority they have only now registered a management zone in their overexploited fishing area.

“We have an area that is not yet well developed. It has been difficult for us because most of us are fisherpersons. But the area is going to recover. The marine biologist says that 100,000 abalones could be harvested annually,” said Durán, looking for a shady spot to chat in his cove.

Today the area is looked after. It is about three kilometers in size and before it began to be regulated, people harvested abalone there for more than half a century without any limits.

“People are used to just harvesting without regulations and it is difficult to change that behavior. It’s a constant struggle and a problem to prevent disputes between fisherpersons…Many do not understand that the resources are there because other people take care of them,” he said.

As soon as fisherpersons and divers unload their products at the Tongoy pier, in the northern Chilean region of Coquimbo, crowded with tourists during the southern hemisphere summer, they are approached by customers seeking to buy products directly, without the need for intermediaries. CREDIT: Orlando Milesi/IPS

Low consumption of seafood, a public health problem

Durán lamented the low levels of consumption of fish and shellfish in Chile, despite the country’s abundant seafood.

“We don’t have culinary habits like in Peru (a country on Chile’s northern border) and we eat what we shouldn’t. There is no government promotion or policy that calls for consumption and it is a public health issue,” he said.

“I can’t conceive of the fact that there is a plant making fishmeal from Chilean jack mackerel (Trachurus murphyi) and that children are eating tilapia (Oreochromis niloticus),” a farmed fish, he added.

The Undersecretariat informed IPS that the annual consumption of seafood in 2021 was 16.6 kg per inhabitant, below the global average of 20 kg.

In Chile, fishing is the third largest economic activity, contributing around five billion dollars a year to the economy.

Chile is among the 10 largest fish producing countries in the world and is the global leader in aquaculture, second in salmon production and first in mussel exports.

The Undersecretariat is currently drafting a new law on the exploitation and conservation of seafood, for which it organized 150 meetings with artisanal fishermen and another 22 with representatives of industrial fishing and sector professionals.
The Undersecretariat told IPS that the objective is to promote and diversify the activity not only as a development strategy but also as a resource conservation strategy.

Lourdes Barreto squats in her greenhouse garden in the village of Huasao in the municipality of Oropesa, in the Andes highlands of the southern Peruvian department of Cuzco, proudly pointing to her purple lettuce, grown with natural fertilizers and agroecological techniques. CREDIT: Mariela Jara/IPS

By Mariela Jara
CUZCO, Peru , Oct 13 2022 (IPS)

Lourdes Barreto, 47, says that as an agroecological small farmer she has improved her life and that of Mother Earth. “I love myself as I love Mother Earth and I have learned to value both of us,” she says in her field outside the village of Huasao, in the highlands of the southern Peruvian department of Cuzco.

On the occasion of the International Day of Rural Women, commemorated Oct. 15, which celebrates their key contribution to rural development, poverty eradication and food security, Barreto’s story highlights the difficulties that rural women face on a daily basis, and their ability to struggle to overcome them.

“I was orphaned when I was six years old and I was adopted by people who did not raise me as part of the family, they did not educate me and they only used me to take their cow out to graze,” she said during a visit by IPS to her village.

“At the age of 18 I became a mother and I had a bad life with my husband, he beat me, he was very jealous. He said that only he could work and he did not give me money for the household,” she said, standing in her greenhouse outside of Huasao, a village of some 200 families.

Barreto said that beginning to be trained in agroecological farming techniques four years ago, at the insistence of her sister, who gave her a piece of land, was a turning point that led to substantial changes in her life.

Of the nearly 700,000 women farmers in Peru, according to the last National Agricultural Census, from 2012, less than six percent have had access to training and technical assistance.

“I have learned to value and love myself as a person, to organize my family so I don’t have such a heavy workload. And another thing has been when I started to grow crops on the land, it gave me enough to eat from the farm to the pot, as they say, and to have some money of my own,” said the mother of three children aged 27, 21 and 19.

Something she values highly is having achieved “agroecological awareness,” as she describes her conviction that agricultural production must eradicate the use of chemical inputs because “the Pacha Mama, Mother Earth, is tired of us killing her microorganisms.”

“I prepare my bocashi (natural fertilizer) myself using manure from my cattle. And I also fumigate without chemicals,” she says proudly. “I make a mixture with ash, ‘rocoto’ chili peppers, five heads of garlic and five onions, plus a bit of laundry soap.”

“I used to grind it with the batán (a pre-Inca grinding stone) but now I put it all in the blender to save time, I fill the backpack with two liters and I go out to spray my crops naturally,” she says.

The COVID pandemic in 2020 and 2021 prompted many rural municipal governments to organize food markets, which became an opportunity for Barreto and other women farmers to sell their agroecological products.

Lourdes Barreto (L) began to learn agroecological farming techniques four years ago, which improved her life in many aspects, including relationships in her family. At the Saturday open-air market in Huancaro, in the city of Cuzco, she wears the green apron that identifies her as a member of the Provincial Association of Agroecological Producers of Quispicanchi. CREDIT: Courtesy of Nadia Quispe

“I sold green beans, zucchini, three kinds of lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, Chinese onions, coriander and parsley,” she says, pausing to take a breath and look around in case she forgot any of the vegetables she sells in the city of Cuzco, an hour and a half away from her village, and in Oropesa, the municipal seat.

Another less tangible benefit of her agroecological activity was the improvement in her relationship with her husband, she says, because she gained financial security with the sale of her crops, in which her children have supported her. Now her husband also helps her in the garden and the atmosphere in the home has improved.

Barreto, along with 40 other women farmers from six municipalities, is part of the Provincial Association of Ecological Producers of Quispicanchi, known by its acronym APPEQ – a productive and advocacy organization formed in 2012.

The six participating municipalities are Andahuaylillas, Cusipata, Huaro, Oropesa, Quiquijana and Urcos, all located in the Andes highlands in the department of Cuzco, between 3100 and 3500 meters above sea level, with a Quechua indigenous population that depends on family farming for a living.

Training to strengthen the organization is part of the activities of the Provincial Association of Ecological Producers of Quispicanchi. Maribel Palomino (2nd-R, wearing a headband), the association’s president, talks with fellow members at a workshop held on Sept. 28, 2022. CREDIT: Mariela Jara/IPS

Spreading agroecology

The president of APPEQ, Maribel Palomino, 41, is a farmer who lives in the village of Muñapata, part of Urcos, where she farms land given to her by her father. The mother of a nine-year-old son, Jared, her goal is for the organization and its products, which the rural women sell under the collective brand name Pacharuru (fruits of the earth, in Quechua), to be known throughout Cuzco.

“I recognize and am grateful for the training we received from the Flora Tristán institution to follow our own path as agroecological women farmers, which is very different from the one followed by our mothers and grandmothers,” she tells IPS during a training workshop given by the association she presides over in the city of Cuzco.

The Flora Tristan Peruvian Women’s Center disseminates ecological practices in agricultural production in combination with the empowerment of women in rural communities in remote and neglected areas of this South American country of 33 million people, where 18 percent of the population is rural according to the 2017 national census.

Now, Palomino adds, “we are part of a generation that is leading changes that are not only for the betterment of our children and families, but of ourselves as individuals and as women farmers.”

She is referring to the inequalities that even today, in the 21st century, limit the development of women in the Peruvian countryside.

“Without education, becoming mothers in their adolescence, without land in their own name but in their husband’s, without the opportunity to go out to learn and get training, it is very difficult to become a citizen with rights,” she says.

According to the National Agricultural Census, eight out of 10 women farmers work farms of less than three hectares and six out of 10 do not receive any income for their productive work. In addition, their total workload is greater than men’s, and they are underrepresented in decision-making spaces.

In addition, women in rural areas experience the highest levels of gender-based violence between the ages of 33 and 59, according to the National Observatory of Violence against Women.

Maribel Palomino (L), president of the Provincial Association of Ecological Producers of Quispicanchi, sells chemical-free vegetables every week at the agroecological market in the neighborhood of Marcavalle in the city of Cuzco, Peru. CREDIT: Courtesy of Maribel Palomino

In this context of inequality and discrimination, Palomino represents a new kind of rural female leadership.

“I am a single mother, my son is nine years old and through my work I give him education, healthy food, a home with affection and care. And he sees in me a woman who is a fighter, proud to work in the fields, who defends her rights and those of her colleagues in APPEQ,” she says.

Palomino says it is crucial to contribute “to change the chip” of the elderly and of many young people who, if they could look out a window of opportunity, could improve their lives and their environment.

“With APPEQ we work to share what we learn, so that more women can look with joy to the future,” she said.

María Antonieta Tito, a farmer from the Andes highlands village of Secsencalla in the southern Peruvian department of Cuzco, shows her seedbeds of lettuce and celery plants. In March 2022 she began learning agroecological practices and is happy with the results that have allowed her to improve the quality of her family’s nutrition while generating her own income from the sale of vegetables at the local market. CREDIT: Mariela Jara/IPS

This is the case of María Antonieta Tito, 32, from the municipality of Andahuaylillas, who for the first time in her life as a farmer is engaged in agroecological practices and whom IPS visited in her vegetable garden in the village of Secsencalla, as part of a tour of several communities with peasant women who belong to the association.

“I am a student of the APPEQ leaders who teach us how to work the soil correctly, to till it up to forty centimeters so that it is soft, without stones or roots. They also teach us how to sow and plant our seeds,” she says proudly.

Pointing to her seedbeds, she adds: “Look, here I have lettuce, purple cabbage and celery, it still needs to sprout, it starts out small like this.”

Tito describes herself as a “new student” of agroecology. She started learning in March of this year but has made fast progress. Not only has she managed to harvest and eat her own vegetables, but every Wednesday she goes to the local market to sell her surplus.

“We have eaten lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and chard; everyone at my house likes the vegetables, I have prepared them in salads and in fritters, with eggs. I am helping to improve the nutrition of my family and also of the people who buy from me,” she says happily.

Every Tuesday evening she picks vegetables, carefully washes them, and at six o’clock the next morning she is at a stall in the open-air market in Andahuaylillas, the municipal capital, assisted by her teenage son.

“The customers are getting to know us, they say that the taste of my vegetables is different from the ones they buy at the other stalls. I have been selling for three months and they have already placed orders,” she adds.

But the road to the full exercise of rural women’s rights is very steep.

As Palomino, the president of APPEQ, says, “we have made important achievements, but there is still a long way to go before we can say that we are citizens with equal rights, and the main responsibility for this lies with the governments that have not yet made us a priority.”

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A waiter serves coffee in a glass to a customer outside a coffee shop in Havana's Vedado neighborhood. Drinking coffee on the street and in homes is a custom in Cuba that has become increasingly difficult to maintain, due to scarcity and cost. CREDIT: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

By Luis Brizuela
HAVANA, Sep 9 2022 (IPS)

While the Cuban government’s plans to increase production begin to bear fruit, Mireya Barrios confesses that she seeks every possible way to enjoy a cup of coffee every day, in the face of high prices and scarcity.

“If I don’t drink it I don’t feel good, I have a headache all day. For me drinking coffee is almost as important as eating,” said Barrios, who receives from family members quantities of coffee beans “brought from the east, where the best coffee in the country is produced,” which she mixes with chickpeas before roasting, to make it stretch farther.

After drinking her own cup, Barrios sells coffee as a street vendor in the early morning in the old town district of Centro Habana, one of the 15 municipalities that make up Havana.

“That sip of hot coffee is sometimes the entire breakfast of people who go to work and don’t have it at home because they leave in a hurry, or because they don’t have any coffee, which in addition to being scarce has become very expensive,” Barrios said in an interview with IPS.

Coffee is part of the basic food basket on the island. The government sells each month, per person and on a subsidized basis, a 115-gram package mixed with 50 percent chickpeas.

In recent months there have been delays in distribution due to the late arrival of raw materials, including packaging paper, given the financial problems faced by this Caribbean island country in the midst of the deepening structural crisis of its economy, which dates back three decades.

When consulted by IPS, residents in some of Cuba’s 168 municipalities admit that the coffee quota “is barely enough for seven to 10 days, if you’re thrifty.”

People often resort to the black market to acquire additional quantities. There, the same 115-gram package, often taken from stores or government establishments, is sold for the equivalent of half a dollar.

Better quality Cuban and foreign coffee brands are sold almost exclusively in stores in convertible currencies, unaffordable for many families who are paid wages in the devalued Cuban peso.

For example, a kilo of the national brand Cubita costs about 15 dollars in a country with an average monthly salary equivalent to 32 dollars, according to the official rate of 120 pesos to the dollar.

Roberto Martínez shows the nursery where he grows new coffee plants in the town of Palenque, Yateras municipality, in the eastern Cuban province of Guantánamo. A cooperation project with Vietnam created seed banks to renew and improve cuttings and thus boost the quality and yields of local coffee. CREDIT: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

Boosting coffee production on the plains

Coffee arrived in Cuba in 1748 and production received a major boost after the Haitian revolution (1791-1804), with the immigration of French-Haitian farmers who settled in mountainous areas of the eastern part of the island where they set up coffee plantations, some of whose ruins were declared World Heritage Sites by UNESCO in the year 2000.

During part of the 19th century, this country was the main exporter of coffee to Europe, exporting 29,500 tons in 1833, for example.

Statistics show that the historical record was reached in the 1961-1962 harvest: 60,300 tons. But after that production declined and currently volumes do not exceed 10,000 tons per year.

With a demand of 24,000 tons per year, this once important exporter actually has to import coffee from other countries, but in quantities that do not meet its needs.

According to Elexis Legrá, director of coffee and cocoa of the Agroforestry Group (GAF), attached to the Ministry of Agriculture, Cuba exports the Arabica variety, the highest quality, produced by coffee growers in mountainous areas.

The prospect is to start exporting small quantities of the Robusta variety, in greatest demand on the international market.

This year, the goal is to export some 2,700 tons, a figure similar to that of 2020, according to industry executives.

Experts say the main factors behind the drop in production are pests, tropical cyclones that frequently hit the island, the effects of climate change, the depopulation of rural and mountainous areas and obsolescent technology.

About 90 percent of national coffee production comes from the mountains in the four easternmost provinces: Holguín, Granma, Santiago de Cuba and Guantánamo, where the highest quality varieties are grown, due to tradition and favorable microclimates.

However, since 2014 the Cuban government began identifying soils with adequate conditions for planting coffee in lowland regions, and training courses and technical advice have been provided to new coffee growers.

Sun-dried coffee beans in Palenque, in the municipality of Yateras in the province of Guantanamo. The easternmost of Cuba’s provinces is one of the largest local producers of coffee, where the highest quality varieties are grown, due to tradition and the favorable mountainous microclimates. CREDIT: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

“They used to say you couldn’t grow coffee here, and today we have some 2,000 bushes on just half a hectare,” Juan Miguel Fleitas told IPS. In addition to growing root vegetables, fresh produce and fruit and raising livestock, he also grows coffee on his family farm, Victoria 1, in the capital’s Guanabacoa municipality.

The 29-hectare farm, with six workers, belongs to the 26 de Julio Basic Units of Cooperative Production (UBPCs).

The UBPCs manage both private properties and state lands granted in usufruct in this socialist nation with a largely centralized economy.

“In the cooperative we have about eight hectares of coffee, dispersed. We are working on the introduction of Vietnamese coffee. It has a good yield, with a larger bean,” the farm’s head of agricultural production, Jorge Luis Gutiérrez, told IPS.

The beans came from seed banks from the east of the island, as part of the Cuba-Vietnam collaboration project, developed from 2015 to 2020.

In the 1970s, Cuban experts taught Vietnamese farmers and extension workers to plant this variety, in a nation then devastated by the war with the United States (1955-1975).

Vietnam is today the second largest exporter of the bean and shares its know-how with Cuba to achieve Robusta coffee cuttings that guarantee renewed plants with superior characteristics, in order to increase quality and yields.

Cuba’s “program to grow coffee in the lowlands” has set a goal of planting 7,163 hectares of coffee in production areas in several of the country’s 15 provinces.

So far, 1,200 hectares have been planted, another 700 hectares are in preparation, and the aim is to harvest more than 4,000 tons by 2030, according to official estimates.

By that date, Cuba’s “coffee production development program” aims to harvest 30,000 tons of coffee nationwide.

Bags of coffee are stacked on a handcart, to be sold at a state-run establishment in Havana’s Vedado neighborhood. The government provides 115 grams of coffee per month to Cuban families at subsidized prices, but in recent months it has been delivered with delays due to difficulties in obtaining supplies. CREDIT: Jorge Luis Baños/IPS

Organic coffee

Esperanza González is committed to growing coffee “without chemicals or herbicides, only using agroecological management techniques, earthworm humus, lots of organic matter and free-roaming chickens that help fertilize the soil with their excrement.”

González, who returned to Cuba after living for years in the Canadian province of Manitoba, was granted in 2017 in usufruct the eight-hectare Farm 878 that she renamed Doña Esperanza, located in the town of Santa Amelia, in the municipality of Cotorro, near the capital.

Since 2008, the Cuban government has granted unproductive and/or degraded land in usufruct to recuperate it and bolster food production.

This policy forms part of plans to strengthen food security in a country that is up to 70 percent dependent on food imports, whose rising prices lead to a domestic market with unsatisfied needs and shortages.

González, who through her own efforts imported “the equipment and the technology to be able to completely process our coffee,” told IPS that she hopes that with this year’s harvest they will “have a local quality product packaged under our own brand.”

However, she also highlighted “the exchange with coffee growers in the municipality of Segundo Frente (in the province of Santiago de Cuba), from whom we have received baskets to harvest coffee and give the final preparations to our crop.”

In 2021 “we harvested half a ton of good quality beans. We hope that little by little Doña Esperanza will become a lowlands coffee farm with higher volumes of export-quality and national-consumption production, which is so much needed,” she said.

Several initiatives with international support seek to strengthen the value chains associated with coffee production, restore the soils and ecosystems where coffee is grown, and identify markets for selling coffee grown with sustainable practices.

Prodecafé, an agroforestry cooperative development initiative that will run until 2027, was launched in February. With a budget of over 63 million dollars, it is expected to benefit 300 cooperatives in 27 municipalities in the four eastern provinces where coffee production is concentrated.

This joint project of the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) and the Ministry of Agriculture is aimed at strengthening the cocoa and coffee value chains and includes a gender approach by encouraging the inclusion of women in agroforestry activities.

Farmer Luis Edgardo Pérez kneels next to a loquat (Eriobotrya japonica) seedling which he just planted using one of the climate-resilient techniques he has learned to retain rainwater and prevent it from being wasted as runoff on his steep terrain in the Hacienda Vieja canton in central El Salvador. CREDIT: Gabriela Carranza/IPS

By Edgardo Ayala
SAN PEDRO NONUALCO, El Salvador , Aug 1 2022 (IPS)

With the satisfaction of knowing he was doing something good for himself and the planet, Salvadoran farmer Luis Edgardo Pérez set out to plant a fruit tree on the steepest part of his plot, applying climate change adaptation techniques to retain water.

This is vital for Pérez because of the steep slope of his land, where rainwater used to be wasted as runoff, as it ran downhill and his crops did not thrive.

Before planting the loquat (Eriobotrya japonica) tree, Pérez had previously cut part of the slope to create a small flat circular space to plant it.

This technique is called “individual terraces” and seeks to retain rainwater at the foot of the tree. He has done the same thing with the new citrus trees planted on his small farm.

He learned this technique since he joined a national effort, promoted by the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), to make farmers resilient to the impacts of climate change.

“In three years this loquat tree will be giving me fruit,” the 50-year-old farmer from the Hacienda Vieja canton in the municipality of San Pedro Nonualco, in the central Salvadoran department of La Paz, told IPS, smiling and perspiring as he stood next to the newly planted tree.

San Pedro Nonualco is one of 114 Salvadoran municipalities located in the so-called Central American Dry Corridor, a strip of land that covers 35 percent of Central America and is home to more than 10.5 million people, whose food security is threatened by inconsistent rainfall cycles that make farming difficult.

The Reclima Project is the name of the program implemented by FAO and financed with 35.8 million dollars from the Green Climate Fund (GCF), which supports climate change mitigation and adaptation in the developing South. The Salvadoran government has also contributed 91.8 million dollars in kind.

The program was launched in August 2019 and in its first phase led to the installation of 639 Field Schools to promote agroecology practices in which 22,732 families are participating in 46 municipalities in the Salvadoran Dry Corridor.

In addition, 352 drip irrigation systems will be installed, and 320 home rainwater harvesting systems have begun to be set up in 12 municipalities in El Salvador.

By the end of the program, it will have reached all 114 municipalities in the Dry Corridor, benefiting some 50,000 families.

Patricia Argueta, 40, plants a green bell pepper (Capsicum annuum) seedling in the community garden of Hoja de Sal, in the municipality of Santiago Nonualco in central El Salvador. She is one of the farmers learning new agroecological techniques as part of a project aimed at helping them combat the impacts of climate change. CREDIT: Gabriela Carranza/IPS

Learning and teaching

Pérez is one of the 639 farmers who, because of their enthusiasm and dedication, have become community promoters of these climate-resilient agricultural practices learned from technicians of the governmental National Center for Agricultural and Forestry Technology.

He meets with them periodically to learn new techniques, and he is responsible for teaching what he learns to a group of 31 other farmers in the Hacienda Vieja canton.

“You’re always learning in this process, you never stop learning. And you have to put it into practice, with other people,” he said.

On his 5.3-hectare plot, he was losing a good part of his citrus crop because the rainwater ran right off the sloping terrain.

“I was losing a lot of my crop, up to 15,000 oranges in one harvest; because of the lack of water, the oranges were falling off the trees,” he said.

On his property he has also followed other methods of rainwater and moisture retention, including living barriers and the conservation of stubble, i.e. leaves, branches and other organic material that cover the soil and help it retain moisture.

Pérez’s citrus production is around 50,000 oranges per harvest, plus some 5,000 lemons. He also grows corn and beans, using a technique that combines these crops with timber and fruit trees. That is why he planted loquat trees.

“I love what I do, I identify with my crops. I like doing it, I’m passionate about it,” he said.

Ruperto Hernández, 72, finishes preparing the organic fertilizer known as bokashi, which he and other families benefiting from a program promoted by FAO in El Salvador use to fertilize their crops in the San Sebastián Arriba canton of the municipality of Santiago Nonualco in central El Salvador. CREDIT: Gabriela Carranza/IPS

Collectively is better

About five kilometers further south down the road, you reach the San Sebastián Arriba canton, in the municipality of Santiago Nonualco, also in the department of La Paz.

Under the harsh midday sun, a group of men and women were planting cucumbers and fertilizing with bokashi, the organic fertilizer that the farmers have learned to produce for use on their crops as part of the FAO program.

“We are tilling the soil really well, we put in a little bit of organic fertilizer, mix it with the soil we tilled and then we put in the cucumber seed,” 72-year-old farmer Ruperto Hernández told IPS.

To make the fertilizer, Hernández explained that they used products such as rice hulls, molasses, charcoal, soil, and chicken and cattle manure.

“The more ingredients the better,” he said.

Hernández also showed the water conservation techniques used on the farm. These included shallow irrigation ditches dug along the hillsides at a specific angle.

The seven-hectare plot is a kind of agroecological school, where they put into practice the knowledge they have learned and then the farmers apply the techniques on their own plots.

Among the women in the group was Leticia Valles, who has been working with a towel over her head to protect herself from the sun.

Valles said this was the first time she was going to try using bokashi to fertilize her milpa – a term that refers to a traditional farming technique that combines staple crops like corn and beans with others, like squash.

“We have always used commercial fertilizer, but now we’re going to try bokashi, and I’m pretty excited, I expect a good harvest,” she said during a break.

They and the other participants in the program have also been taught to produce ecological herbicides and fungicides, which not only benefit the land but also their pocketbooks, as they are cheaper than commercial ones.

Imelda Platero, 54, and Paula Torres, 69, stand in a cornfield in the canton of Hoja de Sal in central El Salvador. They are two of the most active women involved in promoting actions to adapt agriculture to climate change in their village in the Dry Corridor. CREDIT: Gabriela Carranza/IPS

Changing sexist habits

Further south, near the Pacific Ocean, is the village of Hoja de Sal, also in the municipality of Santiago Nonualco, which is taking part in the Reclima Project as well.

The effort in this village is led by Imelda Platero, who coordinates a group of 37 people to whom she teaches climate-resilient practices on the plots of the Hoja de Sal cooperative, created in 1980 as part of the agrarian reform program implemented in El Salvador.

A total of 159 cooperative members collectively farm more than 700 hectares of land, most of which are dedicated to sugarcane production. And the members are entitled to just under one hectare of land to grow grains and vegetables individually.

But she not only teaches them how to plant using agroecological methods to combat the impacts of climate change.

She also teaches the 27 women in the group to become aware of the role they play and to empower them, as part of the program’s focus on gender questions.

“I was outraged when I heard stories about one member putting a padlock on the granary so his wife couldn’t sell corn if he wasn’t there; that is called economic violence,” said Platero, 54.

And she added: “We have been working on this issue, it is a challenge. It is still hard, but the women are more empowered, now they grow their corn and they sell it how they want to.”

Another important aspect is to respect the cosmovision and ancestral knowledge of peasant farmers in the area.

For example, Paula doesn’t plant if she can’t see what phase the moon is in,” said Platero, referring to Paula Torres, a 69-year-old farmer who is one of the most enthusiastic participants in the initiative.

Torres and her husband Felipe de Jesús Mejía, with whom she has raised 15 sons and daughters, are two weeks away from harvesting the first ears of corn from a bright green cornfield that is glowing with life. She is sure that this is due to the organic fertilizer they used.

“I’ve seen the difference, look what a beautiful milpa,” said Torres.

She added that now that she has seen how well the techniques work, she will use them “till I die.” Last year she and her husband produced about 1,133 kilos of corn, and this year they expect to grow more, by the looks of it.

“It’s never too late to learn,” she said, as she bent down and cut zucchini (Cucurbita pepo), which she sells in the community, in addition to cooking them at home.

A group of Farmacoop workers stand in the courtyard of their plant in Buenos Aires. Members of the Argentine cooperative proudly say that theirs is the first laboratory in the world to be recovered by its workers. CREDIT: Courtesy of Pedro Pérez/Tiempo Argentino.

By Daniel Gutman
BUENOS AIRES, May 24 2022 (IPS)

“All we ever wanted was to keep working. And although we have not gotten to where we would like to be, we know that we can,” says Edith Pereira, a short energetic woman, as she walks through the corridors of Farmacoop, in the south of the Argentine capital. She proudly says it is “the first pharmaceutical laboratory in the world recovered by its workers.”

Pereira began to work in what used to be the Roux Ocefa laboratory in Buenos Aires in 1983. At its height it had more than 400 employees working two nine-hour shifts, as she recalls in a conversation with IPS.

But in 2016 the laboratory fell into a crisis that first manifested itself in delays in the payment of wages and a short time later led to the owners removing the machinery, and emptying and abandoning the company.

The workers faced up to the disaster with a struggle that included taking over the plant for several months and culminated in 2019 with the creation of Farmacoop, a cooperative of more than 100 members, which today is getting the laboratory back on its feet.

In fact, during the worst period of the pandemic, Farmacoop developed rapid antigen tests to detect COVID-19, in partnership with scientists from the government’s National Council for Scientific and Technical Research (Conicet), the leading organization in the sector.

Farmacoop is part of a powerful movement in Argentina, as recognized by the government, which earlier this month launched the first National Registry of Recovered Companies (ReNacER), with the aim of gaining detailed knowledge of a sector that, according to official estimates, comprises more than 400 companies and some 18,000 jobs.

The presentation of the new Registry took place at an oil cooperative that processes soybeans and sunflower seeds on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, built on what was left of a company that filed for bankruptcy in 2016 and laid off its 126 workers without severance pay.

Edith Pereira (seated) and Blácida Benitez, two of the members of Farmacoop, a laboratory recovered by its workers in Buenos Aires, are seen here in the production area. This is the former Roux Ocefa laboratory, which went bankrupt in the capital of Argentina and was left owing a large amount of back wages to its workers. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

The event was led by President Alberto Fernández, who said that he intends to “convince Argentina that the popular economy exists, that it is here to stay, that it is valuable and that it must be given the tools to continue growing.”

Fernández said on that occasion that the movement of worker-recuperated companies was born in the country in 2001, as a result of the brutal economic and social crisis that toppled the presidency of Fernando de la Rúa.

“One out of four Argentines was out of work, poverty had reached 60 percent and one of the difficulties was that companies were collapsing, the owners disappeared and the people working in those companies wanted to continue producing,” he said.

“That’s when the cooperatives began to emerge, so that those who were becoming unemployed could get together and continue working, sometimes in the companies abandoned by their owners, sometimes on the street,” the president added.

Two technicians package products at the Farmacoop laboratory, a cooperative with which some of the workers of the former bankrupt company undertook its recovery through self-management, a formula that is growing in Argentina in the face of company closures during successive economic crises. CREDIT: Courtesy of Farmacoop

A complex social reality

More than 20 years later, this South American country of 45 million people finds itself once again in a social situation as severe or even more so than back then.

The new century began with a decade of growth, but today Argentines have experienced more than 10 years of economic stagnation, which has left its mark.

Poverty, according to official data, stands at 37 percent of the population, in a context of 60 percent annual inflation, which is steadily undermining people’s incomes and hitting the most vulnerable especially hard.

The latest statistics from the Ministry of Labor, Employment and Social Security indicate that 12.43 million people are formally employed, which in real terms – due to the increase of the population – is less than the 12.37 million jobs that were formally registered in January 2018.

“I would say that in Argentina we have been seeing the destruction of employment and industry for 40 years, regardless of the orientation of the governments. That is why we understand that worker-recovered companies, as a mechanism for defending jobs, will continue to exist,” says Bruno Di Mauro, the president of the Farmacoop cooperative.

“It is a form of resistance in the face of the condemnation of exclusion from the labor system that we workers suffer,” he adds to IPS.

“He who abandons gets no prize” reads the banner with which part of the members of the Farmacoop cooperative were demonstrating in the Plaza de Mayo in downtown Buenos Aires, during the long labor dispute with the former owners who drove the pharmaceutical company into bankruptcy. The workers managed to recover it in 2019. CREDIT: Courtesy of Bruno Di Mauro/Farmacoop.

Today Farmacoop has three active production lines, including Aqualane brand moisturizing cream, used for decades by Argentines for sunburn. The cooperative is currently in the cumbersome process of seeking authorizations from the health authority for other products.

“When I look back, I think that we decided to form the cooperative and recover the company without really understanding what we were getting into. It was a very difficult process, in which we had colleagues who fell into depression, who saw pre-existing illnesses worsen and who died,” Di Mauro says.

“But we learned that we workers can take charge of any company, no matter how difficult the challenge. We are not incapable just because we are part of the working class,” he adds.

Farmacoop’s workers currently receive a “social wage” paid by the State, which also provided subsidies for the purchase of machinery.

The plant, now under self-management, is a gigantic old 8,000-square-meter building with meeting rooms, laboratories and warehouse areas where about 40 people work today, but which was the workplace of several hundred workers in its heyday.

It is located between the neighborhoods of Villa Lugano and Mataderos, in an area of factories and low-income housing mixed with old housing projects, where the rigors of the successive economic crises can be felt on almost every street, with waste pickers trying to eke out a living.

Edith Pereira shows the Aqualane brand moisturizing cream, well known in Argentina, that today is produced by the workers of the Farmacoop cooperative, which has two industrial plants in Buenos Aires, recovered and managed by the workers. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

“When we entered the plant in 2019, everything was destroyed. There were only cardboard and paper that we sold to earn our first pesos,” says Blácida Martínez.

She used to work in the reception and security section of the company and has found a spot in the cooperative for her 24-year-old son, who is about to graduate as a laboratory technician and works in product quality control.

A new law is needed

Silvia Ayala is the president of the Mielcitas Argentinas cooperative, which brings together 88 workers, mostly women, who run a candy and sweets factory on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, where they lost their jobs in mid-2019.

“Today we are grateful that thanks to the cooperative we can put food on our families’ tables,” she says. “There was no other option but to resist, because reinserting ourselves in the labor market is very difficult. Every time a job is offered in Argentina, you see lines of hundreds of people.”

Ayala is also one of the leaders of the National Movement of Recovered Companies, active throughout the country, which is promoting a bill in Congress to regulate employee-run companies, presented in April by the governing Frente de Todos.

“A law would be very important, because when owners abandon their companies we need the recovery to be fast, and we need the collaboration of the State; this is a reality that is here to stay,” says Ayala.

Argentine President Alberto Fernández stands with workers of the Cooperativa Aceitera La Matanza on May 5, when the government presented the Registry of Recovered Companies, which aims to formalize worker-run companies. CREDIT: Casa Rosada

The Ministry of Social Development states that the creation of the Registry is aimed at designing specific public policies and tools to strengthen the production and commercialization of the sector, as well as to formalize workers.

The government defines “recovered” companies as those economic, productive or service units that were originally privately managed and are currently run collectively by their former employees.

Although the presentation was made this month, the Registry began operating in March and has already listed 103 recovered companies, of which 64 belong to the production sector and 35 to the services sector.

The first data provide an indication of the diversity of the companies in terms of size, with the smallest having six workers and the largest 177.

Every other Tuesday, a working group of Mayan women meets to review the organization and progress of their food saving and production project in Uayma, in the state of Yucatán in southeastern Mexico. CREDIT: Courtesy of the Ko'ox Tani Foundation

By Emilio Godoy
UAYMA, Mexico , Apr 26 2022 (IPS)

Every other Tuesday at 5:00 p.m. sharp, a group of 26 Mexican women meet for an hour to discuss the progress of their work and immediate tasks. Anyone who arrives late must pay a fine of about 25 cents on the dollar.

The collective has organized in the municipality of Uayma (which means “Not here” in the Mayan language) to learn agroecological practices, as well as how to save money and produce food for family consumption and the sale of surpluses.

“We have to be responsible. With savings we can do a little more,” María Petul, a married Mayan indigenous mother of two and a member of the group “Lool beh” (“Flower of the road” in Mayan), told IPS in this municipality of just over 4,000 inhabitants, 1,470 kilometers southeast of Mexico City in the state of Yucatán, on the Yucatán peninsula.

The home garden “gives me enough to eat and sell, it helps me out,” said Petul as she walked through her small garden where she grows habanero peppers (Capsicum chinense, traditional in the area), radishes and tomatoes, surrounded by a few trees, including a banana tree whose fruit will ripen in a few weeks and some chickens that roam around the earthen courtyard.

The face of Norma Tzuc, who is also married with two daughters, lights up with enthusiasm when she talks about the project. “I am very happy. We now have an income. It’s exciting to be able to help my family. Other groups already have experience and tell us about what they’ve been doing,” Tzuc told IPS.

The two women and the rest of their companions, whose mother tongue is Mayan, participate in the project “Women saving to address climate change”, run by the non-governmental Ko’ox Tani Foundation (“Let’s Go Ahead”, in Mayan), dedicated to community development and social inclusion, based in Merida, the state capital.

This phase of the project is endowed with some 100,000 dollars from the Commission for Environmental Cooperation (CEC), the non-binding environmental arm of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), formed in 1994 by Canada, the United States and Mexico and replaced in 2020 by another trilateral agreement.

The initiative got off the ground in February and will last two years, with the aim of training some 250 people living in extreme poverty, mostly women, in six locations in the state of Yucatán.

The maximum savings for each woman in the group is about 12 dollars every two weeks and the minimum is 2.50 dollars, and they can withdraw the accumulated savings to invest in inputs or animals, or for emergencies, with the agreement of the group. Through the project, the women will receive seeds, agricultural inputs and poultry, so that they can install vegetable gardens and chicken coops on their land.

The women write down the quotas in a white notebook and deposit the savings in a gray box, kept in the house of the group’s president.

José Torre, project director of the Ko’ox Tani Foundation, explained that the main areas of entrepreneurship are: community development, food security, livelihoods and human development.

“What we have seen over time is that the savings meetings become a space for human development, in which they find support and solidarity from their peers, make friends and build trust,” he told IPS during a tour of the homes of some of the savings group participants in Uayma.

The basis for the new initiative in this locality is a similar program implemented between 2018 and 2021 in other Yucatecan municipalities, in which the organization worked with 1400 families.

María Petul, a Mayan indigenous woman, plants chili peppers, tomatoes, radishes and medicinal herbs in the vegetable garden in the courtyard of her home in Uayma, in the southeastern Mexican state of Yucatán. CREDIT: Emilio Godoy/IPS

Unequal oasis

Yucatan, a region home to 2.28 million people, suffers from a high degree of social backwardness, with 34 percent of the population living in moderate poverty, 33 percent suffering unmet needs, 5.5 percent experiencing income vulnerability and almost seven percent living in extreme poverty.

The COVID-19 pandemic that hit this Latin American country in February 2020 exacerbated these conditions in a state that depends on agriculture, tourism and services, similar to the other two states that make up the Yucatán Peninsula: Campeche and Quintana Roo.

Inequality is also a huge problem in the state, although the Gini Index dropped from 0.51 in 2014 to 0.45, according to a 2018 government report, based on data from 2016 (the latest year available). The Gini coefficient, where 1 indicates the maximum inequality and 0 the greatest equality, is used to calculate income inequality.

The situation of indigenous women is worse, as they face marginalization, discrimination, violence, land dispossession and lack of access to public services.

More than one million indigenous people live in the state.

Women participating in a project funded by the North American Commission for Environmental Cooperation record their savings in a white notebook and deposit them in a gray box. Mayan indigenous woman Norma Tzuc belongs to a group taking part in the initiative in Uayma, in the southeastern Mexican state of Yucatán. CREDIT: Emilio Godoy/IPS

Climate crisis, yet another vulnerability

Itza Castañeda, director of equity at the non-governmental World Resources Institute (WRI), highlights the persistence of structural inequalities in the peninsula that exacerbate the effects of the climate crisis.

“In the three states there is greater inequality between men and women. This stands in the way of women’s participation and decision-making. Furthermore, the existing evidence shows that there are groups in conditions of greater vulnerability to climate impacts,” she told IPS from the city of Tepoztlán, near Mexico City.

She added that “climate change accentuates existing inequalities, but a differentiated impact assessment is lacking.”

Official data indicate that there are almost 17 million indigenous people in Mexico, representing 13 percent of the total population, of which six million are women.

Of indigenous households, almost a quarter are headed by women, while 65 percent of indigenous girls and women aged 12 and over perform unpaid work compared to 35 percent of indigenous men – a sign of the inequality in the system of domestic and care work.

To add to their hardships, the Yucatan region is highly vulnerable to the effects of the climate crisis, such as droughts, devastating storms and rising sea levels. In June 2021, tropical storm Cristobal caused the flooding of Uayma, where three women’s groups are operating under the savings system.

For that reason, the project includes a risk management and hurricane early warning system.

The Mexican government is building a National Care System, but the involvement of indigenous women and the benefits for them are still unclear.

Petul looks excitedly at the crops planted on her land and dreams of a larger garden, with more plants and more chickens roaming around, and perhaps a pig to be fattened. She also thinks about the possibility of emulating women from previous groups who have set up small stores with their savings.

“They will lay eggs and we can eat them or sell them. With the savings we can also buy roosters, in the market chicks are expensive,” said Petul, brimming with hope, who in addition to taking care of her home and family sells vegetables.

Her neighbor Tzuc, who until now has been a homemaker, said that the women in her group have to take into account the effects of climate change. “It has been very hot, hotter than before, and there is drought. Fortunately, we have water, but we have to take care of it,” she said.

For his part, Torre underscored the results of the savings groups. The women “left extreme poverty behind. The pandemic hit hard, because there were families who had businesses and stopped selling. The organization gave them resilience,” he said.

In addition, a major achievement is that the households that have already completed the project continue to save, regularly attend meetings and have kept producing food.

Elizabeth Cuenca, Jesusa Flores, Flora Huamán and Ángela Oviedo (from left to right) stand in the agroecological garden they tend with 10 other women in Rodrigo Bueno, a poor neighborhood in Buenos Aires. In the background loom the high-rises of Puerto Madero, the most modern and sought-after neighborhood in the Argentine capital. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

By Daniel Gutman
BUENOS AIRES, Apr 21 2022 (IPS)

The space consists of just 300 square meters full of green where there is an agro-ecological vegetable garden and nursery, which are the work and dream of 14 women. Behind it can be seen the imposing silhouettes of the high rises that are a symbol of the most modern and sought-after part of Argentina’s capital city.

But the Vivera Orgánica (Organic Nursery) forms part of another reality: it is located in a low-income neighborhood which has been transformed in recent years thanks to the work of local residents and to government support.

“We started with the idea of growing some fresh vegetables for our families. And today we are a cooperative that opens its doors to the neighborhood and also sells to people who come from all over the city, and to companies,” Peruvian immigrant Elizabeth Cuenca, who came to Buenos Aires from her country in 2010 and settled in this neighborhood on the banks of the La Plata River, tells IPS.

The Barrio Rodrigo Bueno emerged as a shantytown in the 1980s on flood-prone land in the south of Buenos Aires.

It is just a few blocks from Puerto Madero, an area occupied for decades by abandoned port warehouses, which since the 1990s has been renovated and gentrified, experiencing a real estate boom that has made it the most sought-after by the wealthy in Buenos Aires.

The contrast between the exposed brick houses of Rodrigo Bueno, separated by narrow, often muddy corridors, and the slick glassy 40- or 50-story skyscrapers built between the wide streets of Puerto Madero became a powerful image of inequality in Greater Buenos Aires, a megacity of nearly 15 million inhabitants.

However, today things are completely different in Rodrigo Bueno, named after a popular singer who suffered a tragic death in 2000.

It is one of the four shantytowns in the city (out of a total of about 40, according to official figures) that are in the process of urbanization – or “socio-urban integration”, as the Buenos Aires city government describes the process.

Since 2017, streets have been widened and paved, infrastructure for public service delivery was brought in, and 46 buildings with 612 new apartments were built, which now house nearly half of the neighborhood’s roughly 1,500 families.

Many of the old precarious houses were demolished while others still stand alongside the brand-new apartments, awarded to their new owners with 30-year loans.

“When the urbanization process began to be discussed, we started having skills and trades workshops and there was one on gardening, which was attended by many women who, although we lived in the same neighborhood, did not know each other,” says Cuenca.

“That’s how we learned, we organized ourselves and were able to get a space for the Vivera, which we inaugurated in December 2019. Today we sell vegetables and especially seedlings for people who want to start their own vegetable gardens at home. We don’t earn wages, but we generate an income,” she adds.

The paving of streets is progressing in the Rodrigo Bueno neighborhood, which first emerged as a shantytown on the banks of the La Plata River, where previously almost all the houses were accessed through narrow corridors, most of them made of exposed bricks and many of them built by the families themselves. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

Bringing home gardens to life – and more

In just over two years, the women of the Vivera Orgánica have achieved some milestones, such as the sale of 7,000 seedlings of different vegetables to the Toyota automobile company, which gave them as gifts to its employees.

They have also sold agroecological vegetables to the swank Hilton Hotel in Buenos Aires, which is located in Puerto Madero, and have set up vegetable gardens on land owned by Enel, one of the largest electricity distributors.

But they have also earned respect from the public. “The incredible thing is that the pandemic was a great help for us, because many people who couldn’t leave their homes started to become interested in eating healthier or growing their own food. We received a lot of orders,” says Jesusa Flores, a Bolivian immigrant who is one of the founders of the Vivera.

She was working as a cleaner and caring for the elderly in family homes, when she lost her jobs due to the restrictions on movement aimed at curbing the COVID pandemic.

“La Vivera has been very important for me, because it is near our homes and we can always come here,” says Flores.

The nursery receives no government subsidies and the 14 women earn little money from it, so almost all of them have other jobs. But they are all confident that they have the potential to grow and that the nursery will become their only job in the future.

“During the worst period of the pandemic, we put together 15 boxes a day with 12 seedlings to sell, but we received 60 orders a day. We couldn’t keep up with demand,” says Angela Oviedo from Peru, who is also a member of the group.

Several women prepare the products of the Vivera Orgánica, next to part of a mural painted on the door of the container that serves as the office of their small business in a low-income neighborhood in the Argentine capital. CREDIT: Ministry of Human Development and Habitat of the City of Buenos Aires

The hurdles thrown up by informal employment

The Buenos Aires city government provides technical support for the Vivera Orgánica as part of the neighborhood’s socio-urban integration process.

Low-income sectors in Argentina have been hard-hit since the process of devaluation of the peso began four years ago, accompanied by high inflation, leading to a steep plunge in purchasing power, especially for workers in the informal economy.

In 2020 the crisis was exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, which caused the economy to shrink by 10 percent. And while almost all of the losses were recovered in 2021, the alarming fact is that most of the jobs that have been created since then are informal.

According to data from the Argentine Ministry of Labor, Employment and Social Security, in January this year there were 6,034,637 registered workers in the private sector, down from 6,273,972 in January 2018, before the start of the recession.

The Buenos Aires city government’s Ministry of Human Development and Habitat estimates that there are some 500,000 workers in the informal economy in the capital, who have been the hardest hit by inflation, which reached 6.7 percent last March, the highest rate for a single month in Argentina in the last 20 years.

Many analysts warn that poverty, which in the second half of last year fell from 40.6 percent to 37.3 percent according to the National Institute of Statistics and Census, will grow again in 2022.

A picture of some of the buildings constructed by the Buenos Aires city government in the Rodrigo Bueno neighborhood. A total of 612 new apartments have already been delivered, through 30-year loans, to the families that lived closest to the river and were most exposed to pollution in this poor neighborhood in the Argentine capital. CREDIT: Daniel Gutman/IPS

Assistance in joining the formal sector

“In poor neighborhoods there are many businesses, but the problem is that because of the situation in the informal economy, they face enormous hurdles in order to grow and to be able to connect with the formal market,” explains Belén Barreto, undersecretary for the Development of Human Potential in the government of Buenos Aires.

“One issue has to do with productivity: in general, the entrepreneurs work in their own homes and are not able to scale up significantly. That is why we support the Vivera with technical assistance, so the project can reach production levels enabling it to sell in the city’s formal value chains,” she adds in an interview with IPS.

Barreto says that another obstacle has to do with marketing: entrepreneurs find it difficult to sell their products outside the environment in which they live, despite the growth of on-line sales.

“That is why our focus is on linking these small businesses with companies so that they can become their suppliers in order to earn a more sustainable income and scale up their production through a new market. Last Christmas we held business roundtables and managed to get more companies to buy gifts from the social and popular economy, for a total of 17 million pesos (about 150,000 dollars),” she adds.

Finally, to address the problem of access to credit for informal workers, in 2021 the Buenos Aires city government created the Social Development Fund (Fondes), a public-private fund for the social and popular economy.

The steady growth of the informal economy also prompted the local government to create last year the Registry of Productive Units of the Popular and Social Economy, which allows access to tax benefits and has so far registered some 3,000 self-managed units.

The transformation of the neighborhood has also brought greater opportunities for local residents, who are often victims of discrimination and prejudice.

Cuenca, for example, explains that “we didn’t used to have an address to give when we were looking for a job, and it was very unlikely that we would get called back.”

She sees the Vivera Orgánica as another tool for a more dignified life: “This project is part of the neighborhood and part of us; we now feel that we have different prospects.”