An artisan puts final touches to the monument of Magawa, a Tanzanian-born bomb-sniffing rat. Credit: APOPO

By Kizito Makoye
MOROGORO, Tanzania , Apr 7 2026 (IPS)

At Mazimbu village, not far from Tanzania’s Sokoine University of Agriculture (SUA), Stephano Jaka still remembers the night he trapped and killed a rat that had been feasting on his maize cobs – stored in a meticulously woven basket designed to protect grains from rodents.
“I felt a big sense of relief when I finally killed it. It had been causing huge losses to my family,” he tells IPS.

Thousands of kilometres away in Siem Reap, Cambodia, farmers were among the dignitaries invited on Saturday to honour a Tanzanian-born rat for detecting hundreds of landmines, helping to clear swathes of land for farming.

Where farmers in Tanzania’s Morogoro region still perceive rats as destructive creatures threatening their livelihoods, communities in Cambodia embrace one of the species as a life-saving hero – underscoring how a despised animal has come to embody entirely different meanings across continents.

Cambodia remains one of the world’s most landmine-infested countries, with millions of explosives still buried underground, making large areas unsafe for farming, settlement and development.

On the eve of the International Day for Mine Awareness, a 2.2-metre statue – the world’s first public monument dedicated to a life-saving rat – was unveiled. The monument honours Magawa, whose bomb-sniffing career began after a yearlong stint at Sokoine University. He was hailed not as a crop-raiding pest but as an unlikely hero whose extraordinary sense of smell helped uncover hidden dangers.

For years, Magawa worked across some of Cambodia’s most dangerous terrain, detecting more than 100 landmines and helping to make large areas safe before his death in 2022. He remains the only rat ever awarded the PDSA Gold Medal for bravery.

Carved from local stone by Cambodian artisans, the statue shows Magawa wearing his medal and operational harness. Its base incorporates fragments of decommissioned explosives, symbolising the threat he helped eliminate. Erected in central Siem Reap, the monument also directs visitors to APOPO’s centre, where they can learn about the rats’ work and the ongoing impact of landmines.

“Magawa became a global symbol of hope for Cambodia’s mine-affected communities. This statue honours his extraordinary service and the work of all APOPO HeroRATs who continue to save lives in Cambodia and around the world — step by step, life by life,” said Christophe Cox, founder of APOPO.

The tribute also serves as a reminder that millions of landmines remain buried, and efforts to clear them continue despite limited resources.

Magawa was trained by APOPO, a non-governmental organisation that deploys African giant pouched rats to detect explosives. Because they are too light to trigger landmines, the animals can safely search contaminated areas far more quickly than conventional methods.

Born at Sokoine University of Agriculture in Morogoro, Magawa showed early promise before being deployed to Cambodia in 2016, where he became one of the most successful detection animals in the programme.

In heavily affected regions such as Battambang, land once considered too dangerous has been cleared and returned to productive use, allowing communities to rebuild livelihoods and restore a sense of normalcy.

Magawa’s work also highlights a broader story of African innovation contributing to global solutions, with a programme developed in Tanzania now supporting mine clearance efforts in several countries.

Although Magawa died in 2022, other trained rats continue the work, helping to reduce the threat posed by unexploded landmines.

Residents of Morogoro spoke with a mix of pride, curiosity and quiet awe when reflecting on the global recognition of Magawa, the giant African pouched rat whose work in Cambodia has saved countless lives.

“Who would have thought a rat from our region could become a global hero?” said Jaka. “Here, rats are something we chase away. But Magawa has changed that story completely. He has shown us that even the smallest creatures can carry the biggest responsibilities.”

At the Morogoro main market, trader Rehema Msuya said Magawa’s story had sparked new conversations among residents about science and innovation.

“People now talk about rats differently,” she said. “We used to see them only as destructive. But this one saved lives and detected danger where machines sometimes fail. It makes you proud, knowing such intelligence can come from a rat.”

For some, Magawa’s legacy goes beyond admiration, emphasising the possibilities often overlooked.

“Magawa represents Africa in a very powerful way,” said Dar es Salaam-based secondary school teacher Godfrey Lwambano. “We often underestimate what we have – our environment, our knowledge, even our animals. Yet here is a creature trained with patience and care, going on to clear deadly landmines and protect communities far away.”

Young people in Morogoro, too, say the story touched them.

“When I first heard about him, I thought it was a joke,” said 22-year-old university student Neema Kibwana. “But when I learnt he worked for years detecting mines and even received awards, I was inspired. It shows that impact doesn’t depend on size or status.”

As the story of Magawa circulates in Tanzania and beyond, it continues to challenge long-held perceptions – transforming an animal once seen only as a pest into a symbol of ingenuity, resilience and hope.

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A portrait of President Samia Hassan hangs on a pole as thick smoke from burning tires fills the air during protests over her disputed candidacy in Dar es Salaam. Credit: Zuberi Mussa/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Nov 5 2025 (IPS)

At dawn in Manzese, a dusty township on the outskirts of Dar es Salaam, silence hangs where the sounds of commerce once roared. The township, usually crowded with street cooks, vegetable vendors, mechanics, and motorcycle taxis snaking through the morning rush, stood eerily empty. Shutters are pulled down, wooden stalls abandoned, and the air is heavy with the smell of burnt rubber. For five days, the township’s bustling economic life has been paralyzed—leaving residents unable to buy food or access basic services.

“I still can’t believe what I saw,” says Abel Nteena, a 36-year-old tricycle rider, his voice trembling as he recalls the horror that unfolded on October 31. “Masked men in black with red armbands came out of nowhere. They started shooting at us as we queued for fuel. They spoke Swahili, but their accent was strange—and their skin was unusually dark. They shouted at everyone to run and opened fire.”

Nteena says three of his colleagues were hit by bullets and are now fighting for their lives in a local hospital. “One was shot in the chest, another in the leg. I don’t even know if they will make it,” he says.

A City Under Siege

The attack was one of several that rocked Dar es Salaam following the disputed presidential elections, which many observers described as deeply flawed. The unrest has claimed hundreds of lives nationwide, with the government imposing a 12-hour curfew to quell the violence. But in doing so, it has paralyzed the country’s economic heart.

For the millions who rely on informal trade to survive, the curfew has been a nightmare. Shops and markets close by mid-afternoon, public transport halts, and banks and mobile money agents are often shuttered long before sunset.

“I was just buying milk when I heard gunshots,” recalls Neema Nkulu, a 31-year-old mother of three from the Bunju neighborhood. “People screamed and fell to the ground. I saw a man bleeding near the shop. I dropped everything and ran.” She says. “A sniper’s bullet hit the shop’s glass right where I had been standing. I thank God I’m alive.”

With financial services disrupted, Neema and many others cannot access money stored in mobile wallets. “I have cash in my phone, but the agents are closed, and I can’t withdraw it,” she says. “My children have gone without proper food for two days.”

Daily Struggles Amid Curfew

In Dar es Salaam, where nearly six million people depend on daily earnings, the curfew has created cascading hardships. Food prices have soared as trucks bringing supplies from upcountry regions remain stranded due to insecurity and fuel shortages. The cost of maize flour, a staple food, has doubled in a week. Fuel scarcity has sent public transport fares skyrocketing—with commuters paying twice the normal price to reach work.

“I used to sell fried fish every evening,” says Rashid Pilo, 39, who runs a roadside stall in Bunju. “My customers are mostly office workers who buy food on their way home. But now, because of the curfew, everyone rushes home early. I have lost almost everything. One night’s curfew means no income and no food for my family.”

At Mwananyamala and Mabwepande hospitals, morgues are reportedly overwhelmed by bodies of those killed in the violence. Health workers, speaking anonymously for fear of reprisals, say they have run out of space and body bags. The government has released no official casualty figures, but human rights groups estimate that hundreds have died since election day.

“The bodies keep coming,” says one morgue attendant, visibly shaken. “Some have bullet wounds; others were beaten. Families are scared to claim them.”

Fear and Silence

Across the city, the presence of heavily armed soldiers on the streets has instilled deep fear among residents. Armored vehicles patrol major intersections, and random house searches have become routine. Most city dwellers have chosen to remain indoors, venturing out only when necessary.

“I went to three ATMs, but none were working,” says Richard Masawe, a 46-year-old computer specialist at InfoTech  company. “The internet was down, and even mobile banking was offline. I couldn’t buy anything or send money to my family. It felt like we were cut off from the world.”

The government says the internet shutdown was a “temporary security measure,” but rights groups argue it was an attempt to silence dissent and block the flow of information about the violence.

Transport in Dar es Salaam has also been crippled. Long queues of vehicles snake around petrol stations, while most buses remain grounded.

“We have fuel for only half a day,” says Walid  Masato a Yas station manager. “Deliveries have stopped coming. The roads are unsafe.”

An Economy on the Brink

According to economist Jerome Mchau, the post-election crisis has exposed Tanzania’s economic fragility. “The informal sector, which employs more than 80 percent of Tanzanians, is the hardest hit,” he explains. “When people can’t move, can’t trade, and can’t access cash, the entire economic system grinds to a halt.”

Mchau estimates that the economy could lose up to USD 150 million per week if the unrest continues. “Inflationary pressure is already visible,” he adds. “Food and fuel prices are climbing fast, and consumer confidence is collapsing.”

The curfew has also paralyzed logistics networks. Trucks carrying essential goods from the central regions of Dodoma, Morogoro, and Mbeya have been unable to reach the coast, creating artificial shortages in urban centers. “We are seeing panic buying,” Mchau notes. “People are stockpiling rice, pasta, and flour because they don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

Shattered Trust, Deep Divisions

Beyond the economic toll, the violence has eroded trust between citizens and the government. Many Tanzanians feel betrayed by a system they once considered a model of stability.

“Tanzania was long regarded as a beacon of peace and democracy in Africa,” says Michael Bante, a political commentator based in Dar es Salaam. “But what we’re seeing now is unprecedented—people losing faith in state institutions, opposition voices being silenced, and communities turning against each other.”

Bante says the government faces a monumental challenge in restoring public confidence. “President Samia’s administration must act decisively to unite the nation,” he says. “This means not only investigating human rights abuses but also engaging in genuine dialogue with opposition leaders and civil society.”

The opposition has accused the ruling party of manipulating the vote and using excessive force to suppress protests. The government, in turn, blames “foreign-funded elements” for inciting violence. The truth, analysts say, likely lies somewhere in between—in the deep mistrust that has been festering for years.

A Nation in Mourning

In many parts of Dar es Salaam, grief and uncertainty define daily life. At the Manzese Market, women gather quietly in small groups, whispering about missing relatives. The charred remains of kiosks and motorcycles litter the streets. A faint smell of smoke still hangs in the air.

“Life will never be the same,” says Nkulu, the young mother who narrowly escaped sniper fire. “We used to feel safe here. Now, every sound of a motorbike makes me jump. I can’t even send my children to school.”

Schools across the city remain closed indefinitely. Hospitals report rising cases of trauma and anxiety. Religious leaders have called for calm and reconciliation.

Searching for Stability

President Samia Suluhu Hassan, who has publicly condemned the violence, faces her toughest political test yet. In a televised address, she called for unity and promised to investigate the attacks. Yet, critics argue that the government’s heavy-handed security response risks inflaming tensions further.

“Tanzania is at a crossroads,” says Bante. “The leadership must choose between repression and reform. The world is watching.”

International partners, including the African Union and the United Nations, have called for restraint and dialogue. However, diplomatic sources say mediation efforts have stalled as both sides harden their positions.

For ordinary Tanzanians like Rashid, the fish vendor, politics has become a matter of survival. “I don’t care who wins or loses,” he says, frying a handful of tilapia over a small charcoal stove. “I just want peace so that I can work and feed my family.”

A Fragile Hope

As dusk settles over Dar es Salaam, the city remains cloaked in tension. The once-bustling bus stands and food stalls are deserted, the only movement coming from military patrols sweeping through dimly lit streets.

Yet, amid the fear and uncertainty, some still cling to hope. “We’ve seen hard times before,” says Masawe, the computer specialist. “If we can rebuild trust, maybe we can rebuild our country too.”

For now, that hope feels distant. Tanzania’s post-election crisis has left deep scars in a nation once hailed for its calm. Whether President Samia’s government can heal those wounds remains to be seen.
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A throng of people at the Kariakoo business hub in Dar es Salaam, where air pollution is rampant. Credit: Kizito Makoye Shigela/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania , Sep 24 2025 (IPS)

On a hot afternoon in Kariakoo, Dar es Salaam’s bustling commercial hub, the air is a swirling mix of diesel exhaust, charcoal smoke and dust kicked up by the shuffle of feet. Traders tie handkerchiefs over their noses to deter haze from drifting into their throats and lungs.

“There are just too many cars—the toxic smoke makes it hard to breathe,” says Abdul Hassan, a vegetable vendor who has worked in the market for 19 years.

A new study by the Dar es Salaam Institute of Technology and the Stockholm Environment Institute, published in Clean Air Journal, has confirmed what many city dwellers already know: the air is toxic. Real-time data collected from 14 monitoring stations across Dar es Salaam between May 2021 and February 2022 showed concentrations of particulate matter—PM2.5 and PM10 — consistently exceeded World Health Organization (WHO) guidelines. At their peak, daily PM2.5 levels reached 130 µg/m³, more than eight times the WHO’s recommended limit.

These findings place Dar es Salaam firmly within the global air pollution crisis, underscoring the urgent need to deliver on Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) target 3.9.1, which calls for a substantial reduction in deaths and illnesses from hazardous air.

“Air pollution is not an invisible issue—you can smell it and feel it in your lungs,” said Neema John, a street cook who works near Kariakoo market. “My children cough all night when the smoke from burning dumps drifts into our house.”

A Silent Killer

The study shows that people living near dumpsites, busy roads, and industrial zones face the greatest risks. At the Pugu Dampo landfill, particulate concentrations reached staggering levels—up to 2,762 µg/m³ for PM10—during months of uncontrolled waste burning. In Ilala and Kinondoni, home to factories and major intersections, daily averages were consistently above safe limits.

Health experts warn that such exposure is linked to asthma, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), heart failure, and premature deaths. In Tanzania, respiratory infections are a leading cause of hospital visits and child mortality.

“This is a public health emergency hiding in plain sight,” said Linus Chuwa, a Dar es Salaam–based public health specialist.

“When PM2.5 levels exceed WHO standards by such margins, they potentially inflict long-term damage to people’s health.”

Energy Poverty and Dirty Fuels

But the problem does not only stem from traffic and industry. According to the study, Dar es Salaam consumes nearly half of Tanzania’s total charcoal each year. With only 34 percent of the country’s electricity generated from clean hydropower, most households rely on charcoal and firewood.

This reliance on dirty fuels undermines SDG target 7.1.2, which aims to ensure access to clean energy for cooking and heating.

“For families, charcoal is cheaper and more accessible, but the smoke fills homes with toxic particles,” said Fatma Suleiman, who lives in the densely populated suburb of Mbagala. “We know it’s dangerous, but it is the only cheaper alternative?”

The Urban Sustainability Challenge

Dar es Salaam is one of Africa’s fastest-growing cities, its population now above six million. Its rapid sprawl, unregulated industries, and congested roads make it a typical example of the challenges captured under SDG target 11.6.2: reducing the environmental impact of cities by improving air quality.

The study found that during peak hours—6 a.m. to 11 a.m. and 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.—air pollution levels in traffic and industrial zones spiked sharply. Conversely, concentrations dropped during holidays, highlighting how transport and industrial activities drive emissions.

Policy efforts exist: the Bus Rapid Transit system and Standard Gauge Railway aim to reduce vehicle emissions, while Tanzania has signed onto regional and global clean air initiatives. Yet enforcement of air quality standards remains weak. The 2007 Air Quality Regulations are rarely applied, and monitoring remains limited.

A Boiling Cauldron

The warnings resonate most on Kongo Street, Kariakoo’s most notorious artery. Here, thousands push through a maze of wooden stalls while hawkers bellow prices, competing with the roar of motorbikes and rattling carts.

“You breathe smoke, dust, and even the stench from garbage that never seems to get collected,” said Mwanaidi Salum, a mother of three. “When I blow my nose, it’s black from dust and smoke.”

Although the study has identified other hotspots for  air pollution, the combination of heavy traffic, open-air cooking fires, and uncollected waste makes it a microcosm of the city’s pollution crisis.

Navigating Chaos, Swallowing Fumes

Cars and motorbikes lurch forward, horns blaring, leaving behind thick plumes of exhaust. Pedestrians leap aside, clutching bags to their chests. Wooden carts piled high with rice, bananas, and bales of used clothing block every path.

Researchers warn that children, street vendors, and the elderly are especially vulnerable to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases.

Jacqueline Senyagwa, a research fellow at the Stockholm Environment Institute, said the findings from Dar es Salaam expose risks that are far from abstract.

“While our study did not collect medical data, the air quality records we obtained from 14 monitoring stations clearly showed very high concentrations of PM2.5 and PM10—several times above the World Health Organization’s safe limits,” she explained. “Globally, long-term exposure to such particles is linked to respiratory and cardiovascular conditions, particularly among children and the elderly. We are talking about asthma, lung diseases, heart failure, and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.”

She noted that air pollution has become one of the biggest drivers of non-communicable diseases worldwide. “According to the WHO, it is the second-highest cause of non-communicable diseases globally. That should be a wake-up call for Tanzania.”

Yet despite these dangers, Senyagwa said Tanzania still lacks a robust national framework for air quality monitoring. “There are several reasons. First, there is limited awareness of the health impacts of air pollution among the public, policymakers, and regulators,” she said. “Solid waste is visible, and people demand action. But air pollution is invisible, and its effects take years to show, so action is often delayed.”

Technical capacity and resources are also a challenge.

“There are very few air quality experts in Tanzania, and most monitoring equipment has to be imported,” she noted. “Institutions like the Dar es Salaam Institute of Technology have only recently started fabricating local monitors. On top of that, the mandates of public agencies are fragmented. NEMC, for example, is responsible for regulating air quality, but with limited human and financial resources, enforcement has been minimal.”

According to Senyagwa, even the data itself is scarce. “The 14 stations we installed represent some of the very first ambient air monitoring efforts in the country,” she said. “Without reliable data, many decision-makers underestimate the scale of the problem.”

Her team identified clear hotspots. “At the Pugu Dampo dumpsite, the main source is open waste burning, which produces dangerously high levels of particulates,” she said. “In Vingunguti, the pollution largely comes from industries and road traffic. And in Magomeni and other crowded residential areas, vehicle emissions are the biggest culprit.”

Still, she pointed out that practical interventions do exist.

“The government’s investment in the Bus Rapid Transit system is a positive step because reducing traffic will cut emissions,” she said. “We’ve also carried out awareness campaigns with local communities—from advising waste pickers at Pugu to wear masks and stop random fires to working with schoolchildren in Vingunguti alongside partners like Save the Children Tanzania and Muhimbili College of Health Sciences.”

Dar es Salaam’s air quality crisis, she stressed, is not unique. “When we compare our results with Kampala, Nairobi, and Addis Ababa, the pattern is very similar. PM2.5 and PM10 levels across these cities also exceed WHO limits,” Senyagwa said.

Still, Tanzania can learn from regional peers. “Nairobi has gone further by passing a County Air Quality Act in 2022 and rolling out low-cost sensors across the city,” she said. “In Uganda, Kampala University has started fabricating its own sensors, while the Kampala Capital City Authority has already developed a clean air action plan. Addis Ababa is moving towards tougher vehicle emission standards.”

“These examples show that solutions are possible,” Senyagwa added. “But Tanzania must first recognize air pollution as a major public health threat—and act with the urgency it deserves.”

Plan of Action

The authors recommend a robust national monitoring framework, stronger enforcement of emission standards, and investment in waste recycling and composting to reduce open burning. Public awareness campaigns on air pollution’s health risks, they argue, are equally vital.

For the city’s dwellers, however, the need is urgent and personal. “We can’t keep raising children in an environment where every breath is dangerous,” said Hassan.

Unless Tanzania addresses dirty energy and unchecked urban pollution, its economic gains risk being overshadowed by rising health costs and declining quality of life.

Yet despite the looming health risks, life goes on at Kariakoo, even as the air grows harder to breathe.

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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Abortion is illegal in Uganda. Girls who get pregnant resort to deadly backstreet abortion providers. However, it is also criminal to provide safe abortion services. Credit: Wambi Michael/IPS

By Wambi Michael
KAMPALA, Aug 18 2025 (IPS)

Sarah Namukisa nearly missed her final year exams earlier this year. She was subjected to a mandatory pregnancy test—the 25-year-old student at the Medical Laboratory Training School in Jinja was then expelled because she was pregnant.

While Namukisa’s case sparked public criticism, activists say it was by no means an isolated incident.

Across Uganda and other East African countries, pregnant students continue to face expulsion, forced school dropout, and stigma in both public and private educational institutions.

Labila Sumaya Musoke, from the Initiative for Social and Economic Rights (ISER), told IPS that the widespread practice reflects deep-seated systemic discrimination and patriarchal control over young women’s bodies and futures

She said the expulsion mirrors systemic and institutional discrimination that international and regional human rights bodies have explicitly deemed unlawful and incompatible with human rights standards.

Namukisa was lucky that her case attracted the attention of the civil society and Uganda’s Equal Opportunities Commission. The commission ordered her school to rescind the expulsion. Many young women resort to deadly “backstreet” abortions in an effort to find ways to return to school or higher learning institutes. Abortion is still outlawed in Uganda and its neighbors—Kenya and Tanzania.

The most recent Demographic and Health Survey (DHS) datasets of the 12 East African countries found that the overall prevalence of adolescent pregnancy in East Africa was 54.6 percent. The survey concluded that it is vital to design public health interventions targeting higher-risk adolescent girls, particularly those from the poorest households, by enhancing maternal education and empowerment to reduce adolescent pregnancy and its complications.

Teenage pregnancy and motherhood rate in Kenya stands at 18 percent. This implies that about one in every five teenage girls between the ages of 15-19 years has either had a live birth or is pregnant with their first child.

The rate of teenage pregnancy has stagnated for over a decade in Uganda; it stood at 25 percent in 2006, at 24 percent in 2011 and now shows trends of rising at 25 percent. Teenage pregnancy in Tanzania is a significant public health issue, with 22 percent of women aged 15-19 having been pregnant, according to a 2022 Tanzania Demographic and Health Survey.

Rosemary Kirui, the Legal Advisor at the Center for Reproductive Rights—which works in seven countries, including Uganda—said the enjoyment of the Sexual Reproductive Health rights has been limited by barriers related to the legal and policy framework.

“We have a legal environment that has restrictive laws that criminalize some SHRH services. Most of the laws were adopted or inherited from the colonialists. And most of the countries have not changed the laws. So you will find that the penal code is similar, giving a blanket criminalization of abortion. So you will find this is being interpreted narrowly in many African countries,” said Kirui.

She told IPS that the other aspect of restrictive laws is the age of consent, where there is a mandatory third-party requirement for adolescents seeking information and sexual reproduction health services.

Primer Kwagala, a Ugandan Lawyer whose organization, Women Pro Bono Initiative (WPI), has been litigating for access to SHR services, told IPS that the country maintains restrictions on abortion.

“We are saying that 16 women are dying each day due to lack of services in public health facilities. And there are those who are dying in communities due to unsafe abortion. We have on our law books outdated colonial policies preventing health workers from providing life-saving services.”

Uganda’s constitution says that no one can take the life of an unborn child except in exceptional circumstances.

“For many women to exercise autonomy over their bodies and to say, ‘I cannot carry this pregnancy; I need an abortion,’ they cannot go ahead and have that discussion. The first thing the health worker will say is, ‘I don’t want to go to prison,’” said Kwagala.

The Ministry of Health in Uganda has issued guidelines allowing safe abortions in cases of defilement, rape, and incest. But the guidelines, according to Kwagala, are more on paper than in practice.

In 2020, a ruling by the African Committee of Experts on the Rights and Welfare of the Child (ACERWC) against the Republic of Tanzania found that Tanzania’s policy of expelling pregnant schoolgirls constituted a violation of the African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child, particularly the rights to education, health, dignity, and non-discrimination.

Six girls who were pregnant were expelled from the school. The committee urged Tanzania to reform its education policies.

Dr. Godfrey Kangaude, an expert on Sexual Reproductive Health and Rights based in Malawi, said there is a tussle between the gatekeepers who think the SHR issues are for the civil society to handle.

“But I think this is closest to us. Sex and reproduction are relevant to everyone,” said Kangaude while speaking to the East Africa Law Society on litigating for sexual health rights.

He said sexual and reproductive justice is closely interrelated with finance and labor justice and generally the overall well-being of humans.

Kagaunde explained that in Malawi and other countries in the region, there are anomalies when it comes to the age of consent.

“In Malawi, the law says an adult cannot have sex with a child. Okay, we want to protect children. Isn’t it? But the line has been so rigid that an 18-year-old boy can’t have sex with a 17-year-old girl, because a 17-year-old is a minor and an 18-year-old is an adult. We understand that we want to protect people from harmful sexual conduct, especially children, but the law shouldn’t just be arbitrary. It should take into account that the 17-year-old and 18-year-old are peers.”

Criminalization of Consensual Sex 

Kangaunde and others argue that rights-based reform is needed. Laws should be gender-neutral, orientation-neutral, and distinguish exploitative adult–child sex from non-exploitative peer sex. Kangaude points to alternatives like multi-stage consent and close-in-age (“Romeo & Juliet”) exemptions.

Kangaunde and others have been criticized over their stance on the age of consent to sex and access for individuals younger than 18 to access contraceptives and safe abortion services.

“But look, there is a 19-year-old boy who is being charged with the offense of having sex with a girlfriend of 17. I mean, for him, life just went crazy. He is at school, and he had to stop schooling,” said Kangaude, the director at Nyale Institute. His institute provides legal support and engages in strategic litigation to protect and promote sexual and reproductive health rights.

Activists have since 2017 been pushing for a regional Sexual Reproductive Health Rights law. They contend that across East Africa, sexual and reproductive health rights have been narrowly defined as standalone rights.

If enacted, it would require the EAC member states to harmonize provisions on sexual and reproductive health services and information.

The bill has, however, faced significant resistance based especially on social and cultural barriers. The resistance has focused on aspects of comprehensive sex education for teenagers and provisions regarding legal abortion.

Dr. Tom Mulisa, a human rights and constitutional law researcher based at the University of Rwanda, told IPS that sexual and reproductive health rights are broad.

“Constitutions have those rights, and national health laws and policies have those rights, we are talking about the right to health, which most constitutions have, and we are talking about the right to privacy, the right to information, and sexual and reproductive health rights,” he said.

The partner states have ratified the Maputo protocol, which allows for the termination of pregnancy. The protocol is the main regional instrument that advances women’s rights especially sexual and reproductive health rights. The protocol also provides for elimination of discrimination and prohibition of harmful practices, such as female genital cutting.

Within the region, some countries have ratified the protocol, others have not and others have ratified it with reservations. Enforcement of the protocol has been split, making it difficult for all to enjoy the broader rights therein.

Kenya made reservations about Article (14), which provides for safe and legal abortion. Kenya’s constitution, on the other hand, provides for a right to legal and safe abortion when the life of the mother or fetus is at threat.

Learning From Advances in Rwanda

Rwanda has made significant progress in improving the sexual and reproductive health (SRH) of its population, especially young individuals. Like many countries in the region, it had post-colonial laws. It embarked on reform since 2009. The reforms laid the groundwork for what many describe as a flexible system.

Earlier this month, Rwanda’s Parliament passed a new law granting adolescent girls the right to access Sexual and Reproductive Health (SRH) services—particularly family planning—without requiring parental consent. It lowered the legal age to access contraceptives from 18-15.

Mulisa stated that the country modified its new penal code by eliminating the court’s requirement for an abortion. The penal code also included sexual reproductive health rights.

“Previously, the government held the right to health, while individuals were obligated to comply with it. But now the constitution has an explicit right to health,” revealed Mulisa, the founder of the Great Lakes Initiative For Human Rights and Development, which does public interest litigation in Rwanda.

It is now a crime under the penal code in Rwanda if a woman is denied access to contraceptives. And there are fewer restrictions on safe abortion following the removal of the court order requirement.

Rwanda’s ministerial order on abortion defines the right to health more broadly, incorporating the scope outlined by the WHO.

According to the WHO, the right to health includes four essential, interrelated elements: availability, accessibility, acceptability, and quality.

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The World Bank-funded Msimbazi Basin Development Project aims to turn Dar es Salaam’s flood-prone areas into a climate-resilient green park. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Jul 24 2025 (IPS)

When the rains pounded through the night, 44-year-old Teresia Katimba clutched her rosary and prayed silently, her fingers trembling with each whispered Hail Mary. A devout Catholic and mother of four, she stayed awake, huddling her children, hoping the floodwaters wouldn’t engulf them.

In Jangwani, a flood-prone neighborhood in Dar es Salaam, where the Msimbazi River slithers through crowded shacks and a tangle of mangroves, heavy rains routinely trigger flooding and displacement.

“There were nights we didn’t sleep,” says Katimba. “You just sat awake, waiting for the water to come.”

Katimba had learned to read the signs. And on that night, they spelled danger. Her house, nestled precariously beside the riverbank, became a target for misery. Murky floodwater—infested with sewage, discarded plastic bottles and garbage—perpetually surged through the door, soaking mattresses and spoiling maize flour, charcoal and dried sardines.

“My children were terrified; we somehow managed to survive anyway,” she says.

Katimba, an entrepreneur, saw the danger. But like many residents in the impoverished neighborhood, she stayed put—until the floods almost swept away everything.

Today, her life is different. She received compensation in 2024 and relocated to Madale, a dry, forested neighborhood 39 kilometers away, where she built a modest house. “We’re very happy to be here,” she says. “There’s no floodwater to worry about.”

The plight of Katimba’s family highlights wider challenges for many city dwellers.

Teresia Katimba has moved from the dangerous floodplains to safer ground. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Miraculous Escape

Matilda Msemwa, a resident of Kigogo, recalls how the floods engulfed her living room and destroyed her valued furniture.

Shortly after midnight she sensed a foul smell and an abrupt change in air pressure. Minutes later, the floodwater had risen to waist level.

“I had to scream for help. My daughter nearly drowned as the floods violently filled the house,” she says

Rapid Urbanization

Home to 5.8 million people, Dar es Salaam, one of Africa’s fastest-growing cities, is highly vulnerable to flooding. Around 70 percent of its inhabitants live in informal settlements that are prone to flooding. In 2018, one flooding event at the Msimbazi basin inflicted property damage worth USD 100 million, or 2 percent of the city’s GDP, according to World Bank data.

But for the first time, Dar es Salaam is tackling the flood menace head-on.

Backed by climate financing, the USD 200 million World Bank-funded Msimbazi Basin Development Project aims to turn Dar es Salaam’s flood-prone areas into a climate-resilient green park.

Running through 2028, the project targets the city’s lower Msimbazi River basin, home to 330,000 people living in squalid settlements.

Plans include modern flood control infrastructure—river dredging, terracing, and a complete overhaul of the Jangwani bridge and bus depot.

“This project was conceived after the floods in February 2018, which were very devastating,” says John Morton, a project manager at the World Bank. “The then vice president, who is now the president, convened all the agencies to say, ‘Please come up with a solution for Msimbazi’.”

It was precisely this reality that gave birth to the Msimbazi Opportunity Plan—a comprehensive roadmap to restore the degraded basin and manage future floods. That blueprint is now being realized through a concessional loan from the International Development Association (IDA), part of the World Bank Group.

“IDA credits are concessional,” Morton explains. “They are basically low- or no-interest, with a long grace period and a long repayment period.”

A graphic representation of the Msimbazi Basin Development Project.

More Than Money

But it’s not just the World Bank putting its money where the floodwaters are. The Netherlands and the Spanish Agency for International Development Cooperation (AECID) are also on board.

“The Netherlands’ contribution is a grant,” says Morton. “They’re financing 30 million euros, matching our co-financing for a particular subcomponent of the project… It’s a big earthworks contract. They’ll finance 50 percent up to their 30 million euro cap, and then we finance the rest.”

The Spanish funds, he adds, are structured similarly to IDA’s and will be blended into the project once finalized.

Evacuating to Safety

One of the most controversial parts of the initiative is the resettlement of low-income residents currently living in the floodplain. For Morton, the logic is simple—rescue starts with relocation.

“It was very evident that people did not want to live there,” he says. “Their property was being damaged. Their kids were out of school… the flooding was too devastating.”

According to the World Bank, USD 30 million has been disbursed for resettlement of around 3,500 households trapped in high-risk areas.

Reclaiming the Green

At the center of the project’s vision is not just dry homes but a green, living park. The Msimbazi floodplain, currently a chaotic sprawl of settlements and garbage, will be restored to a natural detention area—a place where floodwaters can spread without destroying lives and property.

“Eventually, what we’ll have is basically a flood detention area that’ll be a park and have natural ecosystems, as well as some more park facility-like things that can naturally flood as it should,” Morton says.

Mangrove forests—critical to both river and marine ecosystems—will be protected and expanded.

“The mangroves provide an important function, both on the coastal side and for the river itself,” says Morton. “Right now, they’re under stress from sedimentation and garbage. The idea is to expand them and maintain their function in purifying the water.”

Waste Not, Want Not

Another key concern for Dar’s residents is waste—both solid and liquid—that chokes the river and pollutes the Indian Ocean. Unplanned dumping of rubbish, household sewage, and industrial effluents has turned the river into a toxic soup in places.

The project, says Morton, addresses this head-on.

“There’s a component on watershed management… including reforestation in the middle and upper basin, protection of riverbanks, and investments in solid waste management,” he says.

Many of these interventions target informal settlements that currently dump waste directly into the river.

“There are investments to help organize them and organize services to make sure that collection improves,” he adds.

On the sewage front, the project will initiate a comprehensive monitoring programme to better understand wastewater flows and engage responsible agencies like DAWASA to develop sewerage plans.

Cautious Optimism

‘It’s a turning point—but only if we get it right,’ says Sylvia Macchi, an urban expert on Msimbazi Valley Project

For Macchi, a respected urban development specialist and long-time observer of Dar es Salaam’s planning chaos, the Msimbazi Valley Development Project is “perhaps the most ambitious climate-resilience intervention this city has ever attempted.”

But she’s not clapping just yet.

“We’ve seen grand plans come and go in Dar,” she says. “What matters now is execution—not promises.”

The professor, who has spent decades researching informal settlements and urban flooding in Tanzania, believes the project has the potential to redraw the city’s future—if handled properly.

“Clearing the valley, relocating at-risk communities, and restoring green spaces along the Msimbazi River—that’s urban transformation at scale,” she tells IPS.

Will it Last?

All eyes are now on the future. The project is scheduled to run until 2028—but what happens then?

“There’s an idea to create an institution to manage the park, real estate, and broader watershed,” Morton says. “That’s being studied now—on the legal aspects and how it would be financed.”

Revenue could come from land sales, developer fees, and even regulated sand mining.

“There’ll be proper sand mining, which will help manage the watershed and generate funds,” he explains.

This institution will oversee not just park maintenance but also ensure that gains in environmental protection and climate resilience are not lost after the project closes.

An Oasis in the Making

In a city gasping for green space, the transformation of the Msimbazi floodplain into an urban oasis is as symbolic as it is strategic. Dar es Salaam doesn’t just need protection from floods—it needs hope. And for Morton, the basin’s rebirth is about more than drainage ditches and concrete.

“This is going to be an asset for the city,” he says. “Not only to reduce flooding but to be a park—a green space that doesn’t exist in Dar es Salaam now. Everybody will have access to it, including low-, medium-, and high-income people. That’s the broader benefit.”

If successful, the Msimbazi Basin Development Project won’t just protect Dar’s poorest—it will provide a blueprint for climate-resilient urban planning across Africa.

“This is about turning adversity into opportunity,” Morton says with measured optimism.

From the banks of the Msimbazi River to the halls of the World Bank, the vision is clear. Dar es Salaam will no longer surrender to the floodwaters. With strong oversight, community input, and green innovation, the city’s greatest vulnerability may just become its most precious asset.

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Opposition leader Dr. Kizza Besigye and co-accused Obeid Lutale before a civilian court in Kampala. They have been in jail since they were abducted from Kenya by Uganda's security forces. Credit: Wambi Michael/IPS

By Wambi Michael
KAMPALA, Jun 19 2025 (IPS)

In East Africa’s Tanzania and Uganda, political tensions are rising as they prepare for the next elections. Tanzania goes to the polls in October 2025, while Uganda’s presidential and general elections will take place early in 2026.

In both countries, the leading political leaders, Tundu Lissu of the Chadema party in Tanzania and Dr. Kizza Besigye, a former leader of the once largest opposition party, are under detention facing treason charges.

Political and civil actors in the two countries and their neighbor Kenya say a wave of repression is sweeping across the region and that democracy and civil liberties are dying across East Africa.

Civil actors have reported numerous cases of torture, abductions, and general human rights abuses that have shrunk civic spaces.

On 10 April 2025, Lissu was charged with treason, along with three offenses of publication of false information under cybercrime laws. The charges are connected to his nationwide campaign pushing for electoral reform under the slogan “No Reforms, No Election.” He appeared in court this week (June 16) and was granted permission to represent himself because, he argued, he was denied access to private consultations with his lawyers.

Shortly after Lissu’s arrest, Chadema was disqualified from the October 2025 presidential and parliamentary elections, based on the party’s refusal to sign an electoral code of conduct.

Lissu narrowly survived an assassination attempt in 2017 and was forced into exile, only to face renewed persecution upon his return to Tanzania.

In the run-up to the November 2024 local elections, Tanzania’s government has impeded opposition meetings, arbitrarily arrested hundreds of opposition supporters, imposed restrictions on social media access and banned independent media.

Four government critics were forcibly disappeared and one Chadema official was abducted and brutally killed.

Forced Deportations, Allegations of Torture

On May 19, when Lissu was returning to the court, authorities in Tanzania ordered the deportation of Kenya’s former Justice Minister, Martha Karua, and Dr. Willy Mutunga, the former Chief Justice of Kenya, together with a couple of journalists from Kenya.

They had traveled to Tanzania under the invitation of the East Africa Law Society. Further, a Kenyan human rights activist, Boniface Mwangi, and a Ugandan activist, Agather Atuhaire, were arrested and held incommunicado for five days despite protests. The two activists said they were badly tortured by Tanzanian police and security operatives.

Atuhaire told IPS that she was blindfolded and sexually molested by her captors, who had driven her and Mwangi out of the Central Police Station in Tanzania.

“They took off all my clothes and threw me down and handcuffed my feet and hands and turned my feet upside down. They put a board between my feet and hands. One was hitting my feet and the other was attacking my private parts,” said Athuaire, a mother of two.

Atuhaire, awardee of the US State Department’s International Women of Courage Awards (IWOC) and winner of the 2023 EU Human Rights Defenders’ Award in Uganda said she has seen impunity in Uganda but what she went through and experienced in Tanzania was at a higher level.

“I faced a policeman who seemed very angry. He threatened us. I think with Boniface, he said they will circumcise him the second time. With me, he said they will teach me, so I have a good story for Uganda when I come back,” Atuhaire recounted.

“He also asked me if I had a child. And I said, ‘What do my children have to do with this?’ I told him that I have two children. Then you will get a third one. When we got out, I told Boniface that I think that is a rape threat,” she said.

Mwangi was found on the border with Tanzania near the coast following widespread condemnation by Kenyans. He was carried to the car because he could hardly walk following the torture.

“My body is broken in so many ways that you will never know but my spirit is very strong. They did very horrible things to us. And those things were recorded. And they told us that if we get back home and share what happened, they will share the videos with everyone,” said Mwangi.

“The situation in Tanzania is very bad. I think what happened to us is what happens to all Tanzanian activists,” he said.

He wondered why a country that belongs to the East African Community could torture citizens from the other member states the way it did to them.

“I had just gone there to attend a court case. I didn’t have any ulterior motive. I was treated worse than a criminal and yet I had not committed any offense,” he said.

Foreign Activists Warned

Tanzania’s President Samia Suluhu, in a televised address, warned foreign activists to stay away from her country.

“Let’s not give them space. They already ruined their own countries. They have already caused chaos. The only country that has not been ruined, where people have security, peace, and stability, is ours. There have been attempts and I strongly urge our security and defense forces, as well as you who manage our foreign policy, not to allow undisciplined individuals from other countries here,” said Suluhu.

Tigere Chagutah, Regional Director, Amnesty International, East and Southern Africa, condemned the torture and inhumane treatment of the two activists.

“For four days, these two human rights defenders were subjected to unimaginable cruelty. Their ordeal highlights the dangers faced by human rights defenders in Tanzania and there must be accountability and justice,” he noted.

Chagutah raised concern about Suluh’s call for a crackdown on human rights defenders, labeling them “foreign agents.”

“Such statements provide state authorities with an unlawful and spurious pretext to impose restrictions flouting international human rights obligations. Trial observation is central to the transparency of court processes and guarantees of fair trials and is not a threat to security,” said Tigere Chagutah.

Social Justice Campaigner, Khalid Hussein in response to Samia Suluhu, said, “You cannot hold foreign nationals, torture them, and then pretend they are meddling and so they deserve what they got.”

Before the arrest of the two activists, Tanzania had deported Kenya’s former Justice Minister, Martha Karua, and Willy Mutunga, the former Chief Justice of Kenya. The two were in Tanzania for a trial observation too.

Karua denied that she was in Tanzania to meddle in its internal affairs, as alleged by Suluhu.

“I was in Tanzania to watch a political trial. In Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda, criminal trials are public. One is entitled to a trial before an impartial court, a trial that is public,” said Karua.

Karua suspected that the authorities in Tanzania were disturbed by her addressing a press conference in April on the need to observe the rule of law, when Tundu Lissu was due to appear in court.

“So as a citizen of the Jumuhiya (East African Community), I went to observe a trial. Nothing wrong with that. We feel as citizens of East Africa we have a duty to stand in solidarity with one another to ensure that we push back on autocratic tendencies and the violation of rights,” said Karua.

Professor Peter Kagwanja, a Kenyan intellectual, advisor, and policy strategist, told IPS that what is happening in Tanzania and its neighbors is regrettable.

“If they are chasing Martha Karua and Dr. Willy Mutunga like that. Can you begin to imagine what is happening to the Tanzanians themselves? Who are Dr. Kabudi and others who want to defend Tundu Lisu?” asked Kagwanja, the President and Chief Executive at the Africa Policy Institute (API).

Lack of Tolerance for Opposition

Kagwanja said what is happening in Tanzania is a sheer lack of tolerance for the opposition, yet the countries claim to be operating under a multiparty democracy.

“And that attitude is what we are seeing in Zimbabwe. It is the same attitude you find in Botswana. That you can push the leader of the opposition to exile. You want to constrain the opposition and their leadership. Rather than talk to them and defeat them politically, you want to defeat them at a battle of violence,” he explained.

“It appears that in Uganda and Tanzania, your ambition to be President is not legitimate. You will either be shot at or languish in jail. And no people from outside should help you out,” Kagwanja added.

While in Uganda for Besigye’s trial, Karua told IPS that it appears like the leaders in Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania are collaborating in oppressing citizens.

“We feel as citizens of East Africa that we have a duty to stand in solidarity to ensure that we push back against autocratic tendencies and the violation of rights,” said Karua.

Besigye was abducted in Nairobi on 16 November 2024. He was arraigned in a military court in Uganda. He was charged with offenses relating to security and unlawful possession of firearms and ammunition.

While the Kenyan government has denied involvement, it has been accused by human rights activists of supporting and facilitating an extraordinary rendition.

In August 2024, 36 leaders of Uganda’s FDC were abducted from Kisumu city in Kenya. They were charged with terrorism in Ugandan courts and remanded.

Uganda’s Attorney General, Kiryowa Kiwanuka, refuted claims of kidnap, saying that the suspects were lawfully arrested.

“Even the manner in which people are collected, if at all, from a neighboring country or another country is prescribed by law and we are saying that these people were charged,” he said

Karua and Besigye’s lawyers insist that the abduction was the result of collusion between Kenyan and Ugandan authorities.

“I’m stressing rendition because Kenya has an extradition Act which demands that anybody being removed from Kenya to another country for trial must be due process. Due process was not followed. Nor were they documented at the border when being transported into Uganda,” Karua told IPS.

Besigye and the co-accused, Obeid Lutale, were arraigned before the military court.  The Supreme Court in Uganda at the end of January ruled that civilians should not be tried in a military court. After the ruling of the Supreme Court, Besigye was taken to the civilian court with a new charge of treason. The charge before the military court was treachery.

The Ugandan Parliament hastily debated and passed the Uganda People’s Defence Forces Amendment Bill 2025 on 20 May. President Yoweri  has assented to the law, which, among others, broadens the jurisdiction of military courts, authorizing them to try a wide range of offenses against civilians.

Trying Civilians in Military Courts Contravene Human Rights Obligations

UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk in May 2025 expressed concern at the passing in Uganda’s Parliament of proposed legislation to allow for civilians to be tried in military courts.

“I am concerned that rather than encouraging efforts to implement the Supreme Court’s crystal-clear decision of January this year, Uganda’s legislators have voted to reinstate and broaden military courts’ jurisdiction to try civilians, which would contravene international human rights law obligations,” said Türk.

As Uganda heads to the polls, diplomats from the European Union have raised concern over the torture of the opposition leaders and their supporters. The diplomats particularly expressed concern about the conduct of the Chief of Defence Forces, General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, President Yoweri Museveni’s son.

Early May, Uganda’s Chief of Defence Forces Muhoozi Kainerugaba, who is Museveni’s eldest child, said he had detained Eddie Mutwe, the chief bodyguard for opposition leader Bobi Wine.

He wrote on X that he had captured Mutwe “like a grasshopper” and was “using him as a punching bag.” The tortured Mutwe was presented in court and slapped with robbery charges.

Uganda’s Justice and Constitutional Affairs Minister, Norbert Mao, said, “Bringing illegally detained, brutalized, and tortured suspects before the courts of law is an abuse of judicial processes.”

Meanwhile, Kainerugaba has promised a showdown on Presidential aspirant, Wine and his supporters.

“I want to remind you to advise your children to stay away from NUP gangs. Intelligence reports indicate that NUP is not merely a political party but is also involved in activities that raise concerns related to terrorism. The leaders of NUP are recruiting young people for activities that could be harmful to our beautiful country,” he warned.

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Fishermen gliding on a canoe off the coast of Dar es Salaam. Photo by Kizito Makoye

By Kizito Makoye
NICE, France, Jun 17 2025 (IPS)

With less than six harvest seasons left to meet the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), the urgency to find transformative solutions to end hunger, protect the oceans, and build climate resilience dominated the ninth panel session at the 2025 United Nations Ocean Conference in Nice, France.

In a moment emblematic of growing African leadership in ocean sustainability, Tanzania took center stage during the panel titled “Promoting the Role of Sustainable Food from the Ocean for Poverty Eradication and Food Security.” The panel offered not only a scientific and policy-rich exchange of ideas but also a rare glimpse into how countries like Tanzania are positioning aquatic foods as engines of economic recovery, public health, and ecological sustainability.

A Defining Voice From the Swahili Coast

Co-chairing the session, Shaaban Ali Othman, Minister for Blue Economy and Fisheries of Zanzibar, part of the United Republic of Tanzania, laid out his country’s blueprint for harnessing ocean resources without compromising marine ecosystems.

“Our survival is intimately tied to the ocean. It feeds us, it employs our people, and it holds the promise to lift millions out of poverty,” Othman said, advocating for a redefinition of how the world views aquatic food systems. “But this can only happen if we manage them responsibly.”

He emphasized that for Tanzania, the blue economy is not a buzzword—it is a foundational strategy woven into national development planning. As climate change intensifies and traditional farming struggles under erratic rainfall, coastal and inland aquatic foods offer a viable, nutrient-dense alternative for the country’s growing population.

“Communities in Zanzibar and along the Tanzanian coastline have fished for generations, but now we must ensure those practices are not just traditional, but also sustainable and inclusive,” Othman said.

He pointed to Zanzibar’s push to increase seaweed farming, particularly among women, as a double dividend for nutrition and gender equity. He also highlighted new investments in cold storage and fish processing facilities aimed at reducing post-harvest losses—currently among the highest in the region.

The Global Science Backs Tanzania’s Approach

His remarks resonated with the scientific panelists, particularly Jörn Schmidt, Science Director for Sustainable Aquatic Food Systems at WorldFish, who urged countries to bring aquatic foods “from the margins to the mainstream.”

“Aquatic foods are one of the few tools that can simultaneously tackle poverty, hunger, and climate risk,” said Schmidt. “But they are often left off the table—both literally and figuratively.”

Schmidt called for urgent action on three fronts: nutrition, production, and equity. He cited research showing that even modest increases in aquatic food consumption in the first 1,000 days of life could significantly reduce stunting and improve cognitive development. For production, he recommended low-impact, high-return systems such as seaweed and bivalves. On equity, he urged secure tenure for small-scale fishers, gender inclusion, and expanded social protections.

Barange noted that in 2023 alone, global fish production hit 189 million tons, delivering about 21 kilograms of aquatic animal protein per capita. However, an alarming 23.8 million tons—almost 15 percent—was lost or wasted due to poor handling and inefficient distribution systems.

“These losses are not just about food—they are lost nutrition, lost income, and lost opportunity,” said Barange, adding that if properly managed, aquatic foods could be the backbone of a global “blue transformation.”

Tanzania’s Call for Equity and Innovation

Othman used the opportunity to underline that the success of aquatic food systems must also address inequality—particularly the role of women and youth in the sector.

“Across Tanzania, from Kigamboni to Kilwa, women are drying fish, farming seaweed, and selling aquatic produce in markets. But they need access to capital, to better technology, and most importantly, to decision-making spaces,” he said.

To that end, Tanzania has begun piloting aquatic food training centres aimed at equipping youth with climate-smart aquaculture skills, including sustainable pond farming and low-carbon feed techniques.

“This is how we move from potential to prosperity,” Othman said.

A Blueprint for Global Action

The panel also featured a range of high-level contributions aimed at linking aquatic foods to broader development frameworks. Rhea Moss-Christian, Executive Director of the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Commission, underscored the economic lifeline that tuna fisheries represent for small island developing states. She emphasized that tuna is not just a food source, but a pillar of public finance, especially in the Marshall Islands and the Federated States of Micronesia.

“Let’s be clear,” she said. “In some Pacific nations, tuna revenue funds schools, hospitals and roads. A healthy tuna fishery is existential.”

Her message echoed Tanzania’s own struggle to balance economic imperatives with conservation, especially in the face of illegal fishing and weak monitoring infrastructure. Minister Othman called for stronger regional cooperation in fighting these threats, including shared surveillance and satellite-based monitoring systems.

CGIAR and the Seaweed Solution

Adding another layer of urgency, Dr. Shakuntala Haraksingh Thilsted of CGIAR warned that the world is “falling behind on SDG 2 and SDG 14.” She championed seaweed as a sustainable aquatic superfood with enormous potential, particularly for South Asia and Africa.

“Tanzania, with its long coastline and established seaweed culture, is ideally placed to lead in this domain,” she said.

She called for more public and private investment to scale innovations, support local entrepreneurs, and integrate aquatic foods into school feeding and public procurement programmes.

“Let us not miss this opportunity,” she added. “The sea can feed us—if we let it.”

Resilience in the Face of Crisis

Ciyong Zou, Deputy Director-General of the United Nations Industrial Development Organization (UNIDO), highlighted the broader resilience benefits of aquatic food systems. He noted that aquatic foods support over 3 billion people globally, yet post-harvest losses—up to 30 percent in developing countries—undermine their potential.

He offered case studies from Cambodia and Sudan, where targeted investments in processing and training led to higher incomes and improved child nutrition. He announced UNIDO’s voluntary commitment to expand technical support to 10 additional coastal nations by 2030.

“For countries like Tanzania, this could mean new tools, cleaner production methods, and more resilient livelihoods,” Zou said.

Call to Action

As the panel drew to a close, one theme stood out: aquatic food systems are not merely about fish or seaweed—they are about dignity, sovereignty, and survival.

“We need to democratize access to data, empower communities, and ensure that small-scale fishers, especially women, are not left behind,” Othman insisted.

Back in Tanzania, the ripple effects of such commitments are already being felt. In Kisiwa Panza, a small island in Pemba, a women-led seaweed cooperative recently began exporting to Europe, thanks to technical support from local NGOs and government backing. “It’s a new life,” said Asha Mzee, one of the cooperative’s founders. “Before, we fished only what we needed. Now, we grow for the world.”

With nations like Tanzania stepping forward, the ocean—so long exploited—is being reimagined as a source of renewal. But the clock is ticking.

“In 2030, we’ll be asked what we did with these six remaining harvests,” Othman said in his final remarks. “Let’s ensure our answer is-we used them to feed people, protect our planet, and leave no one behind.”

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Fishers at Magogoni fish market. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
NICE, France, Jun 12 2025 (IPS)

Just before dawn, the worn wooden dhows begin gliding toward the shore at Magogoni fish market in Tanzania’s port city of Dar es Salaam. Their tattered sails flutter against the orange sky. Exhausted fishers step out onto the muddy sand, hauling frayed nets and plastic crates, their sun-creased faces tight with fatigue.

The Magogoni scene — women wrapped in colourful khanga bargaining over a modest catch, children darting between upturned buckets, and the pungent smell of raw sewage pouring into the sea through a rusted pipe — doesn’t deter anyone.

It is a struggle for survival for thousands of small-scale fishers who rely on the Indian Ocean to put food on their families’ dinner tables.

Yet today, one certain thing emerges.

More than 7,000 kilometres away in the French Riviera, global leaders, marine scientists, and policymakers gathered this week for the 2025 United Nations Ocean Conference. The conference saw the launch of the Review of the State of World Marine Fishery Resources by the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO). The report laid bare the crisis confronting the world’s oceans — and sounded a dire warning for fisher communities in Tanzania who rely on the sea to eke out a living.

According to the FAO, just 47.4 percent of fish stocks in the Eastern Central Atlantic are currently fished at sustainable levels. The rest are either overexploited or facing collapse, pushed to the brink by climate change, weak governance, and a lack of data.

“We now have the clearest picture ever of the state of marine fisheries,” FAO Director-General Qu Dongyu told delegates. “The next step is clear: governments must scale up what works and act with urgency.”

For fishers like Daudi Kileo (51), who has spent decades at sea, that urgency is overdue. “We don’t get enough catch these days, but we keep working hard,” he told IPS by phone all the way from Dar es Salaam; dragging a nearly empty net across the sand is disheartening, he said.

In Tanzania, most fishers operate informally. Their boats lack sensors or licences. Their harvests go unrecorded. There are no quotas, no conservation enforcement, and little training on sustainable practices. Each night, they sail into deep waters hoping to return with enough to make ends meet — increasingly, they don’t.

“Sometimes we come back with less than we need to feed our children,” Kileo says. “But we do not have a choice.”

While fishing  communities in Tanzania  are battling overfishing and declining catches, other parts of the world point to a different future. In Port Lympia, Nice’s harbour, the wafting air carries no pungent smell to disturb visiting dignitaries. Small boats bob idly; many seem to be ferrying tourists instead of chasing fish. It is a glimpse into what can be achieved when policies favour protection over exploitation and when economies evolve beyond extraction.

“There’s a future where the ocean can feed us sustainably,” said Professor Manuel Barange, Director of the FAO Fisheries Division. “But it requires deep, structural change — and fast.”

Leisure boats at Port Lympia, Nice, where the UNOC3 is being held. Credit: Cecilia Russell/IPS

Central to that change is the FAO’s Blue Transformation initiative, an ambitious strategy aimed at transforming aquatic food systems through sustainable practices, robust governance, and inclusion. The plan targets improved monitoring, ethical fishing practices, and expansion of responsible aquaculture while combating illegal, unreported and unregulated (IUU) fishing — a major threat to fragile ecosystems and vulnerable communities.

However, turning that vision into reality in low-income countries like Tanzania remains a monumental challenge.

“We don’t have the tools or the support,” says Yahya Mgawe, a researcher at the Tanzania Fisheries Research Institute. “The fishers are many, our data is patchy, and enforcement is weak. We are falling behind,” he told IPS in Nice.

The consequences are  dire. Tanzania’s fisheries sector employs more than 180,000 people, the vast majority in small-scale operations. Fish provide not only income but vital nutrition, especially in rural areas. Yet as climate change alters fish migration and breeding patterns, and as competition intensifies in overfished waters, traditional knowledge is no longer enough to sustain livelihoods.

“Everything is shifting,” says Nancy Iraba a  marine ecologist at the University of Dar es Salaam. “Species that were once common are disappearing. Fish are getting smaller. And the time and effort fishers must invest is increasing, with diminishing returns.”

The FAO report highlights that in regions with better regulation and investment in science — such as the Northeast Pacific — over 90 percent of fish stocks are harvested sustainably. These gains, experts say, come from stringent quotas, real-time data collection, and cooperation across borders.

But in Africa and other parts of the Global South, the disparity is widening.

“The fishers of Tanzania are not the cause of ocean depletion,” says Iraba. “But they are among the first to pay the price.”

Recognising this injustice, FAO Director-General Qu Dongyu used the conference platform to champion small-scale fishers as “guardians of biodiversity” and crucial actors in global food security. He urged countries to include them in decision-making processes and policy implementation.

“Fishers are not just producers,” Dongyu said. “They are nutrition providers and economic anchors in coastal societies. Transformation must be environmental, social, and economic — all at once.”

He also made a call to invest in youth participation, noting that as the global population nears 10 billion, young people must be empowered to innovate within the marine sector. “They must be leaders, not just observers,” he emphasised.

Yet progress remains slow. While sustainable fishery landings now represent 82.5 percent of global totals — a modest improvement — the share of overfished stocks globally still stands at 35.4 percent. And despite ambitious global targets to protect 30% of marine areas by 2030, only 2.7% of oceans are currently effectively protected.

The financial gap is just as wide. Experts estimate that up to USD 175 billion a year is needed to achieve sustainable fisheries transformation, but pledges remain far short of that figure.

As the conference concludes on Friday, FAO marked its 80th anniversary and 30 years of the Code of Conduct for Responsible Fisheries with a renewed push for innovation, including a new recognition programme for responsible aquaculture.

“Effective management is the best conservation,” Dongyu reminded delegates. “Our oceans, rivers, and lakes can help feed the world — but only if we use their resources responsibly, sustainably, and equitably.”

Back in Dar es Salaam, the boats of Magogoni are already being readied for another night. The sun rises higher, casting long shadows across the fish-streaked sand.

“We hear empty talk of big meetings and policies all the time,” says Kileo. “But nobody comes here to ask us how we survive. Nobody helps us when the fish disappear.”

His words hang in the salty air, a quiet reminder that unless the voices of small-scale fishers are included in the global vision for sustainable seas, the transformation may leave the most vulnerable behind.

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Representatives of the Maasai community in Longido receive a mock check from the Soil for the Future company as a payout to limit their grazing land in September 2024. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, May 19 2025 (IPS)

As global demand for carbon credits rises, Tanzania has become a magnet for carbon offset projects. From Loliondo in Arusha to Kiteto in Manyara, foreign firms and conservation groups are looking for land to capture carbon and sell credits to polluting industries in the Global North. The growing interest in carbon trading has sparked hope, confusion, and concern— putting millions of hectares of village land and the livelihoods of people who depend on it at risk.

What is carbon and carbon trading?

Carbon is commonly referred to as pollution from oil, gas, and coal, whereas carbon trading is a global tool to fight climate change. It allows companies or countries that emit a lot of carbon to “offset” their emissions by paying for projects that reduce carbon elsewhere, like protecting forests or improving land use through sustainable grazing. So, big polluters sell their pollution to areas where there is low pollution and balance their books through it. Everybody has to decrease their carbon limit global warming to 1.5°C, global emissions need to be reduced by 45 percent by 2030 and reach net zero by 2050, according to the Paris Agreement.

Who are the main players? 

Tanzania has become a key player in the carbon market, thanks to its vast forests and efforts to conserve them. Foreign investors and carbon credit firms from Europe and North America partner with local NGOs to manage swathes of village land often used by Maasai communities for grazing. Major players include Soils for the Future Tanzania Ltd, backed by Volkswagen Climate Partners and The Nature Conservancy, active in Longido, Monduli, and Simanjiro districts.

How are carbon credit schemes regulated?

Tanzania’s carbon market is growing fast but lacks regulation. Backed by the government, foreign firms and conservation groups are luring local communities to use their land for carbon credit projects. In the Arusha and Manyara regions, such schemes increase, promising income, better infrastructure, and environmental benefits. But while investors call it a win-win, the reality on the ground is complicated.

What are communities agreeing to?

Most villagers don’t understand how carbon markets work. Many sign 30–40-year contracts without knowing what rights they’re giving up or what they’ll get in return. Villages usually get a one-time “signing fee”—sometimes called dowry money—that critics say leads to rushed, secretive agreements.

The contracts are in English— not Swahili— and often exclude women and youth from decision-making. In Loliondo, pastoralist leaders say they were asked to agree to carbon credit deals without clear information on how long the land would be locked and what would happen if terms changed.

What exactly does the deal entail?

Under the Longido Monduli rangelands carbon project, a conservation group called Soil for the Future Tanzania—which works to restore degraded rangelands and savannah ecosystems—is managing a deal on behalf of Volkswagen Climate Partners. The project spans 970,000 hectares and pays 59 villages between 40 and 130 million Tanzanian shillings (about USD 15,000–50,000) over a 40-year period, from January 2024 to December 2063, in exchange for carbon credits. In return, communities must limit activities such as grazing and burning grasslands, raising concerns among some residents about losing access to land they have used for generations.

Whom does the law protect?

Tanzania’s land laws recognize both statutory and customary ownership, but there are no clear rules for carbon trading—leaving rural communities exposed to exploitation.

Although the Village Land Act of 1999 protects customary tenure, problems arise when carbon offset contracts are signed without the free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC) of everyone affected.

Often, traditional grazing land is reclassified for conservation without compensation.

In Loliondo and Ngorongoro, where land disputes and evictions are rife, residents fear more land loss.

The contracts are often difficult to cancel and unclear about how benefits will be shared. With no national guidelines on transparency or accountability, communities are left in the dark.

Is carbon trading undermining Maasai traditions?

Traditional Maasai pastoralism depends on mobility—moving herds across vast rangelands for water and pasture. But carbon projects often enforce rotational grazing and land-use rules aimed at storing carbon, which can clash with pastoral survival strategies, especially during droughts.

Are villagers stakeholders or just bystanders?

Though marketed as “community-based,” many carbon projects sideline rural Tanzanians in decisions that affect their land for decades. The government backs carbon trading to boost revenue and conserve nature, but without clear policies, critics warn it could repeat old patterns of exploitation—this time under a green label.

What is the situation elsewhere?
Tanzania’s experience reflects a broader trend across Africa, where Indigenous communities are being drawn into carbon deals that may offer quick cash but raise lasting concerns about land rights, sovereignty, and justice.

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

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Vivian Magesa, a young widow in Ukerewe, is arranging merchandise, including vegetables and fruits, in her pavilion to get them ready to sell. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
UKARA, Tanzania, Apr 4 2025 (IPS)

The night after her husband was laid to rest, 24-year-old Vivian Magesa sat in the dimly lit brick-walled house, surrounded by women from her late husband’s family. She had spent the past few days in mourning, wrapped in a white shroud, her head shaved as custom dictated. But as the hushed voices of her in-laws filled the room, Magesa realized her grief was far from over.

“It’s time,” one of the older women told her, pulling her up by the arm. Magesa’s heart pounded. She knew what came next. She had to be cleansed.

On Tanzania’s Lake Victoria’s Ukerewe Island, where the Kerewe, Jita, and Kara ethnic groups dominate, widowhood is not merely about loss—it is a transformation, a passage that demands rituals to separate the living from the dead. And for a young  woman like Magesa, whose husband perished in a grisly boat accident while fishing, it means submitting to a practice deeply ingrained into the island’s culture: widow cleansing—a sexual rite that forces women into intimacy with a relative of their deceased husband or, in some cases, a total stranger, all in the name of purification.

A ritual steeped in fear and tradition

In Ukerewe, as in many parts of sub-Saharan Africa, widowhood is seen as a spiritual contamination. It is believed that if a widow does not undergo cleansing, the spirit of her deceased husband will haunt the entire bereaved family, bringing misfortune or even death. To prevent this, tradition dictates that she must sleep with a widower from her late husband’s clan and later with a man outside the village—someone who has no connection to her or the family.

“This is how it has always been done,” said Verdiana Lusomya, an elder from the Kara community. “Without cleansing, a widow is untouchable. She cannot cook for her children. She cannot interact freely with others. The curse must be lifted.”

But for many widows, the ritual is not a choice. It is a decree, enforced by family pressure, fear of ostracization, and, in some cases, outright coercion.

A widow’s dilemma

For widows like Magesa, refusal is not an easy option. “When I said no, they told me my children would lose their right to inherit land,” she told IPS. “They said if I refused, I would bring bad luck to my family.”

Another widow, 42-year-old Jenoveva Mujungu, faced a similar ultimatum. She stood her ground for two years, clinging to her Christian faith, but the pressure never ceased. “In the end, I did it,” she admitted. “Not because I believed in it, but because I was tired of being treated like an outcast.”

In some cases, women who refuse the ritual are expelled from their marital homes. Their belongings are thrown out, their children taken away, their connection to the family severed.

“It’s a form of punishment,” said Prisca Jeremiah, an activist from the Mwanza-based Upendo Women’s Rights Organization. “The message is clear: comply or suffer.”

The men who profit from tradition

In Butiriti village, Ukerewe district, the Omwesye—or village cleansers—perform the ritual for a price. They are often men with no formal jobs, sometimes alcoholics, paid a small fee or given livestock for their service. “Some of them are dirty, unkempt,” said one widow, her voice filled with disgust. “They do it for the money, not for the tradition.”

One community health worker on the island noted that some cleansers attempt to protect themselves by inserting herbs into a widow’s body before intercourse, believing it will shield them from disease. But the widows suffer the consequences, often developing infections.

The health consequences of widow cleansing

Health experts warn that widow cleansing is a gateway for HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted infections. With no protection used and with some cleansers involved in multiple rituals, the practice fuels a silent health crisis.

“Widows are already vulnerable,” said Furaha Sangawe, a general medical practitioner at Nansio District Hospital. “This ritual makes them even more so. It exposes them to diseases, trauma, and lifelong psychological scars.”

A community torn between change and tradition

Despite the growing awareness of the ritual’s dangers, change is slow. Many on Ukerewe still believe that skipping the cleansing ritual brings bad luck. Elders argue that the practice ensures that family land remains within the clan and prevents widows from remarrying outside their husband’s lineage.

But a rising number of women, emboldened by education and activism, are pushing back. Some are turning to the church for symbolic cleansing, seeking blessings from priests instead of submitting to sex with a cleanser. Others are simply refusing.

“I have not been cleansed, and I am still here,” said Miriam Majole, a 69-year-old widow who defied tradition. “Nothing bad has happened to me or my children.”

Organizations like Kikundi Cha Mila na Desturi Ukerewe (KIMIDEU) are working to educate communities about the harms of the practice. But the fight is uphill. Even as awareness grows, fear holds many women in its grip.

A future without widow cleansing?

For Magesa, the night of her cleansing was one of the darkest in her life. “I felt like I had died a second time,” she said. “But I did not have a choice since the pressure was so high?”

Now, she speaks in hushed tones about her hopes for her twin daughters “I want them to have a different life,” she said. “I pray that one day, this ritual will be a thing of the past.”

As Tanzania modernizes, the battle between cultural tradition and human rights intensifies. For now, on the remote island of Ukerewe, many widows remain trapped in a cycle they cannot escape—a ritual performed not for their healing, but for the comfort of those who refuse to let go of the past.

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A Toyota Cresta sits immobile in the compound of a small home, surrounded by gushing seawater. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Mar 25 2025 (IPS)

The first time Jumanne Waziri tasted salt in his morning tea, he thought his wife had made a mistake.

“Why did you put salt instead of sugar?” he asked, setting his cup down in their home in Ununio, a quiet suburb north of Dar es Salaam.

His wife, Fatuma, frowned. “I didn’t.” She took a sip from her own cup, and her face twisted in shock.

That was the moment they understood—the ocean had reached them, not in crashing waves, but silently, creeping into their well, seeping through the ground, rising inside their home.

Outside, the Indian Ocean glistened under the morning sun, deceptively calm. But beneath the surface, it had been advancing, poisoning the soil, toppling trees, destroying homes, and tainting underground water. The Waziri family had poured their life savings into their dream home—a house with polished tiles and a breathtaking view of the sea. Now, salt crusted the walls, their backyard had turned into a swamp, and their well water was undrinkable.

“Every morning, I wake up and see the salty water creeping closer. We’ve spent everything on this home, and now the ocean is taking it away. It’s heartbreaking,” Waziri said.

A Disappearing Coastline

Construction workers in Pangani busy building a seawall to protect against encroaching seawater. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

From Ununio to Kunduchi, from Mbezi Beach in Dar es Salaam to Pangani in northern Tanga, families tell the same story. Saltwater intrusion—the silent disaster—is transforming once-thriving neighborhoods into ghost towns.

Beachfront homes, once prized for their views, now stand abandoned, half-submerged in water. Those who remain fight a battle they cannot win.

“When I bought this land 25 years ago, I thought I was building a future,” said Rozalia Masawe, 66, pointing at her flooded yard. “Now, the sea is swallowing everything.”

Dar es Salaam’s mangroves—nature’s first defense against the ocean—are disappearing fast. Concrete barriers crumble. The shoreline has receded by meters.

“Back then, I’d walk ten minutes to the shore with my fishing net,” said Heri Mwinyi, a fisherman in Kunduchi. “Now, I barely step outside before the water reaches my ankles.”

A Slow, Deadly Invasion

Saltwater intrusion occurs when seawater seeps into underground freshwater reserves, contaminating drinking water and ruining soil. Unlike hurricanes or tidal waves, it happens slowly, unnoticed—until homes flood, crops fail, or a family realizes their drinking water tastes of salt.

As climate change pushes sea levels higher, ocean water creeps further inland. Meanwhile, excessive groundwater extraction in Dar es Salaam—driven by urban demand and worsening droughts—lowers the water table, allowing seawater to push in even faster.

The crisis is not unique to Tanzania. From Miami to Jakarta, Dhaka to Lagos, coastal communities are watching their land vanish.

“The ocean is gradually encroaching, causing a severe crisis for coastal residents,” said Philip Mzava, a hydrologist at the Dar es Salaam Institute of Technology. “We need long-term solutions—better water management, coastal barriers, and mangrove restoration—to protect people’s homes.”

The Rich Also Cry

A modern home near Ununio Beach in Dar es Salaam is encircled by water. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Mariam Suleiman, a wealthy businesswoman, remembers the day she first tasted salt in her tap water.

“I thought something was wrong with the pipes. The truth was much worse,” she said.

That was three years ago. Today, her once-pristine mansion is falling apart. The salty breeze that once felt refreshing now carries the smell of decay. When the tide is high, seawater seeps through cracks in her floor, weakening the foundations.

“Every time I step inside, my feet stick to the damp floor. The walls are crumbling. How do you fix a house that’s drowning?” she said.

Once a retreat, her swimming pool is now a stagnant pit.

“I used to sit there with my friends, drinking wine,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, I wouldn’t dare put my foot in it.”

For years, Ununio and Mbezi Beach were symbols of affluence—exclusive enclaves of luxury. Now, the sea is turning them into wastelands.

“I spent millions on this house,” Suleiman said, glancing at her collapsing perimeter wall. “Now, I don’t know if it will even stand in ten years.”

Real estate prices have plummeted.

“I used to sell beachfront land like hotcakes,” said Amani Mhando, a property developer. “Now, buyers take one look at the flooding and walk away. Even banks won’t finance properties here anymore.”

Dar es Salaam at Risk

A beachfront home belonging to Jumanne Waziri (quoted in the story) is surrounded by seawater seeping in due to saline intrusion. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Home to six million people, Dar es Salaam has always depended on the sea. But the same ocean that built the city is now tearing it down.

Saltwater has reached as far as Mbezi Beach, forcing luxury hotels to shut down.

“This place used to be paradise,” said Faiza Khalid, who runs a guesthouse in Ununio. “Now, when visitors arrive, the first thing they ask is, ‘What’s that smell?’ It’s the saltwater, the rot—it’s driving people away.”

Businesses are struggling to cope.

“Visitors don’t want to stay here anymore,” she said.

A Future Underwater?

The Tanzanian government has launched projects to slow the ocean’s advance—seawalls, mangrove replanting, and groundwater recharge systems. But the problem is growing faster than the solutions.

“Sea levels are rising,” said Christina Mndeme, Permanent Secretary in the Vice President’s Office for Environment. “Climate change is melting glaciers, pushing more water into the ocean, and threatening our coastal communities.”

In Pangani, once-thriving coconut farms are now wastelands.

“We used to grow everything here,” said farmer Said Rashid. “Now, the land is too salty.”

For Jumanne Waziri, the future feels bleak.

“They hold meetings, talk about policies, make promises—but while they talk, the ocean keeps coming,” he said.

Waziri sighed, running his fingers over the bark of a fallen coconut tree. “Another one gone,” he whispered—unsure if he meant the tree, his home, or his hope.

Outside, the ocean kept creeping in.

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Tulia Akson, Tanzanian Parliament Speaker and President of the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU) at a recent meeting organized by Asian and African Parliamentarians. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Mar 3 2025 (IPS)

Speaker of the Tanzanian Parliament and President of the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU), Tulia Akson, has called for bold and immediate investments in young people to unlock the demographic dividend and accelerate sustainable development across Africa and Asia.

Speaking at the African and Asian Parliamentarians’ Meeting on Population and Development in Dar es Salaam on Monday, February 24, Akson emphasized that youth empowerment must be at the center of national policies to ensure that rapid population growth translates into economic prosperity rather than a crisis.

“We must take deliberate and coordinated measures to harness the demographic dividend by empowering our youth and ensuring their active participation in economic development,” Akson told parliamentarians gathered from across Africa and Asia.

The conference, organized by the Asian Population and Development Association (APDA) in collaboration with the African Forum of Parliamentarians on Population and Development (FPA) and Tanzania’s Parliamentary Association on Population and Development (TPAPD), provided a platform for legislators to discuss legislative and policy reforms needed to advance population and development goals.

The event also drew support from the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) and the Japan Trust Fund (JTF), underscoring the urgency of population-centered development strategies.

A Demographic Window of Opportunity

Africa’s population is projected to double to two billion by 2050, with young people making up the majority. Experts argue that if this youthful population is equipped with quality education, healthcare, and economic opportunities, it could drive unprecedented economic transformation. However, failure to act could lead to social unrest, increased poverty, and economic stagnation.

According to UNFPA, 42 percent of Africa’s population is under the age of 50, a figure that presents both an opportunity and a challenge. While life expectancy has improved and maternal mortality has declined, critical gaps remain in access to education, employment, and reproductive health services.

“Young people constitute a significant proportion of our population, and their neglect is a ticking time bomb that could hinder progress,” Akson warned.

Tanzania, she said, has made strides in youth empowerment through initiatives such as free education from primary to secondary school, expanded student loan schemes, and a national skills development program that equips young people with vocational and technical expertise.

“We have also launched youth entrepreneurship funds to support start-ups and small businesses and expanded digital education programs to enhance ICT proficiency among our youth,” Akson said.

Despite such efforts, structural barriers persist, limiting young people’s access to quality jobs and economic opportunities.

Sexual and Reproductive Health: A Key Pillar of Development

Delegates at the African and Asian Parliamentarians’ Meeting on Population and Development in Dar es Salaam. Credit: APDA

Akson also stressed the importance of investing in sexual and reproductive health education to ensure young people, particularly girls, can make informed choices about their futures.

“We risk derailing our development trajectory if we fail to invest in young people’s sexual and reproductive health and rights,” she said.

The UNFPA has consistently underscored that access to reproductive health services is essential for economic and social progress. While contraceptive use has increased in many countries, adolescent pregnancies, gender-based violence, and harmful practices such as child marriage and female genital mutilation (FGM) remain widespread.

UNFPA Tanzania Country Representative Mark Schreiner noted that despite progress, “maternal mortality rates remain unacceptably high, with only a few African countries on track to meet the SDG target of 70 deaths per 100,000 live births by 2030.”

Similarly, although more women are using modern contraception voluntarily, millions of adolescent girls still lack access to critical reproductive health services due to social stigma, policy gaps, and inadequate funding.

Schreiner called for urgent investments in comprehensive sexuality education (CSE) and youth-friendly health services to empower young people with knowledge and protect them from unintended pregnancies, sexually transmitted infections (STIs), and harmful cultural practices.

“Comprehensive sexuality education and investment in young people’s health, including sexual and reproductive health, must be prioritized to accelerate progress toward universal health coverage,” Schreiner said.

Parliamentarians agreed to take immediate action to empower youth at a recent meeting organized by Asian and African parliamentarians. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Parliamentarians’ Role in Advancing the Population Agenda

As policymakers, parliamentarians hold significant influence over national budgets and legislative reforms that impact population policies. Akson urged her colleagues to use their constitutional mandates to push for policies that address youth unemployment, gender-based violence, and reproductive health access.

“With the deadline for the SDGs fast approaching, we must act swiftly and decisively to remove the barriers that hinder young people’s development,” she said.

Japan’s Ambassador to Tanzania, Yoichi Mikami, commended lawmakers for their commitment to addressing population challenges, stating, “Any solution on population issues must be based on an understanding of each individual. The role of parliamentarians, therefore, as representatives of their citizens, is critically important.”

Joseph Komwihangiro, Country Director for Pathfinder International, a global civil society organization providing sexual and reproductive health services, echoed this sentiment.

“Population data is at the heart of everything we do. It helps policymakers improve service delivery and address the most pressing challenges facing communities,” he said.

He urged parliamentarians to ensure that population data translates into inclusive policies that prioritize the needs of vulnerable groups, including women, girls, and marginalized communities.

Global Crises Threatening Progress

The meeting also highlighted how global crises—including armed conflicts, climate change, and emerging health threats—are disproportionately affecting vulnerable populations and threatening the realization of sustainable development goals.

“It is profoundly concerning that escalating global crises such as extreme weather conditions and emerging health challenges are disproportionately affecting vulnerable populations and derailing development efforts,” Akson said.

She cited the words of Tanzania’s founding father, Julius Nyerere: “The purpose of development is the people. You cannot develop things; you develop people.”

Akson emphasized that true and meaningful development must be people-centered, urging lawmakers to craft policies that align with their citizens’ unique realities, cultures, and aspirations.

Strengthening Partnerships for Development

With just five years left to achieve the 2030 Agenda, UN Secretary-General António Guterres has called for “a surge in implementation, massive investment, and more effective partnerships” to drive progress across key SDGs, including health, education, gender equality, and economic development.

Akson echoed this call, stressing that gender equality must be at the core of all development efforts.

“We cannot expect to achieve the SDGs without dismantling gender barriers and empowering all women and girls,” she said.

The Dar es Salaam Monday meeting concluded with a call for strengthened international cooperation to maximize progress, particularly in reforming the outdated global financial architecture that has left many developing countries struggling with debt and underfunded social programs.

As the meeting’s outcome document is prepared for submission to the upcoming TICAD9 summit in Japan in August 2025, lawmakers pledged to champion legislative and policy reforms that will accelerate the realization of the ICPD Programme of Action and the Addis Ababa Declaration on Population and Development.

“Let’s be hopeful about the future that our empowered youths can create,” Akson said, closing the conference with an optimistic tone.

For many African and Asian countries, the future is blight with challenges. But as Akson and fellow parliamentarians have underscored, investing in youth, advancing reproductive health rights, and enacting inclusive policies will be critical in shaping a sustainable and equitable future.

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The REGROW project, aimed at doubling the size of Ruaha National Park, has left many without land and prospects. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
MBARALI, Tanzania, Feb 21 2025 (IPS)

A hush had fallen over Mbarali District, but it was not the quiet of peace—it was the silence of uncertainty.

Just months ago, the rolling plains were gripped by fear as government-backed rangers, dressed in olive green fatigues, roamed through villages, seizing cattle, torching homes, and forcing entire communities to the wobbly edge of survival. The REGROW project, a USD 150 million initiative funded by the World Bank to expand Ruaha National Park (RUNAPA), had promised tourism growth and environmental conservation. What it delivered was a brutal campaign of state-sanctioned land grabbing under the guise of protecting nature.

Then, in a stunning turn of events, the World Bank pulled the plug on the project in January 2025 after intense scrutiny from human rights watchdogs and the United Nations. On paper, it was a victory for the thousands of farmers and pastoralists whose lands were threatened. But for many, the damage had already been done.

A Victory Hollowed by Loss

“We lost everything,” said Daudi Mkwama, a rice farmer who watched helplessly as rangers confiscated his cattle and demolished his storehouse. “They told us we were trespassers on land our ancestors have farmed for generations.”

The REGROW project aimed to double the size of Ruaha National Park, claiming vast swaths of farmland and grazing land in the process. Villages that had coexisted with nature for centuries suddenly found themselves labeled as threats to conservation. The government, backed by international funding, deployed heavily armed TANAPA (Tanzania National Parks Authority) rangers to enforce new restrictions.

At least 28 villages in Mbarali District were affected, home to more than 84,000 people. Farmers were barred from their fields, and pastoralists were banned from grazing their livestock. Those who resisted faced brutal crackdowns. Reports of beatings, arbitrary arrests, and even extrajudicial killings surfaced, prompting an investigation by the World Bank’s Inspection Panel.

“One day, they came and took my cows—said I was grazing in a protected area,” said Juma Mseto, a Maasai herder. “We begged them to let us go. They just laughed and told us to go to hell.”

The Politics of Land and Power

Tanzania’s conservation model has long been marred by controversy. Despite its reputation as a wildlife haven, the country’s protected areas have historically come at a high human cost. The eviction of Indigenous communities has been a recurring pattern, from Ngorongoro to Loliondo, and now Mbarali.

The REGROW project was touted as a necessary step to protect Tanzania’s natural heritage and boost its tourism industry, a sector that contributes nearly 17% of the country’s GDP of approximately US$80 billion. But critics argue it was another case of conservation being weaponized against marginalized communities.

“This wasn’t about protecting nature,” said Onesmo Ole Ngurumwa, a human rights advocate who serves as the national coordinator of the Tanzania Human Rights Defenders Coalition (THRDC). “This was about expanding state control over land, profiting from tourism, and sidelining the people who have lived in harmony with these ecosystems for generations.”

The World Bank’s involvement only deepened the controversy. When evidence of forced evictions and human rights abuses surfaced, the institution initially turned a blind eye. But mounting pressure from advocacy groups like the Oakland Institute, along with intervention from nine UN Special Rapporteurs, forced the bank’s hand.

In April 2024, funding was suspended. Seven months later, the entire project was scrapped.

Life After the Cancellation

Despite the decision, villagers say their suffering is far from over. Many who lost their homes and livelihoods have received no compensation. Schools remain closed, water access is scarce, and government beacons still mark the lands they were once told to vacate.

“We are still living in fear,” said Halima Mtemba, a mother of four. “They say the project is over, but will they return our cattle? Will they fix our schools? Will they give us back what they stole?”

Local leaders are calling for the removal of park boundary markers and official recognition of ancestral land rights. They also demand restitution for lost livestock, crops, and homes.

A Broader Pattern of Displacement

The battle over Mbarali is not an isolated incident. Across Tanzania, conservation projects continue to displace communities under the pretext of environmental protection.

In Ngorongoro, thousands of Maasai have been forced out to make way for elite tourism ventures. In Loliondo, violent evictions have turned vast grazing lands into private hunting concessions.

“The government has made it clear: it values animals over people,” said Maneno Kwayu, a pastoralist leader in Mbarali. “We are not against conservation. We are against being treated like intruders on our own land.”

Tanzania’s conservation policies are rooted in colonial-era frameworks that prioritized wildlife tourism over Indigenous land rights. Decades later, the same patterns persist, often with the backing of global financial institutions.

What Comes Next?

With the REGROW project dead, the focus now shifts to reparations. Human rights groups are pushing for an independent commission to oversee compensation and ensure the affected communities receive justice.

But there is little trust in the system.

“The World Bank may have walked away, but the government hasn’t,” said Ole Ngurumwa. “Until there are real legal protections for these communities, another project like this will happen again.”

For now, the people of Mbarali continue to live in limbo—celebrating a victory that came too late, in a battle they should never have had to fight.

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U.S. Embassy Charge de Affairs Andy Lentz dances with teenagers during a World Aids Day Commemorations in Dar es Salaam. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Feb 7 2025 (IPS)

At 9 a.m. on Monday, Mariam Msemwa clutched her clinic card tightly as she stood in line at Bagamoyo District Hospital’s HIV Clinic in Tanzania’s coastal region. The 19-year-old had been here many times before, picking up monthly doses of antiretroviral (ARV) drugs that kept her alive. But today was different.When she reached the counter, the nurse flatly told her. “There’s no more free medication, ” she said. “You’ll have to buy it yourself.”

Msemwa felt the words like a punch to her chest. Buy it? With what? Her mother, a street vegetable hawker, could barely afford their next meal. The ARVs had always been free, provided under a U.S.-funded program. But now that lifeline was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Msemwa said. “Without this medicine, I’m going to die.”

A Lifeline Cut Off

For years, Tanzania’s fight against HIV had relied heavily on funding from the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), a U.S. initiative that had injected over USD 110 billion into fighting HIV/AIDS worldwide since 2003. The program funded everything—medication, testing, community outreach, and home-based care.

But in early 2025, with the return of Donald Trump to the White House, an executive order froze all new foreign aid spending. In a matter of days, USD 450 million in annual PEPFAR funding for Tanzania vanished, cutting off free ARVs for nearly 1.2 million Tanzanians.

Catherine Joachim, acting executive director of the Tanzania Commission for AIDS (TACAIDS), had spent weeks in frantic meetings, her phone constantly buzzing with calls from worried health officials and aid workers.

A community health worker provides counselling to a street cook in Bagamoyo before testing for HIV AIDS. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

“This is a serious blow which ushers in  a complete collapse of our HIV response,” she said. “For nearly two decades, PEPFAR kept people alive. Now, they will probably suffer.”

The fallout was immediate. Clinics that once provided free ARVs had run out. Home-based care programs were shutting down. And across the country, patients were being turned away with nowhere to go.

“I had a mother come in yesterday,” said Abdallah Suleiman a treatment literacy trainer for people living with HIV in the historical town of Bagamoyo . “She was begging for just a few pills for her son, who’s been on ARVs since birth. I had nothing to give her. Nothing.”

End of Free Care

It’s nearly midday at the bustling Mbezi bus terminal in Dar es Salaam, and Helena Mkwasi is standing over a pot of boiling water, stirring maize flour into a thick, stiff ugali. Smoke curls around her as she moves quickly, balancing the demands of her small food stall with the worries that never leave her.

“I wake up early, light the fire, and rush to the market for meat, cooking oil, tomatoes—whatever I can afford that day,” she says, adjusting the colorful khanga wrapped around her waist. Business is slow, as usual. The money she makes is just enough to buy food for her two children.

But these days, money isn’t her biggest concern.

“For years, I’ve been getting my ARVs for free,” she said. “Now they’re saying that has stopped. I don’t know how I’ll survive.”

Mkwasi was diagnosed with HIV when she was 19. She doesn’t remember much from that day, only the way her heart pounded as the nurse explained viral loads and CD4 counts. She thought it was a death sentence. Then she started on antiretroviral therapy, and the medicine worked. Her health improved. She had her children safely. She built a routine—cooking ugali, serving customers, taking her pills every evening with a cup of warm water.

“Without the medicine, I’ll get sick again. I won’t be able to work,” she says, glancing at the bubbling pot. “Then what happens to my kids?”

Around her, the bus terminal hums with life. Conductors shout out destinations, men weave between traffic selling bananas and bottled water, and the air smells of grilled meat and diesel fumes. Mkwasi wipes sweat from her forehead and keeps stirring, but the weight of uncertainty lingers.

A Worsening Crisis

The numbers painted a grim picture. Without ARVs, HIV-positive individuals risk developing full-blown AIDS, making them vulnerable to deadly infections like tuberculosis and pneumonia. Health experts warned that Tanzania could see at least 30,000 additional HIV-related deaths in the next two years if the crisis wasn’t resolved.

Deogratius Rutatwa, CEO of the National Council of People Living With HIV/AIDS, sat at his desk, staring at the endless reports detailing the worsening situation. His phone, still warm from his last call, kept ringing.

“This is a disaster,” he said, rubbing his temples. “PEPFAR wasn’t just about giving out medicine—it funded education, prevention, community support. Now, everything is gone.”

His inbox was flooded with desperate messages from community organizations. What do we do now? they asked. But Rutatwa had no answers.

“I wish the people making these decisions could see what’s happening here,” he said. “They talk about budgets and policies, but on the ground, it’s about a mother walking miles to get her child tested. It’s about a teenager who just found out he’s positive and needs help, not rejection. It’s about keeping people alive.”

Live or Die

Mary Tarimo had dedicated her life to helping HIV patients stay on treatment. As a home-based care supervisor at the Bagamoyo hospital’s HIV department, she spent her days navigating the dusty streets of Dar es Salaam, checking in on patients, ensuring they orally took their medication.

Now, she was watching helplessly as people who had been stable for years began to relapse.

“There’s a woman I’ve been caring for since 2015,” Tarimo said. “She never missed a dose. But now, she’s stopped taking her medicine.”

The woman, a mother of three who made a living as a street cook, had broken down in tears just days earlier.

“She told me, ‘Mama Tarimo, I have to choose between feeding my children and buying my medicine,’” Tarimo recalled. “How do you respond to that? What kind of choice is that?”

Across the Bagamoyo town, the same tragedy was unfolding. People were showing up at hospitals with fevers, night sweats—the first signs of opportunistic infections. Some, ashamed that they could no longer afford their treatment, simply stopped coming.

“I met a man last weekend—he was diagnosed in 2010. Never missed a single appointment,” Tarimo said. “Now, he’s scared. He told me, ‘I feel like I’m back where I started.’”

She paused, shaking her head. “The worst part? We spent decades building this program, making sure people knew that HIV isn’t a death sentence if you stay on treatment. And now, just like that, we’re watching all of it fall apart.”

Searching for Solutions

Despite the bleak outlook, Joachim refused to give up.

“We are not just sitting back and watching this happen,” she said. “We’re talking to other international partners, private donors, and our own government to find alternative funding.”

The Ministry of Health had pledged to reallocate part of its budget to keep ARVs flowing, and there was hope that other donor countries might step in.

“We are looking at every possible solution,” Joachim said. “People have a right to treatment. We will do everything we can to make sure they get it.”

But experts warned that Tanzania’s national health budget simply couldn’t cover the $260 per patient per year needed for ARVs. For many, the cost—ranging between USD 15 and USD 20 per month—was almost impossible to afford.

“The reality is, without external support, we cannot bridge this gap,” Rutatwa admitted. “And that means lives will be lost.”

A Race Against Time

Back at Bagamoyo Hospital, Tatu sat on a bench, staring at the floor. She had no idea what to do next.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I just want my medicine.”

As she stood up to leave, she glanced around at the others in the waiting room—young, old, mothers with babies, men with hollow eyes. They were all waiting for something that was no longer there.

For now, Tanzania was scrambling to find a solution. But for the millions who relied on PEPFAR, time was running out.

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Salma Mahmoud Ali walks through her salt ponds. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
PEMBA, Tanzania , Jan 20 2025 (IPS)

As the cool morning breeze sweeps across the Indian Ocean beach in Tanzania’s Pemba archipelago, Salma Mahmoud Ali begins her day. With her brightly coloured Kikoi cinched tightly around her waist and a dark blue scarf framing her face, she walks barefoot toward her salt ponds. The humid air hangs, but Ali wades through ankle-deep water with courage.

Armed with a shovel, rake and pick, she methodically drags sparkling crystals under the rising sun. Each stroke pulls salt from the brine—a hard process born of necessity.

“It’s a tough job,” says Ali, a 31-year-old mother of three. “The heat is too much—no matter how much water you drink, the thirst won’t go away. But it’s how I feed my family and send my children to school.”

For Ali and dozens of female artisanal salt farmers in Pemba, salt production is both their livelihood and their struggle. In this deeply patriarchal Muslim community, the gleaming piles of white salt represent survival—a craft demanding patience, precision and grit.

Hamida Mohamed prepares a projector to train salt farmers on climate resilience. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

Hamida Mohamed talks to salt farmers. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

On Pemba Island, where farms yield 2,000 tons of salt annually, prosperity feels like a mirage. Experts believe output could triple with better tools, but resources remain scarce. Families and cooperatives divide the land, with an average of four owners per plot, leaving wealth unevenly distributed. Farm owners collect the bulk of the earnings, while the workers—who toil under the weight of every harvest—are left to scrape by, their paychecks barely carrying them through the season.

Most families rely on coarse, untreated salt, with only one in four affording iodized varieties. “It’s our life,” said Halima Hamoud Heri, a laborer, kneeling under the blazing sun. “Hard, but it keeps us going.”

Gruelling Craft

Salt farming has always tested endurance, but climate change conspires against the women who depend on it. Rising temperatures accelerate evaporation, often causing salt to crumble before it can be harvested. Unpredictable rainfall—once a seasonal certainty—now arrives without warning, flooding the ponds and washing away weeks of labor back into the sea.

“We used to know when the dry season would start and end,” says Khadija Rashid, who has worked the ponds for 10 years. “Now the rain surprises us. Sometimes it’s too hot, and the salt dries too fast. Other times, the rain ruins everything before we can collect it.”

Salma Mahmoud Ali and fellow salt farmers inspect harvested salt. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

Salt farms are affected by high evaporation, temperature and erratic rains. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

For families like Ali’s, whose alternative livelihoods like fishing and farming have also been battered by erratic weather, salt production is a lifeline. It is work that demands accuracy and perseverance, and it leaves its mark on those who perform it. The sun cracks skin and the salt cuts into hands.

“By the time you carry the seawater, clear the mud, and harvest the salt, you’re so tired you can barely stand,” says Ali. “But you still have to do it again tomorrow.”

A Fragile Ecosystem

Standing at the edge of a salt farm in Pemba, Batuli Yahya, a field marine scientist from the Institute of Marine Sciences at the University of Dar es Salaam, gestured toward the silvery expanse.

“Salt production depends on delicate environmental conditions,” she says. “But those conditions are changing faster than ever due to climate pressures.”

The salt ponds, once reliable sources of livelihood for coastal communities, are increasingly at risk as rising sea levels, erratic rainfall, and intensifying heat disrupt their fragile balance.

“Sea level rise causes seawater to spill over into areas where salinity levels are meticulously controlled,” Yahya explains. “It’s a growing threat that turns productive farms into unusable pools.”

The challenges don’t end there. Rainfall patterns have become more unpredictable, she said, with sudden downpours diluting the brine or destroying salt pans altogether.

“Too much rain at the wrong time can ruin months of preparation,” Yahya notes. “And when it’s coupled with longer dry spells, it creates a cycle that’s hard to manage.”

Higher temperatures are also exacerbating the situation.

Pemba male and female salt farmers gather in a hut. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

Female salt farmers plant mangrove trees along the coast to protect their farms from sea rise. Credit: Kizito Shigela/IPS

“Evaporation is critical to the salt production process, but extreme heat pushes salinity levels beyond what the ecosystem can handle,” Yahya says. “The microorganisms that play a key role in salt crystallization struggle to survive in such conditions.”

For many coastal communities, the implications are severe. “This is not just an environmental issue,” says Ali.

The challenges extend beyond weather. The reliance on manual labor to carry seawater to the ponds, clear mud, and harvest salt leaves many women exhausted and prone to injuries. The physical toll is compounded by the economic pressure to produce enough salt to sustain their families.

Finding Solutions

Amid challenges, Pemba’s salt farmers find strength in unity. Through local women’s associations, they adopt innovations to protect their work and improve production. One such breakthrough has been the introduction of solar drying covers—transparent sheets that shield ponds from sudden downpours while concentrating heat to speed up evaporation. “Before, if the rain came, we lost everything,” says Heri, demonstrating how she spreads the covers over her pond. “Now, we can save our salt, even during the wet season.”

The association also promotes knowledge-sharing among the women. Techniques to harden soil, efficiently distribute seawater, and package salt for market are taught collectively.

“Working alone, I would have given up,” says Ali. “But together, we find solutions. If one of us learns something new, she teaches the rest of us.”

Empowerment Through Enterprise

The women’s collective efforts improve livelihoods. Salt once sold in unmarked bags at local markets now reaches buyers in shops across Tanzania.

“I used to sell just enough to buy rice for the day,” says Ali. “Now I sell in bulk, and I’ve now saved Tanzanian shillings 455,000 (USD 187.)”

With the additional income, Ali has been able to feed her family and send children to school. “My daughter tells me she wants to be like me,” she says. “But maybe with a little less sunburn.”

The success has begun shifting perceptions in their community. Men who once dismissed salt farming as “boring work” now recognize its value, and some even assist with heavier tasks.

“We’re not just salt farmers anymore,” says Rashid. “We’re businesswomen.”

Hope Amid Challenges

Despite their progress, barriers remain. Access to financing is limited, and tools like solar covers and pumps are still too expensive for many women. Climate change continues to push them to innovate faster.

“We need more support,” says Ali. “Better tools, more training, and access to loans,”

Still, the women soldier on. Ali drags the day’s harvest into piles while pausing to wipe her brow.

“I hope the situation will improve and we will succeed even more,” she says.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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

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Excerpt:

The recent collapse of a high-rise building in Dar es Salaam, killing 16 people and injuring more than 80, has reignited concerns about the city’s disaster preparedness. Credit: Kizito Makoye Shigela/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Jan 3 2025 (IPS)

As the dust settled over Kariakoo’s bustling streets, Halima Abdallah’s voice trembled through the cracks of a collapsed four-story building. “Help me, please! I don’t get air,” she gasped, trapped under the rubble. For four hours, rescue workers scrambled to locate her. Their efforts, hampered by the lack of proper equipment, relied on tools hastily borrowed from a private company. By the time they reached her, it was too late. Abdallah had died.

Moments before the building collapsed, Husna Faime, a single mother, was humming softly inside her tailoring shop, finishing a client’s order. Minutes later, her harmony shattered—literally.

“I felt the ground shaking, and before I knew it, everything was falling,” she recounted from her hospital bed a week later. Trapped under the rubble, she used the last of her phone’s battery to send her sister a haunting text: “If I don’t make it, please take care of Aisha. Tell her mom loves her.”

Local volunteers dug through the rubble with their bare hands, managing to rescue Faime hours later. Her survival was miraculous, but her ordeal exposed a grim truth: disasters—both natural and man-made—regularly strike unprepared communities in Tanzania, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

The Perfect Storm

Tanzania, home to over 62 million people, faces a myriad of hazards: floods, droughts, cyclones, and earthquakes. Compounding these are man-made disasters like road accidents, industrial mishaps, and collapsing buildings. For the 34 percent of Tanzanians living below the poverty line, the financial burden of recovery is overwhelming.

In Kariakoo, a bustling hub of markets and skyscrapers, a hidden danger lurks behind the concrete walls. Systemic corruption and shoddy workmanship have turned many buildings into potential death traps. Investigations reveal that dishonest developers, in collusion with corrupt officials, routinely use substandard materials to cut costs, ignoring safety regulations and bypassing inspections.

At least five major building collapses have been reported in Dar es Salaam over the last decade, claiming many lives. Kariakoo in particular has emerged as a hotspot for such tragedies. Experts warn that many other buildings in the area remain structurally unsound, putting lives at constant risk.

Lack of Preparedness

Tanzania’s vulnerability is exacerbated by poor disaster preparedness and infrastructure. Rapid urban sprawl, informal settlements, and inadequate drainage systems leave communities exposed to climate-induced disasters.

“Our cities are not built to absorb the shocks caused by natural disasters,” said Pius Yanda, a climate change adaptation specialist at the University of Dar es Salaam. Informal settlements are particularly vulnerable, with little to no infrastructure to mitigate flooding or other hazards.

Man-made disasters are equally concerning. Weak enforcement of building regulations makes building collapses tragically routine. “The warning signs are always there,” said Peter Kazimoto, a disaster risk reduction expert at the Tanzania Red Cross Society. “Developers prioritize saving money over safety, and enforcement is weak.”

Rural areas face their own struggles. In the eastern Morogoro region, floods destroyed Ahmed Selemani’s maize crop, his sole source of income. “We heard warnings on the radio, but no one came to evacuate us,” Ahmed said. “Now we have nothing.”

Institutional Gaps

Tanzania has a disaster response framework—the Tanzania Emergency Preparedness and Response Plan (TEPRP)—but its implementation remains weak. Agencies like the Disaster Management Department (DMD) operate on limited budgets, meeting only 35 percent of their funding needs in 2023.

“We have made some progress with early warning systems,” said Jim Yonazi, an official in the Prime Minister’s Office. “But we need more resources to mitigate risks effectively.”

With limited government intervention, many Tanzanians have taken matters into their own hands. In Tandale, a sprawling slum in Dar es Salaam, residents like John Mnyamasi have built rudimentary flood defenses with sandbags and canals. “We can’t wait for the government,” Mnyamasi said.

During building collapses, local volunteers are often the first responders. Kariakoo resident Emmanuel Joseph recounted rescuing 12 people trapped under rubble. “When you hear someone crying for help, you just act—even if it means risking your own life,” he said.

Pathways to Resilience

Experts emphasize the need for disaster risk reduction to protect Tanzanians. “Disaster risk reduction isn’t just about emergencies—it’s about prevention,” said James Mbatia, a former legislator and disaster risk specialist.

Investments in early warning systems, stronger infrastructure, and public awareness campaigns are critical. Neighboring Kenya, for instance, uses mobile apps to provide real-time weather updates, enabling faster evacuations. “Empowering communities with tools and knowledge can save lives,” said Mbatia.

Critics argue that Tanzania’s government must take greater responsibility for disaster management failures. “It’s like watching a fire spread while holding a bucket of water you never use,” Mbatia said, pointing to predictable disasters such as annual floods in low-lying regions.

Gordian Kazaura, an urban planning specialist at Ardhi University, highlighted the human cost. “The poorest suffer the most. They lack the resources to recover, and the government’s response often comes too late,” he said.

A glimmer of Hope

Despite the challenges, there is growing momentum for change. Organizations like the Tanzania Red Cross are training volunteers and advocating for better early warning systems. Workshops are equipping local authorities with emergency planning skills.

“Disasters are local by nature,” said Kazimoto. “Empowering communities and regional committees to act swiftly without waiting for central government instructions is critical.”

For survivors like Faime, recovery is uncertain, but hope persists. “We need help, but we also need change,” she said. “People like me can’t keep starting over.”

Halima Abdallah’s final plea must serve as a wake-up call. Tanzania must transition from reactive responses to proactive resilience, ensuring that no cry for help goes unanswered. Observers agree—the time for action is now—before the next disaster strikes.

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Women in Kilema village harvest orange sweet potatoes. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
KILIMANJARO, Tanzania , Dec 4 2024 (IPS)

In the sun-scorched soils of Moshi, where every drop of rain counts, two female farmers have defied the odds through technology. Mwajuma Rashid Njau and Mumii Rajab, once locked in a daily struggle to survive, have found a mobile phone their best ally.

For years, farming was a way of life they struggled to master. Their fields, a patchwork of red earth and wilting crops, symbolized hardship rather than prosperity. Pests came with the seasons, the soil quality deteriorated, and their harvests barely provided enough to feed their families. But now, a simple app—Kiazi Bora—has changed everything.

On a sweltering afternoon, Njau was out in the field, staring helplessly at the rows of wilting sweet potatoes ravaged by pests, when he realized things could be different. She had no idea how to stop it—until she opened the Kiazi Bora app on her phone.

“This app has changed everything,” Njau, 38, says with a tired but hopeful smile. “I didn’t know where to start, but now I can check my phone, and it tells me exactly what to do.”

The Kiazi Bora app, designed specifically for small-scale farmers like Njau and Rashid, focuses on helping them grow nutritious orange-fleshed sweet potatoes (OFSP) to feed their families and earn income. The app offers simple instructions on planting and pest control to farmers with little education.

The app, Kiazi Bora (“quality potatoes” in Kiswahili), wasn’t just another farming tool—it was powered by cutting-edge AI voice technology. And for the first time, it spoke their language.

Creating Kiazi Bora wasn’t easy. Kiswahili, a language spoken by over 200 million people, presented unique challenges for AI developers. The problem? There simply wasn’t enough high-quality voice data to train the technology.

“One of the biggest challenges has been the availability of diverse, high-quality data,” said EM Lewis-Jong, Director of Mozilla Common Voice, a global project dedicated to making AI accessible to speakers of underrepresented languages.

“Kiswahili is a diverse language with many regional variants, and our tools are primarily designed for English, which complicates things further.”

To solve this issue, SEE Africa, the nonprofit behind Kiazi Bora, turned to Mozilla’s Common Voice platform. Unlike other AI data collection methods, which often rely on scraping the web or underpaid gig workers, Common Voice harnesses the power of community. “We use a crowd-sourced model where people voluntarily contribute their voice data,” explained Lewis-Jong. “This ensures that the data reflects the true diversity of the language, including different accents and dialects.”

This community-driven approach has already seen tremendous success. In Tanzania, the Kiazi Bora app is now used by over 300 women, empowering them with knowledge on how to grow and market their crops. “These women are learning in Kiswahili, their first language, which makes a huge difference,” noted Gina Moape, Community Manager for Common Voice. “We’ve seen firsthand how access to information in their own language improves both their nutrition and their ability to participate in economic activities.”

But Kiazi Bora is just one example of how voice-enabled technology can make a real impact.

For Mozilla, these projects reflect a broader vision: democratizing AI so that it serves everyone, not just speakers of dominant languages. “If data creation is left to for-profit companies, many of the world’s languages will be left behind,” said Lewis-Jong. “We want a world where people can create the data they need, capturing their language as they experience it.”

That’s why Mozilla’s Common Voice is not just a tool but a movement. Its open-source platform allows communities to collect and contribute voice data that anyone can use, fostering local innovation across Africa. “We’re particularly excited about the potential for African languages,” Lewis-Jong added. “Our long-term vision is to integrate more African languages into global voice recognition technologies, and Common Voice is a critical part of making that happen.”

For Rashid, 42, who had once lived in uncertainty, the app was a useful tool. “Before, I felt powerless,” she recalls. “When pests attacked, I would just watch as my crops withered. Now, I can fight back. I know what to do.”

Both women have honed their skills and improved crop yields. The app taught them how to manage soil health, optimize planting schedules, and handle pest outbreaks.

Their orange-fleshed sweet potatoes stand out in contrast to the dusty earth, a sign of resilience and renewal.

The duo, who were entangled in a cycle of poverty, now speak with pride about their success.

“We’ve learned to control our future,” Njau says.

Through Kiazi Bora, Njau and Rajabu have unlocked opportunities to improve their livelihoods and break free from poverty.

Njau, who had to drop out of school when her family moved to a remote village, calls the app her “teacher.” She explains, “I never completed school, but this app has taught me everything I need to know about farming. It’s like a teacher that’s always there when I need it.”

The voice-enabled Kiswahili features make it user-friendly. “The app speaks to me in a language I clearly understand,” Njau says.

Through the app, Njau and Rajabu learned how to process potatoes into flour and pastries, which fetch a higher market price.

Rajabu explains, “I didn’t know you could make flour from sweet potatoes or that you could sell it for more money. Now, I have customers who buy the flour because it lasts longer than fresh potatoes.” This new skill has allowed them to diversify their income.

In just a year, their income increased from zero to USD 127 per month. The extra income has enabled them to take care of their families, reinvest in their farms, and secure a better future. “With the money I’ve made, I’ve been able to send my children to school and even save some for emergencies,” says Njau.

The potatoes, which are rich in vitamins, have helped them fight malnutrition in their communities. While neither Njau nor Rajabu had children with malnutrition, they both knew families who struggled with it. Thanks to the app, they now understand the importance of incorporating OFSP into their daily meals to ensure their children stay healthy.

Rajabu was quick to share the app with her relatives. “I told my sister about it, and now she’s also growing OFSP. Her children are healthier, and she’s even making money from selling sweet potato flour,” she says proudly.

For both women, the app has empowered them as farmers, businesswomen and community leaders. “I feel confident now,” Rajabu says. “This app has changed my life, and I know it can help other women like me.”

Both Njau and Rajabu see immense potential for Kiazi Bora to help other rural women. They advocate for expanding the app beyond OFSP farming to include other crops like vegetables and edible roots, as this could further diversify their income streams and enhance food security in their communities.

“Women in rural areas need this technology,” Rajabu emphasizes. “We need to make sure that we can feed our families and earn better incomes.”

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Faiza Ally, a pupil at Mtoni Primary School in Mara Region, plants a tree. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
MUSOMA, Tanzania, Oct 30 2024 (IPS)

At Gabimori primary school, located at Nyamagaro ward in Tanzania’s northern Rorya district, a 15-year-old  Florence Sadiki kneels among polyethylene bags, carefully examining the seedlings she and her classmates  have nurtured from tiny sprouts “We’ve planted many trees to make our school look better and to help fight climate change,” she says.

Sadiki is part of an inspiring grassroots movement in the east African country where students, teachers, and community members team up to fight environmental degradation through reforestation. In Rorya district, nestled on the shores of Lake Victoria, rampant deforestation driven by charcoal production has left the land barren. But the efforts of school environmental clubs, supported by the Lake Community Program (LACOP), are working to repair the damage.

The reality in Rorya is grim. Erratic rainfall and prolonged droughts have changed swathes of once-fertile land into dry savannas, a trend that has only accelerated since the initiative began in 2022. Spearheaded by the global charity World Neighbors and the Lake Community Development Foundation (LACODEFO), this initiative empowers students to plant trees and learn the entire process of growing them.

Daudi Lyamuru speaks during a village meeting to mobilize the community to plant trees and support the climate mitigation project. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Pupils at Mwenge primary school pose for a photo after tree planting exercise. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

“We’re teaching students to set up their own nurseries,” says Idrisa Lema, the project officer. “It’s not enough to hand out seedlings. They need to learn the whole process—choosing drought-resistant species, improving soil with organic manure, and using techniques like mulching.” This holistic approach  promotes sustainability and equips students with transferable skills that can help them for the rest of their lives.

In the past two years, the students have successfully planted 2,800 trees across five villages, a remarkable achievement that has already begun to bear fruit. Some once-dry water springs are starting to flow again. Yet challenges remain, particularly in Nyamagaro and neighboring Kyangasaga villages, where erratic rainfall and drought continue to hinder progress.

“Watering the trees is tough,” admits Alex Lwitiko, an environmental teacher at Rorya Girls’ School. “We’ve had to be strict with the students—otherwise, the trees wouldn’t survive.”

To adapt, students have switched to innovative solutions like bottle irrigation and even drilled water wells to support their young trees. “We focus on drought-resistant species and organic farming methods to give the trees the best chance,” Lwitiko says, emphasizing the program’s commitment to teaching sustainability.

Sadiki herself has learned to adapt. “I know how to graft trees and grow them in tough conditions now,” she says. “These trees are our future. They fight climate change, provide shade, and even improve soil fertility.”

A government official, Aloycia Mdeme, plants a tree to signify the launch of the school environmental club. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Mtoni Primary School pupils plant trees; this project has become central to the region’s contribution to climate change mitigation. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

In Tanzania, the impact of climate change is becoming increasingly severe. The country aims to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 30 to 35 percent by 2030, a goal outlined in its Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs). Despite its low carbon footprint—just 0.22 tons per capita compared to the global average of 7.58—Tanzania is reeling from climate-related disasters. Droughts, floods, and erratic weather patterns disrupt agriculture, drying up water sources and threatening economic stability.

For the rural poor, especially those who rely on farming—the backbone of the economy, making up 28 percent of GDP—the stakes are higher. But in places like Nyagisya and Rorya Girls Secondary Schools, students have taken up the fight. Through tree planting, they have become unlikely climate crusaders, tackling environmental degradation while improving food security and boosting local livelihoods.

The act of planting trees offers more than shade and fruit. It symbolizes a deeper mission—restoring soil, preserving water, and, for these students, delivering a form of climate justice. The reforestation efforts are in step with Tanzania’s broader plans to fortify its agriculture and water systems against the advancing climate crisis.

As these student-led initiatives flourish, they mirror Tanzania’s urgent call for global support. With limited resources, the country is striving to fulfill its commitments yet it recognizes that the battle against climate change is a collective endeavor that requires unity on a global scale.

Despite the promising efforts in Tanzania, significant challenges remain. One of the main hurdles is the unpredictability of funding. Tree-planting initiatives and climate adaptation programs require sustained financial support, but resources are often limited, local analysts say.

Without consistent funding, scaling up projects and maintaining long-term impact becomes difficult.

Community members plant trees in Rorya district. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

While students have embraced environmental stewardship, not all local households are on board. In some areas, livestock continues to graze on young saplings, undoing the hard work of reforestation. Additionally, cultural and economic pressures, such as the reliance on charcoal for income and firewood for cooking, contribute to ongoing deforestation, making conservation efforts harder.

Erratic rainfall and worsening drought conditions present another barrier. Water scarcity makes it harder to nurture newly planted trees, despite innovative solutions. These conditions also strain local agriculture, which many families depend on, increasing the urgency of balancing conservation with survival needs.

While Tanzania has ambitious climate goals, the gap between policy and practical implementation remains wide, particularly in rural areas where the effects of climate change are felt most acutely. 

At Gabimori Primary School, students have embraced their role as environmental stewards. “They’ve seen how conservation affects their daily lives,” says teacher Witinga Mattambo. “They now understand the link between the trees and the food they eat.”

The impact is vivid for students like Sadiki. “I never realized trees were this important,” she says. “They bring rain and improve our environment.”

For Lema, this is only the beginning. By fostering leadership skills and engaging the broader community, the program is building a new generation of Tanzanians dedicated to environmental protection. “We’ve even seen parents get involved,” Lwitiko says. “They’re starting to plant trees in their own yards.”

Still, the program faces hurdles. Some households allow their livestock to graze on young saplings, undoing the hard work of the students. “It’s frustrating,” admits Lwitiko, “but we’re making progress, step by step.”

Lema has ambitious plans to expand the initiative.

“We’re training students to pass on their knowledge,” he says. “As they move on, they’ll teach younger students, and we’ll spread this effort to other schools.” But scaling the program will require more funding.

“We’re working on securing more resources and partnering with local governments to enforce tree-planting bylaws,” Lema explains. There are also plans to set up household tree nurseries, allowing families to earn extra income while contributing to conservation.

For Sadiki, the program’s impact is lasting.

“We have the duty to plant trees and protect our environment. It’s something we’ll carry with us for the rest of our lives.”

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Riot Police in Mbeya City unleash teagas to disperse members of the Chadema opposition party who gathered to mark International Youth Day on August 12, 2024. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Oct 21 2024 (IPS)

At a rally to mark International Youth Day on August 12 in Tanzania’s southern Mbeya region, John Mnyika stood with a determined expression, addressing his supporters. The air was charged with anticipation. Mnyika, the Secretary-General of Tanzania’s opposition party, Chadema, was preparing to speak about the upcoming elections when the chaos erupted. Without warning, heavily armed police officers stormed the event, grabbed Mnyika, and dragged him away.

Amid the fracas, an officer ripped the rimless eyeglasses from Mnyika’s face and callously crushed them underfoot. “They beat me with clubs and the barrels of their guns,” Mnyika would later recount. “It was a calculated move to humiliate and silence us.” His voice trembled with anger, but he remained resolute. The brutality of that day was not an isolated event—it was a sign of a deeper malaise in Tanzania’s political landscape.

Tanzania’s promised reforms

When Samia Suluhu Hassan assumed the presidency in 2021, following the death of John Magufuli, there was hope for a new dawn. Samia, the first female leader of Tanzania, had promised to usher in a new era of democratic reform. She lifted bans on political rallies, allowed media outlets to reopen, and signaled a commitment to freedom of speech.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though Tanzania was emerging from the shadow of autocracy. Opposition parties, long suppressed under Magufuli’s rule, were allowed to hold rallies once more. Political discourse blossomed, and for the first time in years, the country appeared to be on the path toward genuine democracy.

But as the 2024 local elections approached, those hopes began to fade. The government’s promises of reform gave way to a resurgence of authoritarian tactics. The optimism that had accompanied Samia’s ascent to power was slowly being replaced by fear and uncertainty. Political violence was on the rise, opposition leaders were being silenced, and dissent was once again being met with brutal repression.

The return of repression

Mnyika’s ordeal was just one of many incidents that signaled a return to the heavy-handed tactics of the Magufuli era. On the same day as his arrest, Chadema Vice-Chairperson Tundu Lissu, along with over 500 supporters, was detained in what appeared to be a coordinated crackdown on the opposition. Lissu, who survived an assassination attempt in 2017, has long been a vocal critic of the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) party.

“We are witnessing the death of democracy in real-time,” Lissu told reporters after his release. “The government wants to crush any form of opposition, and they are willing to use violence to achieve that goal.”

The Tanzanian government’s crackdown on opposition figures has not gone unnoticed. International human rights organizations and foreign governments have raised alarms about the escalating violence. In a joint statement, the United States and European Union called for an independent investigation into the growing number of politically motivated arrests and disappearances. But President Samia has remained defiant, asserting Tanzania’s sovereignty and dismissing foreign interference.

“We do not need outsiders to tell us how to run our country,” she said in a televised address, marking the 60th anniversary of the Tanzania Police Force. “We will investigate these incidents ourselves.”

The price of dissent

The crackdown on opposition parties is not only limited to arrests. In recent months, Tanzania has seen a sharp increase in politically motivated abductions and murders. One such case is the abduction and brutal killing of Ali Mohamed Kibao, a senior Chadema member. Witnesses described how Kibao was forcibly removed from a bus by armed men, only for his body to be found a day later, bearing the unmistakable signs of torture and acid burns.

“We are living in fear,” said Freeman Mbowe, Chadema’s leader. “If they can do this to someone like Kibao, what’s to stop them from coming for any one of us?”

The government’s response has been dismissive. Despite promises of investigations, no meaningful actions have been taken to hold the perpetrators accountable. Many suspect that the state security forces are behind the violence, though officials continue to deny any involvement.

A nation at the crossroads

As Tanzania approaches its 2025 general elections, the country finds itself at a dangerous crossroads. The political violence of the past year has raised fears that the country may be sliding back into authoritarianism. Samia, who once positioned herself as a reformer, now faces accusations of using the same repressive tactics as her predecessor.

“The optics are troubling. When opposition figures are targeted under the guise of legal procedures, it sends a message that political dissent will not be tolerated,” says Michael Bante, a political commentator based in Dar es Salaam It’s a significant setback for the progress we thought we were making under her leadership.”

While some may argue that these actions are necessary for stability, Bante believes it’s a dangerous precedent. “Tanzania’s democracy will only thrive if we can guarantee the space for all political voices to be heard—whether they align with the government or not.”

For many Tanzanians, the future seems grim. The escalating political violence has fostered an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, leaving many feeling helpless. “These are troubling times,” remarked Juma Mwinyi, a street vendor who saw the abduction of Kibao. “If they can snatch someone in the middle of the day, what’s to stop them from targeting the rest of us?”

The International Response

Internationally, Tanzania’s political situation has drawn widespread condemnation. Foreign governments have called on Samia to reverse course and restore the democratic freedoms that were promised when she took office. But so far, those calls have gone unanswered.

“President Samia has a choice to make,” says  Halima Mheta, a Tanzanian social justice activist. “She can be the leader who restores Tanzania’s democracy or the one who destroys it.”

As the nation waits for the upcoming elections, one thing is clear: the stakes have never been higher. For opposition leaders like John Mnyika and Tundu Lissu, the fight for democracy has never been more dangerous. But despite the risks, they remain determined.

“We will not be silenced,” Mnyika said defiantly. “Tanzania belongs to all of us, and we will fight for our right to be heard.”

For now, the future of Tanzania remains uncertain. But in the face of mounting repression, the country’s opposition leaders are determined to keep fighting, no matter the cost. As the political violence escalates and the government tightens its grip, the question remains: will Tanzania’s fragile democracy survive?

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Maria Naeku, a Maasaiwoman in Mikese village in Mvomero district tends to her vegetable garden.Credit: Kizito Makoye Shigela/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
MVOMERO, Tanzania, Sep 24 2024 (IPS)

In the scorching sun of Mikese village in Tanzania’s eastern Mvomero district, 31-year-old Maria Naeku tirelessly tends to her small vegetable patch. Each time she pulls a weed, the red soil stains her hands as she guides the trickle of water from a maze of pipes through an elevated bed to nurture her plants. In a drought-stricken area, Naeku’s small garden is a lifeline for her family, giving them food and income.

“When the drought hit, our cattle died, and we couldn’t get milk for the children,” Naeku says. “I knew I had to find a way to feed my family, so I had to grow vegetables.” 

The drip irrigation technique, where a network of pipes with tiny holes spit water directly to the plant in a split second, was new to her but she tried. “I didn’t  know how if tiny drops of water could nourish the crops,” she says. “But when I saw green leaves sprouting from the soil, I knew I had a brighter future.”

Naeku’s quickly became an expert, her success inspired other women across  the village to follow her lead. The Maasai, traditionally, known for cattle rearing—a symbol of wealth and security are increasingly adopting climate-smart farming to cope with drought as rains have become erratic due to climate change. Women like Naeku, who once depended entirely on these herds, have been forced to adopt innovative farming techniques to survive.

Shattering the Patriarchy

In Maasai culture, men have long held the reins of power, with women relegated to the roles of caregivers and homemakers. Decision-making, particularly in land and livestock matters, has traditionally been the exclusive domain of men. However, the severe droughts have shifted these dynamics. With their cattle dwindling and their families hungry, Maasai women have begun to step into roles once reserved for men, embracing climate-smart agriculture as an alternative means of survival.

“We are no longer just caretakers of our families,” says 34-year-old Nasarian Lengai, a mother of five who has become a local champion for horticulture farming at Mikese. “We are decision-makers who are shaping the future of our community.”

Initially skeptical, Lengai strongly believe in horticulture using organic farming practices. “When I first heard about these methods, I didn’t think they’d work for us,” she says. “But after seeing how much better my crops are now, I’m sure this is the right way to go.”

For centuries, the Maasai have relied on cattle for their food—milk, meat, and even blood. Switching to farming was a big change from their old ways.

“We used to believe that having many cattle was the only way to keep wealth and ensure security,” says Esuvat Joseph, who leads the Tupendane Maasai women’s group at Mikese village. “But now we understand that we need to cope with drought. We’ve learned to keep fewer cattle and focusing more on farming.”

Tupendane group has also embraced water conservation techniques, constructing ground reservoirs to collect rainwater. “This water is very important,” she explains. “We use it for irrigation when the rivers dry up.”

Climate-smart Solutions

The Maasai women’s adoption of climate-smart agriculture is not just a response to immediate needs but a strategy for long-term resilience. Through initiatives supported by the Norwegian Church Aid—an international charity—these women are learning to diversify their income sources, reducing their dependence on livestock and embracing sustainable horticulture practices.

“We’re teaching these women how to make the most of their small plots of land,” explains Oscar John, the program manager with Norwegian Church Aid. “By diversifying their income sources, they’re less dependent on livestock, which is increasingly vulnerable to drought.”

Conservation agriculture, a key component of this initiative, promotes sustainable farming techniques that improve soil health and increase crop yields without depleting natural resources.

For the women of Mvomero, this has been a divine plan. They are learning to grow drought-resistant crops, rotate their fields, and use organic fertilizers, all of which contribute to better crop yields.

As more women embrace climate-smart agriculture, the ripple effects are being felt in neighboring villages, as women once skeptical of these new methods, are now seeing the success in Mvomero and beginning to learn these practices in their own drought-stricken lands.

Empowerment in Action

The shift from livestock to crop farming has had a huge impact on the social dynamics within the Maasai community. Women, who were once sidelined in decision-making processes, are now taking the lead in managing their families’ resources. This newfound empowerment is improving their social and economic status while challenging the patriarchal norms that have long defined their society.

“We’ve always been made to believe that men are the decision-makers,” says Lengai. “But now we’re showing that women can lead too. We can take care of our families and make better decisions.”

This sense of empowerment is evident in the way the women of Mvomero approach their work. They are tending to their crops and building a future where their voices are heard and their contributions are valued. The construction of rainwater harvesting systems, for example, is a task that these women have taken on with pride. “We don’t wait for our husbands to do it; we build these reservoirs ourselves,” says Joseph. “It’s our way of showing that we can take care of ourselves.”

The men in the community are recognizing the shifting gender roles, and some of them are starting to appreciate the benefits of shared decision-making. While resistance remains, the success of these women is slowly changing attitudes. As the benefits of climate-smart agriculture become more apparent, more men are joining their wives in these efforts, working together to secure a better future for their families.

Challenges on the Horizon

The transition from livestock to crop farming is not without its difficulties, particularly for a community that has long measured wealth by the size of its herds. “There are still some who resist change,” admits Joseph. “They see farming as a lesser occupation compared to cattle herding. But as more of us succeed, the mindset is shifting.”

The path to fully accepting these new practices is slow, and the women of Mvomero know their success is just the start. They face many challenges ahead, including the risk of drought and strong cultural norms that shape gender roles in Maasai society.

But the women are strong. They know that their efforts are not just to overcome the on-going crisis but also about creating a better future for their children.

“We are planting the seeds of change,” says Naeku. “Our daughters will grow up knowing that they can be anything they want to be. They will see that women can lead, that we can innovate, and that we can solve any problems.”

A Model for the Future

The success of the Maasai women in Mvomero is beginning to attract attention from other drought-hit areas in Tanzania. Development organizations and government agencies are taking note of the community’s innovative approach and exploring ways to replicate it in other regions facing similar challenges.

“We see this as a model that can be adapted and implemented in other parts of the country,” says John. “The key is to empower communities, particularly women, to take control of their resources and livelihoods. When people are given the tools and knowledge they need, they can achieve incredible things.”

As Maasai women in pastoral communities make progress, they are not only securing their own future but also creating a stronger and fairer society. Their journey shows determination, innovation, and empowerment—a true example of women’s strength in overcoming challenges.

In Tanzania’s Maasai steppe, where the future of pastoral communities is uncertain, these women are showing that with the right support, even the most marginalized can overcome   their problem and lead a better life.

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A pastoralist gazes into the horizon while taking a break from grazing cattle in Ikolongo Village. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

By Kizito Makoye
IRINGA, Tanzania , Jul 16 2024 (IPS)

As the sun sets, its golden hues piece through the dusty haze, creating a dazzling display when a herd of livestock lazily roams on the arid landscape as they return home from grazing.

Dressed in shiny red robes, the youthful Maasai pastoralists routinely whistle as they steer cattle, goats and sheep to maintain a unified path.

The quest for survival has forced these herders in Oldonyo Sambu, Tanzania’s northern Maasai Steppe, jostling for dwindling water and pastures as they try to sustain their herds.

Surprisingly, 670 kilometres (416 miles) away in Ikolongo village, south of Tanzania, the plight of water consumers has improved, thanks to a community-led initiative that brought farmers and pastoralists together  to resolve their water woes.

Sitting under a baobab tree, 47-year-old Leinot Leboo watches his cattle drink from a pond. This tranquil moment contrasts sharply with the situation in Oldonyo Sambu, where farmers often clash with herders as they jostle for water.

“I don’t recall any fight between pastoralists and farmers here.We get enough pastures and water for our livestock,” says Leboo.

Unlike in Oldonyo Sambu, local villagers here have created specific grazing lands and water points for livestock to prevent clashes with farmers. “We often bring our cattle here and let them graze and drink without causing any disturbances,” says Leboo.

According to Ignas Mashaka, Ikolongo village chairman, the residents have created a system where pastoralists pay a small fee to feed their herds on rice husks produced by farmers, especially in the dry season.

“This arrangement provides a steady source of feed, but it also give farmers extra income,” says Mashaka

Cows drink from a pond used exclusively by pastoralists in Ikolongo village, Tanzania. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Strict Rules

After months of negotiation between local residents and local district authorities, the villagers enacted strict by-laws, which have now been adopted and ratified by 12 surrounding villages.

“These rules have helped to ease tensions over water use,” says Mashaka.

Under the initiative, local residents joined forces to construct dams and reservoirs which have reduced water scarcity, providing a reliable supply for farmers and pastoralists.

“We used to fight over every drop of water,” says Musa Chacha, a farmer at Ikolongo village. “But now, there’s enough for everyone and there’s no reason to fight,”

By working together and managing resources sustainably, Ikolongo villagers have built a strong and resilient community.

Female farmers in Ikolongo village learn horticulture to grow vegetables as part of their strategy to cope with drought. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

The Bigger Picture

Despite having vast grazing lands, the east African country faces frequent conflicts over water and other resources due to climate change and weak land governance. Prolonged droughts often lead to clashes between farmers and pastoralists as they jostle for water and grazing space.

Tanzania’s livestock sector, a vital source of livelihood for millions, holds potential for growth in production and trade. With a cattle population of 36.6 million, the country ranks second in Africa, after Ethiopia. This accounts for 1.4% of the global cattle population and 11% of Africa’s. Beyond cattle, Tanzania also boasts large numbers of sheep, goats, chickens, and pigs, placing it among the continent’s top ten in overall livestock numbers.

However, the sector is plagued by many challenges due to climate risks and low investment, World Bank analysts say.

Transformative Initiative

As part of its broader efforts to improve the livestock sector, Tanzania has launched a new USD 546 million initiative to bolster productivity, increase resilience to climate change and improve the livestock industry. The initiative entails innovative strategies to curb extreme weather by constructing water reservoirs, introducing drought-resistant forage crops, and improving livestock breeds.

Challenges and Solutions

According to a recent World Bank report, “Harnessing the Opportunity for a Climate-Smart and Competitive Livestock Sector in Tanzania,” the pasture-based livestock sector in Tanzania faces serious challenges due to climate change and endemic livestock diseases, impacting animal health, productivity, and market access.

A herd of cattle grazes in a designated pastoralist area in Ikolongo village. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

Pastoralist’s Perspective

Saidi Juma, a 55-year-old pastoralist from Kilolo village, has witnessed changes in weather patterns over the years. “When I was young, the rains were predictable, and the grass was plenty,” he says. “But in recent years, we have struggled to find pasture for our animals, and the rivers dry up too soon.”

One aspect of the scheme is adopting climate-smart innovations, such as better animal husbandry practices, drought-resistant fodder, and efficient water management systems.

The introduction of drought-resilient Brachiaria grass at Ikolongo village has maintained better livestock health during dry spells. “We planted these grass because they are resilient to drought and provide enough food for our livestock,” says Mashaka.

According to him, drought-resistant forage crops has ensured a steady supply of nutritious feed for livestock in  dry seasons.

Expert Insights

In an interview with IPS, Malongo Mlozi, Professor of Agricultural studies and extension at Sokoine University of Agriculture, hailed the government initiative to revamp the ailing livestock sector by improving water management techniques.

“Water is life; by ensuring a reliable water supply, we can significantly improve the resilience of our livestock farmers against climate change,” he says

According to Mlozi, pastoralists must be trained to acquire the necessary skills and knowledge to cope with the vagaries of the weather.

“When pastoralists understand the benefits of climate-smart practices, they are more likely to adopt them and see positive results,”

Mlozi says the government scheme is likely to improve food security.

“By increasing the productivity of our livestock sector, we can ensure a stable supply of meat, milk, and other livestock products,” says Mlozi

Leinot Leboo grazes his cattle in a bushy enclave in Ikolongo village. Credit: Kizito Makoye/IPS

“This will help in addressing the nutritional needs of our population and reduce dependency on imports.”

Under the initiative, the government will construct water harvesting structures and introduce solar-powered boreholes to provide an eco-friendly solution.

“Access to water has always been a problem for farmers and pastoralists.The solar-powered boreholes will provide enough water.”

The scheme is also aiming to improve market access for livestock products by improving value chains so pastoralists can fetch better prices in livestock markets closer to their communities.

Tanzania’s livestock sector is changing with climate-smart practices and community-led efforts, setting an example for other regions. By focusing on sustainability and innovation, Tanzania is improving the lives of pastoralists and promoting peace and cooperation.

“We have come a long way from those tough times. Now, we look forward to a future where our children can grow up without the fear of conflict and scarcity.”

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

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Halima Elias Mtwethe from Mtepa Village in southern Tanzania is one of the smallholder farmers who borrowed from the Mahanje Savings and Credit Co-operative Society (SACCOS). Credit: Isaiah Esipisu/IPS

By Isaiah Esipisu
MADABA/MAFINGA, Tanzania , Mar 31 2021 (IPS)

Small agricultural loans, disbursed through mobile phones and targeting specific farming activities at different phases of production, have more than doubled food productivity among thousands of smallholder farmers in southern and central parts of Tanzania over the past three years, improving their livelihoods.

IPS travelled the region this month and spoke to many farmers who attested to how the new form of controlled village-specific lending resulted in their successful harvest.

Peter Lulandala, a smallholder farmer from central Tanzania’s Iringa Province, is one of those farmers.

Lulandala is servicing a TZS one million ($312) loan he borrowed from a local community bank. The problem was that once the money had been paid out to him in a single instalment he was unable to keep aside the funds for the various farming phases.

“We could borrow money, which was usually given in a single batch mostly during the planting season. For most of us, it was extremely difficult to keep part of the money in our houses or on personal bank accounts just to wait for the weeding or harvesting season.

“As smallholder farmers in the villages, we have many urgent things that always require cash. For example, it will be very difficult to see my children go to bed for the second day in a row without food and yet I have cash under my pillow or in my personal account,” Lulandala told IPS.

That was until three years ago when an innovative new money lending product became available in his village. Through the new model, smallholder farmers who belong to particular groups (like farmer groups or reside in certain villages), are expected to save some money with a targeted financial institution before borrowing three times their savings.

“This is an innovative product introduced to us by the Alliance for as Green Revolution in Africa in collaboration with the Small Entrepreneurs Loan Facility (SELF) project to help smallholder farmers access agricultural finance, and to help them use the money for the intended purpose,” said Khassim Masengo, the manager of Mahanje Savings and Credit Co-operative Society (SACCOS) in Madaba District, Ruvuma Province, southern Tanzania.

Farmers are guaranteed by two signatures of fellow group members. What makes the SACCOS lending different is that once the loan is approved, the farmer can only access it in phases.

“We disburse it in three phases so that the farmers can only access what they need during the planting season, then the second disbursement can only be released at the right time for weeding and top-dressing, and finally the last payment is for harvesting and post-harvest handling,” Masengo told IPS.

Lulandala said the new lending structure has worked for him.

“But since this particular cash is kept by the bank and with an agreement on how it will be disbursed, I will always look for an alternative way to feed my children as the money waits for the intended purpose,” said the farmer who hails from Itengulinyi village, 15 kilometres off the main highway that connects Makambako and Iringa towns.

The farmers are expected to pay back the loans after harvest.

“Once they harvest, we encourage them to keep their produce with particular warehouses, and based on the warehouse receipts, we can give them personal loans worth half of their produce for immediate domestic use or further investment as they wait for better prices,” explained Masengo.

According to Hedwig Siewertsen, the head of Inclusive Finance at AGRA, many African smallholder farmers fail to achieve their full potential because they have no access to agricultural finance.

She said that unless farmers have collateral to show that they can pay back loans, banks would not loan to them. Siewertsen noted that there was need to come up with innovative means through which smallholder farmers can access agricultural finance without necessarily offering collateral. 

“Our main aim is to improve the quality, cost-effectiveness, access and impact of financial and agribusiness products and services for smallholder farmers in Africa,” said Siewertsen.

Farm produce at the Igodikafu Warehouse in Mbuyuni village, Pawaga Ward in central Tanzania. Based on the warehouse receipts, the Mahanje Savings and Credit Co-operative Society (SACCOS) can give farmers personal loans worth half their produce for immediate domestic use or further investment as they wait for better prices. Credit: Isaiah Esipisu/IPS

According to the Food Sustainability Index (FSI), created by Barilla Centre for Food and Nutrition (BCFN) and the Economist Intelligence Unit, increasing food productivity is vital, given the population growth and intensifying climate change. And this, according to the report, can only be achieved through new innovations.

It also notes that sustainable agriculture needs funding and this is particularly difficult in developing countries.

“It can be hard to funnel money in from investors, particularly for developing countries. In the FSI, the top ten countries most likely to attract investment in sustainable agriculture are all European, with the exception of the US and Israel. And while most countries in the index offer some form of public financing for agricultural innovation, 12 countries—nine of which are in sub- Saharan Africa—do not,” the report notes.  

Unlike MUCOBA Bank, which works with farmers in small groups of 10 to 15 members, Mahanje SACCOS works with villages. This means that SACCOS’s offerings are specific to members of these villages and it also allows for traceability and easy service provision.

It also gives SACCOS security because they are able to engage the borrowers in person and from their homes.

“For one to qualify for a farming loan from this SACCOS, the first requirement is that they must be descendants of one of the eight targeted villages, and that must be confirmed by the village elder of that particular village,” said Masengo.

“The main reason is that we need to work with farmers who are well known by the villagers, and whom we can access for extension services,” he said.

So far, 2,847 members of Mahanje SACCOS, among them 892 female farmers who hail from the neighbouring villages of Mahanje, Madaba, Lituta, Mtepa, Magingo, Mkongotema, Lukira and Kipingo in Madaba District, Ruvuma Province, Tanzania have become net producers of maize and beans over the past three years. They are now able to export their produce to neighbouring districts.

SACCOS has since been converted into a fully fledged bank registered by the Central Bank of Tanzania, and it is offering credit and savings services, but specifically for farmers from the eight target villages.

However, MUCOBA Bank, which is a community bank headquartered in Mafinga town in Central Tanzania, covers a larger area and targets smallholder farmers in far areas that do not have good infrastructural access to urban centres. It currently has some 50 farmer member groups.

“Our bank has agents who are also our agricultural extension officers on the ground whom we use to register farmers through farmer groups, then send us information via internet,” Philipo Raymond, the general manager for MUCOBA bank, told IPS.

With MUCOBA Bank, qualifying farmers are then given their money through mobile phones, and once they harvest, they can service their loans through the same digital channel.

With both institutions, farmers have been able to borrow as little as TZS200,000 ($87) or as much as TZS15 million ($6,520).

“Besides receiving the moneys in batches to serve specific needs, use of M-Pesa payment has made it easier for us because we do not have to travel all the way to town, and we have reduced the risk of carrying hard cash in our pockets,” Emanik Mgwiranga, the chair of the Nguvu Kazi Itengulinyi farmers group from Itengulinyi Village, 44 kilometres from the nearest town, Mafinga, told IPS.

The main crops grown are maize, beans and rice, but some farmers also include Irish potatoes.

In addition, the Mahanje SACCOS has introduced indigenous poultry farming to cushion farmers when farming seasons fail or when market prices for their produce are still low.

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Coconut farmers in Mafia Island, Tanzania, rely solely on donkeys as the mode of transporting their products from farms to markets. Credit: Alexander Makotta/IPS

By Alexander Makotta
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Jun 19 2020 (IPS)

As she says goodbye to a group of her friends, Esther Ishabakaki asks whether any of them knows a good tailor who might be interested in joining her newly-opened clothing business. It’s a venture she started three months ago after quitting her farming venture.

Setting up a greenhouse in Tanzania’s commercial city, Dar es Salaam, Ishabakaki started by attempting to grow tomatoes. But a series of challenges chipped away at her passion and dreams for a horticulture business.

“I had invested a lot in that business: money, time, even emotion. But when you fall at every hurdle, it reaches a point where you just give up. I concluded I better quit and trial a different business,” 35-year-old Ishabakaki tells IPS.

Inexperience in greenhouse farming was a challenge when Ishabakaki started farming tomatoes. But while her skills improved as time went by, it was the post-harvest losses that she says she was unable to control.

After harvesting perfectly fine produce, Ishabakaki, like many millions of farmers, faced the gauntlet of preserving the quality and quantity of her crops before they reached the consumer.

Increasing domestic food demand and a rising unemployment rate are just some of the factors pushing governments across the continent to try and strengthen the agriculture sector, and Tanzania is no exception.

The International Labour Organisation (ILO), for instance, says youth unemployment in Tanzania currently stands at 11 percent.

Unfortunately, Ishabakaki’s experience with post-harvest losses is not unique. Experts say it resonates with many youth and farmers at large in the country, and could be driving new entrants to quit the market.

“The problem of post-harvest losses in the agriculture sector is huge,” Adella Ng’atigwa, a researcher and agricultural economist at the Ministry of Agriculture, tells IPS. As a research fellow of the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA), Ng’atigwa is currently working on a policy brief that documents post-harvest losses the reasons for this, as well as outlining the obstacles that prevent the youth from participating in Tanzania’s agricultural sector.

She notes that some crops are more affected than others – cabbage farmers often report losses of up to 60 percent of their produce.

“Farmers in Njombe, in the southern highlands of Tanzania, told me that poor demand is a major cause of produce loss in the area. But I also noticed that poor handling of crops and lack of agronomic practices also contributes to this problem,” says Ng’atigwa.

She also pointed out that poor transportation and storage facilities and low quality packaging contributes to the problem.

But Ng’atigwa is hopeful that cooperation between the government and private sector could help resolve the problem.

“Public Private Partnership could invest in infrastructure development, like construction of pack houses and investment in agro-processing.

“This approach could be used to increase the frequency of youth training and awareness and the creation of horticultural Post-harvest Management innovations through extension officers,” she says.

In addition, Ng’atigwa says the government could lower taxes on post-harvest management initiatives, making their services more affordable and accessible to farmers. 

Traders sell vegetable produce at the Darajani market in Zanzibar. According to research, certain produce such as cabbage and tomatoes are more prone to post-harvest losses than others. Credit: Alexander Makotta/IPS

The IITA, a non-profit that works with partners in Africa to enhance crop quality and productivity, is working to fill some of the gaps with regards to the challenges still facing the agriculture sector. 

Through its youth programme, IITA says it helps young people turn their challenges into opportunities to create jobs for themselves and others.

The programme works from farm to fork, starting with seed sowing, through to marketing and all the way to processing the product for consumption.

“We have an incubation programme, where we train people to acquire skills for agribusiness, skills for entrepreneurial development, skills for management of different technical skills and then we prepare them to become businesspeople in agriculture,” Dr. Victor Manyong, IITA Director for Eastern Africa, tells IPS.

Manyong believes there are plentiful opportunities in agriculture for youth to make money; for example by increasing production at the farm level.

He confirms young people are keen to take on these opportunities, but often need help along the way.

“They need technical skills, they need entrepreneurial skills, they need business skills. We have interacted with young people who want to do business but they don’t even know how to develop a business plan. There are young people with good ideas but they can’t develop them because they don’t have capital,” he says.

Other agricultural experts agree with Manyong that there are many opportunities in the agricultural sector for young people, but warn that there must be a holistic investment in youth to help them seize these opportunities.

Revokatus Kimario, Executive Director at Sokoine University Graduate Entrepreneurs Cooperative, which prepares, enables, and supports innovative, knowledge-intensive agriculture entrepreneurs, believes the best place to start is with young people’s mindset.

“We have to change people’s mindset right from a young age, to embrace agriculture as a business just like any other business.

“Apart from that we have to employ the use of technology in this sector, not only to appeal to young people but also to increase efficiency in production,” Kimario tells IPS.

Regarding post-harvest losses, which continues to discourage young people like Ishabakaki, Kimario says the solution could be the market.

He says young farmers need to be trained to respond to the market demand with the type and volume of crops they grow.

“The market has to tell you what to produce, at what quantity, quality and time. If you are producing tomatoes for instance, you will know whether your market wants fresh or processed ones.”

A borehole in Kenya's Turkana County. Experts say that groundwater in drylands is recharged through extreme floods. Credit: Isaiah Esipisu/IPS

By Isaiah Esipisu
TURKANA COUNTY, Kenya, Aug 8 2019 (IPS)

Extreme rainfall and heavy flooding, often amplified by climate change, causes devastation among communities. But new research published on Aug. 7 in the scientific journal Nature reveals that these dangerous events are extremely significant in recharging groundwater aquifers in drylands across sub-Saharan Africa, making them important for climate change adaptation.

According to the research, which was led by the University College London (UCL) and Cardiff University, this vital source of water for drinking and irrigation across sub-Saharan Africa is resilient to climate variability and change.

“Our study reveals, for the first time, how climate plays a dominant role in controlling the process by which groundwater is restocked,” Richard Taylor, a Professor of Hydrogeology from UCL, told IPS. Taylor is the co-lead on the new study, which was conducted with a consortium of 32 scientists from different universities and institutions from Africa and beyond.

Researchers reviewed data sets of water levels from 14 wells across the region that are not generally used by people.

“Our data-driven results imply greater resilience to climate change than previously supposed in many locations from a groundwater perspective and thus question, for example, the model-driven [Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change] IPCC consensus that ‘Climate change is projected to reduce renewable surface water and groundwater resources significantly in most dry subtropical regions,’” Taylor said in a statement.

The IPCC Fifth Assessment Report states in contrast that “climate change over the twenty-first century is projected to reduce renewable surface water and groundwater resources significantly in most dry subtropical regions, intensifying competition for water among sectors”.

Groundwater plays a central role in sustaining water supplies and livelihoods in sub-Saharan Africa due to its widespread availability, generally high quality, and intrinsic ability to buffer episodes of drought and increasing climate variability.

So the finding comes as good news for communities and governments across Africa where livelihoods are becoming more and more dependent on groundwater.
“In our current budget, we have allocated over Sh164 million (1.64 million dollars) to irrigation projects, and most of the water already being used is from boreholes,” Chris Aleta, Kenya’s Turkana County Minister for Water and Irrigation, told IPS.

Turkana is a pastoral county and one of the driest in Kenya. Research has revealed that between 1977 and 2016, cattle, which is the main source of livelihood in this county, reduced by 60 percent.

Currently thousands of households are producing horticultural crops that are sold locally in major towns and even overseas.

“Some of us do not have a single cow to graze,” Paul Samal, a pastoralist-turned-farmer from Kaptir Ward, Turkana County, told IPS.

“I had over 200 goats and a herd of 50 cattle, but most of them were consumed by the drought in 2011, and the remaining stock was stolen in 2015,” said the father of five.
So in 2016 he began using groundwater to grow tomatoes, watermelons and indigenous vegetables.

Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, depends heavily on groundwater to supplement the main source from the country’s Dakaini dam, whose recharge mainly depends on unreliable rainy seasons.

Kenya’s neighbour Tanzania will also benefit from the findings.The country’s capital city Dodoma relies solely in groundwater from the Makutapora well field.

According to Lister Kongola, a retired hydrologist who worked for the government of Tanzania from 1977 to 2012, the demand for water in Dodoma City has been rising over the years, from 20 million litres per day (l/day) in the 1970s, to 30 million l/day in the 1980s and to the current 61 million l/day.

The World Bank estimates that at least 70 percent of over 250 million people living in southern African countries rely on groundwater as their primary source of water for drinking, sanitation and livelihood support through agriculture, ecosystem health, and industrial growth.

According to scientists, understanding the nexus of climate extremes and groundwater replenishment is vital for sustainability. This improved understanding is also critical for producing reliable climate change impact projections and adaptation strategies.

The new study also found that unlike drylands, where leakage from seasonal streams, rivers and ponds replenish groundwater, in humid areas groundwater is replenished primarily by rainfall directly infiltrating the land surface.

“This finding is important because model-based assessments of groundwater resources currently ignore the contribution of leaking streams and ponds to groundwater supplies, underestimating its renewability in drylands and resilience to climate change,” said Dr Mark Cuthbert, a research scientist from Cardiff University.

According to Michael Arunga of World Vision, an international humanitarian agency that sometimes supports communities during extreme climate events, the findings are vital for spatial planning for governments in Africa.

“The good thing is that extreme droughts and rainfall seasons are predictable, and the patterns are the same across Africa,” Arunga told IPS.
“These findings will therefore make it easier for governments to draft policies for sustainable groundwater use based on knowledge.”

Since extreme floods can easily be predicted up to nine months in advance, the researchers say that there is a possibility of designing schemes to enhance groundwater recharge by capturing a portion of flood discharges via a process known as Managed Aquifer Recharge.

According to Prof Daniel Olago, a senior lecturer at the Department of Geology, University of Nairobi, groundwater in Africa remains a hidden resource that has not been studied exhaustively.

“When people want to access groundwater, they ask experts to go out there and do a hydro-geophysical survey basically to site a borehole without necessarily understanding the characteristics of that particular aquifer,” he told IPS.

However, in the recent past, the United Kingdom research councils (Natural Environment Research Council, Economic and Social Research Council and the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council), the Department for International Development (DFID) and The Royal Society have been supporting studies that seek to understand the potential of groundwater resources in Africa, and how it can be used to alleviate poverty.

“Moving into the 21st century with climate change, with growing population, with rapid growing urban centres, groundwater is going to be very important,” said Olago.

By Muthoki Mumo
NAIROBI, May 2 2019 (IPS)

Speaking in parliament recently, Tanzania’s information minister, Harrison Mwakyembe, wondered why people were still concerned about the whereabouts of Azory Gwanda, a freelance journalist who went missing in November 2017 in the country’s Coast Region.

After all, he was reported saying, many other people, some of them government officials, have gone missing in the same region of Tanzania. So why should Gwanda be the “golden” one about whom people ask?

These statements were not as shocking as they should have been. They fit an unfortunate pattern of non-answers and dismissals from Tanzanian government officials when confronted with the question: Where is Azory Gwanda?

But this question is urgent, because Gwanda’s story reflects how drastically press conditions have deteriorated in Tanzania under the presidency of John Pombe Magufuli. This World Press Freedom Day, Tanzanian journalists have less to celebrate and more to fear.

Muthoki Mumo, Sub-Saharan Africa representative, Committee to Protect Journalists

One of the last people to see Gwanda, whose work appeared in the sister newspapers Mwananchi and The Citizen, was his wife Anna Pinoni. She described the suspicious circumstances in which he disappeared, saying that he came to their farm in the company of unknown men in a white landcruiser.

Gwanda asked her where she had left the keys to their home and said he was taking an emergency trip, and would be back within a day. She later found their home ransacked and on November 23, 2017, she reported him missing to police.

Despite these obviously suspicious circumstances; pleas for answers from the local Tanzanian media community and international civil society; and even a July 2018 letter from UN Special Rapporteurs and Working Groups, there have been no demonstrably credible investigations  into this case. Initial promises to investigate have not been fulfilled.

When asked about Gwanda in July 2018, Home Affairs Minister Kangi Lugola told journalists that authorities “don’t interfere in the freedom of an individual that gets lost while at his home.” After backlash he later walked back his comments but suggested Gwanda may have run away.

Lugola’s predecessor at the Home Affairs ministry, Mwigulu Nchemba, had in January 2018 warned that members of the public should “shut up” about disappearances unless they had evidence to offer police.

Before his disappearance Gwanda chronicled mysterious killings and abductions in his community, including of police and local government officials. Pinoni in 2017 told Mwananchi that she thought his reporting might be linked to his disappearance.

Gwanda’s reporting asked precisely the questions that Mwakyembe, in parliament in April, claimed we all ought to be asking. His disappearance denied the public crucial information about these incidents.

The failure to investigate this case sends a grave message about how much the government values the safety of Tanzanians who now ask themselves if they will face a similar fate by asking the “wrong” questions.

Magufuli, who styled himself as an enemy of corruption and government excess when he took over in 2015, has since also proven himself an enemy of the press and of free expression.

Last year CPJ documented the case of journalist Sitta Tumma, who was arrested while reporting an opposition demonstration and held overnight. Authorities later claimed, ludicrously, that they did not know he was a journalist because he was not wearing the appropriate uniform.

Since 2017, at least five newspapers have been banned, on specious allegations, from false news, to inciting violence and sedition. Almost always such bans are targeted at outlets that challenge the official narrative of a government that seems keen to set itself as arbiter of truth.

The Citizen newspaper was this year banned for a week, after it reported the weakening of the local currency and the state of Tanzanian democracy, without deferring to official sources. Five television stations were in January 2018 fined for covering a report by a non-governmental organisation on alleged human rights abuses during 2017 by-elections.

In 2016 popular live parliamentary broadcasts were halted, ostensibly due to cost cuts. The impact is that citizens can no longer as easily observe the processes of their democracy.

The repression has been codified into law.

The Statistics Act checks the extent to which journalists, academics, and even private citizens can question official government data. The Cyber Crime Act has been used to legally harass and exert pressure on one media outlet to reveal whistleblowers. Blogging has become an unreasonably expensive affair ever since the government imposed new content regulations last year.

Azory Gwanda’s story reflects how drastically press conditions have deteriorated in Tanzania under the presidency of John Pombe Magufuli. This World Press Freedom Day, Tanzanian journalists have less to celebrate and more to fear.
Credit: Erick Kabendera/IPS

The Media Services Act of 2016 restricts the content of news on vague and imprecise grounds and also seeks to license journalists. The East Africa Court of Justice (EACJ) in March directed Tanzania’s government to amend the law. In meetings with the International Press Institute (IPI) and the Tanzania Editors’ Forum (TEF)  in April, Mwakyembe, the information minister, said the government was open to reconsidering the law— a glimmer of hope.

Local elections are planned in Tanzania later this year and presidential elections are slated for next year. If there is anything to learn from recent elections in  other countries, it is that elections tend to be periods of heightened risk and repression for journalists.

Therefore now is the time to ask after the wellbeing of not just Azory Gwanda, but all Tanzanian journalists. This is why we at the Committee to Protect Journalists recently launched a #WhereIsAzory? campaign to tell his story and call for answers.

The power of such international solidarity should not be underestimated.

I and a colleague of mine, Angela Quintal, experienced this power first hand last year when we were detained overnight in the country by government agents and interrogated about why we were there, including our interest in Azory Gwanda. The outpouring of support from within Tanzania and beyond, we believe, was instrumental in our safe release. 

*Muthoki Mumo is the Sub-Saharan Africa representative for the Committee to Protect Journalists

Excerpt:

Tanzanian ICT entrepreneur, Rose Funja, shows off one of the drones she uses as a key tool in her data mapping business. Credit: Busani Bafana/IPS

By Busani Bafana
BULAWAYO, Zimbabwe, Feb 11 2019 (IPS)

Six years ago while wondering how best to use her engineering skills, Tanzanian ICT entrepreneur Rose Funja decided to enter an innovation competition. Years later she has turned a digital idea into a viable business that helps smallholder farmers across the East African nation access credit.   

In Tanzania farmers struggle to obtain credit because many do not have bankable assets or a record of performance to offer as collateral. But Funja had an idea to help farmers, particularly women, obtain proof of land ownership that they could use as collateral to access credit.

It was a smart solution: using geographical information system (GIS) technology to generate useful information for farmers.

“A farmer might have a big piece of land, but if they do not have legal claim to it they cannot use it productively,” Funja tells IPS.

In 2013, she entered the AgriHack Talent Programme for East Africa, a competition organised by the Netherlands-based Technical Centre for Agricultural and Rural Cooperation (CTA).

Fungi’s idea was named second runner-up in the competition and she received a cash prize and mentorship from Buni Innovation Hub in Tanzania. In 2015, with a partner and students from the Bagamoyo University in Tanzania, Funja developed AgrInfo. She began working full-time in the business just a year later.

Now AgrInfo profiles farmers, the size and location of their farms, and the crops they grow on them. This data is then posted onto an online platform that financial institutions can access and use to assess the creditworthiness of farmers and their eligibility to qualify for loans.

“Actionable, real-time information is key in making decisions, especially in farming,” says Funja, who has a Bachelor of Science in Computer Engineering and a Master’s in Communication and Information Systems Engineering.

The African Development Bank notes that up to 12 million youth enter the job market across the continent each year while only three million jobs are created, leaving many unemployed. However, agribusiness offers innovative approaches for the youth to develop and roll out smart ICT solutions for smallholder farmers.

“ICTs are a game changer for agriculture development. Technology is offering young people economic benefits from selling goods and services using online platforms,” Funja tells IPS.

AgrInfo has been able to help, for a small fee, over 300 smallholder farmers in Tanzania’s capital city of Dodoma obtain access to financial institutions after mapping their farms.

“We have helped farmers know what they have and [they have been able to] use their land to access credit and buy inputs,” Funja says. Success has come about through trial and error, passion, and through creating value, explains Funja.

Plans are in the pipeline to grow the number of subscribers to the service to one million, and to extend the service to other actors in the agriculture value chain, such as government extension services.

A flying start

When she first started the business Funja used GIS and hand-held GPS gadgets to gather data.

Then in 2017 she was exposed, through CTA, to the applied use of Unmanned Aerial Systems (UAS) and was trained in the business aspect of operating drones. UAS is based on drone technology and provides information faster and more accurately. Funja went on to become one of the pioneer multi-copter drone pilots in Tanzania.

CTA has collaborated with Parrot, a French drone manufacturer, to support technology start-ups develop precision agriculture in Africa. Running for two years from 2017 till this year, the CTA project aims to help establish approximately 30 enterprises that are run mainly by young entrepreneurs in African countries where there is enabling legislation.

Drones, though a relatively new technology in Africa, offer new opportunities to young ICT entrepreneurs to help farmers increase productivity, sustainability and profitability. Digital tools help in improving land tenure, assessing crops, pests and diseases, according to research by the CTA.

“Considering the fact that in 2017 drones were a new tech for Africa, our project played an important role in establishing an enabling environment,” Giacomo Rambaldi, Senior Programme Coordinator at CTA, tells IPS. “It supported the African Union’s (AU) appointed High Level African Panel on Emerging Techs in selecting ‘drones for precision agriculture’ as one of the most promising technologies which would foster Africa’s development.”

In January 2018, the AU Executive Council recommended that all Member States harness the opportunities offered by drones for agriculture.

Africa should prioritise the adoption, deployment and up scaling of drones for precision agriculture through capacity-building, supporting infrastructure, regulatory strengthening, research and development and stakeholder engagement, says a 2018 report titled Drones on the horizon: Transforming Africa’s Agriculture.

The report notes that optimising agricultural profit through increasing productivity and improved yield has been the result of the application of several innovative developments over the years, one of them being the use of drone technology.

“Whilst such interventions and the green revolution in particular, have benefited many developing countries, this has not been the case in Africa. This situation calls for a review of agricultural policies and practices, and an explicit understanding that enabling policies for the promotion of such drone technologies must be formulated,” the report recommends.

Drones for agriculture development

Funja tells IPS that while digital enterprises are attractive they need smart management, finances and full-time commitment.

“A digital application is just a tool, but value sells. If there is no value, there is no business,” says Funja.

The Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations says drone technology has great potential to support and address some of the most pressing problems faced by agriculture in accessing actionable real-time quality data. The agriculture sector will be the second-largest user of drones in the world in the next five years, according to research by Goldman Sachs.

Investment in ICTs could play a pivotal role in accelerating Africa’s agricultural transformation and can increase both the productivity and income of smallholder farmers, says development consultancy firm Dalberg Global Development Advisors.

“Africa sits on the majority of the world’s uncultivated arable land, but unlocking that large agricultural potential will require strategic deployment of ICT capabilities,” Andres Johannes Enghild, a consultant at Dalberg’s New York office tells IPS. “If new ICT solutions are harnessed well, they could, for example, improve market linkages for farmers and attract international investors.”

Despite Africa’s agricultural potential, it remains the region with the highest food and malnutrition rates in the world.

Today, farmers have limited access to better agronomic farming practices, an area where ICT can make a major difference. And Funja is of the entrepreneurs making this possible.

The enforcement of the online content regulations has scared people from stating their opinions online in Tanzania. Credit: Erick Kabendera/IPS

By Erick Kabendera
DAR ES SALAAM, Aug 24 2018 (IPS)

JamiiForums was Tanzania’s largest whistleblowing online platform, with one million visitors each day. But now some 90 percent of staff has been retrenched and the owners are considering shutting down their offices since the June implementation of the country’s online content communication law.

Across this East African nation, social commentators and celebrities have shut down their blogs as many cannot afford the hundreds of dollars required in licence fees to register them. And internet cafes may start closing down too as the new law requires them to install expensive security cameras.

A once-famous blogger in Dar es Salaam tells IPS he was forced to close down his blog because he couldn’t afford paying USD 900 in licence fees to register it in compliance with the new regulation.

A minimum jail sentence of 12 months

In June many bloggers and content providers were contacted by the Tanzania Communications Regulatory Authority (TCRA) and asked to immediately shut down their services and apply for a license within four days.

It was the beginning of the enforcement of the country’s Electronic and Postal Communications (Online Content) Regulations 2017. Civil society and digital rights activists have condemned the regulations as draconian.

This is what the law states:

• All blogs, online forums, content hosts and content producers must register online and pay licence fees of up to USD 900;
• Internet cafes must install surveillance cameras to monitor people online;
• Material deemed “offensive, morally improper” or that “causes annoyance,” is prohibited and a minimum fine of USD2,230 or 12 months in jail as a minimum sentence is recommended for anyone found guilty;
• Social media comments are even subject to the new regulations.

The regulation, however, doesn’t provide a maximum jail term, meaning a magistrate could send an offender to prison for an indeterminate period of time.

Terrified of saying something wrong online

The source, who wished to remain anonymous, tells IPS that other bloggers he met in recent weeks who have paid the licence fees and registered with the TCRA have complained that they are registering a low number of visitors to their blogs. In addition, visitors have stopped leaving comments as they are afraid of being arrested and taken to court.

“The ordinary people are scared to make comments on blog posts. They are scared because a single post could either land a blogger or their followers in the hands of authorities,” Maxence Melo, one of the founders of JamiiForums, tells IPS. He adds that authorities are focused on implementing the law but have not educated bloggers about what is deemed “offensive, morally improper” or “causes annoyance”.

In addition, people can be charged for not having passwords on their computers, laptops and smartphones.

A senior government attorney tells IPS on the condition of anonymity, because he wasn’t authorised to speak on the matter, that this act will be used against people who post defamatory content or hate porn online but claim that a third party had access to their mobile phone or devices and posted the content without their consent.

Since the June implementation of the act, the impact has been far-reaching across the country.

The owner of a famous internet café in Tanzania’s commercial capital says he has at least 50 customers a day but he wasn’t aware of the new requirement for internet café operators to install CCTV cameras on their premises.

He tells IPS that one hour of computer use costs 35US cents, which is not enough to sustain his business. So he supplements this with a stationary business in the cafe.

“Installing CCTV cameras would cost about USD500, which is a lot for a small business like mine. So if the authorities come and ask me to do it, I will have to shut down the business,” he tells IPS, requesting to remain anonymous.

A challenge to Tanzania’s freedom of expression

These regulations together with other laws aimed at curtailing freedom of expression and press freedom are one of the reasons for Tanzania’s poor performance in the latest Freedom Index rankings. The country ranks 93 out of 180 countries across the globe.

There is also the Cyber Crime Act, which can be used to arrest dissenting journalists and citizens and the Statistics Act, which limits the publication of data to the government’s Bureau of Statistics. Both acts were passed before the 2015 elections and activists are worried that worse is yet to come as the country prepares for the 2019 local governments elections and the 2020 general elections.

Rugemeleza Nshala, a prominent Tanzanian lawyer, tells IPS that freedom of expression is facing the biggest challenge in recent times here.

“We have reached a point where former Ugandan president Idi Amin’s famous quote when he said ‘there is freedom of speech, but I cannot guarantee freedom after speech’ is becoming relevant in Tanzania.

“Newspapers are shutdown unconstitutionally, and citizens criticising the president are arrested and magistrates, who want to please the president, jail suspects without hesitation,” Nshala tells IPS.

Last year alone, three newspapers were suspended:

• In June 2017, the Tanzania Information Services banned a weekly Swahili newspaper Raia Mwema for 90 days after it had published a story claiming that president John Magufuli would fail in his job as president;
• In September 2017, another weekly newspaper, MwanaHalisi, was suspended for 24 months;
• In June 2017, the Mawio newspaper was also banned for 24 months.

Nshala says that enforcement of the online content regulations has scared people from giving their opinion openly according to Article 18 of the Constitution of Tanzania, which grants citizens freedom of expression and opinion without interference.

And it seems that for now the online content laws have succeed in squashing the voice of JamiiForums.

Melo says that the impact of the country’s new online content law, together with three cases JamiiForums is facing in court—which has resulted in them appearing 122 time in court over the last two years—has made them retrench 64 employees. They have only eight now, and are considering closing down their physical offices.

In the past JamiiForums has been threatened and forced to share user data with the regulator or the police. In one incident, the TCRA forced them to reveal the identity of users who had leaked details of mass corruption in the country’s biggest port and the case has been pending since 2016.

That case, together with two other lawsuits that are pending against JamiiForums, made Melo cautious when the TCRA wrote requiring blogs to shut down before applying for a licence. Melo and his team decided to voluntarily shut down their website for 21 days and registered within four days. They have since had an opportunity to sit down with the regulator to express their concerns about the new law.

“We were concerned with sections of the law, which gives content providers only 12 hours to remove content deemed inappropriate from online. In one case, the regulator had submitted a letter to us at 5 pm asking us to take down content failing to do so could result in us ending up in court. The law doesn’t give us a room to consult with the source of information and your lawyers before removing the content,” Melo tells IPS.

Maria Sarungi, director of the social media citizen movement Tsehai, the Change Tanzania, tells IPS that prior to the enforcement of the regulations, the ability to freely post content online had liberated the media industry.

“Some online TV [platforms] such as Millard Ayo started off as bloggers and have grown into full-fledged media houses because of the [former] liberal policies for online content,” Sarungi says.

Uganda just as repressive

However, Tanzania isn’t alone in establishing such repressive legislation against freedom of expression. Its neighbour Uganda introduced a daily fee of USD0.5 to anyone accessing social media after its president Yoweri Museveni had suggested the introduction of the law to curb online gossiping.

However, activists and lawyers have challenged the law in court. Uganda’s Prime Minister Ruhakana Rugunda said in parliament on Jul. 11 that the government was in the process of reviewing the tax, which is commonly referred to as the “gossip tax”.

Rosebell Kagumire, a Ugandan blogger, says despite many young urban Ugandans using virtual private networks to avoid their location being detected and to bypass the tax, recent statistics show that Facebook usage went down by 75 percent in the first weeks.

She further says that apart from limiting access to information and freedom of expression, the tax has prevented young unemployed Ugandans from getting online in search of employment. In addition, small enterprises that have their base on social media have declined.

“Besides limiting access to information and expression, this tax is economically punishing the poor. Recent pressure against the legislation has seen the government come up with amendments but the fees (including the mobile money transfer tax) are anti-freedom of expression and hinder digital inclusion,” Kagumire tells IPS.

In Tanzania, for Nshala, it is not all doom and gloom.

He says the constitution gives final say to citizens about how they want the government to be governed and therefore citizens have to stand firm to protect the country’s democracy. He finally says political leaders must understand that they are servants of people and have to accept criticisms.