Africa’s markets have been pressure-testing what the rest of the world mostly theorizes about: resilience through proximity. The vocabulary is “short food supply chains,” but the practice is older than policy and smarter than jargon: farmer to local aggregator or market to consumer or institution, with 1,000-kilometre detours and very few gatekeepers. A 2025 synthesis of 69 studies across 25 African countries comes to the same conclusion: short chains don’t just move food; they move power, especially when paired with simple digital tools. This isn’t about romanticizing open-air markets; it’s about bargaining power. The shorter the path, the less room for someone far away to set the terms.

“Cash in 24 hours changes everything,” a Kiambu farmer told me, leaning on his pickup as porters shouldered crates toward the scales. “You can buy inputs, pay workers, and you don’t panic-sell.” A platform operator in Nairobi put it even plainer: “We didn’t replace the market – we ride on it.” The digital skin: WhatsApp orders, simple inventory apps, business-to-business produce platforms and mobile money. These tools don’t erase the local chain. They speed it up and make it legible, compressing time between harvest and payment so volatility has less surface area to bite.

Follow the logic south to northern Tanzania and the system looks different but moves with the same cadence. In Arusha and Moshi, women-led stalls and microprocessors grind maize, smoke fish, blend spices and portion dairy for neighbourhood buyers and institutional kitchens. These aren’t side hustles clipped onto a formal chain; they are the chain that feeds cities. When a truck is late or a road washes out, “five handcarts fill the gap,” a market association leader said. “We don’t wait for permission.” Contingency plans aren’t found in a consultant’s diagram; it’s the woman who keeps a neighbour’s number and a spare cart in case the usual supplier’s son is sick.

Cash in 24 hours changes everything. You can buy inputs, pay workers, and you don’t panic-sell.

— Kiambu farmer

If you want to see why these short chains don’t just endure shocks but metabolize them, watch what happens when everyday demand becomes predictable. Across the region, government-led, home-grown school feeding has turned local purchasing into a weekday ritual rather than a promise: sub-Saharan Africa has added about 20 million children to national programs since 2022, with countries like Benin channelling public orders directly to nearby producers. A school places an order every weekday; upstream, farmers plant to that rhythm, transporters plan routes, microprocessors justify the small capital outlays that make the whole machine hum. A shaded sorting area here, a clean-water tap there, a used chiller bought on instalments. “That daily order turned our stall into a business,” a vendor told me in Moshi. “We hired two more women and finally bought a fridge that doesn’t die on Fridays.”

The objection, predictably, is scale. Where are the volumes? Hidden in plain sight. Day after day, these markets move hundreds of tonnes – some of it visible through platform dashboards, most of it still travelling by phone call and habit. Scale is not a monolith rolling down a highway; it’s accretion: another school on contract, another hotel switching to local suppliers, another ward installing clean water, another women’s group adding a fridge, another pickup joining the dawn queue.

The world keeps searching for resilience in the language of grand designs and silver bullets. Africa’s city-region food systems have been building it in smaller, nearer, more democratic units. Keep the path short. Pay fast. Share the margin with the people who do the work. Give the system a reliable customer. And then, when the shipment doesn’t come, watch the market open anyway.

Shilpa Tiwari is the founder of NoWomen No Spice and Isenzo Group.

The post A blueprint for shockproof food chains appeared first on Corporate Knights.

The urgency is clear. More than 70% of Ethiopia’s territory faces desertification, threatening more than 40 million people. Launched in 2019, the Green Legacy Initiative (GLI) is the country’s audacious response: a bid to plant 50 billion trees by 2026. But more than a reforestation drive, the GLI is ecological statecraft – an attempt to braid the environment, economy and national identity through trees.

“The Green Legacy is not a campaign,” says Eliane Ubalijoro, CEO of the Center for International Forestry Research and World Agroforestry, a Nairobi-based research institute that has worked closely with Ethiopia on restoration. “It is a reimagining of how a country can build ecological infrastructure as a foundation for economic renewal.”

Mass mobilization as policy

Each year, more than 20 million Ethiopians take part in the GLI. Schools integrate tree planting into lessons. Churches and mosques turn holy days into planting days. Ministries coordinate calendars to maximize labour around the rainy season. Across the country, 120,000 nurseries raise seedlings and train communities in their care.

The effort has already generated 767,000 jobs – nursery managers, forestry agents and seasonal workers – linking ecological recovery directly to livelihoods. In rural Ethiopia, where incomes are fragile, these jobs carry real weight. Restoration has become not an external aid project but a national civic duty.

This model breaks with Ethiopia’s past. For decades, the country was one of the world’s largest per-capita recipients of foreign aid – more than US$4 billion annually between 2018 and 2022. The GLI asserts an alternative: ecological sovereignty rooted in local agency. “We are not planting trees to meet donor metrics,” Ubalijoro emphasizes. “We are planting to anchor food systems, water cycles and national dignity.”

That vision is now enshrined in law. In 2024, Ethiopia passed Proclamation No. 1361, dedicating 0.5% to 1% of federal revenue (US$40 to $80 million annually) to a Green Legacy and Landscape Restoration Special Fund. Few countries have gone this far in legally binding restoration to national budgets.

Planting is only the beginning. What matters is survival, governance and care.

– Eliane Ubalijoro, CEO, Center for International Forestry Research and World Agroforestry

Ethiopia’s land degradation is not just ecological; it is political. Centuries of imperial expansion, Cold War–era coups, and cycles of authoritarianism and reform shaped how land is owned and managed. Famines of the 1980s were worsened by degraded soil, mismanaged agriculture and civil conflict. For decades, land was both a symbol and casualty of contested authority.

Against this backdrop, the GLI marks a departure. It channels Ethiopia’s long tradition of state-led mobilization but reorients it from dependency toward sovereignty. Instead of donor-driven projects, the state itself defines success: not just trees planted, but ecosystems restored, livelihoods created and national identity renewed.

Forests are essential infrastructure

Where Global North programs often reduce forests to carbon math, Ethiopia resists such flattening. Here, trees are framed as ecological infrastructure – living systems that stabilize soil, recharge aquifers, buffer droughts and anchor food security.

The initiative is not without challenge. Seedling survival rates sometimes fall below 60% as a result of drought, grazing or limited follow-up. Forest ecologist Tadesse Habtamu from Jimma University, in Jimma, Ethiopia, cautions against the pace imposed by the program. In an interview, he identifies issues related to “lack of technical oversight, concerns over biodiversity from mixing plant species and the absence of data on seedling survival.”

Failures here are treated as lessons, not footnotes. Government agencies track survival rates, adjust planting schedules and invest in training – an adaptive approach that strengthens the program each season. By contrast, donor-funded projects typically have their own review and audit cycles, but political and institutional incentives can slow response to negative findings. Ethiopia’s Green Legacy avoids this inertia because its success is defined, measured and corrected from within. 

For farmers like Bercele Bayisa, the stakes are personal. He recalls how his district was once “very forested and full of wildlife,” until poverty forced families to clear trees for firewood. For him, GLI is about repairing the rupture between survival and stewardship.

National cohesion through trees

Planting days are more than labour – they are pedagogy. As public offices close and classrooms move outdoors, citizens are drawn into the narrative of national regeneration. These rituals help spark ecological curiosity and cultural ownership, especially among youth and rural communities.

At the same time, GLI has produced tangible environmental returns that reinforce civic pride. In reforested areas, project evidence shows that planting a single species has triggered the return of more than 10 other kinds of trees. The replanting effort has restored water cycles, bolstered soil and even coaxed migratory wildlife like colobus monkeys back into former habitats. Recent monitoring shows that annual soil erosion plunged from 1.9 billion tonnes to 208 million tonnes, shielding farmland and safeguarding dam infrastructure. 

The outcome? Communities that are environmentally aware and emotionally invested. According to a 2023 policy brief by the Ethiopian Economics Association, many farm households report that they recognize the benefits of the GLI and are willing to allocate part of their own budget for future tree-planting initiatives.

This is how the GLI builds genuine cohesion: by inviting Ethiopia’s 80-plus ethnic groups into a co-created act of belonging, one rooted not only in memory and hope but in restored water, soil and life.

“Planting is only the beginning,” Ubalijoro warns. “What matters is survival, governance and care.”

Canada’s fragmented approach

Contrast this with Canada, home to vast forests and world-class institutions. In 2019, the federal government launched its 2 Billion Trees (2BT) program, aiming to plant that number of saplings by 2031. The government hoped to leverage the power of tree carbon capture in pursuit of net-zero emissions targets. But in its first two years, just 2.3% of the two billion trees were planted, according to the auditor general. In 2023, it warned that Canada not only risked missing its tree-planting ambitions, but that the expected emission reductions would occur much later. 

Following that scathing assessment, the government picked up the pace. In August, it reported that the program had secured agreements to plant nearly one billion trees since its launch in 2021 and that to date, more than 228 million were in the ground. Its tree-planting agreements extend across 11 provinces and territories, 58 Indigenous partners, 30 municipalities and 88 non-governmental organizations. 

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But critics say implementation is divided among the various stakeholders, sometimes with little coordination. Even established actors such as the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) Canada – managing forests with attention to soil, water, wildlife and people – have had limited involvement. “Planting a tree is an important act, but stewardship is about the entire ecosystem,” says Monika Patel, FSC Canada’s CEO. “That’s where resilience comes from.” Without integration, she warns, the program risks being just numbers on a page.

More fundamentally, I would argue, Canada has not asked what a tree is for. Policy often frames trees as carbon sinks or timber. What’s missing is the cultural reverence I see on display in Ethiopia. 

Some Indigenous Nations have led the way. The Tŝilhqot’in Nation in British Columbia has established its own forest law, grounded in relational stewardship rather than yield targets. Others, like the Innu Nation, have used modern treaties to reclaim control over forest lands.

But these models remain exceptions, not norms.

Ethiopia’s Green Legacy shows that climate solutions need not be Global North–designed to be legitimate. It is not charity-adjacent; it is sovereign. Trees are treated as both cultural anchors and ecological infrastructure. Citizens are invited not just to plant, but to belong.

As former Canadian member of Parliament Monte Solberg put it, “Planting a tree is a bet on the future . . . a labour of love.” Without that intimate connection, even the best-funded reforestation effort struggles to take root.

Ethiopia’s lesson is simple, but profound: before planting another tree, plant a vision. One that binds ecological survival to sovereignty, livelihoods and legacy.

Shilpa Tiwari is the founder of No Women No Spice and Isenzo Group. She is based in Canada and Tanzania.

The post How a bid to plant 50 billion trees transformed Ethiopia appeared first on Corporate Knights.

In East Africa, a quieter crisis is unfolding – one that reveals how deeply global food systems are interconnected. In Kenya, the price of a tray of 30 eggs has nearly doubled since early 2023.

For families where eggs are a primary, affordable source of nutrition, this isn’t just economic turbulence. It’s a direct blow to food security.

Let’s follow the trail.

Unlike Canada, where a regulated poultry supply management system has helped keep prices relatively stable for both farmers and consumers, East Africa operates in a far more volatile environment. Poultry feed in the region is deeply tied to global commodity markets, especially for maize and soy – crops that have been battered by drought in southern Africa, conflict in Ukraine and fluctuating international demand.

In Kenya, feed costs account for up to 80% of total poultry production expenses. Between January 2023 and early 2024, the price of soybean meal rose from 86 to 113 shillings per kilogram – a jump of more than 31%. Yellow maize, another critical feed component, surged from 40 to 60 shillings per kilo in the same period. For smallholder farmers, these price swings are not just inconvenient; they are existential threats.

Part of the problem lies in how East Africa has been integrated into global supply chains under the banner of food security. Kenya imports around 90% of its soybean needs, much of it from the United States. This dependence isn’t accidental: it reflects decades of donor-driven policy choices. U.S. foreign assistance, particularly through the U.S. Agency for International Development, has historically prioritized food aid in the form of surplus U.S. grain and oilseed exports, reinforcing global trade flows rather than investing in local production ecosystems that could reduce such dependencies.

In 2022 alone, USAID (whose funding has been gutted under President Donald Trump) and partners provided nearly $2 billion in emergency food aid to sub-Saharan Africa – much of it as imported commodities. While crucial in humanitarian crises, these flows have had an unintended side effect: crowding out investment in regional feed production, processing infrastructure and local supply chain development. The result is a chronic dependence on volatile global markets that leave farmers vulnerable to external shocks.

The consequences are visible across the region. As feed prices climbed, many commercial poultry farmers were forced to reduce flock sizes, creating a supply shortfall that drove egg prices even higher. Consumers, especially in lower-income households where eggs are often the most accessible source of protein, have borne the brunt of these price surges.

Yet, amid this volatility, something remarkable is happening.

The collective economy steps in

Across East Africa, women-led poultry cooperatives are demonstrating an alternative. Far from being passive victims of global market failures, these co-ops are building local resilience – one egg at a time.

Take the Kuku Women’s Poultry Cooperative in Kenya’s Rift Valley. Confronted with skyrocketing feed prices, the members of Kuku shifted to sourcing alternative local ingredients such as sunflower seedcake and cassava peels, reducing dependence on expensive imports. By pooling their resources, they negotiated bulk purchases of essential feed components and invested in small-scale feed mills owned by the co-op itself. “We couldn’t wait for traders or donors to rescue us,” co-op leader Ruth Wanjiku says. “We had to create our own safety net.”

In Tanzania, the Building a Better Tomorrow for Livestock and Fisheries (BBT-LIFE) program has been instrumental in empowering women and youth in the poultry sector. Launched by the Tanzanian government in 2023, this initiative aims to modernize the poultry industry by providing training, resources and support to small-scale farmers. The program has facilitated the formation of cooperatives and encouraged the adoption of innovative practices to enhance productivity and sustainability. Women have established mini feed-production systems, sourcing maize locally and experimenting with protein-rich moringa leaves and black soldier fly larvae as feed supplements.

We couldn’t wait for traders or donors to rescue us. We had to create our own safety net.

—Ruth Wanjiku, Kuku Women’s Poultry Cooperative

Building a Better Tomorrow has garnered significant attention from international organizations. Notably, the African Development Bank approved a US$129.71-million loan to support the program, covering more than half of its total budget. The Tanzanian government contributes the remaining funds, demonstrating a strong public–private partnership model.

These stories aren’t outliers; they reflect a broader shift. Across Africa, women account for 60% to 80% of food producers, according to the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization, and poultry farming remains one of the most accessible economic activities for women in rural areas because of its low capital and land requirements.

Lessons from the Global South

This pattern echoes globally. During Argentina’s economic collapse in the early 2000s, smallholder farmers in the Federación Agraria banded together to pool resources, secure better prices and access international markets. Spain’s Mondragon Corporation – a federation of worker cooperatives – navigated the 2008 global financial crisis without mass layoffs, sustaining both employment and community stability. Even in the United States, the Organic Valley cooperative kept its supply chains steady during COVID-19 disruptions, while many industrial agribusinesses struggled.

There’s a deeper reckoning underway in global food systems. For decades, factory farming in the Global North has obscured the real cost of food production, propped up by government subsidies for feed crops like corn and soy, lax environmental regulations, and low-wage, precarious labour. According to FoodPrint, a food awareness project, these subsidies artificially depress the price of key inputs, masking the environmental damage and labour exploitation embedded in industrial agriculture.

In the United States, egg prices surged from an average of $1.49 per dozen in 2021 to more than $4.25 in 2023, largely driven by avian flu outbreaks and supply chain disruptions. Yet, sustainable production models – those that ensure fair labour, animal welfare and environmental stewardship – suggest that the true cost of a dozen eggs could range from $8 to $10, aligning with the prices seen for pasture-raised or certified humane eggs. This disparity highlights how deeply externalized costs have been embedded in the industrial food system, leaving consumers disconnected from the actual price of ethical, sustainable food.

As global prices inch closer to reflecting these real costs, East Africa’s co-ops offer a powerful lesson: resilience is local, cooperative and community-driven.

A global wake-up call

This is not going unnoticed. According to a 2023 report from the FAIRR Initiative, a coalition of investors that monitors risks and opportunities in the livestock sector, 84% of institutional investors now see intensive animal agriculture as a material financial risk, and 78% consider sustainable proteins critical to their environmental, social and governance strategies. Funds like AgDevCo and RSF Social Finance are beginning to direct capital toward African co-ops, recognizing the value of shorter, more resilient supply chains.

However, investment alone won’t be enough. Agribusiness giants still dominate, spending more than US$793 million between 2019 and 2023 on lobbying to entrench their market positions. For collective economies to scale, policy support is essential. Governments can level the playing field with tax incentives for cooperative formation, grants for feed innovation and public procurement policies that prioritize community-based producers.

Donor agencies like USAID, in whatever form it continues, also have a role to play. Moving from a reactive model of food aid to proactive investment in local production ecosystems would build long-term resilience. Supporting regional feed production, farmer training and agroecological research can unlock the full potential of local supply chains.

Because when the next crisis strikes – and it will – it won’t be multinational corporations that keep food on our tables. It will be local producers, neighbours and communities bound by trust and mutual obligation.

Shilpa Tiwari is the founder of No Women No Spice and Isenzo Group. She is based in Canada and Tanzania.

The post As egg prices soar, African women lead solutions appeared first on Corporate Knights.

Off-grid solar power does what national grids have failed to do. It delivers energy directly to the people who need it most. Built around solar panels, battery storage, charge controllers and inverters, these systems operate autonomously, free from state-run utilities or failing transmission lines. Financing models have accelerated the shift, making solar power affordable even for low-income households. With pay-as-you-go plans, families can make small daily or weekly payments through mobile money services, gaining access to power for as little as 50 cents a day. “If you treat low-income people as customers, not charity cases, you can change the world,” Jesse Moore, co-founder and CEO of M-KOPA, a leading provider of pay-as-you-go solar home systems, told Bloomberg.  

This isn’t just about keeping the lights on at home. Off-grid solar is powering small businesses, health clinics and farms, turning energy access into economic growth. In Tanzania, solar-powered irrigation systems are increasing agricultural yields and reducing reliance on expensive diesel-powered pumps. In Uganda, solar microgrids are electrifying entire marketplaces, allowing businesses to stay open after dark. In Kenya, off-grid solar is fuelling the continent’s mobile banking revolution, enabling people to power their phones and participate in the digital economy. 

This transformation isn’t the result of charity or government handouts. It’s a market-driven revolution. Companies like M-KOPA, Bboxx and d.light have built thriving businesses around providing off-grid solar to households and small enterprises. While upfront costs of installation still present a barrier to widespread adoption, the uptake is escalating. Off-grid solar solutions now serve more than 400 million people worldwide. In Africa, mini-grids are expanding rapidly – 62 are fully operational, with another 28 under construction – as part of a push to close the energy-access gap. The World Bank projects that mini-grids – localized, independent power networks capable of supplying entire villages – could provide electricity to 380 million Africans by 2030. 

Countries like Nigeria, Rwanda and Tanzania are showing that mini-grid technology isn’t just viable – it’s better. “While Africa remains the least electrified continent, it also has the biggest potential for solar mini-grid deployment,” said Gabriela Elizondo Azuela, manager of the World Bank’s Energy Sector Management Assistance Program, in a World Bank press release. That potential is being realized, but to scale further it requires investment and commitment from both the private and public sectors. 

Kenya’s Lake Turkana Wind Power project, the largest wind farm in Africa, exemplifies the continent’s ability to scale renewable-energy solutions. It provides nearly 15% of Kenya’s electricity, proving that renewables aren’t a niche technology – they’re the backbone of a modern energy economy. Meanwhile, Kenya’s geothermal sector quietly powers more than 40% of the country’s electricity. 

Despite the momentum, Africa remains critically underfunded in its energy transition. In 2022, the continent received a paltry 2% of global clean energy investment, despite having some of the world’s most promising solar and wind potential. The International Energy Agency estimates that Africa needs at least US $190 billion annually from 2026 to 2030 to meet its energy and climate goals. Yet investors continue to pour billions into fossil-fuel-based projects around the world while ignoring the world’s fastest-growing clean energy market. 

While policymakers in Washington and Brussels argue over subsidies and carbon credits, Africa is proving that a decentralized, renewable-first energy system isn’t just possible – it’s preferable.  

The post Off-grid solar is redefining energy in Africa  appeared first on Corporate Knights.

By early summer, conservative activists were targeting companies like Tractor Supply and John Deere for supporting Pride festivities and climate policies, pressuring them to roll back DEI initiatives. A domino effect followed: Harley-Davidson, Lowe’s, Ford, Toyota and Molson Coors pulled back as well. By November, Boeing had dissolved its global DEI department entirely.

This retreat comes as Donald Trump begins his second term as president of the United States, and he’s made his intentions on the topic clear: to purge DEI programs from federal agencies, calling them “anti-white racism.” With the 2023 Supreme Court’s decision to strike down affirmative action in U.S. colleges already fuelling anxieties, companies are bracing for what’s to come.

The rise and fall of DEI programs

As quickly as corporate DEI policies rose to prominence, the scaffolding of modern, resilient leadership has started fraying at the seams. What was once a surge of commitment to equity is now under relentless attack, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

It’s a sharp pivot from 2020, a year when DEI surged into the corporate spotlight. Following the murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police, the Black Lives Matter movement reignited a global reckoning on racial injustice. Alongside the rise of the #MeToo movement, companies across industries made bold commitments to equity. DEI roles were created at record levels, boards diversified, and women and racialized leaders began stepping into long-overdue positions of power.

For many DEI professionals, the promise of change faded fast. As one former DEI executive in a communications agency tells Corporate Knights, asking not to be named,“We were hired to lead change, but it quickly became clear that leadership wanted optics, not transformation. You can’t drive systemic change when you’re treated like a checkbox.”

This performative approach – treating DEI as a PR move rather than a foundational pillar in corporate strategy – permeated corporate culture, leaving companies exposed. When the backlash hit, those commitments crumbled under pressure, revealing just how fragile their so-called progress really was.

The anti-equity movement has been emboldened by figures like Robby Starbuck, labelled by The New York Times as the “anti-DEI agitator that big companies fear the most.” His mission is explicit: “I won’t rest until we eliminate leftism from corporate America.” Starbuck, a former music-video director turned conservative activist, and others portray DEI not as a corrective framework but as a divisive ideology, rallying around a call for “neutrality.”

We will continue to focus on increasing representation.

– Dawn Jones, chief diversity and inclusion officer, Intel

But let’s be clear: neutrality is a privilege. It upholds the existing system of exclusion and inequality, allowing companies to disengage from meaningful change under the guise of impartiality.

The narrative shift has been amplified by the Supreme Court’s ruling on affirmative action. The court’s decision, which interprets the Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution, applies specifically to public and private colleges that receive federal funds. It doesn’t apply to private and public corporations.

Race-based employment decisions, like reserving hiring slots for racialized candidates, were already illegal under Title VII. of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, a federal law that prohibits discrimination in employment based on race, colour, religion, sex or national origin. In states like California, where Proposition 209 has banned race-based affirmative action in state university admission, state hiring and state congracting for nearly three decades, companies have continued their DEI programs without legal challenges.

What’s changed isn’t the legality of DEI – it’s the story being told about it. By retreating from DEI, companies aren’t avoiding legal headaches; they’re choosing a side. They’re aligning with a status quo built on exclusion, sending a message that inclusion is expendable when it’s inconvenient.

But the economy itself isn’t leaning toward exclusion; it’s hurtling away from it. Gen Z – poised to become the largest working demographic – prioritizes DEI so strongly that one in two won’t work at a company without diverse leadership, and 68% believe employers aren’t doing enough to foster diversity, according to ManpowerGroup, a multinational recruitment agency.

DEI isn’t about optics – it’s about survival

CEOs who treat DEI as window dressing – a splash of colour for their press releases and LinkedIn feeds – are fundamentally missing the point. In today’s polarized market, DEI isn’t a political statement; it’s a business survival strategy.

The data is clear: companies that invest in DEI outperform their peers in innovation, customer loyalty and market relevance. A 2015 McKinsey report on 366 public companies found that those in the top quartile for ethnic and racial diversity in management were 35% more likely to have financial returns above their industry mean. But DEI works only when it’s embedded into the foundation of an organization. When it’s treated as an afterthought, it collapses under the weight of scrutiny.

True resilience demands more than lip service. It’s more than one-off initiatives or employee resource groups tucked into a dusty corner of the HR department. Resilience comes from a culture of inclusion that runs so deep it holds firm through economic downturns, political headwinds and shareholder pressures. Companies that understand this know that a successful DEI strategy isn’t cosmetic; it’s rooted in long-term commitment and integrated into every aspect of the business.

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In a landscape where many are retreating from DEI, some companies have stood as beacons of resilience. Intel first launched a US$300-million Diversity in Technology initiative in 2015 aimed at doubling the number of women and underrepresented communities in technical roles. Despite cutting 15% of its workforce in August, Intel retained its vaunted commitment to DEI and continued to prioritize an inclusive culture.

“We will continue to focus on increasing representation,” the company’s chief diversity and inclusion officer, Dawn Jones, said in September. (Whether that commitment holds now that Intel forced out its CEO in December remains to be seen.)

Outside of the United States, where DEI is less contentious, South Africa’s Investec Bank as well as Vitasoy, Unilever and StarHub have been recognized by Corporate Knights’ 2025 Global 100 ranking for their racially diverse leadership, demonstrating that embedding DEI into corporate strategies drives innovation and sustainable growth.

This isn’t about “virtue signalling” or appeasing critics. Real DEI work – transformative DEI work – upends traditional corporate structures and power balances. It’s uncomfortable by design, made to challenge ingrained biases, to question privilege and to open doors where they’ve historically been closed. Leaders committed to this work know that resistance is part of the journey.

Here’s how corporate leaders can establish a DEI framework that lasts:

1. Make DEI part of the business, not just the brand

DEI shouldn’t just be a side hustle for HR and marketing departments. It has to be integral to how your company operates. Heineken’s Women in Sales program offers a compelling example. Sales isn’t a peripheral department – it drives revenue and growth. Despite 24% of women in the overall company, only 9% of the senior sales roles were occupied by women in 2020. By increasing women senior managers in sales from 9% in 2020 to 19% in 2022, Heineken began aligning its leadership with the shifting demographics of its consumers, as women begin to outnumber men as alcohol consumers.

2. Build enduring DEI infrastructure

DEI efforts fall apart when they lack accountability and follow-through. Real progress requires systems to track and measure impact. Set goals for diversity in hiring and promotions and regularly assess whether you’re meeting them. Ongoing training – tailored to challenge biases and promote equity – is key. A company’s commitment to DEI can’t stop at entry-level hires; it has to be a ladder, not a revolving door.

3. Dig deep to make real gains

In a world where visibility can make you a target, DEI doesn’t need to be loud to be effective. Dig into internal issues that drive inequity: pay gaps, lack of diversity in leadership, inequitable promotion practices or a toxic workplace culture. Real benefits are the initiatives that directly improve employees’ lives: fair wages, comprehensive healthcare, flexible working options and robust support for mental health and well-being. These aren’t social media wins; they’re the hard-won gains that position you for lasting relevance.

As we 2025 begins, the call for DEI isn’t fading into the background. The question isn’t whether DEI is worth the risk; it’s whether your company can afford to ignore it. Real leadership won’t be measured by who avoids backlash or sidesteps discomfort. It will be measured by who builds for the future while others retreat to the past.

Shilpa Tiwari is an ESG consultant and the founder of No Women No Spice. She lives in Tanzania and Toronto. 

The post Just because Trump wants to kill DEI doesn’t mean CEOs should appeared first on Corporate Knights.

“It’s critical for students to engage with case studies that reflect local conditions, offer context-specific solutions and link them to global discourse,” explains professor Manoj Chiba, GIBS’ MBA director at GIBS.

This shift, he says, reflects a growing recognition of the continent’s unique business landscape, “giving students a deeper understanding of the complexities and opportunities they’ll encounter in their own markets.”

Across the continent,  business schools are embracing local narratives, turning the classroom into a space where African ingenuity and global relevance meet and changing how students see themselves – not just as participants but as creators of a more sustainable and equitable global economy.

“African business students are no longer simply inheriting frameworks from Western institutions; they are now developing the tools to shape them,” says Chiba.

Addressing climate change impacts in Africa

Europe’s colonial rule in Africa may have largely ended by the 1960s, but its legacy has profoundly influenced the continent’s modern education system. Historically, African education, from primary to post-secondary levels, has mirrored Western models while often sidelining Indigenous knowledge and local contexts. But now, African business schools are developing programs that move beyond colonial influences toward a more inclusive and relevant future. This involves not just revising curricula but also integrating African perspectives and addressing local challenges directly – including the impacts of climate change on the continent.

Despite contributing only 3.8% of global greenhouse gas emissions, Africa suffers some of the most severe consequences of global warming. From erratic prolonged droughts in the Sahel region and East Africa to devastating floods in countries like Mozambique and Nigeria, these climatic shifts are catalysts for broader socio-economic issues, including migration, health crises and conflicts over dwindling resources.

By 2050, up to 86 million Africans could become internal climate migrants due to deteriorating living conditions, according to the World Bank. And Africa’s youth – 60% of the continent’s population is below the age of 25 – say they want business to respond. According to a 2023 World Economic Forum report, 65% of African youth are interested in sustainable business practices. In this challenging landscape, African institutions have an opportunity to develop sustainable solutions tailored to the continent’s specific needs.

And more are stepping into the spotlight for doing just that.

Today, the shift towards sustainability is not only timely but essential. It goes beyond business ethics to encompass broader challenges relevant to both African and global markets.

– Jackson Omondi, graduate of Strathmore University Business School 

Fostering entrepreneurship and sustainable development

This year, Corporate Knights’ 2024 Better World MBA ranking of the top 40 business schools for sustainability shines a light on this progress, with two MBA programs from African institutions making the cut: GIBS and the University of Cape Town’s Graduate School of Business (UCT), ranked 25th and 7th, respectively.

Since becoming a signatory of the United Nations Principles for Responsible Management Education in 2009, GIBS has woven the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) deeply into its curriculum, Chiba explains. This commitment “is central to GIBS’s mission to drive businesses to contribute positively to healthier economies and communities,” he says. Post-graduate diploma students, for instance, are required to incorporate at least one of the 17 SDGs into their first-year business projects, ensuring that real-world impact is woven into academic rigour.

The school also offers specialty programs tailor-made for changemakers, including its social entrepreneurship program as well as its Corteva Women Agripreneurs program. In the CWA program, women entrepreneurs in farming engage in a blended curriculum that combines theory, workshops, field immersions and mentorship, all aimed at fostering sustainable business skills. Chiba notes that in a world of rapid change, “business education must be as dynamic and forward-thinking as the environments it seeks to serve.”

UCT’s Graduate School of Business has similarly put local realities at the heart of its curriculum by incorporating in themes like water management and transportation. The university’s Centre for Transport Studies is developing solutions such as electric bus networks to tackle the challenges of growing pollution, a warming climate and rapid urbanization in African cities. MBA students can work directly on projects such as these, using local case studies to understand and address real-world issues.

GIBS and UCT are far from the only African business schools reimagining business education that is rooted in local context while connected to global discourse. While not part of Corporate Knights Top 40, Lagos Business School in southwestern Nigeria is homing in on entrepreneurship and sustainable development in the region’s dynamic tech ecosystem, fields critical to the continent’s growth trajectory. In North Africa, the American University in Cairo is making strides in research on economic development and governance, further cementing the university’s role as a key player in addressing regional challenges.

Jackson Omondi, an East African supply chain expert who graduated from Strathmore University Business School’s leadership program, in Kenya, more than a decade ago, notes how much it has evolved. “Ten years ago, sustainability wasn’t part of the conversation, and the program was built around a narrow curriculum. The focus was squarely on business ethics and leadership, and most participants were sponsored by Kenyan corporations like Kenya Airways,” he says. “Today, the shift towards sustainability is not only timely but essential. It goes beyond business ethics to encompass broader challenges relevant to both African and global markets.”

MBAs serving African climate priorities

African universities are also gaining ground as climate leaders on the global stage, thanks in part to initiatives like Business Schools for Climate Leadership (BS4CL) Africa, which emerged from last year’s COP27 in Egypt. Launched by PRME Chapter Africa (whose goal is to develop the Principles for Responsible Management Education) and BS4CL Europe, this collaboration promises to redefine business education across the continent by putting climate action at its core.

“BS4CL Africa gives voice, advocacy and action to Africa’s unique requirements as we craft our fit-for-purpose responses to what is fast being recognised as a climate catastrophe bearing down on Africa and the world,” GIBS professor Roze Phillips told University World News in 2022. She noted that it’s in line with the saying “Nothing about us without us.”

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The six founding schools will collaborate on joint courses and research that serve African climate priorities, as well as student competitions and corporate partnerships, all focused on accelerating impact and fostering future business leaders who actively contribute to a more climate-resilient future.

The pan-African collaboration exemplifies the drive toward reclaiming agency and ensuring that African voices dominate discussions on sustainability and development. African business schools are now focusing on outcomes that benefit a diverse range of stakeholders, beyond corporate shareholders. To truly decolonize the curriculum, schools are going beyond diversifying reading lists. They are taking tangible steps to incorporate diverse knowledge sources and educational methodologies from various cultural and philosophical backgrounds.

It’s a sizeable task, as Phillips said in 2022: “We will need to question the very basis of business school education and what business schools stand for.”

Howard Thomas, professor extraordinaire with GIBS, argues that business schools around the world have deviated from their mission of creating public value, becoming too aligned with business interests and maximizing shareholder returns. That also creates an opportunity for African business schools that are redefining responsible leadership.

In rapidly evolving climate emergency, it’s a something more African youth are demanding – and more schools are beginning to deliver.

Shilpa Tiwari is an ESG strategy and communications consultant, and the founder of No Women No Spice. She lives in Tanzania and Toronto.

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The legacy of “waste colonialism” in the fashion sector is undeniable. Marketed as economic aid, the export of second-hand clothing also allows Western nations to shed their surplus production and consumption. This practice dates to when Western attire was introduced to colonies under British rule and was later commercialized by American businessmen post-independence in the late 1950s, providing them a new revenue stream while offloading excess inventory. 

Today, the appeal of second-hand clothing in sub-Saharan Africa, where nearly 34% of the world’s second-hand garments were shipped in 2021, is unmistakable. It offers millions of people affordable wardrobe options and underpins a vibrant informal sector that’s crucial for economic resilience. Research by Kenya’s Institute of Economic Affairs found that for the vast majority of Kenyan families, affordability is a key factor in their widespread preference for second-hand clothing. But it’s not just about cost savings. “They’re not only cheaper but also better quality than many new clothes made in China – and definitely more stylish,” says Josephina Mwasi, a shopper at the Memorial second-hand market in Moshi, Tanzania. 

Yet this influx of Western garments – worth US$1.7 billion in shipments to sub-Saharan Africa in 2021 alone – presents a formidable paradox: while it energizes retail sectors, it’s widely believed to simultaneously suffocate local textile industries. A 2008 report by economist Garth Frazer highlights a stark decline of roughly 40% in local apparel production from 1981 to 2000 and correlates this with the rise of imported second-hand clothes. 

While it’s tempting to attribute the drop solely to these imports, the reality is more nuanced. The crux of the matter lies in the domestic market, where higher production costs, coupled with persistent inflation, make locally produced clothes increasingly less attractive compared to second-hand ones and cheap new imports. Despite the challenges facing local manufacturing industries, Africa’s upcycled apparel exports – made with refashioned second-hand textiles – have shown remarkable resilience and growth.

“We’re not just the dumping ground. We have the potential to produce, we have the potential to create,” Ugandan fashion designer Bobby Kolade said in 2022. “Our capacity to redesign, reuse, upcycle and remake has developed into a culture and a visual language.”

Having interned for Balenciaga and Margiela in Paris and launched his own brand in Berlin, Kolade found himself disillusioned with the luxury fashion industry in Europe and returned to Uganda’s capital, Kampala. He founded his own clothing line, Buzigahill, taking second-hand garments imported into Uganda and transforming them into upcycled garments sold back to the Global North. Buzigahill’s slogan: Return to sender.

Meanwhile, innovators like Khumo Morojele and Klein Muis in South Africa and Rummage Studio in Nairobi are turning second-hand treasures into expressions of African identity, bridging the gap between tradition and avant-garde fashion. And in Ethiopia, SoleRebels, founded by Bethlehem Tilahun Alemu in 2004, crafts fair-trade-certified and vegan shoes from recycled materials like tires as well as indigenous plant fibres. Notably, their footwear is inspired by selate and barabasso shoes – traditional Ethiopian footwear with recycled tire soles historically worn by rebel fighters resisting Western colonization. “We’re not green because some bloke in marketing told us it was a good idea,” Tilahun Alemu told Le Monde, “but because this is how we make shoes in Ethiopia.”

Today SoleRebels is considered the Nike of Africa, employing almost 200 people.

Tilahun Alemu told Le Monde that the practice of circularity is deeply ingrained in African communities, predating its current trendy status. However, it’s hard to ignore that these innovators may be able to tackle only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the mounds of second-hand imports flooding their countries.

Environmental impact and the shadow of waste colonization

Launched in 2015, advocacy group Clean Up Kenya was initially focused on the environmental impact of single-use plastic bottles and packaging, but its advocacy has now broadened. “We’ve also delved into textile waste – specifically, the role of plastics in second-hand clothing,” founder Betterman Musasia says. In 2023, Clean Up Kenya teamed up with the Changing Market Foundation to release Trashion: The Stealth Export of Waste Plastic Clothes to Kenya. The report casts a spotlight on how the global trade in used clothing often doubles as a conduit for plastic waste, dumping burdens on communities and ecosystems in recipient nations.

Despite international restrictions on plastic waste exports under the Basel Convention – and impending bans in the European Union – Musasia reveals a troubling finding: “Our research showed that over a third of the used clothing sent to Kenya is so low in quality that it essentially arrives as immediate waste.” Between 55,500 and 74,000 tonnes of textile waste a year (roughly 150 to 200 tonnes daily) end up in landfill, and many of these garments contain up to 69% synthetic petroleum-derived fibres, like polyester. When discarded in landfills, these materials degrade into microplastic particles that end up polluting the air and waterways. 

“The Global North is using the trade of used clothing as a pressure-release valve to deal with fast fashion’s enormous waste problem. Clearing up the mess that the fashion industry has created and ensuring the sector is pulled onto a more sustainable track will require comprehensive legislation,” the report’s authors say. 

Navigating the future 

The debate over the fate of the second-hand clothing trade encapsulates the broader challenges of sustainable development and industrial evolution in Africa. The East African Community, an intergovernmental organization with six partner countries, has recommended banning second-hand clothing since 2016, originally aiming to phase out the trade by 2019. Rwanda took decisive action in 2018 by imposing high taxes on imports to deter trade, and in August 2023, Uganda’s president, Yoweri Museveni, announced a ban on all imports of used clothing. 

Ugandan designer Kolada has pushed back against his government’s call for an immediate ban. “Painful as it is to acknowledge, second-hand textiles are a valuable source of tax revenue for our country. A ban is a vote for economic suicide,” Kolade wrote in The Guardian last year. Instead, he suggests making the Global North “accountable for its fast-fashion waste through the extended producer responsibility fund.”

Clean Up Kenya also says that “producers must be made financially responsible for the management and cost of end-of-life treatments of the products they place on the market.”

An integrated approach is required – one that includes government subsidies, infrastructural improvements, and investment in technology and education to strengthen the domestic textile-and-clothing-manufacturing industry. 

As Africa navigates this landscape, it is clear that solutions must be as multifaceted as the challenges they aim to address, weaving together considerations of economy, culture and environment in a balanced and sustainable tapestry.

Shilpa Tiwari is the co-founder of Isenzo, a boutique firm that takes a systems approach to ESG, and the founder of No Women No Spice. She lives in Tanzania and Toronto.

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The need for adaptation strategies is urgent. And yet, funding remains a significant barrier. In response, Kenya and other African pioneers are exploring alternative financing mechanisms such as green bonds and debt-for-nature swaps. Despite these efforts, systemic challenges hinder progress, underscoring the complex interplay between sustainability, finance and international cooperation in addressing climate change.

Indeed, the climate dilemma in Africa is amplified by contradiction: the continent is responsible for just 4% of global carbon emissions, yet it experiences a significantly higher degree of climate change’s negative effects. Data compiled by the International Energy Agency in 2010 illustrated the global carbon-footprint imbalance with a striking image: at the time, a single American refrigerator consumed three times more energy than the average African used in a year. Africa’s struggle is compounded by its limited ability to access climate finance. As President Macky Sall of Senegal has put it, Africa faces a “double penalty,” not only susceptible to the impacts of climate change but also confronting hurdles in accessing financing desperately needed for adaptation and mitigation.

The African Development Bank estimates that Africa incurs annual losses of between $7 and $15 billion (all dollar figures are U.S.) because of climate change, a figure expected to escalate to $50 billion by 2030. But the continent garners a mere 3% of global climate finance. Africa made up less than 1% of the $2.2 trillion in community green bonds in 2022, according to the African Development Bank Group. Europe alone issued more than $100 billion in green bonds that year. This investment gap significantly curtails African nations’ capacity to tackle their unique climate challenges. 

The situation is exacerbated by high levels of debt from international loans and bonds, placing 21 African countries in or at high risk of debt distress. The intersection of climate vulnerability and unsustainable debt stalls economic development and exacerbates poverty. The burden of debt servicing constrains these nations’ ability to attract investments for crucial climate adaptation and mitigation measures, such as transitioning to cleaner energy sources, adopting sustainable agriculture practices and enhancing infrastructure resilience.

Debt-for-nature swaps, alongside the broader concept of debt-for-climate swaps, are transformative strategies that can address these challenges. By converting a portion of a country’s debt into funds dedicated to environmental conservation, these mechanisms promise financial relief and a pathway to sustainable development for African nations.

This has the potential to alleviate a country’s debt burden and ensures that crucial funds are directed toward combatting deforestation, protecting endangered species and supporting community-based conservation initiatives that provide sustainable livelihoods. The success of these projects hinges on transparent and equitable management, ensuring that the benefits reach the local communities most affected by climate change and biodiversity loss.

In this context, debt-for-nature swaps surface as potent tools to bridge the climate finance gap. Kenya, with its rich natural resources and acute climate vulnerabilities, serves as a prime example of how such mechanisms can be leveraged for sustainable development.

The complex reality of climate finance in Kenya

The Lake Turkana Wind Power project, the largest wind farm on the African continent, is proof of the kind of enthusiasm that Kenya’s renewable-energy sector is generating among investors. While this is crucial for reducing carbon emissions, other vital sectors such as agriculture, forestry, transportation and water management are scrambling to find similar backing to cope with the changing climate.

In other East African countries such as Tanzania, Uganda and Rwanda, the potential in debt-for-nature swaps could be a game changer. However, the scale remains modest compared to other continents. The reality is that not enough climate financing is reaching local African communities.

Abdul-Karim Mohamed, an African start-up investor, recently questioned whether climate finance in Africa is “hope, hype or hypocrisy,” noting that less than 10% of committed climate financing from international funds trickles down to the grassroots level. This inefficiency is compounded by a perceived bias from Western funders, who have a strong preference for their own knowledge and methods over those of local partners. Mohamed concluded that if this bias continued “within climate finance initiatives, it will be more challenging to find and support local solutions to local climate change problems.”

In Kenya, the juxtaposition of rich natural resources, poor governance and the challenges of climate change adaptation presents a complex scenario. The country’s lush mangroves and mineral wealth, essential for sustainable development, are often mismanaged, leading to social and environmental repercussions. This mismanagement has seeped into government-backed carbon credit programs, which have resulted in community evictions and protests. 

In the report Blood Carbon: How a Carbon Offset Scheme Makes Millions from Indigenous Land in Northern Kenya, non-profit Survival International casts a critical eye on the Northern Kenya Grassland Carbon Project managed by the Northern Rangelands Trust. This project was first touted as a premier carbon-credit initiative, attracting substantial investment from Meta and Netflix. But the scheme’s ambition to generate $300 to $500 million potentially displaces traditional grazing practices in favour of commercial ranching models, undermining the land rights and cultural heritage of the Indigenous populations involved. Kenya’s experience highlights the critical need for effective and equitable management of natural resources for climate finance, broadening the scope to include comprehensive adaptation strategies across all vulnerable sectors. 

Africa incurs between US$7 and $15 billion in damages from climate change every year but garners just 3% of global climate finance.

The Triple B Framework, conceptualized by Gillian Marcelle of Resilience Capital Ventures in 2021, represents an alternative approach to financing. It addresses common pitfalls such as underutilization and misallocation by refining funding mechanisms, uncovering areas often overlooked by conventional financial systems due to perceived risks or insufficient returns, and harnessing the power of blended finance. This method brings together diverse types of funding, including monetary investments as well as vital non-financial resources, such as expert knowledge, technical support and access to networks, to amplify its impact significantly.

A notable instance of the Triple B Framework’s implementation is the Seychelles’ “blue bond,” which targets ocean conservation and the sustainable use of marine resources – an area that often lacks sufficient investment. Launched in 2018 as the first initiative of its kind, the blue bond garnered $15 million to safeguard marine ecosystems, improve fisheries management and bolster economic development through projects related to the ocean. 

Organizations such as The Nature Conservancy (TNC) and the World Wildlife Fund have been instrumental in structuring debt-for-nature swaps across the globe, including in Africa. The debt-for-nature swap facilitated by TNC in 2015 allowed the Seychelles to restructure part of its national debt, with the savings generated from the debt restructuring redirected toward funding conservation projects. The success of this debt-for-nature swap paved the way for the blue bond.

East African nations, with their wealth of terrestrial and marine biodiversity, could certainly benefit from adopting financing strategies similar to those recently demonstrated in Kenya, especially in the realm of green bonds. For instance, Acorn Holdings made history in Kenya by issuing the country’s first green bond, listed for trading on the Nairobi Securities Exchange in 2019. The bond, valued at 4.3 billion shillings ($42.5 million), was issued by the Nairobi-based property developer to finance the construction of eco-friendly student accommodations. 

 This forward-thinking move by Acorn Holdings serves as a practical example of how innovative financing mechanisms can support sustainable development initiatives. It offers a replicable model for other East African nations. 

A call to amplify impact and investment

The journey of Kenya in navigating the complexities of climate finance underscores a broader narrative of resilience and innovation. However, the scale of investment and the reach of these modern financing mechanisms need more amplification. The global community, including international financial institutions, creditor nations and conservation organizations, must rally to support and scale up debt-for-nature swaps in Africa.

Expanding the scope and scale of debt-for-nature swaps in East Africa could serve as a beacon for other African countries, demonstrating that sustainable development and conservation can be achieved even amidst financial challenges. 

Shilpa Tiwari is CEO of No Women No Spice, an organic spice company, and Isenzo Group, a sustainability strategy firm. 

This story is part of our Spring 2024 issue. 

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While demand for beef, chicken and pork are on the rise on the continent, Africans consumed just 9.6 kilograms of meat per capita from 2020 to 2022 compared to North Americans’ 78.6 kilos. Grains like millet and maize form the backbone of African cuisine, but they merely hint at the continent’s diverse culinary landscape. Take Nigeria, where okra, fufu (made from yam or cassava) and vibrant leafy greens like ewedu and spinach grace daily meals. In Ethiopia, teff injera, a gluten-free flatbread, pairs with lentil-based stews (wats) bursting with vegetables, while Kenyan ugali (cornmeal porridge) is served with sukuma wiki greens and indigenous fruits like tamarind and baobab. These food cultures, intricately connected with geography, climate and tradition, showcase the ingenuity and adaptability of African communities.

Deep cultural and spiritual threads are woven into the fabric of plant-based diets in many African nations. Abstaining from certain foods serves as ritual cleansing, ancestor veneration or a way to strengthen community bonds. It underscores the profound connection between food, faith and cultural identity in many African communities. Understanding these nuances is crucial as Africa’s food systems evolve. 

Parallel to this, in the United States, African American women have emerged as leading voices in the vegan movement, illustrating a profound and transformative cultural shift. A 2015 Harris Poll survey found that 8% of Black respondents were vegetarian or vegan, while that was true for just 3% of the overall population. This movement is not merely a dietary trend but a significant cultural renaissance, echoing a broader historical narrative in which African American dietary customs, shaped under the harsh conditions of slavery, resulted in soul food that originally comprised scraps from the slave owners’ tables, fried to make them more palatable. 

Today African American women are also leading a wave of plant-based start-ups and restaurants, such as Samantha Edwards’s New Breed Meats, with offerings like plant-based jerk chicken. More than just a dietary trend, Afro-veganism and African American veganism are vibrant movements that celebrate a plant-based diet’s cultural depth, ecological wisdom and culinary creativity. These movements are not just about choosing plant-based foods but about reclaiming and redefining African American food traditions.

Moreover, these dietary shifts are intertwined with broader discussions about food sovereignty, access to healthy foods in Black neighbourhoods and the environmental impact of food choices. Afro-veganism and African American veganism advocate for a more equitable food system that honours the planet and its people.

The challenges of expanding the plant-based economy in Africa – ranging from fragile infrastructure and food spoilage to deep-seated cultural preferences for animal protein – have spurred innovative solutions from local entrepreneurs. Among these, VeggieVictory stands out as a pioneering force. As Nigeria’s first vegan restaurant and plant-based food tech business, VeggieVictory is influencing the societal narrative around meat consumption, showcasing that plant-based foods can fulfill both nutritional and cultural needs.

With that in mind, the founder of VeggieVictory, Hakeem Jimo, helped spearhead ProVeg International’s expansion into Nigeria last year. As the director of ProVeg Nigeria, Jimo said he’s hoping to “transform the food system to help people transition to healthier, more climate-friendly diets.”

Nigeria isn’t the only African nation experiencing a shift. South Africa also has a ProVeg office, and The Plant Powered Show in Cape Town has quickly become one of the most successful food and lifestyle events on the South African exhibition calendar. All further evidencing the growing appetite for plant-based consumer choices. 

The people who will benefit most from this transition are those in the Global South for whom land pressures from animal agriculture have forced them to leave their land.

 

– Hakeem Jimo, director of ProVeg Nigeria

As the continent evolves, so will its plant-based story, offering unique contributions to the global conversation on food, sustainability and cultural identity. With this evolution comes a web of opportunities and challenges. Increased global demand for plant-based products could empower local farmers, create new jobs and generate economic prosperity. Yet navigating this shift equitably is paramount. 

Currently, land distribution is often skewed toward smallholder farms, which are vital for rural livelihoods and national food security. Research from the non-profit Grain and the International Land Coalition highlights how large-scale land acquisitions by corporate entities are increasingly prevalent, particularly in regions primed to expand plant-based crop production. These acquisitions often prioritize export markets and can undermine the economic and social fabric of rural communities. To counteract these potential disparities, policies and frameworks that prioritize equitable land distribution, support for smallholder farmers and sustainable agricultural practices are crucial. 

“The people who will benefit most from this transition are those in the Global South for whom land pressures from animal agriculture have forced them to leave their land,” ProVeg Nigeria’s Jimo said in a statement. The group is pushing for a national strategy that implements “a better food system by encouraging food innovation, particularly in the plant-based egg, milk and protein spaces.”

“It’s all about the numbers,” Jimo said. “Nigeria is set to become the world’s third most populous country in the next couple of decades. But time is not on our side. To truly address climate change and health epidemics, we need to shift our diets today.

Shilpa Tiwari is CEO of No Women No Spice, an organic spice company, and Isenzo Group, a sustainability strategy firm. 

Check back here as we roll out our Plant Power package this week, along with the release of the 2024 Spring issue of Corporate Knights.

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As my career progressed, I saw firsthand the stark contrasts that underpin our global economy. In resource-rich countries, I observed how enduring colonial legacies continue to influence lives and local economies, often resulting in widespread poverty. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where local populations have little access to the wealth generated beneath their feet, I led a community investment plan tied to a mining project. I was fully aware that despite the mining project’s scale, the benefit to the communities would be marginal. In India and Nepal, I worked with governments to determine how to modernize forest-management practices that were rooted in a history of cutting down trees to benefit the colonial regime, with little benefit to local economies or consideration of local knowledge, needs and trade objectives.

Again and again, I saw variations of the same story, which left me thinking, “What does it take to create companies that genuinely foster sustainable and equitable development?”

Last year, I concluded that advising companies on environmental, social and governance issues and equity, diversity and inclusion wasn’t sufficient to “raise our wounded world into a wondrous one,” as American poet and activist Amanda Gorman put it. It was time to leverage my expertise to show that it was possible to do more. I established No Women No Spice, a direct trade, certified organic spice company that sources from farmers in Zanzibar, an archipelago off Tanzania.

I had travelled to Tanzania and the island province of Zanzibar many times for work and to visit family and was acutely aware of the region’s innovative approaches to climate change, equity and agriculture. At the same time, I witnessed the lingering impacts of colonialism. These experiences were instrumental in shaping my company’s mission to “reboot the spice route.”

Zanzibar is unique because of its diverse array of crops originating from the African continent and from more distant regions, including India and the Mediterranean. On a single farm, it’s not uncommon to find more than a dozen varieties of fresh spices, including cardamom, black pepper and cinnamon. Despite Zanzibar’s agricultural richness, barriers such as lack of access to markets, destructive climate change and inadequate infrastructure have stymied its potential, reducing “Spice Island” to a mere moniker.

Slavery, women and spice

The quest for spices in the 15th century propelled European explorers to distant shores, spurring the rise of colonial empires. Spice production became a colonial monopoly, marked by severe labour exploitation and the marginalization of local economies. In Zanzibar, the spice trade and the slave trade were deeply intertwined, with Indigenous Africans forced into servitude on Portuguese-, German- and British-owned plantations.

Today’s farmers in Zanzibar face new challenges. They are grappling with climate change through prolonged dry periods, unpredictable rainfall and extreme weather, making crop cultivation increasingly challenging; rising sea levels have led to saltwater intrusion into low-lying fields. Though once a leading spice-trading hub, Zanzibar’s environmental and economic strains have driven many farmers to unsustainable mono-crop agriculture. Despite these shifts, traditional spice knowledge remains vibrant among local farmers. Initiatives like those by Community Forests International are helping communities revive “edible forests” by integrating reforestation efforts.

The spice industry is experiencing a revival driven by consumers’ demand for transparency about spice origins and methods of production. OpenText’s 2021 survey found that 88% of global consumers want to buy goods that are responsibly and sustainably produced; 83% would pay more for goods that are ethically produced. The trend is reshaping the global organic spice market, which is expected to grow from US$10.9 billion in 2023 to US$17 billion in 2033.

In the nascent days of corporate social responsibility, I saw firsthand that the focus was on corporate image with minimal benefit to communities.

Women Who Farm Africa, a social enterprise that provides programs to rural women, reports that women produce approximately 70% of Africa’s food but own less than 20% of the land. In Tanzania, agriculture is a cornerstone of the economy, providing more than two-thirds of employment and nearly one-third of the gross domestic product. The UN Development Programme reports that 67% of female workers in Tanzania are employed in agriculture, primarily as smallholder farmers. However, women remain vulnerable to economic and environmental shifts due to a lack of financial independence. Research suggests that if women had equal access to productive resources, such as financial services, training and land, farm yields could increase by 20% to 30% and reduce hunger by up to 17%. Moreover, women typically reinvest their profits into their households, which alleviates poverty from the bottom up.

In East Africa and South Asia, I’ve witnessed how education on modern farming techniques and access to high-quality seeds and land can significantly improve outcomes for female farmers, paving the way for their financial independence. Higher yields lead to surplus crops and increased incomes, which, in turn, “allows women to invest in their children’s education, improve living standards and further develop their farms,” explains Amina, a cinnamon farmer in Zanzibar.

The demand for spices, coupled with their high value relative to other crops, presents an economic incentive for spice cultivation, but farmers currently lack strong links to more profitable export markets. Sekela Mboya, a Tanzanian agronomist who works with farmers to develop agroforestry plans, stresses that “farmers also need assistance in improving agricultural production and accessing value-add enterprises.” At No Women No Spice, our goal is to increase access to stable and fair income sources for female farmers while supporting regenerative agriculture and agroforestry efforts to combat climate change.

Rebooting the spice trade

The spice industry is at a crossroads, facing the destructive impacts of global warming, growing awareness of unfair compensation for farmers, and increasing consumer demand for organic products. Climate change is already affecting spice yields and quality; forecasts predict a potential reduction in yields globally of up to 23% by 2050. This ancient trade must evolve to align with contemporary ethical and environmental standards.

Many might find it surprising that Tanzania has the sixth-highest number of certified organic farmers globally and is third in Africa. Historically, in an effort to modernize Tanzania’s agriculture sector, there was heavy reliance on chemical pesticides to increase yields of key cash crops: coffee, cotton and tea. In recent years, however, there has been a notable pivot influenced by global environmental movements and a deepening understanding of the long-term consequences of pesticide usage.

Tanzania is now witnessing a paradigm shift characterized by a steady movement toward integrated pest management, organic farming and biopesticides. Remarkably to me, but not Tanzanians, many farmers now practise organic or near-organic farming even without formal certification because it requires minimal external inputs, uses locally available materials and promotes a holistic, diverse and stress-resistant approach to farming. For the smallholder farmer, organic farming is the only viable option.

Tanzania’s organic agriculture sector has also been buttressed by systems and institutions that make sustainable farming more accessible. A network of organic farmers, civil society organizations and businesses further energizes this sector from within. The rise of organic farming in Tanzania represents an opportunity for entrepreneurs, groups and investors to contribute to the nation’s green economy by producing safe, sustainable food.

Grind the gap

Historically, a tiny fraction of a spice product’s final retail value went to the farmer, with the Fairtrade Foundation estimating this at 5% to 7%. This imbalance is even more acute for women, who form a substantial part of the agricultural workforce but typically receive lower wages and have restricted access to resources and land.

While established multinational spice companies have made progress in addressing these disparities, significant gaps persist. Despite a growing focus on sustainability and fair trade, the reality often does not align with corporate sustainability reports. Challenges include opaque supply chains, lack of transparency, and a lack of genuine empowerment of local communities. To cut through the mud, I’ve found that establishing direct relationships with Zanzibar’s sustainable farmers has been the most effective way of ensuring fair pricing that enables farmers to invest in their communities, improve living standards and foster economic independence.

Having spent my entire career working within companies to advance sustainability and equity, my hope is now that the triumphs of one small company can serve as a case study that inspires broader change.

Shilpa Tiwari is the founder and CEO of No Women No Spice and Isenzo Group, an ESG strategy and communications firm.

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