Why always Africa? Climate Change and the harshest realities yet to come

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OPINION

By Jennifer Kasabiiti Asiimwe

I have attended my fair share of international conferences on population and development, the kind where the auditorium lights are bright, projectors hum softly, and eloquent presenters stride to the podium armed with data and conviction. One after another, they present the world’s latest projections: maternal mortality, disease burden, menopausal symptoms, cervical cancer, falling life expectancy, rising unemployment, name it.

And every time, before the slides even appear, I can predict where the red zones will be on the global map. Africa. Always Africa.

But recently, at one such conference, my attention was captured by a poster I hadn’t expected to linger on. It was about climate change and its catastrophic effects. And once again, Africa was painted in the darkest shades of red.

For many, this is just another data point. For me, it was deeply personal. Why always Africa?

Africa’s unequal battle with climate change

The climate crisis is global, yet Africa bears its harshest brunt despite contributing the least to global emissions. According to the UN Environment Programme (2023), the entire continent contributes less than 4% of global greenhouse gases, yet it faces up to 65% of the world’s climate-related losses. Our vulnerability is rooted in dependence. Nearly 60% of Africa’s population relies on rain-fed agriculture, making livelihoods highly sensitive to erratic rainfall, droughts, and floods. Add to this the challenges of limited infrastructure, fragile economies, and weak adaptive systems, and we have a continent caught in the crossfire of global climate forces it did not ignite.

Yet even as Africa bears the brunt of climate instability, the continent continues to wrestle with another paradox, the exploitation of its own natural wealth. Across regions rich in oil, gas, and minerals, extraction projects have become both a promise and a peril. Africa is home to some of the most prized oil reserves and to one of the most biodiverse ecosystems in East Africa.

Global environmental movements have increasingly spotlighted this region, where major oil developments have sparked widespread demonstrations and petitions from activists, researchers, and civil society groups worldwide.  Such campaigns have mobilised thousands across continents, warning that large-scale oil drilling and pipeline construction may threaten fragile wetlands, wildlife habitats, and the livelihoods of thousands.

Environmentalists argue that such projects deepen Africa’s climate vulnerability by locking economies into fossil fuel dependency, while the immediate costs, forest loss, land displacement, and water contamination are borne by local populations who gain little from the profits.

For Uganda, the tension is palpable, between the promise of oil revenues to fund infrastructure and the urgent need to protect ecosystems already stretched thin by climate stress. The Albertine story is emblematic of a larger African dilemma: how to pursue growth without compromising the environmental foundations that sustain it.

As protesters chant outside corporate headquarters, the message is clear. Africa’s development cannot come at the cost of her ecological future. For the smallholder farmer in Hoima or the fisherwoman on Lake Albert, the battle over oil is not about ideology; it is about survival, dignity, and the right to exist in harmony with a land that has long sustained them.

In the Sahel, temperatures have risen by 1.5°C over the past five decades, faster than the global average. The region, stretching from Senegal to Sudan, is seeing its once fertile land turn to dust. The World Bank warns that by 2025, two-thirds of sub-Saharan Africa will face severe water stress, a staggering threat to both human survival and industry.

When the earth rebels: The data tells the story

Climate change in Africa isn’t an abstract forecast; it’s a lived reality. Droughts in East Africa have tripled in frequency since 2000. The 2011 famine in Somalia, partly driven by prolonged drought, claimed over 260,000 lives. In contrast, flood-related disasters have surged across southern Africa, displacing millions.

In 2020 alone, the International Organisation for Migration reported that over 2.5 million people were displaced by floods in sub-Saharan Africa. And by 2040, researchers project that annual crop yields in key regions like Uganda, Kenya, and Tanzania could decline by more than 20% without aggressive intervention.

Climate change, once a distant concern, is now rewriting Africa’s economic and demographic future, one failed harvest, one displaced family, one washed-out road at a time.

From climate stress to social unrest

But beyond the environmental toll lies a simmering social crisis. When livelihoods dry up, so does stability. The competition for water, pasture, and arable land has intensified long-standing tensions, especially between farmers and herders. In Nigeria’s Middle Belt, shrinking grazing lands have been linked to violent clashes that have displaced thousands.

Across the Sahel and Horn of Africa, climate hardship has also created fertile ground for extremist recruitment, as desperate youth seek belonging, income, or simply someone to blame. When environmental pressure meets economic despair, social cohesion frays.

The African Development Bank (2024) estimates that by 2030, climate change could push an additional 40 million Africans into extreme poverty, an economic and moral crisis that demands both local and global accountability.

Hope on the horizon

Yet, Africa is not merely a victim of circumstance. Across the continent, innovative adaptation efforts are taking shape. From solar-powered irrigation in Uganda’s cattle corridor to drought-resistant crops in Ethiopia and community-managed water systems in Kenya, resilience is being built one initiative at a time.

Renewable energy investments are rising, too. Africa holds 60% of the world’s best solar potential, yet only 1% of installed capacity. Harnessing this could transform the continent’s future, powering industries, homes, and hope alike.

But what Africa needs most is recognition that climate justice is not charity. It is a global obligation.

A personal reflection

Every time I sit in those brightly lit conference halls, watching another map flash red across my continent, I’m reminded of an uncomfortable truth: the numbers are not just statistics. They represent lives, mothers who cannot plant because the rains failed, children displaced by floods, and youth migrating from parched villages to overcrowded cities.

Africa is not the world’s climate victim; it is its mirror reflecting the imbalance, inequity, and indifference of a world that has long consumed beyond measure.

The question remains: will the world watch Africa burn, or will it finally stand with her as she fights to rise again, greener, stronger, and more resilient than before?

The writer is a population and development scholar