The year is 2023, in Dialakoroba. Manding country.
We were far from the red Sahelian soil that so often aches across the landscape, and closer to a mix of dark black earth and white sand. Unfamiliar terrain for a Sahelian babe, but reassuring for someone who enjoys land and soil. What I found there were the shea parks I had grown up running through, the ones that so generously gave us their fruit.
What surprised me most were the saplings scattered across the fields.
In a territory where deforestation has become rampant, and where the growth time of a shea tree is long and demanding, this sight felt almost improbable. Especially when set against the reality of deforestation in West Africa.
I am annoyed at myself. It dawned on me last week that I have an obsession with the “female narrative” attached to plants, and I tend to gravitate toward those plants and overly highlight them. The idea that women are the gatekeepers of culture and tradition is one I often return to. And yes, it is true in many contexts, and true for many plants.
But it bothers me.
What if everyone was the gatekeeper of plant culture and traditions? Would we be faced with less deforestation? Why does one side of the population carry the responsibility for the well being of important plants? What if we were all stewards?
The shea tree, Vitellaria paradoxa, is disappearing at an alarming rate. Over 8 million trees are lost every year. Charcoal production, agricultural expansion, and urban growth are the main drivers of this destruction. Beyond the environmental cost, this loss threatens the livelihoods of millions of women who rely on what is often called “women’s gold.”
Charcoal and fuelwood demand lead to illegal and premature cutting of shea trees. Expanding agriculture converts savannah woodlands into large scale farms and grazing land, shrinking shea parklands. Climate change adds further pressure through droughts, erratic rainfall, and rising temperatures that slow growth and reduce fruit production. The socio economic consequences are severe, as fewer trees mean fewer nuts and less income for those who depend on them.
And yet, in my research, I found that Ghana has made notable progress in shea conservation and regeneration.
That knowledge sits quietly beside the image of those young saplings in Dialakoroba. A reminder that decline is not inevitable, and that stewardship, when shared, can still take root.
Extra links:
La filière karité en Afrique de l’Ouest - Programme Équité
Shea Heroes: Women Fighting to Preserve Africa’s Iconic Trees
