By Henry Neondo
Nairobi—As leaders, financiers and
development agencies convene for the second Africa Climate Summit (ACS2) in
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, one phrase buzzes across plenary halls and press
briefings: “scale up carbon markets.”
The promise sounds irresistible—billions in
new finance, speedy emissions reductions, nature conserved and millions of climate-exposed
grassroot communities across much of Africa enhance their resilience to climate
change.
But from the vantage point of pastoralists in
Samburu, fisherfolk on Lake Turkana, smallholders in Busia and peri-urban
households in Kisumu’s informal settlements, the language of “scale up” feels
top-down, extractive and—too often—empty.
Africa does need climate finance. What we
don’t need is another rush for offsets that bypasses the very communities that
have guarded Africa’s forests, rangelands and mangroves for generations.
ACS2 is a pivotal moment to correct course.
Instead of “scaling up” credits, the summit should commit to cascading carbon
benefits—money, decision-making power, and verified rights—down to the ward,
village and household levels where climate resilience is won or lost.
“Scaling up” vs. “Cascading”: Why words
matter
In policy rooms, “scale up” typically means
aggregating projects to attract large buyers and lower transaction costs.
That’s efficient for markets but risky for justice: when carbon assets are
bundled far from the land, the people closest to the resource lose
visibility—and leverage.
“Cascading,” by contrast, flips the logic. It
starts from the ground up: clarify tenure; build community institutions;
establish transparent benefit-sharing; and then connect projects to buyers.
Finance still flows, but its path runs through communities rather than around
them. Revenues spill down like a series of terraces—first to customary owners
and frontline stewards—before they reach county coffers or project developers’
spreadsheets.
The problem with business-as-usual carbon
markets
Across the continent, communities tell us the
same story: “Opaque contracts, unclear rights involved in land carbon tenures
are often unsettled or poorly documented. Communities sign away rights without
understanding long-term implications or the value of credits in rising markets.
Second, benefit-sharing as is often viewed as
an afterthought given that too many projects often publish elegant
benefit-sharing plans on paper that never translate into budgets, receipts, or
ward-level projects. When payments come, they are small, late, or captured by
elites.
Large-scale investors often exclude communities
in monitoring their projects where drones, satellites and consultants come and
go, and hardly consider women’s groups, herder associations and beach
management units. These communities can play these roles and all that is needed
is to give them training, jobs or data access to co-monitor the resources they
depend on.
The worst however is that when prices fall or
methodologies change, local people—who altered land use to meet carbon
rules—bear the shock, while intermediaries move on to the next venture.
This is why a “scale up” mantra rings hollow
in villages where boreholes fail, grasslands shrink, and youth can’t find work.
Without guardrails, bigger markets will just magnify these gaps.
A Kenyan lens - what cascading could look
like
Kenya has the ingredients to lead with a
cascade approach: devolved governance through counties and wards, active
community forest and wildlife associations, and a vibrant civil society. In
Samburu’s Kalama conservancy, for example, elders, youth and women’s groups
already manage grazing plans, patrol wildlife corridors and maintain social
rules that keep rangelands healthy—a precondition for credible carbon
sequestration. In Busia, smallholders in climate-smart horticulture clusters
are experimenting with agroforestry and water harvesting that can lock carbon
in soils while improving incomes.
Imagine if ACS2 catalyzed a national “cascade
protocol” anchored in these realities
Tenure first. Counties, customary
institutions and communities receive technical and legal support to map and
document communal and household tenure—land, trees, and carbon rights—before
any project registry is engaged.
Community-owned project vehicles. Every
project has a community special purpose vehicle (SPV) with majority
representation from local associations (women, youth,
pastoralist/hunter-gatherer groups, farmers). The SPV signs contracts, holds a
share of issuance rights, and receives funds directly.
Ward-level benefit accounts. Revenues flow
into ring-fenced ward accounts with simple, public dashboards: what came in,
what was spent, on what, and who approved it. A fixed percentage—say 60%—must
reach ward-level priorities identified through participatory budgeting.
Local monitoring jobs. At least half of all
monitoring, reporting and verification (MRV) roles go to trained community
para-ecologists and youth enumerators. Data is shared back in local languages
and formats that communities can use to adaptively manage land.
Social safeguards with teeth. Independent
grievance mechanisms sit within counties but are co-governed by civil society
and traditional authorities, with clear timelines and sanctions.
Price floors and shock absorbers. Contracts
include minimum price clauses and reserve funds so communities don’t lose out
when global markets wobble.
None of these steps slow finance; they
stabilize it. Markets love predictability. Communities love dignity. Cascading
provides both.
Follow the money—downwards
In many offset deals, 10–30% of revenues make
it to the ground. A cascade standard would invert that ratio: no project
qualifies unless at least 60–70% of net proceeds reach communities, with a
further breakdown: direct household dividends, public goods (water, health,
education), and livelihood support (climate-smart agriculture, livestock
insurance, women’s enterprise funds). The remainder covers project operations,
independent MRV, and County-level enabling functions.
Transparency is non-negotiable. Every
shilling should be traceable from buyer to borehole. Publish-what-you-pay for
carbon is as essential as it is for oil, gas and mining—arguably more so,
because carbon trade claims to be a climate justice tool.
Methodologies must fit African ecologies—and
social realities
Grass-roots stewards in drylands know that
rangelands breathe with the seasons. Overly rigid methodologies that penalize
mobility or impose uniform stocking rates can harm both people and ecosystems.
Similarly, smallholder agroforestry gains can be real, but they’re fragile if
tree survival drops in prolonged droughts.
Women at the center—or nothing changes
Women are often the least visible and most
affected by climate stress. They walk farther for water, manage household
energy, and feed families under budget shocks. Cascading means women are not
just beneficiaries, but co-owners of projects.
Counties as enablers, not gatekeepers
Devolution is one of Kenya’s great strengths.
But counties should resist the temptation to centralize carbon revenues. Their
role is to set enabling bylaws, provide technical support, certify
participatory processes, and co-host grievance mechanisms—not to absorb
community shares. Where counties do receive a portion, it should be tied to
services that directly strengthen community climate action: extension, water
infrastructure, rangeland restoration, and local MRV training.
From pilots to a continental playbook
Critics will say cascading is slow. We
disagree. Africa already has dozens of community conservancies, farmer field
schools, beach management units, water resource user associations, and ward
development committees that can be repurposed for carbon governance almost
immediately. Rather than invent new entities, ACS2 should fund a light-touch
continental playbook that counties and communities can adapt:
What success looks like in three years
If ACS2 embraces cascading, here’s what we
expect by the time leaders gather again, tens of thousands of community members
would be trained and paid as para-monitors and stewards. Further, there would verified
increases in household income tied to carbon dividends and micro-grants, reduced
conflict over grazing and forest access as transparent rules gain legitimacy
and county plans that align carbon revenue with climate-resilient public
goods—water, health, and education. And why not, Africa would become known not
just for carbon potential, but for community-led climate finance integrity.
A fair deal for a fair climate
The climate crisis is not an abstraction in
Africa. It’s a late rain, a failed harvest, a dried riverbed, a school closed
because the borehole broke. Communities cannot eat promises or drink press
releases. They can, however, build powerful resilience when fairly financed and
respected as rights-holders.
So let ACS2 be remembered not for glossy
declarations about scaling markets, but for a grounded commitment to cascade
climate finance to where it does the best—and to whom it is long overdue. That
means anchoring carbon projects in secure rights, transparent accounts, local
jobs, fit-for-purpose methodologies, and women’s leadership.
Africa’s landscapes have served the world’s
climate for centuries. It is time the world served Africa’s communities in
return—from the top tables to the last mile.
