Regenerative agriculture has become a buzzword in global climate and food security discussions. It is hailed as an innovative, nature-based solution to restore soil health, enhance biodiversity, and combat climate change.
But this is nothing new for those who grew up listening to stories of how our great-grandparents farmed.
Before synthetic fertilisers and industrial farming were introduced, African communities thrived on indigenous farming systems that embodied what we now call "regenerative agriculture."
This was not a concept written in scientific journals but a way of life—one that worked with nature, not against it.
My great-grandparents never relied on chemical fertilisers. Instead, they enriched their soils with organic manure, ash, and compost—nutrients derived from nature itself. Their farms were not monocultures but thriving ecosystems where cover crops, intercropping, and agroforestry created a self-sustaining balance.
They practised minimal tillage, understanding that excessive soil disturbance led to erosion and loss of fertility. Instead of massive tractors ploughing through fields, they used simple tools like wooden and stone hoes to plant directly into the soil, maintaining its structure and microbial health.
Water conservation was second nature. Instead of irrigation systems that drained resources, they relied on traditional methods like mulching and planting in sync with rainfall patterns. Crops were stored in grass and wood granaries, built for natural aeration and long-term preservation, reducing post-harvest losses without modern chemicals.
What is now marketed as an "innovation" is, in reality, a return to traditional African wisdom—practices that were displaced by industrialised agriculture.
Western farming models introduced heavy plowing, synthetic inputs, and cash-crop monocultures, eroding our soils and our food sovereignty.
As we face soil degradation, erratic weather patterns, and food insecurity, it is clear that the solutions lie in our past. The knowledge of our ancestors—once dismissed as primitive—is the key to a resilient and sustainable future. Africa's past holds its future.
If we are serious about regenerating our soils, feeding our people, and fighting climate change, we must embrace and elevate these indigenous agricultural practices.
We need to:
Empower smallholder farmers with policies and financial support favouring regenerative, community-led solutions.
Promote local seed systems that preserve biodiversity rather than relying on imported, patented seeds.
Encourage organic and agroecological farming over input-heavy industrial models.
Revive traditional food storage systems to reduce waste and ensure year-round food security.
The future of African agriculture is not in expensive technologies or imported solutions but in reclaiming our roots—farming the way nature intended. It's time we stopped seeing regenerative agriculture as a Western innovation and started recognising it for what it truly is: the wisdom of our ancestors, rebranded for the modern world.
Regenerative agriculture is a rose by a different name! Let's stop chasing new terms and embrace what we've always known. The answers are already in our hands, in our history, and in our land.
The writer is a communications specialist and Yale University School of Environment postgraduate student. Email: [email protected]
