I’m Kayla, and I went to Mali to see how this project works on the ground. I rode dusty roads, sat with farmers, and yes, I got sand in my teeth more times than I can count. This isn’t theory for me. I watched pumps run. I held cracked soil in my hands. I ate warm rice with okra under a neem tree, and we talked about rain.
(If you want the blow-by-blow diary of that field trip, you can skim the longer notes here: I spent two months with the African Climate Change Fund project in Mali—here’s my honest take.)
Where I Went, Who I Met
I moved between Segou, Sikasso, and Koutiala. Think long roads, peanut fields, and wind that feels like a hair dryer. I stayed near Niono for a week with a women’s garden group. I also spent time in a small village outside Koutiala with a farmer named Modibo. He has clever hands and kind eyes. He also has goats that chew anything that looks like food.
The project I saw had three big parts:
- Small grants for climate-smart farming (things like solar pumps and water-saving beds)
- Weather and warning texts from Mali-Météo
- Training for local groups and communes on planning and money
These alerts connect to larger regional systems, notably the Africa Hydromet Program – Strengthening Climate Resilience in Sub-Saharan Africa: Mali Country Project, which is pushing for better data and early-warning coverage nationwide.
It sounds fancy, but the work felt very down to earth. Buckets, stones, wire, seeds. And people.
Real Moments That Stuck With Me
The solar pump that calmed the water fights
In Niono, Awa’s group grows onions, okra, and a little mint. Before, they shared a diesel pump that broke a lot. They argued over turns. The ACCF grant bought a small solar pump with a simple drip line. The first week it sputtered at noon when the sun was harsh. A tech from Segou adjusted the regulator and flushed sand out of the line. After that, it ran smooth. Yields went up, but what hit me most was this: folks stopped fighting over water. I could feel the shift. Softer voices, more jokes, more tea.
Stones that slowed the rain
Near Koutiala, Modibo showed me stone lines across the slope—bunds to slow runoff. He added small pits (they call them “zai”) and planted short-cycle millet. First big rain came, and we stood there like kids, watching water sit and sink instead of racing off. His field didn’t look rich, but it held. He lost fewer seedlings. He told me, “The soil is tired, but it listens when we speak with stones.” I wrote that down. Still think about it.
For another boots-on-the-ground perspective that echoes a lot of Modibo’s lessons, check out I worked on an Africa Climate Change Fund project in Mali—here’s my honest take.
The blend of contour bunds, zai pits, and short-cycle grains lines up neatly with the integrated approach championed by the Intensification of Agriculture and Agroforestry Techniques (IAAT) for Climate Resilient Food and Nutrition Security: Tombouctou, Gao, Mopti, Koulikoro and Segou regions of Mali, which is testing similar low-cost soil and water conservation tactics across the country.
A text that saved some bees
In Segou, I heard a phone ding. “Strong winds tomorrow,” the text said. A weather alert. The beekeeper moved his hives behind a wall that night. The storm hit. The hives stayed up. Simple win.
Phones, of course, do more than push out weather warnings—several farmers told me the same signal bars that bring in climate alerts also let them send flirty, confidence-boosting messages to partners who are miles away; if you’re curious about crafting those playful notes, check out this straightforward guide on sexting for him that’s packed with tasteful ideas to keep long-distance relationships fun and connected. And because digital connection is universal, city-dwellers back in the States who want a similarly low-friction way to spark new conversations might browse the local classifieds on Doublelist Arlington—you’ll find a quick, no-sign-up platform to meet like-minded neighbors and maybe line up your own tea-sharing date.
A training that needed less slide and more shade
The commune workshop had good tips on budgeting for climate needs. But it ran too long. The generator groaned. The fans quit. People got sleepy. When we stepped outside and walked to a garden, folks woke up. They asked sharp questions. So yeah, training helps—but keep it short, and take it to the field.
The tree nursery that goats loved too much
In San, the team raised acacia and moringa. The first batch looked great, then goats got in. Half gone in two days. Painful. The grant paid for cheap wire fencing and thorn hedges. The next batch made it past the dry spell. Lesson learned: fences first, brag later.
What I Liked
- Small money, fast fixes. A worn valve was replaced in 10 days. No long wait. It kept the pump online.
- Local partners knew the language and the humor. Jokes carry hard news well.
- They tracked real things that matter. Not “trees planted,” but “trees alive after six months.” Not “workshop held,” but “who changed what after.”
- Women’s groups got real say. I watched Awa sign off on a purchase. No husband had to step in. It felt right.
What Bugged Me
- Paperwork dragged in French. A few groups got stuck on forms. They needed plainer guides and more time.
- Spare parts were tricky. Charge controllers failed twice. The part came from Bamako. The garden sat quiet for five days.
- Phone alerts didn’t land for everyone. Spotty service meant missed texts in two villages.
- Too much slide deck. Not enough hands-on. People learn fast when they touch the tools.
Did It Change Lives? Yes. But Not Like a Movie.
No magic. No quick fix. It felt steady. Kids carried fewer water cans. Garden rows stood greener under the dry wind. Men showed off stone lines like a new motorbike. The big wins were small and stacked. That’s how it works in hard soil.
Who This Project Fits
- Communes with active farmer groups or co-ops
- Areas where you can get a tech out within a week
- Places with a local leader who can hold folks together
Who might struggle:
- Very remote sites with no road in rainy months
- Villages where spare parts are a day and a half away
- Groups with no one to track tools and fees
Tips I’d Share With Donors and Teams
- Budget for fences. Goats are bold. They don’t read reports.
- Pay the SMS fees for a full year up front.
- Let women’s groups hold the purse and the pen.
- Mix short class time with field walks. People remember what they do.
- Track simple, honest numbers:
- Trees alive after six and twelve months
- Days the pump runs
- Texts received versus sent
- Yields per bed, not just per plot
And one more: plan for maintenance from day one. Who fixes what? With which money? Put it on paper, then stick it on the wall of the storeroom. I’ve seen plans disappear in drawers.
Little Things That Made Me Smile
Harmattan dust turning the sunset gold. Awa laughing when a chicken strutted through the drip lines like it owned the place. Sharing tigadèguèna—peanut stew—after a long day, and folks asking me if the spicy oil was “too brave.” It was, and I ate it anyway.
My Verdict
I’d give the African Climate Change Fund project in Mali a strong 4 out of 5. Real gains, fair price, and local trust. It’s not perfect. Spare parts and long trainings pulled it down a notch. But I’d back it again, with tweaks.
For anyone wondering how this work stacks up against more market-based climate solutions, have a look at this candid investor’s review of the GMO Climate Change Fund—it’s an illuminating counterpoint.
If you want to dive deeper into grassroots climate action and lend your support, Our Voices hosts a wealth of first-hand stories and campaigns from communities on the front lines.
You know what? Climate work here felt like stacking stones in a stream. One by one, you slow the rush. Then the water starts to stay. And life, bit by bit, can grow.