A week ago, after a spirited football match in our village, a group of boys and I were walking home when we stumbled upon a sprawling kikuma tree, its branches heavy with mature seeds. Almost instinctively, we paused our walk, gathered around the tree, and began collecting the seeds. As we filled our hands and pockets, conversations flowed naturally—about the relevance of the kikuma tree, the life within each seed, and the possibility of nurturing them into strong, towering trees.
For these boys, mostly between the ages of 12 and 17, the experience was more than a spontaneous activity. It became a practical lesson in seed-to-tree conservation—an approach that emphasizes starting with seeds, understanding their biology and significance, and nurturing them into seedlings that can be planted and cared for until maturity. Unlike tokenistic gestures of tree planting, seed collection and propagation build a stronger sense of ownership and responsibility. When young people engage at this level, they learn that conservation is not just about “planting a tree,” but about growing one.
Beyond the Green-Washing
In recent years, we have witnessed waves of tree-planting campaigns led by government officials, celebrities, and political leaders. While these initiatives generate photos for newspapers and social media, they often lack the necessary follow-up to ensure the seedlings survive beyond the first few weeks. This green-washing undermines real conservation efforts, leaving behind fields of forgotten saplings while the headlines move on. Without commitment to nurturing seedlings, protecting them from grazing, and ensuring community involvement, such staged initiatives risk becoming exercises in symbolism rather than sustainability.
Seeds, Youth, and the Future of Agroforestry
What our encounter with the kikuma tree taught me is that conservation conversations must start at the most basic level—with seeds, stories, and shared experiences. Young people need to see conservation not as a distant government agenda, but as something they can practice with their own hands. This is where smallholder tree growing and agroforestry come in.
When we encourage youth and women to see value in tree-based enterprises—whether through fruit trees, medicinal trees, or integrated agroforestry systems—we make conservation economically and socially attractive. A seed becomes more than a biological unit; it becomes a livelihood opportunity, a source of pride, and a piece of local identity.
Planting Knowledge Before Trees
The kikuma seeds we gathered that day are more than potential trees; they are metaphors of continuity. Each seed collected, planted, and nurtured is an act of hope—one that ties the younger generation to the land and to a shared responsibility for the environment. But for this to work, we need to move beyond ceremonial planting and plant knowledge before we plant trees. Only then can conservation evolve from an occasional event to a lived practice.
About Author: Kevin Makova
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