Category: Children Stories

Written by Opeoluwa Ogunsola. (Image from craiyon.com)

My name is Gloria and I am 8 years old. Six months ago, the rain went away. So I went on an adventure with the sun to know why. After I returned from the adventure, I created the Tell a Friend About the Climate Group. Together with my friends, we practiced everything I learned during the adventure, and the rain came back again. 

After these, Eco Diversified International, a climate advocacy organisation, came to my school and trained me better about the climate. They made me a climate ambassador, too. Today, I am going to share with you some of what they taught me. 

Children like you and me must understand that climate change causes environmental disasters. And as children, we must participate in environmental protection by tackling environmental damage even before they occurs. We must not wait until the environmental disasters that climate change causes destroy our communities before we respond to them. The practice of this is referred to as Disaster Risk Reduction. (DRR) 

My grandmother always tells me ‘ọgun ń bọ̀, ọgun ń bọ̀, kò kí ń pa arọ tí ó bá gbọ́n. A war that is foretold does not kill a wise cripple.” (Heed warnings, and prepare adequately for difficulties beforehand.)

The key slogan for DRR  is ALERT

That is, to reduce the risk of environmental disasters, we must stay ALERT to stay secure. 

A is for attention. Pay attention to the news on television and the radio. Read the newspapers to be informed about the disasters that might occur. So you can stay safe. 

L is for learning. Learn about the dangers that are prevalent in your community. For example, if your community is affected by storms, learn about storms and how to stay safe. Like not playing outside during the rain, turning off your electronics, and putting your emergency items where you can reach them easily. When the sky starts to get dark or there is a thunderstorm, don’t stand under a tree. 

E is for environmental protection. You must keep the environment safe by caring for it and protecting it. Plant trees, do not litter the environment with waste. Drop used plastics in the recycling bins. 

R is for readiness. You must always be ready to tackle the damage. This is so that the damage will not destroy our communities. Plan how to respond during any emergency. Don’t be caught unawares. 

T is for times and seasons. Understand the times and seasons and act accordingly. During the dry season, conserve water; do not waste it. During the rainy season, watch out that the drainage and rivers are not blocked by waste. 

How adults and the government must contribute to DRR

• Build strong homes that can withstand storms and disasters 
• Plant climate-resistant trees and practice smart farming 
• Plant crops that are resistant to drought 
• Build safe shelters and hold evacuation drills. 

When we all cooperate together to reduce the risk of disasters, our world will be a safer place for everyone, most especially children. 

To read all about Gloria’s adventure with the sun, check out page 24 of  the Anthology of Children’s African Literature by Brittle Paper 

Bookling Corner: An Anthology of Children’s African Literature

A short story educating children about the environmental contributions of indigenous peoples. Written by Opeoluwa Ogunsola. 

On Saturday, after Tunde and Bade left the clean-up, they went to Papa’s shed. They liked to visit with him on Saturdays. Tunde particularly enjoyed listening to Papa’s comments about the ways of life long ago. Papa liked to reminisce about the history and practices of the water community. 

Tunde and Bade met him cleaning out a boat in his shack. He just repaired a net, too. Papa could turn any spoiled boat or net from ruins to perfection. 

“Good afternoon Bàbá àgbà,” They greeted. He liked them to address him as Bàbá àgbà rather than Papa. 

“My sons welcome. You both are  a little late today.”

“We joined the beach clean up, Bade said, assisting Papa with carrying the huge, now rusted tin of Nutrend Baby Food that he always had with him. The old tin served as his toolbox and contained everything he needed for his work, from nails to his hammers. 

“Yes, I saw people on the beach cleaning this morning. It is responsible of you boys to join in caring for the ocean.”

“Whose is this Bàbá àgbà?” said Tunde with a slight gesture at the boat the old man was cleaning out. 

“A young man brought this boat for repairs. He initially wanted me to build him a new one, but I told him to let me take a look at this old one.”

“But Bàbá àgbà, you did not need to convince him to repair it if he wanted a new one.”

“You see, my son, sometimes, it’s better to repair using our local knowledge than to cut down trees to build new ones each time a boat or canoe gets spoiled.  You know, we have to preserve the forests. Our local tools repair boats and canoes very well. But these days, people just want to cut down the forests anyhow. My sons, each time a tree is cut, one must plant it back.”

“Baba àgbà, how did our people culturally preserve the fish in the ocean and the water environment?” Tunde asked. 

“Our people have made boats for years, special types of boats suitable for our type of environment. We design it so as not to disturb the aquatic animals beneath. They are also good for reducing damage to igbó odàn (mangroves) that some people erroneously cut nowadays. He said, shaking his head sadly. 

“Also, whenever we fish, we don’t fish the young. Rather, we build structures that act as a nursery for small fish and preserve them until it is time for harvest.”

“The acadja?”

“Yes, it is taboo to see young fish and continue to fish for them. So we have seasons when we must not fish in certain areas in order to let nature replenish them. Our people have monitored the weather for centuries. We are skilled so that when a particular season is coming, we always know whether or not to fish. We know the species of fish that are available during a season and the limits so as not to overfish. Knowledge about the seasons helps us to curb flooding, one of the reasons why we customarily preserve the igbó odàn (mangroves). You see, it’s our responsibility, given to us by nature. We must protect the environment and not ravage it. We must not deplete the ocean, but rather we must give it a chance to replenish itself. 

“Bàbá àgbà, you know so much about protecting the environment through our practices.” Tunde observed. 

“Yes, we have conserved the ocean for centuries with our traditional knowledge and customs, even before modern science. And we make sure to spread it by word of mouth from generation to generation, like I am doing with you both. We also reflect the lessons about conservation through proverbs.”

“Tell us Bàbá àgbà” said Bade. 

“Our people will sometimes say “À ń gba ọmọ ẹja lọ́wọ́ ikú, ó ní ekòló títóbi ẹnu ìwọ̀n yẹn gan-an lòun fẹ́ jẹ.” (We are trying to save the young fish from death, but it is saying that it would like to eat the bait, the big worm at the end of the fishing hook.) 

This shows how we prefer to conserve the fishlings and don’t harvest them until they mature.”

“Thank you, Bàbá àgbà, we have learnt much more about the ways of our people in protecting the ocean and the environment.” Tunde and Bade said. 

“Thank you, too, my sons. Now, give me a hand, let’s get this boat back to shape.” Bàbá àgbà said, drawing a hammer from the old tin.

In the face of rising food insecurity, soil exhaustion, and a rapidly changing climate, the call for sustainable agriculture has never been louder. But here’s the thing, long before tractors, synthetic fertilizers, and GPS-guided irrigation, Indigenous Peoples had already mastered the art of working with the land rather than against it. Their farming systems, refined over countless generations, don’t just produce food. They nurture the soil, safeguard biodiversity, and keep ecosystems in balance.

Today, as modern agriculture struggles with its excesses, these traditional methods offer something invaluable: time-tested, climate-smart solutions that can guide us toward more resilient and sustainable food systems.

What Indigenous Knowledge Brings to the Table

Indigenous agricultural knowledge is not a fixed set of “old-fashioned” techniques; it’s a living, evolving science rooted in deep observation of nature. It’s holistic, blending the practical with the cultural and spiritual. In many Indigenous communities, farming isn’t just about yield; it’s about stewardship, reciprocity, and leaving the land healthier than you found it.

These systems emphasize diversity over uniformity, intercropping instead of monocultures, and organic soil building instead of chemical dependency. Traditional seed-saving practices, for example, protect a treasure trove of heirloom varieties uniquely adapted to local conditions. Many of these crops are naturally resistant to pests, drought, or flooding, traits that are becoming critical as climate change alters growing seasons and weather patterns.

Lessons from the Field: Indigenous Practices in Action

Take the “Three Sisters” method of the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) and other Indigenous nations in North America: corn, beans, and squash are planted together in a kind of living partnership. Corn provides the tall stalks for beans to climb, beans enrich the soil with nitrogen, and squash sprawls across the ground to keep weeds at bay and lock in soil moisture. It’s simple, elegant, and remarkably effective, with no synthetic inputs required.

Or consider the Aztec chinampas, ingenious “floating gardens” built in shallow wetlands. These raised beds create a self-irrigating system that resists erosion, supports year-round harvests, and turns even swampy ground into fertile farmland.

Half a world away, in the steep mountains of the Philippines, the Ifugao people have been perfecting terrace farming for centuries. By carving rice paddies into the hillsides, they slow water runoff, reduce erosion, and make every drop of rainfall count.

In South Africa, the Vhavenda people weave trees into their fields through agroforestry, creating a multi-layered farm ecosystem. The trees shade crops, enrich the soil, and attract beneficial wildlife, all while producing food and medicinal plants.

Across the Americas, Indigenous agroforestry traditions similarly blend trees, crops, and livestock in ways that feed communities while strengthening the land.

Why This Matters Now

These aren’t just charming examples from the past; they’re blueprints for the future. Indigenous farming methods:

• Regenerate soil instead of depleting it.
  
• Boost resilience to droughts, floods, and other climate shocks.
  
• Reduce reliance on synthetic fertilizers and pesticides.
  
• Support biodiversity, from pollinators to wildlife.
  

Research shows that integrating Indigenous agricultural knowledge can improve productivity while maintaining ecological balance, a rare combination in modern farming.

The Challenges Ahead

Despite their value, these traditions are under threat. Colonization, land dispossession, and decades of agricultural policies that favor industrial monocultures have pushed many Indigenous farmers away from their heritage. In Mexico’s Yucatán, for example, a 2025 study found that 75% of Maya farmers have shifted to conventional methods under economic and political pressure.

Climate change is adding another layer of difficulty, forcing farmers to adapt faster than ever. And perhaps most frustratingly, many governments still fail to recognize Indigenous practices as legitimate, let alone support them through policy.

Moving Forward: Partnership, Not Appropriation

Reviving and protecting Indigenous agricultural knowledge means doing more than simply “borrowing” techniques; it requires empowering the communities who created and steward them. That means securing land rights, funding community-led projects, and ensuring Indigenous voices lead the conversation in research and policymaking.

Some promising models are already in motion. In Tanzania, for example, collaborative projects are blending Indigenous farming strategies with modern science to improve food security while protecting the environment. Elsewhere, community seed banks are helping preserve heirloom varieties and pass them on to younger generations.

A Call to Action

Indigenous knowledge isn’t just part of humanity’s agricultural history; it’s a cornerstone of our shared future. If we’re serious about feeding the world without destroying the planet, we need to listen to, learn from, and support the farmers who have been doing exactly that for millennia.

The solutions we’re searching for may not need to be invented; they may already be growing quietly in fields, terraces, and wetlands across the globe.

A short story to educate children about the benefits of mangrove forests to the climate. Written by Opeoluwa Ogunsola

Tunde is from Badagry. His ancestors have lived among the water community for generations after the slave trade ended. His house is only a stone’s throw from the beach. At times, he would go for walks to view the ocean. He would sit at the beach and wonder at creation. 

The sea is a whole life on its own, he would think to himself. With lots of creatures and their generation of families, too numerous to mention or even count.

Tunde also liked to study the waves. 

When he was really little, he used to marvel at how the waves never overflowed their bounds. Something always stopped them before they could. 

However, there was a big problem with the waves recently, and nobody knew how to solve it

Papa said the ocean was angry because the people had left the ancient ways and disrespected it. 

On Tuesday afternoon, after school, he was walking to the beach when he saw a crowd. Some people were talking to the natives of the beach and its environs. 

“Bade!” He called out to his elder brother when he saw him among the crowd. 

“Hey Tunde, come over,” his brother waved back 

As Tunde got nearer, he saw that a huge banner that read “Save Our Mangroves” had been mounted. 

“We are from Eco Diversified International”, a young man was saying when Tunde came closer. 

“And we learnt that there has been flooding here the past few weeks, so we have come to help and to show you how to stop it.”

“That is the problem I was just thinking about as I came over here! I didn’t know I would find you at the beach,” Tunde said to his brother, Bade. 

“Let’s listen to him”, his brother shushed him

The young man from Eco Diversified International was pointing towards the ‘igbó etí òkun’ along the shore and showing them more pictures on the projector. 

He called the ‘igbó etí òkun’, mangrove forests. 

“They are highly beneficial plants that grow in coastal areas. They help to store harmful carbon dioxide in their roots and reduce climate change. They also help to prevent flooding and erosion.”

“If you cut the mangrove forests, your community will be damaged by flooding. And all the carbon the mangroves have stored will be released back into the atmosphere in massive amounts.” 

Tunde remembered how Papa, his grandfather, was always lamenting to him whenever Tunde was helping him out with building boats. How people were wrongly cutting down the ‘igbó etí òkun’ for firewood and for building canoes. He always predicted that the seas would react violently to the wrong practice soon.

 He  always told Tunde, 

“Back in my days, we never used to do that. It was not a cultural practice to disrespect the ocean. The ocean has been home to our family for centuries, and we have always appreciated it.”

The young man from Eco Diversified International was inviting everyone to a beach clean-up on Saturday. 

“Since there will be no school, children will be able to participate too”, he said. 

“We would gather the discarded plastic water bottles and pure-water nylon that people have left lying on the beach. We are going to plant mangroves, too, because it would help stop the flooding caused by the big waves.” 

“The ocean is home to us, we will take good care of it,” the crowd answered him. 

Tunde and Bade will join them on Saturday, and together, they will save the mangroves.

By Opeoluwa Ogunsola