By Adonis Byemelwa
The conference hall in Addis Ababa was already warm by midmorning, even before the speeches began. Delegates fanned themselves with folders stamped with the insignia of the African Union, aides whispered into phones, and security officers quietly guided late arrivals to their seats.
Outside, traffic hummed along Africa Avenue, while inside, presidents and prime ministers gathered to confront a crisis that no longer feels abstract.
For Samia Suluhu Hassan, the meeting of the Committee of African Heads of State and Government on Climate Change carried a personal weight. Before becoming president, she had spent years travelling Tanzania’s rural regions, listening to farmers describe failed harvests and watching coastal communities rebuild after floods.
Climate change, she often says, is not something she learned about in briefing papers. She saw it first in cracked soil and empty fishing nets.
When she rose to speak, her tone was calm but firm. Africa, she told her peers, could no longer afford fragmented responses or polite appeals that went unanswered. The continent needed real financing, practical early-warning systems, and, perhaps most urgently, a united voice in global negotiations.
Climate change is already reshaping daily life across Africa. In Tanzania, erratic rainfall has disrupted maize production. In Kenya, prolonged droughts have pushed pastoral communities to the brink. In Mozambique and Malawi, cyclones have flattened villages that had barely recovered from previous storms. Across the Sahel, desertification continues its slow march southward.
Hitherto, Africa has been responsible for less than four per cent of global emissions. That imbalance hovered over every conversation in Addis Ababa. President Hassan spoke of agriculture, energy, fisheries, tourism, and transport, sectors that underpin African economies but are increasingly vulnerable to climate shocks.
Her words were echoed by William Ruto, who described how drought has strained Kenya’s food systems, and by Cyril Ramaphosa, who warned that climate instability threatens industrial growth just as countries are trying to expand manufacturing and employment.
But behind the speeches lay a deeper frustration: money. More than a decade ago, wealthy nations pledged to mobilize $100 billion a year in climate finance for developing countries. African leaders say that the promise remains only partially fulfilled, and when funds do arrive, they are often tied up in complex application processes or structured as loans that add to already heavy debt burdens.
President Hassan pressed this point directly. Climate finance, she said, must be predictable, accessible, and largely grant-based. Countries facing repeated floods and droughts cannot rebuild on credit forever.
Several delegates nodded in agreement. Others exchanged weary looks. Later, in a quiet corridor outside the main hall, an aide from West Africa described spending months assembling paperwork for a climate adaptation grant, only to be told the project required further technical revisions, and by the time approval came, the rainy season had already destroyed roads that the funds were meant to protect.
Early-warning systems became another focal point. While some African nations have improved meteorological monitoring, coverage remains uneven, especially in rural areas. President Hassan argued that timely forecasts, paired with community outreach, could save lives and reduce economic losses. A flood alert delivered days earlier can mean the difference between evacuation and catastrophe.
Still, even the best warning systems mean little without resources on the ground. That reality surfaced during a coffee break, when a delegate from Southern Africa quietly recounted how emergency shelters in his country lack basic supplies. “We know the storms are coming,” he said. “We just do not always have the tools to respond.”
Beyond financing and preparedness, President Hassan returned repeatedly to the need for unity. African countries, she argued, often enter global climate talks with competing priorities, weakening their leverage. A coordinated position—particularly on adaptation funding and compensation for climate-related losses- could shift negotiations that have long favoured major emitters.
She also advocated harmonised African carbon market standards, a technical issue with large implications. Without shared rules, individual countries risk being sidelined in international carbon trading, missing opportunities to monetise conservation efforts and renewable energy projects.
“Africa must speak with one voice,” she told the room. “Only then can our development priorities be taken seriously.”
Nevertheless, unity is easier to call for than to achieve.
Privately, some leaders acknowledged tensions between nations rich in fossil fuels and those investing heavily in renewables. Others pointed to disparities in administrative capacity, which can make regional coordination slow. Even so, there was a sense that the stakes had risen too high for old divisions.
The broader challenge facing Africa is how to grow while adapting to a changing climate. The continent’s population is expected to double by mid-century, intensifying demand for electricity, housing, and transportation.
Leaders in Addis Ababa spoke of solar farms, climate-smart agriculture, and resilient infrastructure, not as abstract ideals, but as necessities.
President Hassan framed it as a false choice to pit development against sustainability. Africa, she said, must pursue both.
Her own country offers a case study. Tanzania has expanded renewable energy while investing in irrigation projects designed to buffer farmers against rainfall variability.
Progress has been uneven, and funding gaps remain wide, but the approach reflects a broader continental shift toward integrating climate resilience into national planning.
What distinguished this gathering from earlier summits was its tone. There was less deference, more insistence. African leaders are increasingly positioning themselves not as passive recipients of aid, but as partners demanding accountability from wealthier nations whose emissions drove much of today’s crisis.
Still, accountability cuts both ways. Several civil society groups have urged African governments to be more transparent about how climate funds are spent, warning that corruption and inefficiency risk undermining public trust. Those critiques surfaced only quietly in Addis Ababa, but they lingered beneath the official statements.
As the meeting drew to a close, President Hassan lingered to greet fellow heads of state, exchanging brief words with colleagues from East and Southern Africa.
Her expression softened during those moments, the formality giving way to something more personal. These were leaders confronting the same storms, the same angry farmers, the same budget constraints.
Later, stepping outside into the bright Ethiopian sun, she paused before entering her motorcade. “If we act together, we can protect our people,” she said. “If we delay, the cost will be far greater.” It was less a sound bite than a reflection shaped by years of witnessing climate impacts firsthand.
Whether the world responds with meaningful financial commitments remains uncertain. Major emitters continue to debate timelines and responsibilities, even as temperatures rise. For Africa, already absorbing the consequences, patience is wearing thin.
What emerged from Addis Ababa was not a breakthrough agreement, but something quieter and perhaps more consequential: a growing resolve among African leaders to press their case with clarity, unity, and urgency.
The planet’s climate future will be negotiated in many capitals. But for Samia Suluhu Hassan, and for millions across the continent, it is already unfolding, season by season, harvest by harvest, storm by storm. Inside Addis Ababa’s crowded corridors, the figures cited by the World Bank and the United Nations felt anything but abstract.
Africa already loses up to five per cent of GDP to climate shocks, while more than 110 million people face climate hazards each year. Between CAHOSCC sessions, she traded quiet stories with fellow presidents about empty dams and flooded schools, then found herself thinking of farmers she knows by name back home.
Those numbers followed her into every meeting, turning policy into purpose. Without real partnerships, delays keep shrinking harvests. And for Africa, waiting is no longer an option.
