I went to Africa expecting complexity – I found clarity and liveliness

We were on a boat, exploring one of the side arms of the Gambia River, when I overheard a conversation between our guide and our driver, Masudi, who had taken us into the backcountry.

I had told him why we were in The Gambia — that we were working on training materials for climate-adapted agriculture. The captain of the boat casually remarked that he should definitely look into organic gardening. That’s when I started listening more closely.

“I also have a garden,” Masudi said. “Not much. Just a small piece of land.”

It turned out he had been growing vegetables for some time — partly for his family, partly to sell. But it wasn’t working the way he wanted. He was thinking about doing more with it. Doing it better.

Then he became precise.

It’s not enough to plant something, he explained. You have to know what others are planting. If everyone grows okra at the same time, the price drops. You work, but you don’t earn.

He wasn’t really talking about agriculture.
He was talking about markets.

And in that moment, the whole project — and, in a way, the entire trip — started to make more sense.

“AGREEN GAMBIA” EU-supported project is part of the EU’s broader effort to strengthen local resilience in the global South through education and skills development — particularly in regions highly exposed to climate change.

Rather than funding infrastructure alone, these programmes focus on capacity building: enabling people to generate income, adapt agricultural practices, and create local value.

In Gambia, the project brings together local institutions and European partners to develop practical training approaches — with a clear focus on youth and women as multipliers of change.

Foto: My Spanish colleagues from INFODEF and me

We had come for a project that, on paper, is almost reassuringly structured. Six partners. Two years. A clear objective: develop training materials that enable trainers to pass on knowledge — especially to young people and women. An idea initiated by my friend and colleague Jesús.

There is a strong logic to this approach. In a country where a large part of the population is very young, and where responsibility often rests on the shoulders of women, knowledge scales differently. It moves through people.

But sitting there on that boat, it became equally clear that this is just the beginning. There is much to be done — and much that can be achieved.

Before coming here, I had a working assumption: that real problems require simple solutions. Low-tech instead of over-engineered systems.

That assumption didn’t disappear. It became sharper.

Because what we encountered was not complexity. It was discontinuity — like a safety net with too many holes to actually provide safety.

Tools are there — but scarce.
Knowledge is there — but not accessible enough.
Infrastructure is there — but often malfunctioning, and certainly not everywhere.
And everywhere, people were striving to improve their lives.

At one site, I observed solar panels — mounted, aligned, ready. A bit dusty, but intact. No visible damage. No obvious reason. They simply weren’t in use.

It’s a small observation. But it changes the perspective.

The question is not whether solutions exist.
The question is whether they hold — and what it actually takes to create lasting impact.

There are places that stand out. Places that work. We were fortunate to visit some of them.

Songhai is one of those places — a system that grew out of international support and is now carried by the state. It connects agriculture, education, and circular thinking in a way that feels less like a project and more like a living ecosystem. Around 120 young people go through a 12-month training programme each year, learning skills that are directly applicable.

MyFarm works differently. Less structured, more open. People move through it at their own pace — from basic literacy and numeracy to science, arts, IT skills, and business fundamentals. Even specialised tracks like carpentry, multimedia, cosmetology, and, of course, agriculture are part of the ecosystem.

It doesn’t feel imposed. It feels used. And people are really excited to be there.

And in both cases, what stands out is not innovation in the usual sense. It is coherence — and the practical relevance of what is being taught.

Songhai Initiative
Developed in the 1980s in Benin, the Songhai model was designed as an integrated response to youth unemployment and rural poverty. It combines agriculture, vocational training, and circular resource use in one system. In The Gambia, the approach has been adapted with support from international organisations such as the United Nations Development Programme and is now embedded in national structures.

LINK for more information

Foto: CEO Mbye Saine showing our group around

MyFarm
MyFarm is a pan-African initiative aimed at rethinking education outside formal systems. It focuses on self-directed, practical learning across disciplines — from basic education to entrepreneurship and technical skills. The concept is driven by the idea that accessible, applied knowledge is key to economic participation, particularly for young people. The initiative has several locations in Africa, Asia and Latin-America.

LINK for more information
Foto: Learning space for basic literacy

Elsewhere, the picture is more fragmented — and the environment more challenging.

At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be a fundamental shortage. But looking closer — and talking to people — a different picture emerges.

There is a technological gap.

When it comes to agriculture, storage is an issue. Processing is an issue.
And both are closely tied to energy and infrastructure.

Globalisation adds another layer. You see it clearly at a small fishing port — infrastructure from another era, now worn down and barely in use. Fishing no longer pays for local fishermen, as fishing rights have been sold to large international players. It’s a difficult reality to witness.

And it reinforces the pattern: things somehow work — but only just.

Up close, many of the issues look like isolated problems. Step back, and they start to form a system.

There is no lack of ideas. And certainly not a lack of effort. But there are structural gaps that, if addressed from within, could unlock real potential.

With the right mix of knowledge and accessible technology, the impact could be significant.

The Gambia is a small country. Fewer than three million people. A very young population. And a social fabric that feels, in many ways, intact.

There is a phrase you hear often — “it’s nice to be nice.”

In other places, it might sound like a slogan. Here, it feels more like a rule.

At one point, our driver called out a group of teenagers for misbehaving. Shortly after, they approached us and apologised. It was a small moment, but a telling one.

It says something about the people — open, resilient, and clearly willing to move forward.

I came to Africa expecting complexity. I wanted to see, to understand, to experience things first-hand.

What I found was different. Not simpler — but clearer.

Africa turned out to be much like I had imagined — but brighter, more alive, more inspiring. What struck me most was the robustness of the people. Their resilience, paired with a calm and positive attitude.

All in all, some assumptions were confirmed. But more importantly, they were grounded — given context, given weight. Things started to connect.

It reaffirmed the work I do — and strengthened my drive to build projects and networks that create real impact.