The 2025 Global Hunger Index is not just a scorecard—it’s a warning. Progress toward Zero Hunger has stalled, and at the current pace, the world won’t reach low hunger levels until 2137. This isn’t a failure of knowledge but of will. Hunger persists because political attention, financing, and accountability have faltered. The path forward demands leadership, equity, and the courage to treat hunger not as inevitable—but as intolerable.

Ten years ago, a handful of quinoa seeds were planted in Rwandan soil with more hope than certainty. Today, quinoa is thriving in fields, reaching supermarket shelves, and touching lives across Africa. This reflection looks back with gratitude on a decade of trust, resilience, and shared progress.

People often ask why I still call myself a farmer. With the titles I’ve earned and the rooms I now walk into—conference halls, policy forums, and polished boardrooms—the question usually comes with curiosity. Some assume I’ve outgrown farming, that it’s a chapter behind me. But the truth is far more straightforward—and far deeper. I call myself a farmer because I am one. That word carries more weight, more soul, and more truth than any other title I’ve held.

The world is not starving for data, we’ve tracked hunger’s trends for decades. What we lack is the courage to confront the systems that manufacture scarcity in a world of abundance. SOFI 2025 is not just a report; it’s a wake-up call to end incrementalism and begin dismantling the political and financial structures that normalize hunger.

What does it mean to be featured in a global story about food and climate? In this reflection, Cedric Habiyaremye shares the deeper meaning behind his inclusion in Food Planet Future, a stunning book that blends art, science, and hope to reimagine our relationship with the planet.

Africa is rich in youth, but poor in nourishment. In this soul-stirring reflection, Cedric Habiyaremye explores the quiet crisis of malnutrition and calls for urgent, collective action to nourish the next generation—before it's too late.

Born in silence and shaped by hunger, hope, and healing, this soul letter is for anyone who has ever felt unseen or uncertain. It’s a gentle reminder that your story matters, your breath is not an accident, and maybe—just maybe—this life is a borrowed dream. May these words meet you where you are and guide you gently home to yourself.

Mentorship isn’t always loud. Sometimes it lives in the quiet moments—when someone sees your potential before you do, stays beside you in the unknown, and says without words, ‘You belong here, even if you don’t yet believe it.’ It’s not about having the answers. It’s about remembering who you were when the world first told you ‘no,’ and choosing to become the bridge for someone else’s becoming.

Food security in Africa isn’t about reducing the number of farmers—it’s about transforming the systems that surround them. The real challenge isn’t how many people farm, but how farming is done, who benefits, and what opportunities exist beyond the fields. When we shift the focus from subtraction to empowerment, we discover that the future of African agriculture lies not in fewer farmers—but in better futures for all.

It was just a greeting—simple, effortless. Yet, it felt like the world paused. A boy said, 'Good morning, Sir,' and it wasn’t just words—it was recognition, warmth, a reminder that connection still exists. In Rwanda, we call this ubumuntu—the essence of humanity. In a rushed world, small acts remind us that we are seen, that we belong. That boy’s words stayed with me, not because they were grand, but because they were real. And that’s how we hold on to each other.

Tonight, as I sit at my dinner table, the meal feels heavier than usual—not in weight, but in meaning. Each bite carries more than flavor; it carries a story. The greens wilt under the heat of a world changing too fast. The bread crumbles like the promises we once made to the land. And in the sweetness of the roasted carrots, I taste something bitter: the knowledge that to eat well in this world is to reckon with the cost of plenty.

When I first heard the terms “hard” and “soft” science, I didn’t realize I was stepping into a quiet divide—one that elevates data while overlooking the dignity of lived experience. Years later, I’ve come to believe that science is at its best when it unites rigor with empathy, and when discovery is shaped not only by numbers, but by the people those numbers represent.

Thirty-one years after the Genocide against the Tutsi, I reflect not just on what was lost—but on what can still be rebuilt. This is for any

Food insecurity fuels conflict and vice versa. Explore how food shapes global power, peace, and war—plus strategic solutions for stability.

It’s easy to glance at someone else’s life and feel like their grass is just a bit greener. I remember feeling this way when I was...

Reflecting on the 30 years since the Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda in 1994, it's with a heavy heart and a sense of profound...

Aspen Strategy Group Rising Leaders class of 2024 visits the Embassy of Singapore, Washington, DC. The red heart on the calendar couldn't...

Growing up in Rwanda's vibrant, culture-rich landscapes, I was cradled in the wisdom of generations that came before me. Among the many...

In recent years, the agricultural sector has been at a crossroads, facing numerous challenges ranging from climate change impacts to soil...

In the vast tapestry of life, one thread stands out prominently – the relentless march of time. Time, an intangible yet precious...

Farmers in Gasogi, Gasabo District, Rwanda, on October 18, 20216. Photo by Cedric Habiyaremye When we think about hunger around the...

The effects of food insecurity on human security are dire, as are the consequences for political stability and conflict.

The goal for world peace seems fantasy or distant reality—we are in dark days for world peace.

Limited investment, high interest rates and restricted support means African businesses are losing out to foreign competitors.