If We Don’t Nourish Our People, We Will Lose a Generation—or Two

Africa is the youngest continent in the world. More than 60% of its population is under the age of 25. In this demographic tide, I see so much promise, so much brilliance waiting to bloom. But I also see a quiet crisis unfolding in plain sight. Because while we are quick to celebrate the youthfulness of our continent, we are too slow to confront the hunger that shadows their potential.

The truth is difficult but clear: millions of Africa’s children and youth are malnourished. Not just underfed but undernourished. Deprived of the nutrients their bodies and brains need to grow, to learn, to create, to lead. When we speak of food security, we often speak in terms of calories and tonnage. But the deeper wound is invisible: a generation growing up with stunted dreams, weakened immune systems, and cognitive gaps that will never be repaired.

This is not just a humanitarian emergency. It is a generational reckoning.

If we don’t nourish our people, we will lose a generation or two.

And when we lose a generation, we lose the future.

The Hidden Hunger of a Generation

Malnutrition is often framed as a childhood issue, and indeed, the first 1,000 days of life are critical. But it doesn’t end there. Adolescents, youth, and even young adults continue to suffer the consequences of nutritional neglect. In too many homes across Africa, children grow up with meals that fill the stomach but fail to feed the mind or body. Diets are heavy on starch, light on micronutrients. Foods stripped of nourishment by poverty, limited access, or sheer lack of choice.

Stunting. Wasting. Anemia. Hidden hunger. These are not abstract terms in a policy report. These are the lived realities of millions. And they cast a long shadow on school performance, on income potential, on health, on hope.

The Promise and the Precipice

Africa’s youth are vibrant, creative, and full of energy. But how can we build a knowledge economy with nutrient-deficient minds? How do we cultivate innovation if our young thinkers are tired by midday because of an iron deficiency? How do we expect productivity from an undernourished body?

We love to talk about the “demographic dividend”; the idea that Africa’s youthful population will be the engine of its prosperity. But a dividend is not automatic. It must be earned. It must be invested in. Without deliberate and sustained efforts to nourish, educate, and empower our youth, the dividend becomes a debt. A burden of unmet potential, of lost talent, of preventable suffering.

Food as a Foundation, Not a Footnote

Nutrition is not a sector. It is a foundation. It underpins everything: health, education, productivity, peace. Yet it remains sidelined in national development agendas. In many African countries, agriculture policies focus on cash crops for export, while children in rural communities go to school hungry. Food is seen as a commodity, not a right. Nutrition is seen as a technical issue, not a moral one.

But food is sacred. Food is justice. Food is power.

And the power to nourish is the power to build nations.

We need to reimagine food systems not just to increase yields, but to improve diets. Not just to feed people, but to nourish them. That means investing in diverse nutrient-rich, climate-smart crops. It means promoting indigenous foods rich in micronutrients. It means supporting school feeding programs, maternal nutrition, and food fortification. It means ensuring that food systems serve the people, not just the markets.

A Vision Rooted in Dignity

For me, this work is personal. I know what it means to go to bed hungry. I know what it means to sit in a classroom and try to focus when your stomach is empty. I also know what it means to be given a chance; to be nourished, to be mentored, to be believed in. That’s why I’ve devoted my life to fighting hunger and malnutrition, not just with science, but with story. Not just in laboratories, but in fields and villages. Not just with data, but with dignity.

Because hunger is not just a biological state. It is an assault on potential.

And every child who suffers from malnutrition is a story we failed to protect.

A Humble Offering Toward Nourishment

In the midst of this challenge, some quiet efforts are beginning to take root; initiatives guided by the belief that nutrition and equity must go hand in hand.

One such example is the work being done through QuinoaHub, an agricultural innovation initiative aimed at improving food and nutrition security through climate-smart, nutrient-dense crops like quinoa, millet, and others. The focus isn’t just on growing food; it’s on growing resilience, dignity, and opportunity.

In 2023, three quinoa varieties—Cougar, Gikungu, and Shisha—were released in Rwanda, not as proprietary assets, but as public goods. These seeds were developed for open access; no royalties, no licensing restrictions, no barriers to entry. The goal was simple but bold: to ensure that nutritious, locally adapted seeds could reach the hands of farmers and researchers without cost or complication.

This step made Rwanda one of the first African nations to develop its own quinoa seed portfolio, one tailored to its soils, climate, and communities. And now, through initiatives like Quinoa4Africa, with the support of national partners, this model is being extended to nine countries across the continent, strengthening seed systems, expanding crop choices, and opening doors to more resilient food futures.

Not as an effort to build a business empire, but as a blueprint for what it means to put nutrition, equity, and open access at the heart of agricultural innovation.

Because nourishing a generation isn’t only about what we grow; it’s about who gets to grow it, access it, and thrive from it.

What Kind of Ancestors Will We Be?

I often ask myself: What kind of ancestors are we becoming?

Will future generations say we saw the warning signs and acted with courage? Or will they say we looked away, distracted by other urgencies?

We must decide what kind of future we are building and for whom. If we say we believe in youth, then we must feed that belief with action. If we want a thriving Africa, then we must invest in what makes that future possible: healthy, nourished human beings.

It is not enough to open doors of opportunity if hunger keeps young people from stepping through.

A Call to Nourish

So here is my call, not just to policymakers, but to all of us.

Let us nourish our people. Let us feed bodies, minds, and spirits. Let us treat nutrition as the front line of national development, not the afterthought.

This is not charity. This is a strategy.

This is not pity. This is power.

We must not allow another generation to grow up diminished by malnutrition. We cannot afford it; not morally, not economically, not spiritually.

Because if we lose a generation, we don’t just lose people. We lose ideas. We lose leaders. We lose songs that were never sung, books never written, solutions never imagined.

But if we choose to nourish boldly, strategically, and consistently, we ignite something unstoppable.

We create a generation that can rise, not just survive.

And that is the Africa I believe in.