William Twayigize, Ph.D., is a political science and smart cities sustainability lecturer at San Diego State University (SDSU), a board member of the SDSU Center for Human Rights, and coordinator of the GPS Program within SDSU International Affairs, advancing curriculum internationalization efforts at home. He also directs ANEHOPE, a nonprofit providing scholarships to bright but underprivileged students in East Africa, empowering them through education to break the cycle of poverty.
This article is a submission to our Letters to the Editor section. For any questions or submissions please email Opinion@thedailyaztec.com.
Growing up in the shadow of the majestic Virunga volcanic range — a lush expanse spanning northern Rwanda, western Uganda, and eastern Congo — was like living in nature’s masterpiece. This breathtaking terrain, crowned by volcanic peaks, wasn’t merely a geographical wonder. It was a cradle of life, culture, and spirituality.
Within its embrace lay Virunga National Park, home to endangered mountain gorillas and a testament to the region’s unparalleled biodiversity. Rivers, both visible and subterranean, coursed through the volcanic soil, weaving life into every corner of our existence. For us, the land was more than a home; it was sacred — a provider that nourished our bodies, shaped our livelihoods, and anchored our connection to creation.
The memory of this harmony resonates deeply as I reflect on the glaring disparities in global climate change initiatives following the United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP29) in Baku, Azerbaijan, this past November 2024.
In my childhood, water flowed freely from springs and streams, and rain came unbidden, nourishing the volcanic soil that yielded bountiful harvests. Our fields were mosaics of crops — sorghum swayed alongside millet and maize, while bananas, beans, sweet potatoes, and arrowroots thrived. These fertile hills provided not just sustenance but security, dignity, and opportunity.
Livestock flourished on these green hillsides, their milk nourishing us, their manure enriching the soil, and their presence grounding our community’s economic and cultural fabric. Markets bustled with activity as parents carried their produce, earning enough to educate their children and secure a future rooted in knowledge and tradition. Life in this harmonious ecosystem instilled resilience, gratitude, and reverence for creation.
But by the time I turned ten, our paradise started to unravel. The streams dwindled, leaving behind parched beds of cracked rocks. The once-reliable rains became erratic, abandoning us to long dry spells. Crops withered under an unrelenting sun, and fertile fields turned to barren wastelands. Hunger crept in like an unrelenting predator. With no understanding of climate change, our parents believed we had angered the gods or our ancestors.
Reality, however, was far grimmer. This devastation wasn’t the work of vengeful spirits but of human greed and indifference. Words like “ozone layer” and “carbon emissions” became part of our vocabulary. We learned that the erratic climate wasn’t caused by our actions but was a consequence of industrialized nations’ unbridled pursuit of progress. Carbon emissions from faraway lands choked the balance of our ecosystem, robbing us of our abundance.
The destruction didn’t stop at the rivers and fields. Chainsaws came for our forests — the lungs of our land. Indigenous trees like mahogany, ebony, and iroko were reduced to logs for profit. These ancient forests, which anchored our ecosystems and shielded our soil, disappeared under the roar of industry. The land weakened, the soil eroded, and desertification crept in. Birds, bees, butterflies and wildlife vanished, leaving behind haunting silences.
As forests fell, so did life as we knew it, traditions and livelihoods. Without the forests, we lost more than resources — we lost our cultural identity and resilience. Rivers dried up, threatening agriculture, hydropower, and survival across the region. Even tributaries feeding the mighty Nile began to fail, imperiling millions across East Africa and beyond.
And yet, while the Global South bears the brunt of this crisis, the Global North — the primary driver of climate change — continues to shirk its responsibility. For over 500 years, industrialized nations have built empires on the backs of exploited resources, polluting the environment and destabilizing ecosystems. Now, the poorest nations, which have contributed the least to this crisis, are forced to endure its heaviest burdens.
The injustice becomes glaring at global forums like COP29. Despite the urgency, the financial commitments made by wealthy nations remain paltry. The pledged $300 billion annually falls far short of the trillions needed. Worse, it reflects a moral failure: an unwillingness to acknowledge the damage wrought by centuries of exploitation on one hand and economic might on the other.
The 2024 Global Report on Internal Displacement highlights the human toll — 6.6 million people displaced by weather-related disasters in 2023 alone. These displacements overwhelmingly affect poorer nations, further shredding their social and economic fabric. Floods, storms, droughts, and wildfires continue to force vulnerable populations into deeper poverty.
What the Global South needs is not charity but justice. Reparations for historical exploitation, significant emissions cuts, and investments in sustainable infrastructure and green economies are non-negotiable. The philosophy of Ubuntu — the African belief in shared humanity and collective responsibility — offers a pathway forward. It reminds us that we are interconnected; no one thrives unless everyone thrives.
The Global South must unite to demand equity and justice. This fight is not only for survival but for dignity and fairness. The wealthiest nations must lead the way in repairing the damage they’ve caused — not as an act of charity but as a moral imperative. Reflecting on my childhood, I remember a land vibrant with life — a sanctuary that has now become a shadow of its former self. Climate change is eroding not just our landscapes but also our way of life, stripping entire communities of stability, life and hope for a better future. Embracing Ubuntu can bridge the divide, ensuring that future generations inherit a livable planet.
