Every year between February and May, when mahua flowers begin to fall, Mamta Tigga collects them. Mamta comes from a village in Gumla in the Indian state of Jharkhand and has been collecting mahua (a flower from Madhuca longifolia), gethi kanda (or air potato, Dioscorea bulbifera) and tendu leaves from the Indian ebony tree (Diospyros melanoxylon) for the past three years. All of these plants are important sources of food, medicine and other traditional uses in her culture. Mamta is not just a tribal gatherer, but a homemaker and a mother of two children. Over the years, she has noticed a change in what the forest gives her. “There is less mahua than before,” she says, and the amount changes with the weather. When there is more heat, more mahua falls and when it rains, the mahua flower sheds off. “This year there was less mahua, between March to April we usually collect around 4-5 quintal [100 kilograms or 220 pounds] but this time due to excessive rain we got around 25 kg of mahua.” Forest produce is an essential source of income for families like Mamta’s. Her husband is a driver, and often, when they are short on money, the funds collected by selling mahua help them survive. But what happens when the resources people depend on begin to change, while the demand for those products continues to grow? A recent review in the journal Frontiers in Sustainable Food Systems examines this question in the Indian states of Jharkhand…This article was originally published on Mongabay

TSHAKHUMA, South Africa — Divhani Rashaka moved up and down the yard of the homestead he has looked after for 26 years, looking toward the Tshamugwana River. He recounted experiencing several floods in the time he has lived here. The riverbed, a few meters from his house in the Tshakhuma area of Limpopo province in the north of South Africa, is now covered with tall grass and bushes. Channels carved into the ground during the January floods show where water found its way toward the house. Rashaka, who is a resident of Tshiswiswini village, has placed stones along some of the channels in an effort to slow or redirect the water if heavy rains return. Farther up the yard, between his house and his neighbor’s, the grass had also grown thick, but Rashaka and his neighbor cleared the area to allow water to pass through more easily. Beyond these small measures, Rashaka has no formal plan for protecting his homestead, should it flood again. In January, floods affected communities across Limpopo, killing people, damaging homes and infrastructure, washing away food and disrupting schooling and access to some areas. Tshakhuma was among the communities badly affected. During these floods, 21 families whose homes were badly damaged were relocated to temporary accommodation at a lodge in Nkuna village, about 20 kilometers (12 miles) away, while temporary residential units were being prepared. If another flood comes, Rashaka said, he will have to rely on those around him. “I can seek shelter from my…This article was originally published on Mongabay

PORT LOKO, Sierra Leone — When the tide pulls away from the beach in the agricultural regions in Mahera in Lungi, about 27 kilometers (17 miles) across the sea from the country’s capital, Freetown, the digging commences. Young men shovel sand into cement bags and carry them to a flat open area to pile sand into heaps to be sold by local women to truck drivers. These women are dedicated sand sellers. They negotiate prices, buy sand from the shovelers and sell to heavy-duty truck drivers to be transported to Lungi, Port Loko and other areas. The income helps pay for food, school fees and other basic needs of their families.  However, their work relies heavily on the seasonal tide: The sellers can buy sand during low tide but are banned from doing so during high tide. In Mahera, the sand trade began as a survival strategy for 14 women who became family breadwinners, mostly due to absent partners. Aminata Kargbo is the chairperson of the sand sellers in the locality in Mahera, and entered the business to support her seven children after her husband’s death. “Most of these women have lost their husbands, and the money we make goes to support our children,” she said. She oversees about 19 sand sellers, the majority of them women. Many of these women have become widows after losing their husbands to Sierra Leone’s civil war (1991-2002) and various illnesses. Aminata Kargbo, chairperson of the sand sellers in Mahera, stands in front of…This article was originally published on Mongabay

The environmental impacts caused by invasive alien species are more severe in poor countries of Global South than wealthy countries of Global North, a new study finds. The study shatters a long-standing assumption that wealthier Global North countries suffer the worst effects of invasive alien species (IAS) and highlights weak governance and insufficient management capacity as some of the reasons for greater severity of impacts in the Global South. The study published in Science in July employed a method involving the assessment of the average impact of severity, which uses a different approach from previous research. Instead of focusing on numbers of invasive species, this method focuses on how serious the level of impacts caused by invasive species are. Previously, impacts of IAS have been regarded more of a problem in the Global North because fewer large impacts were reported from the Global South, Sven Bacher, professor of ecology at University of Fribourg and the lead author of the research, told Mongabay by email. “We show that this is due to uneven reporting, and that the average impacts are actually higher in the GS [Global South]. This even holds for impacts of the same IAS introduced to both the GS and the GN [Global North]: on average their impacts are larger in the GS,” he said. Among the paper’s key findings, the scientists identified weak governance and limited management capacities as two major factors contributing to the Global South’s greater vulnerability. Some of the impacts of IAS can include damage…This article was originally published on Mongabay