• Twin pressures of climate change and deforestation have devoured thousands of hectares of mangroves in Rufiji Delta

• ‘By restoring these forests, we’re fighting climate change and creating new revenue streams for communities,’ says Frida Bryson, program manager at Blue Carbon Tanzania

RUFIJI, Tanzania

At dawn in Tanzania’s Rufiji Delta, where the river meets the Indian Ocean, the tide retreats to reveal a vast expanse of silver mud and tangled roots.

RUFIJI, Tanzania (AA) – At dawn in Tanzania’s Rufiji Delta, where the river meets the Indian Ocean, the tide retreats to reveal a vast expanse of silver mud and tangled roots.

Men in white skullcaps and women in colorful dresses move in rhythm with the waves, planting mangrove seedlings one by one. For them, this quiet work is a defense against a rising sea – and a statement of survival.

“We are doing this for the future of our children,” said fisherman Jumanne Hussein, 48, his hands caked in wet earth. “When the mangroves disappear, the fish disappear, and the sea eats away our land. We have seen it with our own eyes.”

For decades, the Rufiji Delta has been a source of life for thousands, and its mangrove forests – among East Africa’s largest – serve as natural seawalls, absorbing storm surges and stabilizing shorelines.

But the twin pressures of climate change and deforestation have left the coast dangerously exposed.

Now, as the world prepares for the COP30 climate summit in Brazil, Tanzania is turning its local restoration efforts into a global example of adaptation – a story of communities taking the climate fight into their own hands.

Scientists say these trees store up to 10 times more carbon per hectare than tropical rainforests, making them a crucial tool in limiting global warming.

Yet their destruction continues at alarming rates. Tanzania has lost around 100,000 hectares of mangroves, according to the National Environmental Management Council (NEMC), mainly due to logging, salt farming, and unregulated development.

“The degradation is alarming,” NEMC environmental scientist Amina Kibola told Anadolu. “When mangroves vanish, we lose a huge part of our shield against climate disasters, our food sources suffer, and we lose a vital carbon sink. We are literally cutting down our climate defense.”

At COP30, Tanzania plans to showcase its mangrove projects as part of its Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) – its pledges under the Paris Agreement – and to seek new funding under global climate finance mechanisms.

Planting hope, root by root

In Kikale village, the salt-scented air hums with activity. Over the past three years, local volunteers have planted half a million mangrove seedlings as part of the national “Ten Million Mangroves” program – a campaign to restore 10,000 hectares by 2030.

“Before, we had to go far out to sea to find fish. Now the small ones are coming back to the creeks,” says Hussein, smiling as he straightens a young seedling. “These trees are like nurseries for them. Without mangroves, there is no life here.”

Women have emerged as the backbone of this restoration work. Standing knee-deep in the mud, they pass seedlings hand to hand, their dresses streaked with silt.

“We used to think this was men’s work,” said Fatuma Rajabu, a mother of four who coordinates a women’s planting team. “But we learned that protecting our coast means protecting our families. The mangroves keep our homes from flooding and give us crabs to sell.”

Their effort echoes one of COP30’s central themes – empowering local communities to lead adaptation – and while global summits debate targets, villagers like Rajabu and Hussein are translating those goals into tangible action.

Mangrove restoration is also opening economic possibilities through the “blue carbon” market, which allows nations to trade carbon credits earned by protecting or restoring coastal ecosystems.

“Every hectare of mangrove can absorb hundreds of tons of carbon dioxide,” explained Frida Bryson, program manager at Blue Carbon Tanzania. “By restoring these forests, we’re fighting climate change and creating new revenue streams for communities.”

Her organization uses drones, remote sensors, and artificial intelligence to monitor mangrove growth and carbon storage, ensuring transparency that international investors demand. Bryson hopes the data will attract more climate finance for Tanzania, helping bridge the gap between local work and global commitments.

Still, equity remains a concern. “We hear about carbon money, but we haven’t seen it come to us,” said Hussein. “We just plant because this is our life. If the sea takes this land, where will we go?”

Such questions are likely to echo in Belem, where COP30 negotiators will debate how to scale up adaptation funding and ensure that climate finance reaches those most affected.

From the delta to COP30

The urgency is clear along Tanzania’s coast. Rising seas, stronger storms, and saltwater intrusion are eroding farmland and forcing families inland. Scientists warn that continued mangrove loss could worsen these threats, pushing thousands into displacement.

In Belem, when delegates debate how to finance the planet’s future, the story of Rufiji’s mangrove planters may offer a reminder: climate action begins where roots meet the water.

“We’re already seeing saltwater move further up the Rufiji River,” said Kibola. “That affects crops, drinking water, and fish breeding grounds. The mangroves act as a buffer, but once they’re gone, the damage spreads quickly.”

To counter this, the Tanzanian government has strengthened protection under the Forest Act, designated mangrove zones as conservation areas, and promoted community-led restoration.

International partners, including the Global Environment Facility and the United Nations Development Program, have also pledged support for mangrove reforestation under climate adaptation projects.

While challenges persist, from lack of technical expertise to land-use conflicts and high costs, Tanzania hopes to use COP30 to highlight its mangrove revival as a model for community-driven climate action.

Bryson sees it as a test case for Africa’s role in the global carbon market.

“If we can prove that blue carbon can work for communities – not just corporations – it will redefine conservation finance across the continent,” she said.