In the parched village of Iyansan, on the fringe of Nigeria’s once-fertile southwest coastal belt, 60-year-old farmer Baba Taye runs his hands over the dry, cracked earth of his okra farm. The soil is hardened like stone. The air is still. What should be green rows of food crops is instead a scattered patch of wilted stems and scorched leaves.
“I planted with faith,” he says, staring at the sky. “But now, we harvest fear.”
His fear is not just of failing harvests, but of the hunger that follows. Of the children who will sleep on empty stomachs. Of the mothers who will skip meals to feed their babies. Of the growing reality that food—the one thing his land always gave him—can no longer be trusted.
Across Nigeria’s farming communities, climate change is not a distant warning. It is a daily crisis. Rainfall patterns have shifted. Pests attack earlier and stay longer. Floods wash away seedlings. Heatwaves destroy young crops before they bloom. And as farmers lose their yields, families lose their nutrition.
This is not just an agricultural problem. It is a health emergency.
When Crops Fail, Children Suffer
In Ilaje, Ese-Odo, and other lowland communities of Ondo State, maize used to be a staple crop. But now, unpredictable rainfall means farmers cannot time their planting. One year, the rains come too early and flood the fields. Another year, they come too late and the sun burns the seeds.
Mothers like Mama Bose, a cassava farmer and fish smoker, say their children are falling sick more often. “They have running stomach. Their eyes look dull. Even the clinic nurse said they need good food, not just rice and garri every day.”
Nutrition experts agree. Without diverse diets rich in vegetables, proteins, and micronutrients, children are more vulnerable to stunting, anemia, and disease. In some parts of the Niger Delta, nearly 30% of children under five are classified as stunted due to chronic malnutrition.
Farming families that once relied on their own produce for meals now depend on market-bought food, which is often more expensive and less nutritious. A basin of tomatoes that sold for ₦1,200 a year ago now goes for ₦3,000. Protein sources like eggs, beans, and fish have doubled in price.
“We can’t afford to eat what we grow anymore,” Baba Taye says with a bitter laugh. “And what we can afford, we don’t grow.”
The Domino Effect: Climate, Hunger, Health
In farming households, the impact of climate-induced crop failure ripples far beyond the fields. When income from sales drops, families reduce their meals from three a day to two, then to one. School fees are delayed. Pregnant women skip antenatal care. Older children drop out to help in the fields.
The link between climate change, agriculture, and child health is brutally direct.
More than 70% of rural dwellers in Nigeria depend on subsistence farming. When floods wipe out a season’s work, there are no safety nets. No crop insurance. No irrigation systems. Just prayers and borrowed money.
In a community meeting in Odonla, several women said they now feed their families mainly on starchy fillers—yam flour, white rice, or cassava. Vegetables are rare. Protein is almost nonexistent. One woman, whose toddler has been diagnosed with moderate acute malnutrition, said she boils pawpaw leaves and gives the water to her baby “to stop the cough.”
This is survival, not nutrition. And it is taking a toll on an entire generation.
A Worsening Outlook
According to the Nigerian Meteorological Agency (NiMet), the country will face increasing temperature extremes and rainfall variability over the next two decades. This puts more pressure on agriculture in vulnerable regions.
Already, in coastal and riverine areas, farmers like those in Ilaje face the double threat of saltwater intrusion and topsoil erosion. Traditional knowledge about planting seasons is no longer reliable. Crops like melon and okra that once thrived are now failing due to soil salinity.
The result is a widening food and health gap—especially for children.
In Mahin, I met a community health worker who said she now sees more underweight children than before. “You can see it in their ribs. In their energy. They don’t run around like they used to. You ask the mother, and she says the farm didn’t do well this year.”
It’s a pattern. Climate hits the farm. The farm fails. The pot goes empty. The child falls sick.
Local Innovations, Global Lessons
Still, across this bleak landscape, there are glimmers of resilience.
In Zion-Pepe, a youth cooperative has begun piloting a climate-smart gardening model. They grow vegetables using sack gardens and repurposed containers filled with a mix of soil and composted fish waste. The gardens are raised above flood level and require little water.
Elsewhere, some mothers have started drying surplus vegetables and crayfish during good seasons to preserve them for lean times. Others have begun small poultry pens to supplement protein needs, using local herbs to reduce disease losses.
A health-focused NGO recently partnered with five schools in riverine Ondo to provide vitamin A-rich sweet potato vines to families. The children plant them at home, eat the leaves, and use the harvest as lunch contributions.
These initiatives are small but powerful. They blend agriculture with nutrition, education, and community care. They prove that solutions do not always require big budgets—just the right knowledge, local trust, and sustained support.
What Needs to Change
To prevent a full-blown child nutrition crisis linked to climate-induced crop failure, we must act across four key areas:
- Climate-Resilient Agriculture: Invest in salt-tolerant, drought-resistant seed varieties, accessible to smallholders. Promote micro-irrigation, soil restoration, and local composting practices.
- Nutrition-Sensitive Interventions: Integrate farming programs with community nutrition education. Promote backyard gardens, fortified food support, and breastfeeding awareness.
- Early Warning and Climate Info: Equip farmers with timely weather data, planting forecasts, and pest alerts in local languages through radio or mobile SMS.
- Social Protection for Farmers: Introduce community-based crop insurance and food aid during harvest failures, especially targeting families with children under five.
No Farmer Should Farm in Fear
Farming is more than a job. It is a lifeline. And when that lifeline is threatened by forces beyond a farmer’s control, we all share in the fallout.
In the eyes of Baba Taye, I saw a man who has fed a village for decades, now unsure if he can feed his grandchildren tomorrow. In the empty pot of Mama Bose, I saw the slow erosion of dignity. In the weak limbs of malnourished children, I saw the hidden cost of a warming planet.
But I also saw something else: the courage to adapt. The will to try again. The quiet fire that still believes next season might be better.
To honor this courage, we must do more than talk about climate change. We must design food systems that protect the most vulnerable. We must build resilience into every seed, every meal, every child.
Because no farmer should farm in fear. And no child should go to bed hungry.
