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Global demand for shea butter is growing: but it’s not all good news for the women who collect the nuts

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This article by Francois Questiaux (University of Copenhagen), and Marieve Pouliot (University of Copenhagen), highlights the dramatic rise in global demand for shea butter, which has increased over 600% in the past 20 years due to its popularity in cosmetics and as a cocoa butter substitute.


Shea butter has become a highly sought-after ingredient in cosmetics and food manufacturing worldwide. Since the early 2000s its use as a substitute for cocoa butter has driven a dramatic rise in international demand. The shea butter industry has grown by more than 600% over the last 20 years.

The shea tree is semi-domesticated across the dry savannah region in a “shea belt” west to east from Senegal to South Sudan, and about 500km north to south. It is not planted but protected within farmland and also found in communal bushland.

An estimated 16 million women collect and process shea fruits in rural west Africa, turning them into dry kernels for sale or processing the kernels into shea butter.

Global companies, development agencies and NGOs frequently present the shea industry as a pathway to women’s economic empowerment in the region.

To explore this idea, we conducted research into how the rise in demand for shea butter has affected women collectors in Burkina Faso and Ghana. These two countries are among the lead exporters of dry shea kernels.

The study formed part of our work on agrarian change, political ecology and livelihoods. We study relationships between producers and other actors of global value chains, as well as the impacts of externally induced changes on smallholders.

We combined data from a survey of 1,046 collectors in 24 communities with data from interviews with 18 collectors.

Our results show that the shea boom has intensified competition for access to trees. Over 85% of collectors surveyed reported an increase in the number of shea nut collectors in their community over the past 10  years. We also documented how access to shea trees was becoming more restricted, especially for women who rely most heavily on shea for their livelihoods.

Our results point to widening inequality within the collector population, even as the overall value of the shea sector grows.

Global demand meets local tenure systems

Historically, access to nuts was governed by a combination of customary rules and social norms. Women could usually collect freely on communal land, and also on farmland belonging to their households or relatives. Shea was often treated as a semi–open-access resource, available to women of the community according to need.

This system has come under pressure.

Firstly, as prices have increased over the last three decades, so have the number of people collecting.

Secondly, the common land is shrinking. Expansion and mechanisation of agriculture, population growth and peri-urban development have reduced the areas that once served as shared collection spaces.

Several collectors we interviewed noted that land previously considered “bush” had been converted into fields, removing an important safety net for those without farmland.

As a result, access to shea trees is increasingly tied to access to private land. Over 55% of our survey respondents reported that collection on private fields had become more restricted, with landowners enforcing boundaries more tightly. This shift reflects a broader tendency in both countries for land rights to become more individualised as resources acquire market value.

Third, resource pressure has introduced new forms of conflict, like trespassing on land. Conflicts reinforce exclusion, as landowners become more reluctant to allow non-family members onto their fields.

Unequal effects across collector groups

Our research distinguishes three types of collectors:

  • dedicated collectors, who derive all of their annual income from collecting and selling shea nuts
  • diversified collectors, who combine shea collection with farming or other activities
  • collector–traders, who not only collect nuts but also purchase them from others to sell at higher prices later in the year.

These groups experience the shea boom in different ways.

Dedicated collectors have the most limited access to private land. Only 16% of them collect from their own fields, compared to 38%-43% among the other groups. They depend on the communal bush.

Diversified collectors have better access to private fields than dedicated collectors, but still face similar challenges as bush areas shrink. And they have less time to spend collecting, limiting their ability to compensate for increasing competition.

Collector-traders maintain more secure access to private fields and receive more assistance from household members. Over half report receiving help from men, such as transporting nuts or protecting fields from trespassers. This is significantly more than dedicated or diversified collectors. The additional labour gives them a strategic advantage.

More work, but not more income

Rising prices might suggest that women would earn more from shea today than a decade ago. Yet this is not what most collectors experience. Only 48.7% reported an increase in shea income over the past 10 years, despite the international boom.

Total annual income from shea remains very low – on average only US$174 (purchasing power parity) per year, with differences between collectors.

For poorer collectors, several factors suppress income gains:

  • limited access to shea trees constrains the volume of nuts they can gather
  • many have to sell nuts early in the season, often at low prices, to meet immediate cash needs. Better-off collector-traders can purchase nuts cheaply, store them, and profit from higher prices later in the year.

Rethinking the ‘win-win’ narrative

The findings challenge the claim that integrating women into the global shea value chain will empower them and reduce poverty. The boom has indeed created new economic opportunities, but these are unevenly distributed. Market expansion has strengthened the position of those with greater land access and financial capital. At the same time it’s undermined the livelihoods of those who rely exclusively on the resource.

Our study does not prescribe specific policy measures, but its findings point to several possible avenues for intervention.

First, measures that strengthen women’s land and tree rights are likely to be critical. Recent work on peri-urban Ghana, for example, calls for wider rights to land and shea trees for women in policy and tenure reforms.

Second, empirical studies of female shea actors in Ghana suggest that collective organisation, better access to finance and improved infrastructure (notably storage facilities) can enhance women’s position.

Finally, evidence from northern Ghana indicates that women themselves recommend changes in farming practices to sustain the resource base.

Francois Questiaux, Researcher, Department of Food and Resource Economics, University of Copenhagen and Marieve Pouliot, Assistant Professor, Department of Food and Resource Economics, University of Copenhagen

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Commentary

5 Reasons Ghana’s Floating Dock Could Reshape West Africa’s Maritime Economy

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Ghana has inked a £215 million ( $287. 5 million) deal with the United Kingdom, anchored by a £101 million ($135.05 million) floating dock in Takoradi.

If successful, it will become the Gulf of Guinea’s first modern, commercially operated ship repair facility.

Here is what is at stake.

1. The Gulf of Guinea Loses Millions While Ships Sail Elsewhere for Repairs

The Gulf of Guinea is one of Africa’s busiest shipping corridors, crowded with oil tankers, cargo vessels, and offshore support ships. Yet almost all major repairs happen outside the region, often in Namibia, Spain, or beyond. Every vessel that bypasses West Africa carries away not just steel but also jobs, technical knowledge, and national revenue. The region pays the repair bill elsewhere and receives none of the associated economic ripple effects.

2. A Floating Dock Is Only the Beginning – The Real Prize Is a Maritime Services Cluster

The dock itself is just hardware. The true opportunity lies in building a complete ecosystem around it: logistics, steel fabrication, waste management, security, crew training, catering, and port-side supply chains. Without these supporting industries, the dock becomes an isolated asset rather than an engine of local employment.

3. Ghana Already Has Indigenous Firms Ready to Scale

Homegrown players such as Rigworld have proven capabilities in marine and industrial services. The pivotal question is whether this project allows those firms to grow or whether foreign operators will absorb the most valuable contracts. Local-content policies will determine the answer.

4. Success Depends on Transparent, Proactive Government Measures

Infrastructure alone guarantees nothing. Authorities must publish tender opportunities clearly and early, establish a centralized supplier portal, offer certification support to local businesses, and ensure that Ghanaian small and medium enterprises can access affordable working capital. Without deliberate rules, international firms may capture the entire supply chain while domestic companies watch from the shore.

5. If Ghana Succeeds, Takoradi Becomes a Blueprint for African Value Retention

Should Ghana get this right, the floating dock could become a template for how African economies retain more value from their own geographic advantages. If it fails, the region will simply have acquired another expensive piece of imported equipment with little local benefit. The Gulf of Guinea offers no shortage of ships. Whether Ghanaian businesses—not just foreign firms—will profit from them remains the only question that truly matters.

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Commentary

Africa Forward: Is Europe Finally Learning to Treat Africa as an Equal Partner?

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Did the Africa Forward Summit in Nairobi mark the end of Europe’s paternalism toward Africa? With €23 billion in new commitments, joint chairing on African soil, and business at the centre of talks, analyst Joseph McCarthy argues the old script may finally be changing—but warns that partnership without concrete industrialization remains just rhetoric.

Read the full analysis below.

Africa Forward: Is Europe Finally Learning to Treat Africa as an Equal Partner?

By Joseph McCarthy

For decades, Africa’s summits with external powers have followed a familiar script. African leaders fly to Paris, Brussels, Washington, Beijing, Moscow or New Delhi; their hosts roll out the red carpet, deliver speeches about partnership, announce ambitious initiatives and pose for the customary family photograph. Communiqués are issued, declarations adopted, and everyone returns home—yet little changes. Investment gaps stay wide, trade stays lopsided, industrialisation crawls, and Africa keeps exporting raw materials while importing finished goods.

That is why the Africa Forward Summit, held in Nairobi on 11 and 12 May 2026, deserves attention; not because Africa needs another summit, but because it signals a possible shift in how Europe, and France in particular, sees the relationship. The symbolism was hard to miss. For the first time, a summit between Africa and France was jointly chaired on African soil with an anglophone African state. President William Ruto of Kenya and President Emmanuel Macron of France stood not as host and guest, but as partners on the same platform. Africa was not summoned to Europe; Europe was invited to Africa. Yet symbolism is not changed. Nairobi will matter only if equality and genuine reciprocity outlast the communiqué.

The more telling shift was in the cast. Summits between Africa and Europe have long belonged to presidents, diplomats and development agencies, with the private sector seated politely at the back. This time, business sat at the centre. The Inspire and Connect forum gathered heads of state alongside scores of African and French company chiefs to discuss industrialisation, value chains, energy and human capital. The message was blunt: the future should rest less on aid and charity between states, and more on investment, entrepreneurship and industrial partnership. African governments no longer seek the role of recipients; they want capital, technology, expertise and market access. Where old summits asked what Europe could do for Africa, this one asked a sharper question: what can African and European firms build together?
There were numbers to match the rhetoric: roughly €23 billion, about $27 billion, in fresh commitments, comprising some €14 billion from French public and private actors and €9 billion from African investors, aimed at energy, digital technology, artificial intelligence, agriculture, health and industry. More striking than the figures was the emphasis. French and European firms voiced interest in investing and producing alongside African companies inside Africa, rather than merely selling into its markets. The most concrete example came from Nigeria, where Accor and the African energy and infrastructure group Shoreline signed a letter of intent for the country’s first national hotel platform: a $300 million project of ten hotels across eight cities, more than 1,200 rooms by 2030, with a training academy to build local skills.

If such partnerships multiply across manufacturing, agriculture, energy, health and digital technology, Africa could enter a new phase of competition. Unlike the scramble of the nineteenth century, driven by extraction and conquest, this one would turn on investment, production, and market opportunities, with Europe, China, the Gulf, India, and Türkiye all competing for a seat at the table. African governments may be better placed than ever to play these suitors against one another in their own interest. The question is no longer who claims to be Africa’s best friend, but who will invest, produce, transfer technology and create jobs.

Here lies the lesson Africa keeps relearning: a good partner is not the one you like most, but the one who brings you the most advantage. France’s history on the continent is singular, not because of a colonisation now decades past, but because the relationship that followed it never truly ended. Several capitals took the easy road, leaning on Paris for their security and quietly surrendering a slice of their sovereignty, while Paris was content to play suzerain. In 2013, Mali hailed France as its saviour when French troops drove back the jihadists closing on Bamako; a few years later, its junta cast that same France as worse than the seven plagues of Egypt. Such incestuous, melodramatic attachments had to end. External powers are neither saviours nor devils; they are partners pursuing their interests, as African states pursue theirs.

That is why Africa can no longer tolerate the old arrangements: military protectorates dressed up as protection; the abuses of foreign mercenaries in its conflict zones; or the economic colonisation that surrenders strategic assets, ports, airports, and railways to whichever state writes the cheque. The withdrawals from Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger were not merely a rejection of France; they marked the exhaustion of a framework inherited from colonial times that no longer fits African aspirations. If Nairobi means anything, it is that Paris may finally grasp that the age of the suzerain is over. France matters here for one further reason: it is a gateway to the wider European market. Should its approach shift from paternalism to brokering business between African and European firms, that would be welcome news for both continents.

Africa’s most urgent task is economic transformation. With millions of young people entering the labour market each year, the world needs productive capital, industry, technology transfer, and jobs; aid alone has never delivered these. What it seeks now is straightforward: investment without domination, cooperation without dependency, partnership without paternalism. Like Saint Thomas, Africans will believe what they eventually see rather than what they are promised. The elegance of its communiqué will not judge the summit, but by visible progress: in artificial intelligence, where Africa must become a creator and not merely a consumer; in infrastructure, the roads, railways, ports, power and connectivity that carry an economy; in food systems, through higher local output and lighter dependence on imports; and in industry, the move beyond raw exports toward manufacturing and value addition.

History will not remember what was promised in Nairobi. It will remember what was built, what was transformed, and what was delivered. Until then, Africa will watch carefully.


Joseph McCarthy is an analyst and researcher specialising in governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, development, and African diplomacy. Email: joecarthy30@gmail.com

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Opinion

Under One African Sky: Xenophobia, Historical Memory, and the Erosion of Pan-African Brotherhood | Colonel Augustine Ansu Rtd

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The recurring outbreak of xenophobic violence in South Africa has once again forced a painful question upon the continent: Has Africa forgotten its own history of solidarity?

In this opinion piece, Colonel Augustine Ansu (Rtd) examines the troubling narratives used to justify attacks on fellow Africans — from complaints about jobs and businesses to the claim that anti-apartheid exiles were not granted unrestricted integration. He argues that such arguments rest on a historically flawed understanding of continental sacrifice. Drawing on the legacy of nations like Ghana, Zambia, Tanzania, and Angola that provided sanctuary and support to South Africa’s liberation struggle, Ansu asks whether the spirit of Pan-African brotherhood can survive economic anxiety, political rhetoric, and the erosion of historical memory.

This is a call not merely to condemn xenophobia, but to recover the solidarity that once made strangers into comrades.

Read the full opinion piece below.

Under One African Sky: Xenophobia, Historical Memory, and the Erosion of Pan-African Brotherhood

By Colonel Augustine Ansu Rtd

The recurring outbreaks of xenophobic violence in South Africa continue to trouble the conscience of Africa.

Each episode raises difficult questions about citizenship, economic competition, national identity, and the future of Pan-African solidarity.

Recent events, including the evacuation of foreign nationals and the debates that have followed, have once again brought these issues into sharp focus.

What is perhaps most disturbing is not merely the violence itself, but the narratives increasingly used to justify it.

In a recent media interview, a South African citizen reportedly questioned why foreigners should be allowed to settle so freely in South Africa.

He argued that during the anti-apartheid struggle, South African exiles lived in camps in neighbouring countries and were not permitted unrestricted integration into host societies.

He further complained that foreigners were taking jobs, businesses, and even girlfriends from South Africans.

This is a photo of the South African officers Ghana trained for their independence in 1994. One of them in later years became a CDS and visited Ghana

Such arguments deserve careful examination.

The comparison between anti-apartheid exiles and present-day African migrants is historically flawed.

South Africans who fled apartheid were not merely housed in refugee camps. Across the continent, they benefited from the generosity and sacrifice of fellow Africans.

Nations such as Ghana, Zambia, Tanzania, Angola, and many others provided sanctuary, education, military training, diplomatic support, and political platforms from which the struggle against apartheid could be waged.

African governments and peoples embraced the South African cause as a continental cause. Their support was not based upon narrow calculations of national advantage but upon a profound belief that the freedom of one African people was inseparable from the freedom of all.

That history makes contemporary hostility towards fellow Africans especially painful.

Equally revealing is the complaint that foreigners are taking local girlfriends. Such rhetoric has little to do with immigration policy and much to do with insecurity, resentment, and the search for convenient scapegoats.

Throughout history, xenophobic movements have often been fuelled by claims that outsiders are taking what rightfully belongs to citizens—jobs, opportunities, homes, culture, and relationships.

These narratives are powerful because they simplify complex social problems into emotionally satisfying explanations. Yet they rarely lead to solutions.

The roots of social unrest are usually found elsewhere: unemployment, poverty, inequality, corruption, inadequate education, weak governance, and the failure of economic growth to improve the lives of ordinary citizens. When these problems persist, public frustration seeks an outlet. Foreigners become convenient targets because they are visible, vulnerable, and politically expendable.

Yet many immigrants contribute significantly to the South African economy. They establish businesses, create employment, provide essential services, and participate in commercial activities that sustain local communities. Like migrants throughout history, they seek opportunity, security, and a better future for their families.

Against this backdrop, the decision by some African governments to evacuate their citizens deserves thoughtful consideration.

Every government has a sacred duty to protect its nationals. When there is credible concern for their safety, prudence demands action.

Governments cannot wait for tragedy to occur before responding. Their first responsibility is not the preservation of diplomatic appearances but the protection of human life.

This explains why many Africans have viewed suggestions that governments should have delayed evacuation efforts with understandable scepticism.

While such opinions may stem from concerns about national image or fears of creating panic, they must be weighed against the immediate responsibility to safeguard citizens facing uncertainty and possible danger.

Equally troubling are reports that xenophobic attacks sometimes occur in the presence of law enforcement officers who appear unable or unwilling to intervene decisively.

Whether such perceptions are entirely accurate or not, they contribute significantly to fear among foreign communities.

When perpetrators believe that consequences are unlikely, violence becomes easier to organise and repeat.

Some observers have suggested that these developments reflect a broader political agenda. Others see them as spontaneous eruptions of public frustration. Whatever the explanation, history demonstrates that xenophobia seldom emerges in isolation. It thrives where economic anxiety, political rhetoric, weak institutions, and social frustration converge.

The tragedy extends beyond immigration policy.

It concerns the future of Pan-Africanism itself.

The generation that fought apartheid inspired the world with its vision of justice, reconciliation, human dignity, and non-racialism.

South Africa became a symbol of hope, proving that even the deepest divisions could be overcome through courage, sacrifice, and leadership.

Today, many Africans struggle to reconcile that inspiring legacy with recurring images of fellow Africans being harassed, assaulted, or forced to flee.

They remember a time when the continent stood united against apartheid and wonder how the descendants of those who benefited from continental solidarity can now regard fellow Africans as unwelcome intruders.

These are uncomfortable questions, but they cannot be ignored.

Can Africans continue to speak of continental unity while fellow Africans are treated as outsiders?

Can the sacrifices made during the liberation struggles be honoured while the spirit of brotherhood that sustained those struggles is gradually eroded?

Can Pan-Africanism survive if economic hardship repeatedly transforms neighbours into enemies?

History offers a sobering lesson. Nations rarely prosper by directing their anger towards convenient scapegoats. Sustainable progress is achieved through economic reform, effective governance, educational opportunity, social cohesion, and unwavering commitment to the rule of law.

The future of Africa will not be secured through exclusion and suspicion. It will be secured through cooperation, mutual respect, and a renewed recognition of our shared destiny.

For the struggle against colonialism and apartheid was never simply a political struggle. It was also a moral declaration that the dignity of one African is bound to the dignity of all Africans.

That declaration remains as relevant today as it was yesterday.

Epilogue: Under One African Sky

The African sky knows no borders.

The winds that cross the Limpopo do not carry passports; the rivers that flow to the sea recognize no tribe. The rains that nourish the veld, the savannah, and the forest make no distinction between native and stranger.

Yet man, who inherited one continent and one destiny, has learned to build walls where history built bridges and to sow suspicion where our forebears planted solidarity.

The challenge before Africa is therefore not merely to defeat xenophobia. It is to recover the brotherhood that once made strangers into comrades and neighbours into family.

For when one African is hunted because he is foreign, all Africa is diminished. When one African is denied dignity because of his origin, the dream of Pan-Africanism suffers a wound. And when fear triumphs over fraternity, the sacrifices of those who fought for Africa’s liberation fade a little further into the shadows.

Let us remember that before colonial frontiers were drawn, before passports were stamped, before flags were raised, the peoples of Africa shared the same sun, the same rivers, the same hopes, and often the same blood.

May wisdom prevail over anger, justice over prejudice, and fraternity over fear.

Then perhaps future generations will inherit an Africa in which no man is hated for the place of his birth, no woman is threatened because of her nationality, and no child grows up believing that another African is an enemy.

For above us all stretches the same vast African sky — silent, enduring, and waiting for its children to remember that they are one.

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