In Kalemela B, a village in Tanzania’s Urambo district, the progress of a single savings group shows what becomes possible when smallholder farmers guide their own development. Among its members is Asia Salum, a 60-year-old farmer who lives with her three school-aged grandchildren. Her life has been shaped by the demands of agriculture, long periods of uncertainty, and the responsibility of raising children whose parents could not care for them.
For more than eight years, Asia has belonged to the Tumaini Village Savings and Loan Association (VSLA). She joined during a difficult period, shortly after losing her husband. Farming was her only income, and her ability to support the household shifted with the rains. The VSLA created stability, but also something deeper: a space where decisions are shared, where each member’s knowledge matters, and where people design solutions grounded in their own reality.
This principle — nothing for us, without us — sits at the heart of the group’s progress. Members choose their priorities, determine how loans are used, and decide which collective businesses to start. When Asia borrowed 650,000 Tanzanian shillings (about 260 USD) in 2023, she invested according to what she knew would work in her setting: two acres of groundnuts, a small flock of chickens, and one goat. The results were practical and immediate. Her income grew, she covered school needs for the children, and she improved the household environment, including installing electricity in her home. The group’s structure has also strengthened Asia’s ability to plan. Business training helped her identify opportunities in livestock rearing, and the Cess Fund support received in 2022 allowed the VSLA to start a collective goat-keeping enterprise. They now oversee ten goats, a shared economic asset that reduces individual vulnerability and builds confidence in joint decision-making.
Asia’s narrative demonstrates why inclusion is not a slogan but a working method. Throughout the year, members exchange knowledge on crop choices, seasonal risks, income diversification and social support. When heavy rains damaged maize and groundnut fields this season, the group was already structured to absorb part of the shock. These systems do more than protect livelihoods; they reduce the pressures that often push children into work when households lose income.
The social dimension is equally important. Asia describes her group as a network of people who accompany one another, who offer advice, who step in during emergencies, and who celebrate progress together. Such alliances deepen community protection mechanisms and help families maintain stability through unpredictable seasons.
Her plans are clear: continue expanding goat rearing and strengthen a business model she can rely on throughout the year. She encourages other women to join VSLAs, especially because government financial support increasingly reaches women organised in groups, another example of how aligned, inclusive structures can multiply opportunities.
Stories like Asia’s guide our understanding of what works. When farmers lead, programmes adapt more effectively to local realities. Interventions become tools that people use rather than requirements they must comply with. And communities build the systems that allow children to stay in school, households to withstand shocks and rural economies to move forward with confidence.
As we look toward Morocco 2026, these experiences shape the direction of our work. They show that protecting children in agriculture requires more than assistance; it requires approaches that recognise farmers as partners, builders and decision-makers. The path ahead will depend on listening to their voices and ensuring that inclusion remains the organising principle, not only in Kalemela B, but across every community where resilience begins in the fields.
