In the dusty plains of Isiolo County, northern Kenya, pastoralist Maryan Abdi stands on a ridge overlooking acres of acacia-dotted rangeland that her community has grazed for generations. Surveyors in branded vests, backed by a Dubai-based carbon credit firm, are staking out boundaries for a vast reforestation and conservation project. “This is our land,” Abdi tells Who Owns Africa. “We were not asked. Now they say we cannot graze here anymore.”
Abdi’s story echoes across the continent in 2026, as Africa becomes the epicentre of a new wave of large-scale land acquisitions – this time driven not just by food security but by the global rush for carbon offsets. While foreign investors praise these deals as vital for climate action and economic development, critics denounce them as “green grabbing”, a modern form of land dispossession that echoes colonial-era seizures.
Colonial legacies and modern land tenure
Historical echoes run deep. Colonial powers carved up Africa, seizing fertile lands for plantations and settler farms, displacing millions of indigenous communities. In Kenya, the British Crown Lands Ordinance of 1915 declared vast areas crown land, alienating Kikuyu and Maasai peoples. Similar patterns unfolded in Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia), South Africa and Algeria. Post-independence governments often nationalised these holdings, vesting land in the state as trustee for citizens. But weak tenure systems left customary rights – held by 80% of rural Africans – vulnerable.
The land rush of the 2000s and its evolution
The 2007-2008 global food price crisis triggered the first modern land rush. Investors from Gulf states, China, Europe and the United States targeted Africa for biofuel and food production. The Land Matrix, an independent database tracking deals over 200 hectares, recorded thousands of transactions. By the mid-2010s, intended deals exceeded 100 million hectares globally, with Africa hosting the majority.
Many faltered – implementation rates hovered around 20-30% due to community resistance, financial issues or policy shifts. Yet concluded deals still transferred control of tens of millions of hectares, often on long-term leases of 50-99 years, since most African countries prohibit foreign freehold ownership.
In 2026, the landscape has shifted dramatically. Traditional agricultural acquisitions have slowed, replaced by a surge in projects tied to carbon markets and renewable energy. An October 2025 Land Matrix analytical report documented 9 million hectares worldwide under carbon offset deals, with Africa bearing a disproportionate share. Millions of hectares in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Zambia, Kenya, Tanzania and Liberia are now earmarked for forest conservation or restoration to generate credits for polluting companies in the Global North.
Gulf states lead the new wave
Gulf states have emerged as dominant players. Seeking to offset emissions while diversifying from oil, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar have poured billions into African land. UAE-based Blue Carbon signed controversial memorandums in 2023-2024 covering up to 25 million hectares across Liberia, Kenya, Tanzania, Zambia and Zimbabwe – equivalent to 10% of those countries’ arable land. Though some deals were scaled back or paused amid outcry, similar projects proliferate.
China, once a leading acquirer for agriculture, has pivoted toward infrastructure under the Belt and Road Initiative. Chinese firms still hold significant leases in Mozambique for rice and in Ethiopia for sugar, but new focus is on mining and ports. European and American investors, often through pension funds or agribusiness giants, target biofuels and now carbon via voluntary markets.
Top target countries remain consistent: Ethiopia, Mozambique, Sudan (pre-conflict), Tanzania and the Democratic Republic of Congo account for large shares. Investors cite Africa’s underutilised land – only 20% of arable potential cultivated – and favourable climates.
How foreign investors secure land rights
Ownership structures reveal nuance. In Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda, foreigners typically secure 99-year leases through government agencies like the Tanzania Investment Centre. Freehold remains reserved for citizens. Exceptions exist: South Africa allows foreign ownership with restrictions, while Ethiopia’s 2025 draft law signals opening to immovable property for diaspora and investors under conditions.
Case study: Carbon deals spark tension in Liberia
In Liberia, Blue Carbon’s 2023 deal for 10% of the country’s land – mostly forest – promised carbon revenues and jobs. Critics, including local NGOs, warned of evictions from ancestral forests used for farming and hunting. By 2025, parts were renegotiated after protests, but implementation proceeds amid accusations of inadequate consultation.
Impacts on communities and food security
In northern Sierra Leone, a Swiss-based carbon developer acquired rights over 1.3 million hectares in 2024-2025. Communities report restricted access to farmland, leading to food shortages. A 2025 study in World Development found large-scale acquisitions correlated with increased child malnutrition in affected African regions.
Conversely, some projects claim benefits. In Zambia’s Luangwa Valley, a UAE-backed conservation initiative employs hundreds in anti-poaching and tourism. Revenue shares fund schools. “It’s not perfect, but it’s investment we need,” a local chief told researchers.
In Ethiopia, long a hotspot, foreign flower farms and industrial parks on leased land employ thousands. Yet displacements in the Omo Valley for sugar plantations drew international condemnation for impacting indigenous groups.
Mixed economic outcomes
Gulf engagements extend beyond carbon. Saudi firms lease Sudanese land for wheat, reviving pre-2011 ambitions disrupted by conflict. UAE ports and logistics investments in East Africa – Djibouti, Berbera (Somaliland), Tanzania – often bundle agricultural concessions.
Impacts on local communities are mixed but often negative. Displacements, loss of grazing or fishing rights, and environmental degradation feature prominently. Women’s land access suffers disproportionately, as customary systems favour men. A 2025 review of 18 African countries noted policy progress on gender but persistent gaps.
Growing resistance and policy reforms
Yet resistance grows. The 2025 Conference on Land Policy in Africa, hosted in Addis Ababa, spotlighted colonial reparations and community rights. Delegates called for stronger safeguards under the African Union’s Framework and Guidelines on Land Policy.
Progress is evident. Over the past decade, countries like Madagascar, Uganda and Benin advanced community land registration. In 2025 updates from rights groups, millions of hectares gained formal collective titles, protecting against arbitrary acquisitions. Kenya’s Community Land Act of 2016 has registered dozens of group ranches by 2026.
International frameworks like the Voluntary Guidelines on the Responsible Governance of Tenure influence policy. Some investors adopt “free, prior and informed consent”, though enforcement varies.
Economically, foreign deals contribute foreign direct investment – Africa attracted record inflows in 2024-2025, partly land-related. Jobs in commercial agriculture reach hundreds of thousands. But critics argue benefits accrue disproportionately to elites, with limited technology transfer or local food security gains.
Climate urgency meets sovereignty concerns
In 2026, the balance tilts precariously. Climate imperatives drive demand for African land as a carbon sink – the Congo Basin alone holds immense potential. Voluntary carbon markets, projected to reach USD 50 billion globally, incentivise deals.
Yet scandals mount. Reports of “vanishing” credits – projects overestimating sequestration or failing verification – erode trust. Communities in Zimbabwe challenged a 20% land deal with Blue Carbon, forcing revisions.
Experts urge caution. “Africa needs investment, but not at the cost of sovereignty or rights,” said a land policy analyst at the Conference on Land Policy in Africa.
As Maryan Abdi in Isiolo watches the surveyors depart, the question persists: In the era of climate urgency, can Africa retain control over its most precious resource?
The continent’s leaders, communities and investors must navigate this carefully. Failure risks deepening inequality and conflict. Success could model equitable green transitions. For now, the land remains contested – a battleground where history, economy and ecology collide.
