Health
We Are Pushing Nature to the Edge—But Solutions Are Within Reach: Global Conversations on Sustainable Health
By Davidson Ndyabahika and Johanna Blomgren
We’ve all done it—tossed leftovers, ignored wilted greens, or shrugged at a half-eaten meal. Food waste is a quiet guilt we all share, a reflex in a world of abundance and scarcity. But what if this small act connects to a larger global issue? On February 26, 2025, experts from Uganda, Sweden, and beyond gathered in a virtual seminar, asking, “How can we nourish ourselves without harming the planet?” Hosted by the Centre of Excellence for Sustainable Health (CESH), the discussion revealed a harsh truth—our food habits are draining the Earth.
The discussion on sustainable food systems marked the beginning of the annual four-part global conversation on sustainable health, organized through a collaboration between Sweden’s Karolinska Institutet and Uganda’s Makerere University under the auspices of CESH.
In Kampala, the paradox is stark. Every day, 750 tons of food waste fill the city’s landfills, enough to feed thousands. Rotten mangoes spill from crates in Nakasero Market, and half-eaten Rolex wraps pile behind street stalls. Uganda’s Food Rights Alliance shows 37.8% of this waste comes from plates and markets. Across East Africa, organic waste, like spoiled vegetables and discarded tubers, makes up 79% of urban trash—a grim reflection of broken systems. Beyond this is a city stuck with piles and piles of organic trash, which has previously been fatal with a slide in one of Kampala’s major landfills. Meanwhile, 26% of Uganda’s children remain stunted.
At the heart of this week’s global conversation was the WWF’s Living Planet Report 2024, a sobering revelation of a 73% decline in global wildlife populations since 1970. Freshwater ecosystems have hemorrhaged 85% of biodiversity, Latin America’s species richness has plummeted by 95%, and Africa—home to smallholder farmers who feed millions—has lost 76%. “Nature is disappearing at an alarming rate,” warned Harold Turinawe, WWF Uganda’s Forest Markets Transformation Manager, his voice weighted with urgency.
“We are pushing Earth’s systems to irreversible tipping points, and despite the increase in food production and land use and the destruction of habitats, the world is still hungry; we have over 735 million people going to bed hungry every other night. The contradiction is striking,” Turinawe added.
The report highlights the Amazon’s lush canopies that are felled for cattle ranches. The interplay of man’s unsustainable utilization of Mother Nature, leading to the food paradox, feast, famine, and ecological ruin, underscores the urgency of addressing global goals in a coordinated manner.
The report’s indictment of industrial food systems is clear: agriculture claims 40% of habitable land, 70% of freshwater, and drives 25% of greenhouse emissions. Yet, 735 million people still starve nightly. “Our obsession with monocultures and processed foods isn’t just destroying habitats—it’s failing humanity,” said Dr. Rawlance Ndejjo, the seminar’s moderator and a public health lecturer at Makerere University.
Florence Tushemerirwe, a Ugandan public health nutrition expert based at Makerere University’s School of Public Health, pointed out the irony: 26% of children are stunted, while obesity rises among adults in Uganda. “We grow nutrient-rich crops but export them, leaving people dependent on cheap, processed imports. In fact, many people do not appreciate their nutrient value,” she said. Uganda’s iodine-depleted soils now rely on fortified foods—a temporary fix for a growing crisis.
All through the seminar, the message was clear: we are wasting abundance while ecosystems crumble and people go hungry. “Our salt is iodized because our soils no longer provide it. Biodiversity loss isn’t abstract—it’s stealing nutrients from our plates. But if we don’t maintain our nature’s health, or our environmental health, or our natural resources health, it means that whatever food we grow, we actually do not carry the nutrients we need to maintain a diverse diet,” said Tushemerirwe.
The panel dissected global food trade’s role. WWF’s Turinawe lamented, “90% of deforestation is for agriculture. In Uganda, the once-vibrant wetland ecosystems of Lwera at the shores of Lake Victoria now face severe degradation due to large-scale rice growers; in the Amazon, its cattle ranches.”
Dr. Rachel Marie Mazac of Stockholm Resilience Centre stressed Europe’s complicity: “Sweden’s ‘virtual biodiversity loss’—importing deforestation via beef and soy—shows how our diets export destruction.”
“From a Swedish perspective, we are highly dependent on imports, particularly raw materials, which contribute significantly to biodiversity loss in other regions. It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact impact, especially with biodiversity, but there’s a concept of “virtual impact,” says Dr. Mazac.
Food consumed in Sweden, though produced elsewhere, contributes to biodiversity loss in those areas. The issue links to trade, food production, and distribution. It’s not just about production or waste but also equitable distribution.
Dr. Ndejjo added starkly, “You could be eating a burger from a cow grazed on razed Amazon forest. Guilt isn’t enough—we need systemic change.”
Amid the grim statistics, the panelists outlined a roadmap for redemption: nature-positive agriculture, subsidy policy reform, improved localized diets, global accountability, and honest discussions on the GMO dilemma.
Turinawe emphasized the need for agroecology in extension services—integrating trees, crops, and livestock to rebuild soil health and biodiversity. He stressed while critiquing Uganda’s Parish Development Extension Model for prioritizing enterprises for profit over sustainability. “We are saying get one million to a farmer. What are they producing? They are engaging in commodities that are predetermined. Nobody’s talking about Mother Nature. Who takes care of the soil? Who takes care of the water needs? Who takes care of the diversification we are talking about? But diversification in the diet begins with diversification on the farm. So my first issue is strengthening the agricultural extension services,” says Turinawe.
Adding that things like soil health management, land tenure system farmer-to-farmer network for peer learning, and fair farmer subsidies should be key to planning and agricultural extension.
“In Uganda, where I come from, and currently in Kampala, if you head north towards Zirobwe in Luweero District, you’ll find people we call Bibanja owners—essentially squatters who don’t own the land they occupy. These individuals cannot engage in sustainable agriculture as we’re discussing; their focus is survival. What we need are programs that give farmers secure land rights, which can motivate them to invest in soil health and environmental conservation—investments that take time. Improving soil is not a short-term effort; it requires long-term actions like planting trees, integrating practices, and using farmyard manure. None of this is realistic for someone who fears being displaced tomorrow. We need to approach this challenge collectively.”
Subsidies must reward sustainable practices, not industrial giants.
“Why not tax breaks for farmers using organic manure?” Turinawe challenged. “I would love to hear that a farmer that is engaged in sustainable cocoa production and coffee production gets a tax holiday rather than having a blanket of investors getting a holiday. Put subsidies and investment incentives in the right direction. We shall spur production, and of course, this will also bring in corporate partnerships, and we can make our supply chains safer, better, more green, and more sustainable,” Turinawe added.
Dr. Mazac noted that “nature-positive production can feed the world by optimizing crops, livestock, and wild fisheries, and supporting aquaculture that works with wetlands, not against them.” For Mazac, policy is key: She is also an advocate of subsidies and taxes that benefit farmers. Those that ensure incentives that improve soil health and maintain water quality as well as tackle climate change in order to make sustainability profitable.
“We must rethink trade to avoid widening the gap between food-producing areas and markets and instead support local farmers. Subsidies and taxes should empower these communities to nourish their populations before focusing on exports. While exports generate income, they also have significant impacts. A possible solution is changing production systems, but we must also shift dietary and consumption habits, making this a collective effort, not just an individual responsibility.”
Tushemerirwe is hungry for reviving indigenous crops and regulating predatory marketing. “Awareness is power. We must teach communities to value their traditional foods over processed substitutes.”
“There is good food grown in rural areas and available in markets, but people don’t recognize its value due to lack of guidance. We need food-based data guidelines to raise awareness. The Uganda Ministry of Health has a draft for this, along with draft policies to regulate unhealthy food marketing, especially to children. Junk food is advertised everywhere: hospitals, schools, and even street billboards, with fast food chains clustered together. We must regulate this and educate people on the nutritional benefits of eating what they grow over imported alternatives,” she stated.
Dr. Ndejjo believes these draft guidelines to regulate unhealthy food marketing should be finalized into policies and urges policymakers and implementers to prioritize the urgent need for these documents.
The conversation also weighed in on the genetic engineering in agriculture for increased crop yields, popular for GMOs, a dilemma that panelists called for their democratization rather than demonizing them. While Dr. Mazac cautioned against corporate-controlled seeds, Turinawe acknowledged their potential: “If democratized, drought-resistant crops could save farms in a warming world.”
Dr. Mazac noted that while in Europe and the European Union, they are not allowed to grow or sell foods that have been genetically modified, the essence of them should not be overlooked, since they are a technology that seeks to solve the future food crisis.
“GMOs aren’t inherently evil. Drought-resistant crops could save farms—but corporate patents trap farmers,” she said.
Turinawe added, “Our approach to GMO’s is a measure one bordering more on ethics and responsible use of GMOs; we see GMOs as a tool to promote resilience, especially since everything has changed—the food we once relied on can no longer grow in the same way. If GMOs help improve crop resilience, that’s a valuable tool. However, there are concerns that companies like Monsanto could use the GMO technology as a tool of exclusion, e.g., the fear of monopolizing future seed markets. This is where caution is needed.”
A Call for Radical Collaboration
The seminar’s resounding theme was unity: multi-sectoral collaboration is non-negotiable. From street food vendors to policymakers in the boardrooms, every actor must align. “Food systems aren’t siloed,” Dr. Mazac asserted. “They’re woven into climate, economy, and culture.”
“I think we need to sit and agree and engage quite regularly and find solutions for us to be able to produce food but sustainably,” concluded Tushemerirwe.
The Path Ahead
CESH’s global conversations on sustainable health are a microcosm of a global awakening, especially in tracking progress to meet our goals for 2030 and beyond: This seminar on food systems emphasizes the interconnectedness of food security and biodiversity. With the next UN Climate Summit (COP29) on the horizon, the panel’s message is clear—transformative change is possible, but only through courage, equity, and an unyielding reverence for nature.
To find more about this global conversation on sustainable health and more, visit CESH.health
Davidson Ndyabahika and Johanna Blomgren are the co-organisers of the global conversation on sustainable health
The ward is never quiet during labour. Even at night, there are cries, some sharp with pain, others muted by exhaustion. Monitors beep. Midwives move quickly between beds. In the moments just before birth, everything narrows to breath, pressure, and time.
It was in places like this, years ago, that Phillip Wanduru first learned how fragile that moment can be.
Working as a clinical nurse at Nakaseke Hospital in central Uganda, he watched babies who should have survived struggle for breath. Some were born still. Others cried briefly, then went silent. Many were not premature or unusually small; they were full-term babies whose lives unraveled during labour.
“What troubled me most,” Wanduru recalls, “was that these were complications we have known how to manage for more than a hundred years, prolonged labour, obstructed labour, and hypertension. And yet babies were still dying or surviving with brain injuries.”
Those early encounters never left him. They became the questions that followed him into public health, into research, and eventually into a doctoral thesis that would confront one of Uganda’s most persistent and preventable tragedies.
A Public Defense, Years in the Making
On Friday, June 13, 2025, Wanduru stood before colleagues, mentors, and examiners in a hybrid doctoral defense held at the David Widerström Building in Solna, Sweden, and online from Kampala. The room was formal, but the subject matter was anything but abstract.
His PhD thesis, “Intrapartum-Related Adverse Perinatal Outcomes: Burden, Consequences, and Models of Care from Studies in Eastern Uganda,” was the culmination of years spent listening to mothers, following newborns long after delivery, and documenting what happens when birth goes wrong.
He completed the PhD through a collaborative programme between Makerere University and Karolinska Institutet, under the supervision of Prof. Claudia Hanson, Assoc. Prof. Peter Waiswa, Assoc. Prof. Helle Mölsted Alvesson, and Assoc. Prof. Angelina Kakooza-Mwesige, a team that bridged global expertise and local reality. His doctoral training unfolded as the two institutions marked 25 years of collaboration, a partnership that has shaped generations of public health researchers and strengthened research capacity across Uganda and beyond.
By the time he defended, the findings were already unsettlingly clear.
One in Ten Births
In hospitals in Eastern Uganda, Wanduru’s research found that more than one in ten babies experiences an intrapartum-related adverse outcome. This medical term refers to babies who are born still, die shortly after birth, or survive with brain injury caused by oxygen deprivation during labour.
Among those outcomes, stillbirths accounted for four in ten cases. Five in ten babies survived with brain injury.
“These are not rare events,” Wanduru explains. “They are happening every day, often in facilities where care should be available.”
But survival was only part of the story.
Following infants diagnosed with intrapartum-related neonatal encephalopathy for a year, his research revealed that about seven in ten babies with severe brain injury died before their first birthday. Among survivors, many faced lifelong challenges, difficulty walking, talking, and learning.
“What happens in labour,” he says, “does not end in the delivery room. It follows families for years.”
He describes the findings of his PhD research as appalling, evidence of an urgent failure in how labour and delivery are managed, and a call for immediate action to prevent avoidable complications. “Babies with severe brain injuries,” he notes, “faced the greatest odds. Even when they survived birth, nearly seven in ten died before their first birthday. Of those who lived beyond infancy, about half were left with long-term challenges, including difficulties with walking, talking, or learning.”
Mothers at the Centre—Yet Often Invisible
Wanduru’s work did not stop at numbers. Through in-depth interviews with mothers and health workers, he uncovered a quieter truth that parents, especially mothers, were desperate to help their babies survive, but often felt unsupported themselves.
Mothers followed instructions closely. They learned to feed fragile babies, keep them warm, and monitor breathing. They complied with every rule, driven by fear and hope in equal measure.
“The survival of the baby became the only focus,” Wanduru says. “But the mothers were exhausted, emotionally drained, and often ignored once the baby became the patient.”
Even as mothers remained central to care, their own physical and mental well-being received little attention. For the poorest families, the burden was heavier still: long hospital stays, transport costs, and uncertainty about the future.
These insights shaped one of the thesis’s most powerful conclusions: saving newborn lives requires caring for families, not just treating conditions.
Why Care Fails—Even When Knowledge Exists
One of the most uncomfortable findings in Wanduru’s research was that emergency referrals and caesarean sections did not consistently reduce the risk of brain injury, except in cases of prolonged or obstructed labour.
The problem, he found, was not the intervention, but the delay.
In many facilities, hours passed between identifying a complication and acting on it. Ambulances were unavailable. Referral systems were weak. Operating theatres lacked supplies or staff.
“These are not failures of science,” Wanduru says. “They are failures of systems.”
His work reinforces a sobering reality for policymakers that most intrapartum-related deaths and disabilities are preventable, but only if care is timely, coordinated, and adequately resourced.
From Bedside to Systems Thinking
Wanduru’s path into public health began at the bedside. After earning a Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Mbarara University of Science and Technology in 2011, he trained as a clinician, caring for patients during some of their most vulnerable moments. He later completed a Master of Public Health at Makerere University in 2015, a transition that gradually widened his focus from individual patients to the health systems responsible for their care.
His work gradually drew him deeper into the systems shaping maternal and newborn care. As a field coordinator for the MANeSCALE project, he worked within public and private not-for-profit hospitals, helping to improve clinical outcomes for mothers and babies. Under the Preterm Birth Initiative, he served as an analyst, contributing to efforts to reduce preterm births and improve survival among vulnerable infants through quality-improvement and discovery research across Uganda, Kenya, and Rwanda.
In the Busoga region, he coordinated prospective preterm birth phenotyping, following mothers and babies over time to better understand the causes and consequences of early birth. Since 2016, this work has been anchored at Makerere University School of Public Health, where he serves as a Research Associate in the Department of Health Policy, Planning, and Management.
Across these roles, he found himself returning to the same question: why babies continue to die during a moment medicine has long learned to handle.
Models of Care That Could Change Outcomes
Wanduru’s thesis does more than document failure; it points toward solutions.
He highlights family-centred care models, including Kangaroo Mother Care, which keep babies and parents together and improve recovery, bonding, and brain development. He emphasizes early detection of labour complications, functional referral systems, and rapid access to emergency obstetric care.
“These are not new ideas,” he says. “The challenge is doing them consistently.”
He also calls for recognizing stillbirths, not as inevitable losses, but as preventable events deserving data, policy attention, and bereavement support.
“Stillbirths are often invisible,” he notes. “But they matter to mothers, to families, and to the health system.”
Research That Changes Practice
For Wanduru, the most meaningful part of the PhD journey is that the evidence is already being used. Findings from his work have informed hospital practices, advocacy reports, and quality-improvement discussions.
“Yes, the PhD was demanding,” he admits. “But knowing that the work is already contributing to change makes it worthwhile.”
His mentors see him as part of a broader lineage, researchers committed not only to generating evidence but to ensuring it improves care.
With a PhD in his bag, Wanduru sees his work as a continuation rather than a conclusion.
“The fight to make birth safe for every mother and baby continues,” he says. “I want to contribute to improving care and to building the capacity of others to do the same.”
That means mentoring young researchers, strengthening hospital systems, and keeping the focus on families whose lives are shaped in the delivery room.
Dr. Wanduru joins fellows in the MakSPH PhD forum who concluded their doctoral journeys in 2025, and his work speaks for babies who never cried, for mothers who waited too long for help, and for health workers doing their best within strained systems. It insists that birth, while always risky, does not have to be deadly.
— Makerere University School of Public Health Communications Office, Graduation Profiles Series, 76th Graduation Ceremony
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