Growing roots in a changing climate

By Amira AwadAllah| Issue 27

‘Where my story began — my little brother smiling by the water, surrounded by the life we hope to protect.’ (photo courtesy of the author).

Climate change through my eyes

I grew up in a small rural community where life always felt connected to the seasons. The rain — or the lack of it — shaped our days. When the fields were green, people were smiling. When the soil cracked under the heat, the mood of the whole place shifted. For us, weather was not just background noise. It was the centre of our lives.

That childhood made me see climate change differently. For me, it is not just something on the news or a graph in a report. It is memories of my neighbours worrying about their crops. It is the conversations I overheard about whether the harvest would be enough. It is the small fear in people’s eyes when the rain did not come. Climate change, for me, has always been personal.

From rural roots to global action

When I moved to the city for my studies, I realised that what I saw growing up was part of a bigger story. All around the world, rural communities are living with the same reality. Farmers lose their crops to droughts or floods, and families migrate because the land cannot support them anymore.

It made me think: if climate change is already here for so many of us, why are we still talking about it as something far away?

My rural roots gave me a sense of responsibility. They pushed me into climate action, and today I work with GreenCheck, an initiative focused on climate justice. Through that I learnt that the climate fight is not only about cutting emissions. It is about fairness. It is about making sure the people who did the least to cause this crisis are not the ones paying the highest price.

Bridging two worlds

I also started to see myself as part of a diaspora. I carry the memory of my rural upbringing, but now I sit in classrooms and meetings in the city, sometimes even speaking to people from across the world. That makes me a kind of bridge. I tell the stories of where I come from in spaces that often forget about them. When people see numbers, I see faces. When I read about statistics, I remember the people behind them.

One of my roles at GreenCheck has been helping to collect local climate stories from youth in different regions. Many of these stories sound like mine — shaped by small farms, shifting weather patterns and the constant balancing act between hope and fear. Listening to them reminded me that while climate data is vital, human voices are just as powerful.

Learning from my community

But this is not only a sad story. My community also taught me hope. People supported each other when times were hard. If one family had more, they shared. We learnt to be careful with what we had: no drop of water wasted, no resource taken for granted.

These lessons stay with me. They are values the world badly needs now. In fact, they are closely linked to what experts call sustainable living: using resources wisely so that future generations can also meet their needs.

Connecting knowledge and innovation

These roots also inspire me to think of solutions. I work on projects like Green Loop, an initiative that brings together sustainability, waste management, and creating job opportunities for uneducated women.

Through Green Loop, I try to connect traditional knowledge — the resourcefulness I grew up with — with modern tools and innovations. For example, we explore ways to transform local waste materials into useful products, while training and employing women from vulnerable communities. I believe young people from rural and diaspora backgrounds can help bring these two worlds together.

Carrying hope and responsibility

Still, there are moments when I think about the future with a heavy heart. Will my village look the same in 20 years? Will children still play under the trees I remember, or will the landscape change beyond recognition?

These questions make climate action deeply personal for me. It is not just about data or theories. It is about love for a place and the wish that it can still be home for generations to come. For diasporas, climate is more than policy. It is about memory and belonging. We carry the landscapes of our childhoods inside us. And when those landscapes change, something inside us changes, too. That is why I believe diaspora youth have an important role. We can connect the local to the global, making sure the human side of the climate crisis is never forgotten.

My story began in a rural Egyptian village, but it is also connected to millions of other stories around the world. Together they show resilience, creativity, and solidarity. These are the qualities we need if we want to face the climate crisis with hope instead of despair.

Amira AwadAllah 

Amira is a third-year student at the French University in Egypt, majoring in Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Data Science. She is passionate about sustainability and building a greener future, and she aims to connect technology with real-world projects that tackle climate challenges. Amira hopes to use her skills to guide technological innovation towards climate action and sustainable development, creating solutions that protect both people and the planet. She is currently an intern with GreenCheck and is developing Green Loop, an initiative that combines sustainability, waste management, and creating job opportunities for uneducated women.