By Wandabwa Franco.
I still remember the flooding season in Maputo. Not puddles; entire neighbourhoods disappearing under water; women wading through waist-deep floods, carrying babies; children’s schools becoming unreachable islands.
Living there taught me that flooding is never just about water. Within days of major floods, health centres are filled with cholera cases, malaria spikes, and respiratory infections spread in crowded shelters. Children under five bear the heaviest burden; their immune systems cannot handle contaminated water, rapid dehydration, and the disease explosion that follows.
I will never forget watching a young mother in a displacement centre comforting her feverish toddler while keeping two other children close, protecting their belongings, and figuring out how to get clean water for the baby’s formula.
When floods hit, women become everything: emergency responders, healthcare providers, and psychologists. Yet the health posts they need are flooded, the gardens where they grew vegetables have been destroyed, and the markets are gone. The impact does not end when the waters recede. Damaged facilities disrupt immunization schedules. Displaced families miss growth monitoring. Flooded schools eliminate feeding programs. Every flood season erases years of progress in reducing child mortality, improving nutrition, and expanding healthcare coverage.
I have seen what works: prepositioning supplies, training community health workers, mobile clinics, and child-friendly spaces. But the most important thing is showing up and staying, not just during dramatic rescues but in the long months afterward when families rebuild with almost nothing.
Working across Africa, Mozambique taught me this: climate change is not some future problem. It is here, it is now, and it is killing children. What is happening in Mozambique is happening across the continent. If we want to progress on child health in Africa, we cannot ignore the climate crisis. They are the same crisis.
Right now, somewhere in Mozambique, a mother is looking at the darkening sky, calculating what she will need to keep her children safe when the rains come. She should not have to make that calculation alone. How can we better support mothers and children facing these recurring climate crises?
The Author is the Resident Country Director, Ethopia, International Republican Institute.