Scott Poynton, a forester based near Nyon in the canton of Vaud, spent last Wednesday in unusual company. In northern Ghana he met eight women who had taken their livelihoods firmly into their own hands. Impressed by their initiative, he later dubbed them the “Inspiration Sisters”, a title they accepted with quiet pride.
The encounter took place in Kugolugo, a village in Tolon district, west of Tamale, the capital of Ghana’s Northern Region. Poynton was there to discuss biochar and its potential to restore soils degraded by decades of ploughing and heavy use of chemical fertilisers.
Biochar is a form of charcoal produced not from timber but from agricultural waste: groundnut shells, maize cobs and husks, rice straw, soybean residues and baobab husks. The material is heated to above 400°C in a low-oxygen environment, a process known as pyrolysis. Most volatile compounds are driven off, leaving behind a stable carbon structure. Because oxygen is scarce, the carbon does not burn away.
Under a microscope biochar resembles a lattice riddled with microscopic pores. These pores retain water by surface tension, reducing run-off during heavy rains and releasing moisture slowly during dry spells. In northern Ghana, where rainfall has become erratic, that capacity can determine whether crops survive a drought. The more biochar incorporated into soil, the greater its water-holding potential.
If soaked before application in water enriched with manure, the pores also absorb dissolved nutrients. The result is not merely improved moisture retention but enhanced fertility.
Across much of sub-Saharan Africa, climate change has disrupted once predictable rainy seasons. Farmers who could previously anticipate the onset and retreat of the rains now contend with false starts and prolonged dry spells. Years of chemical inputs have also left soils biologically depleted. Earthworms are scarce; microbial life is diminished. Biochar provides microhabitats in which bacteria and fungi can re-establish themselves, gradually rebuilding soil ecosystems—especially where chemical use is reduced.
The carbon in well-made biochar is remarkably stable. It can persist in soil for a century or more, sometimes far longer. Each application therefore accumulates, strengthening resilience over time. For farmers, the attraction is straightforward: biochar can be produced annually from their own crop residues at little financial cost, requiring labour rather than purchased inputs.
Large-scale production can be technically demanding. For smallholders, simpler artisanal methods suffice. One is the soil-pit method: a trench roughly two metres long, one metre wide and one metre deep, in which biomass is burned under controlled conditions. Another is the drum or TLUD (top-lit updraft) kiln, typically fashioned from a 44-gallon barrel fitted with air holes and a chimney. Both require care but are well suited to village use.
Biochar was introduced to farmers in northern Ghana in 2022. Initially, few had heard of it. Since then, training sessions have expanded to dozens of communities. In 2025 colleagues from the Pond Foundation, a non-profit founded by Poynton, extended the programme to 13 more villages, with further expansion planned. Elsewhere, introductions have followed a predictable pattern: demonstration, discussion and a promise of support. In Kugolugo, events took an unexpected turn.
As preparations began for a training session, a woman arrived carrying a pot balanced on her head. Inside was biochar. She explained that, after a preliminary visit from the team weeks earlier, she had attempted production herself. Soon another woman appeared with her own batch, then several more. In all, eight women had independently produced biochar before any formal training had taken place.
In a region where land tenure and farming decisions are often dominated by men, such initiative is striking. Women typically manage household gardens rather than field crops. Yet these eight had acted without waiting for instruction or permission. They intended to use biochar to improve their soils and yields.
Their example transformed the session. Questions multiplied; discussion deepened. The following day the team returned to photograph the group, who assembled again with their carefully produced carbon. They stood together, composed but unmistakably proud, participants in a quiet agricultural experiment.
The economic context underscores the stakes. In parts of northern Ghana, a household of ten may subsist on roughly $200 a year. Greater soil resilience can mean steadier harvests, reduced expenditure on fertilisers and, potentially, less need for seasonal migration to cities such as Accra or beyond.
If biochar production spreads widely, its cumulative effects could be substantial: improved soil health, greater food security and long-term carbon sequestration. Whether it does so will depend less on technology than on local initiative. In Kugolugo, eight women have already provided a glimpse of what that might achieve.
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