Christine Wangari: A woman's dream for a green Nairobi

“Let’s take a tour of honour around Nairobi,” says the spirited woman beside me, her voice brimming with quiet pride. Christine Wangari, bubbly, bond, and benevolent, is not just any tour guide. She is the woman who helped replant Nairobi’s soul, one tree at a time.

As we stroll past City Hall, Kenyatta Avenue, Koinange Street, Valley Road, and down Ngong Road, she stops often. To hug a tree. To scratch its bark gently. To stoop and pick fallen seeds. “These,” she whispers, “can change everything.”

We end our walk at Michuki Park, where something remarkable happens. She pauses, face aglow, then sinks onto a bench and beckons me beside her. “You see all these trees?” she says, sweeping her hand around the vibrant green. “Two decades ago, they were seedlings - nursed in my humble nursery in Nakuru.”

This is Christine Wangari, the woman behind many of the acacias, crotons, neem, and ficus trees that now stretch across Nairobi, shading pavements, calming traffic corridors, and stitching life back into forgotten urban spaces.

Christine’s story begins with another Wangari - the late Prof Wangari Maathai. “Her passion ignited something in me,” she says. “I dreamed of walking in her footsteps, to heal the land and restore its dignity through trees.”

Armed with inspiration, she began a nursery on her family’s land in Nakuru. Within five years, and with the help of local youth, she was nurturing over three million indigenous seedlings. She registered Multitouch International (MTI) to distribute them at minimal cost to schools, public spaces, and institutions.

When she finally met Prof Maathai to share her progress, the Nobel laureate was stunned. “She told me she had never owned a nursery with even one million trees,” Christine recalls. “She relied on others. That moment changed me.”

She never met her namesake again. Prof Maathai died before she could meet her a second time “to proudly share with her my success story”. However, the torch had been passed.

At the time, Nairobi’s beautification efforts focused on manicured lawns and flowers, visually pleasing but water-thirsty and short-lived. To Christine, it was unsustainable. “I watched the same cycle for years - plant, water, dry, replant. It was beautiful, but it made no sense,” she says.

Midnight delivery that changed Nairobi

She went straight to the top: the late City Clerk John Gakuo. She pitched her idea - trees instead of grass. Hardier. Longer-lasting. Cost-effective. The solution lay in her Nakuru nursery, and in the empty trailers returning from Nairobi to Mombasa. “I told him, why not load the trees on the returning trucks? It would cost a fraction, and we could re-green the city sustainably.” Gakuo listened and then gave her a chance.

At 2am in 2006, as most of Nairobi slept, Wangari’s trees arrived, loaded onto cargo trucks that rumbled into the capital from Nakuru. Workers unloaded neem, croton, ficus, olea, Thika palm and more.

From roadside shoulders to riverbanks, her trees began to take root, literally and figuratively. But it was not always smooth. “Sometimes they blamed us for seedlings that died, even when the city failed to water them. Still, we pressed on,” Christine says.

Her team trained workers on tree suitability and urban soil conditions. They pushed back against demands for fast-beauty species and instead advocated for indigenous trees that would last.

Over time, Nairobians began to notice. Trees once reserved for arboretums, like Bombax and Ficus, now line busy streets, bus stops, and parks. Michuki Park became a turning point, a green corridor where crotons flamed, and neem trees towered over the Nairobi River. “It was once a wasteland,” she says. “Now it breathes.”

From there, the momentum grew. Nairobi began reclaiming its nickname: the green city under the sun.

Christine’s impact grew beyond the capital. She proposed the Galana Project, envisioning one million youth jobs through agroforestry and climate action.

Though she never met President Kibaki in person, she says the proposal was forwarded to top ministries. “Sadly, it was hijacked. But I know it reached the right ears,” she says with sadness.

Despite the setbacks, Christine’s efforts earned her international acclaim. In 2012, she won the Energy Global Award in Sweden for her work reclaiming degraded water catchments.

Today, her organisation, Multitouch International, is among the leading voices in Kenya’s climate response. Founded in 2003, it now champions agroforestry, water conservation, and ASAL restoration, all while advocating for climate-smart employment for the youth.

She also played a key role, alongside fellow activists, in pushing for Kenya’s ban on single-use plastic bags in 2017.

In the same year, she launched her boldest initiative yet: “40 billion Trees, One Million Jobs”—a clarion call for climate restoration that creates real work and hope.

Today, Christine drives through Nairobi with satisfaction. “I can trace them all - the candlenuts near City Stadium, the Ficus along the Mathare River, the crotons brushing school fences,” she says. “Every tree tells a story—of struggle, of survival, of belief.”

At our final stop - Standard Group’s Green Park, she beams again. “What a waste,” she says, stooping to pick up seeds from the footpath. She even pauses to teach a security guard how to plant them. “These seeds can shade generations.”

She sums it up simply: “Trees are not decorative. They are the foundation of life—of water, climate, jobs, and joy.”

“I know that it is possible to green 40 per cent of the ASAL lands. All it takes is commitment, passion and goodwill. I just wish someone would give me the task of doing so by giving me (MTI), a chance to do this,” she says. The constitution, she says, allows for individuals to be allocated ASALs unused spaces for afforestation projects. This is her greatest wish.