In the bustling city of Bafoussam, Cameroon, a quiet revolution is underway—not in the form of towering skyscrapers or sprawling industrial zones, but in the unassuming form of mushrooms. Francis Tangmouo Tsoata, a researcher whose work has been published in the journal *VertigO* (which translates to “Green O” in English), has uncovered how urban myciculture—a niche yet rapidly growing agricultural practice—is reshaping the city’s socio-ecological landscape. His findings suggest that this discreet innovation could hold the key to addressing some of the most pressing challenges faced by cities in the Global South, particularly in energy and waste management.
Tsoata’s study, conducted over four months with the Common Initiative Group (GIC) Champignon, reveals how a small collective of urban farmers is turning the city’s constraints into productive resources. By cultivating mushrooms using biodegradable waste as substrate, they’ve created a closed-loop system that not only reduces organic waste but also generates employment, disseminates technical knowledge, and offers an accessible livelihood for diverse social groups. “What we’re seeing here is more than just mushroom farming,” Tsoata explains. “It’s a model of resilience, where urban constraints become the very foundation of a circular economy.”
The system’s ecological core lies in its ability to valorize waste. Substrates made from agricultural and household byproducts are composted after harvest, creating a nutrient-rich soil amendment that further feeds the city’s green spaces. Even the spent mushroom substrate is repurposed as ecological charcoal, a low-cost alternative to traditional fuel sources. This closed-loop approach not only minimizes waste but also reduces the city’s reliance on imported energy and fertilizers—a critical advantage in a region where infrastructure is fragile and supply chains are unreliable.
For the energy sector, the implications are significant. Urban myciculture thrives on adaptability, often operating in spaces where water and electricity outages are common. Farmers in Bafoussam have developed low-tech, energy-efficient methods to keep production steady, such as solar-powered drying racks and manual substrate preparation techniques. These innovations could inspire energy providers to explore decentralized, community-based solutions that align with the realities of urban life in the Global South. As Tsoata notes, “The energy sector could learn from this model. Instead of relying solely on large-scale infrastructure, there’s value in supporting small-scale, adaptive systems that can thrive even when the grid fails.”
Yet, the sector’s growth is not without hurdles. Dependence on imported mycelium (the fungal spawn used to inoculate substrates) and high logistical costs remain major barriers. Climatic constraints—such as seasonal variations in temperature and humidity—also pose challenges. Without institutional recognition or support, these innovators are left to navigate a precarious landscape, where the smallest disruption can stall progress.
Still, the potential is undeniable. Myciculture in Bafoussam demonstrates how urban agriculture can be more than a subsistence activity; it can be a driver of economic inclusion, environmental sustainability, and energy resilience. As cities across Africa and beyond grapple with rapid urbanization and resource scarcity, Tsoata’s work offers a compelling blueprint for how niche innovations can scale into systemic solutions. The question now is whether policymakers and industry leaders will take notice—and whether the energy sector will step up to help turn these discreet experiments into a mainstream movement.