Intertidal spaces mimic the way intergenerational knowledge is transmitted. These are fertile spaces where the sea meets the land, where aspects visible during low tide become hidden at high tide. Knowledge transfer operates similarly – there’s richness, yet parts are sometimes obscured, and critical aspects overlooked.

As a Luo woman, I am a daughter of the Nile. My ancestors migrated over millennia from Southern Egypt through Sudan, following the White Nile to the shores of Nam Lolwe (Lake Victoria), gathering knowledge from the lands and waters they encountered and finding ways to transmit it to future generations. The subtle tides of the Nile attuned us to the imperceptible changes between water and earth, teaching us that wisdom resides in those delicate in-between spaces.

I also hold a doctorate in Social Anthropology from the University of Oxford, which led me to conduct 36 months of fieldwork on allotments across the city. These allotments, some over 100 years old, are not just spaces for growing food but repositories of ecological wisdom.

The ‘old boys,’ as these elder allotment growers are fondly called, have been cultivating on allotment sites in an unbroken chain since WWI. They would explain how different areas of the same allotment had distinct soils, each requiring its own kind of care. Digging into plots that had been cultivated for decades felt like an archaeological excavation, and the old boys taught me how to read the traces of those who had worked the soil before – whether remnants of carpet laid down to suppress weeds or fragments of clay pipes smoked in the 19th century.

My time on traditional allotments revealed ways in which practical, everyday wisdom is passed on. The old boys don’t teach through formal instruction. They tell stories, offer planting advice, and their hands are as much teachers as their words. One old boy showed me how different soils across the same allotment needed varying care – shifting from clay in one section to sandy in another – and how to amend each so it would yield better crops. This knowledge had been passed down to him by watching his father, and refined over time, but with core lessons intact.

Yet these lessons were bittersweet. Allotments had been their sanctuary, a place to escape from life's pressures, but by the time they retired, they regretted not sharing the wisdom they had accumulated with their children. In teaching me, they acknowledged the fragility of this knowledge, a reminder that if it is not passed on, it can be lost.

When Andrew Merritt and Cement Fields approached me with another allotment project, I was excited. The Intertidal Allotment project represents a beautiful combination, trusting the wisdom embedded in spaces like allotments while thinking critically about how to transmit ecological knowledge into the future. Just as I had to earn the trust of the old boys on the allotment, developing the Intertidal Allotment on the Isle of Sheppey will require patience, working at its own pace to gain trust – from the land, the non-humans, and the humans connected to both.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the Intertidal Allotment is how it draws inspiration from natural systems of knowledge and adaptation. In the intertidal zone, oysters serve as ‘ecosystem engineers,’ creating reefs that not only protect other marine life but also improve water quality. This principle of stacking systems – where one species builds upon another to create a thriving, self-sustaining whole – has much to teach us about layering human and environmental knowledge to create resilient communities.

The project reminded me of my ancestors, who understood that challenges can only be addressed by bringing together different kinds of knowledge – both local and trans-local. They also knew that tuning into a different sense of time is essential. My ancestors didn’t work the wetlands of the Nile year-round; they engaged with it seasonally, much like the ‘old boys’ on Oxford allotments, who knew exactly what to plant and when to harvest, guided by the rhythms of the seasons. The approach at Sheppey is active and experimental, pushing the limits of the British maritime climate by growing plants from other parts of the world to see how they adapt. Allotments are a patchwork of love – old boys grow what they love, and they take pride in experimenting with new varieties. Yet love, as a force behind environmental knowledge, is rarely acknowledged. It is love that fosters the deep attention and care needed to truly understand the land. Care, especially, is critical if we are to find climate solutions that can transcend generations.

In a time of rapid climate change, the Intertidal Allotment offers a powerful model for building climate resilience through collective, practical action. Allotments have always been spaces where resourcefulness, care, and deep engagement with the land are central. These values are more important than ever as we grapple with the uncertainties of the climate crisis.