Interview with Magnus Bergström

How the Project Came to Be

“I’ve been working in Honduras for almost 20 years, and I was down in La Mosquitia

doing something completely different when a U.S. doctor who treats injured lobster divers grabbed me,” Magnus recalls. “He told me, ‘Every time it rains, the sunken logs shift, jam the rivers, and cut the villages off.’ That was the spark.”

Magnus and long-time Honduran colleague Marvin organized a small crew to salvage the sunken timber and then, crucially, replant. “Honduran law says if you take out timber, you have to put trees back. We planted around the church, the clinic, the school—places people pass every day so they’d remember to water the seedlings,” he says.

When the Miskito communities saw rows of mahogany and cedar popping up where there had only been grass, they asked the obvious question: Can we bring the whole forest back? Financing that dream pushed Magnus toward carbon credits.

“You need serious money to restore tens of thousands of hectares. Voluntary climate compensation looked like a way to do that without waiting for some big aid project.”

Community Leadership and Project Structure

Paskaia is deeply rooted in community leadership, relying on the Miskito people to guide operations. “From day one, we built this around the Miskito’s own systems. They decide the priorities and lead the fieldwork,” Magnus says.

Key operational roles are held by Hondurans deeply connected to the region. Marvin Rodríguez serves as local CEO, bringing his extensive forestry background to daily operations. Macklin, a Miskito agroforestry expert with years of training in Nicaragua, oversees technical activities. Hilda Madrigales manages administration and logistics.

But the heart of the project is the community itself. The rotating brigades—initially twenty-seven groups with about 18 members each—were the community’s own idea. “At first I thought it sounded messy,” Magnus admits, “but it turned out to be a huge success. More families earn wages, everyone learns crucial fire-management skills, and the community sees itself as the real owner of the project.”

The Long Road to Certification

The Plan Vivo certificate finally landed last year, four years after the first nursery bed. “Connectivity is a joke out there—no roads, no internet—so every revision meant printing a stack of papers and sending them up-river by dug-out,” Magnus laughs. “Slow, yes, but that slowness bought us trust. People have seen so many projects blow in and vanish.”

A surprise hurdle in 2022—the Honduran government’s temporary freeze on carbon-credit exports—almost derailed the launch, yet Magnus now calls it a blessing. “It forced us to double down locally instead of chasing quick overseas sales. When the freeze lifted, we were stronger.”

Key Moments

• Community-led rotation of brigades: Initially “too complicated,” later recognized as a critical success factor.

• Government export pause: Painful short-term, but long-term proof of resilience.

• Seeing pine seedlings outgrow the grass: “The first time we measured 3,000 little pines per hectare in a plot that used to burn every year—that was when I knew this could scale.”

Why Plan Vivo Matters

“Plan Vivo is tough on social criteria—and that’s what we wanted. Anybody can plant a tree; the hard part is making sure the value stays with the people who nurse it for twenty years,” Magnus says. The label also opens global markets Magnus couldn’t reach on reputation alone.

Where the Project Stands Today

Paskaia recently issued its first carbon credits and sales have begun, marking a major milestone. “Every tonne we sell means more protected hectares, more jobs, and stronger local economies,” Magnus explains.

Momentum for expansion is quickly building. Neighboring communities are eager to join after witnessing firsthand the project's impact at Tipi, the flagship site. “You drive for hours through grasslands and smoke, then suddenly you're surrounded by young forest. That's proof right there,” Magnus notes. “It’s our strongest case for why this approach works.”

Advice for Other Projects

“Put the machete down and listen first,” Magnus advises. “If locals tell you a rotation system is better, try it. The forest will still be there tomorrow.”