The heavens come pouring

The long rains are finally here with us. Yes many parts of Kenya are indeed wet. infact last week there  were  flash floods in certain parts of the country as a result  of the heavy rains.

It is good news all over, even farmers who were holding onto their  maize stocks are  now selling  in preparation for the new planting season.

Kenya  like many African countries is  dependent on rain fed agriculture meaning that the onset of the long rains is a relief  for  the country's  break baskets and strategic grain reserves.

Last year, the poor performance  of maize, (the staple food)  left a shortage of 10 million bags. The poor performance was evidence in other traditional sources  like Tanzania and  Malawi which we  trade with to supplement our deficits.

It is this background that has got me thinking, the rainfall we had last year  was part of the attributes for the poor maize production, how do we make  this planting  season different.

While there are many rain harvesting techniques employed on small scale mainly by non governmental organizations in arid and semiarid parts of the country many farmers have left their produce  at the mercies of the gods, so to speak.

If it rains, the  food production will be enough for  subsistence use  and sale, if the rains are below average we suffer food  shortage.

The long and short  of  it is that  with  the increasing threat of climate change we need to think  away from rainfed agriculture.

What technologies whether simple or complex can be employed  to ensure that  farmer  productivity is not  grossly affected.

Should  we dig  more boreholes or use rooftop water harvesting systems? Is it possible to dig dip trenches along the farm borders to trap rain water?

I am not an expert in this neither am I in a capacity to recommend technologies. What I do know  for  certain is if  we do not  find and implement technologies on larger  scales that work for  farmers then  we risk  being caught in the endless cycle of drought and famine.

The mouse scared of elephants!!

They say that elephants are most afraid of mice. Spotting of a tail let alone the body of the small creature can cause a very big stampede.

I beg to differ.

You see at the start of the year I had vowed to that this would be the year I go back to my roots.

 My plan was very simple I wanted my father to lease me half an acre of his land so that my dreams could take off.

My vision for the year has been growing dimmer and dimmer as the days go by. It all started a week after the New Year; the land in our rural home (or shaggz as many Kenyan youth would call it) was still green form the short rains of the previous planting season.

While performance of maize was not satisfactory, the people in my village were hopeful that they would harvest a lot of the vegetables.

You see we the Taita (the Kenyan coastal tribe that I come from) seem to eat a lot of naturally occurring herbs as of my friends once noted when she visited our home most of which are an acquired taste.

When it rains it is almost like clockwork that vegetables which are now in excess supply are harvested and dried either in the sun as they are or after they are boiled. In this way they are able to stay for longer up to three months providing for families.     

When we were young and my grandfather still lived in a mud house the situation was the same if not worse. the elephants would come to the homesteads and help themselves to the rough surfaces of the homes in the dead of the night just to get rid of a bugging itch.
 
But I digress. 

While villagers were celebrating the harvests in January
, jumbos from the nearby national park were also thanking their maker.  They became the new menace tearing into the farms eating all that they could.

Recently when I visited our rural home and everyone was quick to inform me of the Jumbo imposed curfews.

 There had been far too many close shaves with most of my relatives as they came from the farm and they knew too well that a city mouse like me cannot be able to withstand a confrontation if left to my own devices.

As petty as this might seem to some, many of my relatives most of whom had close shaves with the jumbos have not returned to the farms fearing for their lives.


It got me thinking, do I really want to farm that much that I would be willing to endanger my own life or that of those working for me? Do I even have the resources to spend on a farm only to have an elephant come trampling on the harvests?

I am forced to wonder how many more people in Africa are found in predicaments similar to that of  my kinsmen and what would be the lasting solution to this?
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Can a city girl become a farm mouse?

Growing up I used to pride myself in being able to do so many household chores. Yes even farming.
Back then it was non voluntary.
My parents would find ways of coercing us to go to the shamba (farm) and more often than not I would do it so diligently so that I could get the often promised carrots.
Me and my siblings would dig, uproot weeds, plant crops and even harvest at different times of the month.
But one can pull the this tactics just for a few times and as we grew up and went to school in far of places, there was need for other farming alternatives like hiring help.
Time flew and soon I found myself working in the capital. Recently when I found myself going to my rural home for holiday, I kept wondering whether I would remember how to hold a hoe or how to till the land.
Being in the city did not make me a total blond. I still remember how a hoe looks like and the way to the Shamba is etched at the back of my memory. But there is a certain angle within in which the hoe hits the ground to make the greatest impact.
A certain way to arc your back while digging to ensure that you do not have a backache or get tired only after a short while.  While these questions bogged my mind, I began remembering the pleasant memories associated with farming while growing up.
The songs we would sing as we went to pick some kales, the games of hide and seek we would play, how we would eat the mangoes from the tree as self rewards for our hard work and even make a fire to boil or roast some maize when we were tired of chasing of the monkeys from eating the produce during harvesting season.
It created a nostalgic feeling that I want back. Not exactly being young but the sense of adventure that farming created.
In my work I have had the opportunity to share time with young farmers people like me who have gone back to till the land and living well of it.
Urban farmers and rural farmers, the old and young alike all have one thing in common the passion for farming and doing what they love.
Maybe it is this association that has rubbed off in me and sparked a new fire. Ensuring that I can do something about food security is my new goal. The journey won’t be easy but this city girl is getting transformed into the farm mouse!