Philip Ochieng’s hopes soared last year when his mother, a smallholder farmer in Homa Bay county, received three 1kg packets of free sunflower seeds from the Kenyan government. A retired agriculture teacher turned sunflower oil producer, he saw a chance to boost her income and cut Kenya’s $500 million edible oil import bill.
Instead, the seeds—part of a Sh981 million ($7.6 million) state project—yielded a bitter harvest of ruined crops, lost earnings, and shattered trust.
The government’s plan to triple sunflower oil production by distributing 21 tonnes of imported seeds to farmers across 14,000 acres backfired spectacularly.
Costing taxpayers Sh250 million to procure from Zambia, the substandard seeds ravaged an estimated Sh680 million more in potential farmer income, leaving fields of stunted, low-oil crops or barren soil where seeds failed to sprout.
“They were a mongrel mix—reddish-white, striped, pale black—not the pure black oilseeds we know,” Philip told Farmbiz, recalling his unease as he sowed the seeds on his mother’s two-acre plot in Kasipul constituency. “I’ve grown sunflowers for years. These didn’t look right.”
A Harvest of Disappointment
Philip’s fears proved founded. The plants sprouted extra stems—a telltale sign of second- or third-generation open-field seeds, not the high-yield hybrids farmers rely on.
This yielded six 60kg bags of seed from two acres, a measly 180kg total, compared with the 720kg he reaps per acre on his Homabay farm using Hysun 33 seeds. Worse, pressing yielded just 2 liters of oil per bag—versus 20 liters from his hybrids. “We pressed until our arms ached,” he said. “The seeds were fibrous, fit for cattle, not cooking oil.”
The fiasco traces back to seeds sourced from Zambia, identified by FarmBizAfrica as low-grade animal-feed stock, not oil-grade sunflowers. Popular varieties like Kenya Fedha yield 13 sixty-kilo bags per acre with 38% oil content.
The state-issued seeds averaged three bags with a paltry 3.3% oil, gutting incomes from Sh50,000 ($387) per acre to under Sh1,500 ($11.60).
In Homa Bay alone, the Agriculture Food Authority (AFA) distributed seeds to 7,000 farmers across 6,500 acres. Nationwide, the toll hit 14,000 acres, with many reporting total germination failure. “That land could’ve grown maize or beans,” Philip lamented. “Instead, it’s a graveyard of government promises.”
Regulatory Gaps and Silent Officials
Sunflower seeds entering Kenya require a Plant Import Permit from the Kenya Plant Health Inspectorate Service (KEPHIS), backed by rigorous testing for quality and suitability.
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Yet KEPHIS has stayed mum on how these seeds passed muster—or if they were tested at all. AFA and the president’s office, which oversaw the tender, also declined to comment on the procurement process.
Farmers and analysts suspect corner cutting. “I’ve never seen seeds this poor certified by KEPHIS,” said Lazarus Okoth, a Siaya-based sunflower processor who rejected the free seeds. His one-tonne press churns out 200 litres of oil daily from hybrids costing Sh2,000 ($15.50) per kilo. “At Sh30,000 per acre to farm, I need 15 bags yielding 17 litres each, not three bags of feed-grade trash.”
Economic Ripples
Sunflower oil, a staple in Kenyan kitchens, is the country’s most-planted oilseed crop. The government aimed to slash import reliance, but the seeds debacle left processors idle and farmers broke. Philip’s mother, once eager to join her son’s oil venture, now faces debt after banking on a bumper crop.
Nationally, the Sh981 million loss—Sh250 million in seed costs plus Sh680 million in foregone earnings—stings a cash-strapped treasury. Kenya’s forex reserves, at $6.814 billion in January, lean heavily on diaspora remittances, not failed agricultural bets. The shilling, trading at 129.10/129.60 per dollar down 24% from a year ago, reflects deeper woes—debt, drought, and import dependence—that this project was meant to ease.
A Farmer’s Resolve
Lazarus, who sells oil at Sh250 ($1.93) per kilo to neighbors, remains defiant. “The government’s seeds were free, but I’d rather pay for hybrids that pay me back,” he said. “My press stays busy; their fields stay empty.”
For Philip, the sting is personal. “My mum trusted me to guide her. Now she’s asking how we fix this,” he said, voice tight. “I tell her we start over—with seeds we choose ourselves.”