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I recently took a drive through Kiambu from the Migaa estate side up to Kimende on the Nairobi-Nakuru highway, and I was pleasantly surprised by the power of aggregation. Throughout the entire section passing through Githunguri town, there would be someone with a milk container taking it to the nearest milk collection centre.
The containers ranged from a couple of litres all the way to 50-litre stainless steel containers. The bigger farmers had fabricated a kind of four wheelbarrow for ferrying the milk to the collection point.
One must be very careful driving on this road because there are many of these kinds of contraptions. A few kilometres down the road, two milk processors have transformed the lives of these industrious people. Their presence has created a reliable market for farmers, eliminating much of the uncertainty that once defined dairy farming.
While the average farmer here may not be considered wealthy in the conventional sense, there is clear evidence of stability and upward mobility. Brick houses dot the landscape, neatly fenced compounds replace makeshift homesteads, and well-tended gardens signal that these are people who are proud of their achievements.
They certainly are not candidates for food aid from the World Food Organisation or any such do-gooders at any time in the foreseeable future.
The power of aggregation is all there to see in this region. Small farmers now get a much better deal from the aggregators. Before these milk processors came onto the scene, milk would go to waste because there were no off-takers. A few brokers would exploit the farmers by buying the product and selling it at a premium. Dogs and cats grew fat from the excess milk.
Let me digress a bit. Brokers are some of the most loathsome characters whom the good ol’ Beelzebub should reserve the hottest part of hell for. These nefarious characters exploit farmers through their cartel-like behaviour. I have told the story of this friend of mine who had planted 10,000 cabbages, and, in his mind, he had already bought a car from the proceeds of the harvest.
Come harvest time, brokers descended on his farm with pick-ups and trucks. One proceeded to pick a cabbage, inspect it with a critical eye, throw it in the air a couple of times, and, after careful consideration, reached the conclusion that the cabbage was not well-formed. The cabbage market was a bit tight at the time, and therefore, he would offer the farmer the very generous amount of Shs3 per cabbage.
The farmer thought he hadn’t heard the fellow right since he expected at least Shs30 per cabbage. When the broker repeated the price, my buddy chased the entire lot off his farm. None came back, and his entire crop went to waste.
This model should be replicated across the entire food chain. A friend was telling me that the average coffee farmer is prone to exploitation from coffee brokers who will pay them in cash instead of taking it to the co-operative. And the price differential can be anything up to double the market price.
The same happens with maize and other commodities.
One of the other things that struck me is the state of the road: it is a very well-paved road all the way. A good road has a way of opening economic opportunities. Yet I do remember that a certain very foolish politician said that people do not eat roads. But, in the case of this section of the road, the farmers eat the road. And that’s why I am excited whenever I see a new road project. It gives me hope that the people will take a step up the ladder of development.
That drive through Kiambu was a reminder that transformation in agriculture does not always come from grand policies or massive investments.
Sometimes, it comes from simple, practical systems that empower ordinary people to work together, reach markets, and earn a fair return.
And sometimes, it looks like a farmer pushing a four-wheeled milk cart down a quiet rural road, steady, determined, and part of something much bigger than themselves.
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