LAIKIPIA, Kenya (PAMACC News) - The Romantic Village is a camp in Dimcom Eden Villa Farm in Sipili, Ng’arua area, Laikipia County. “Making Agriculture and Environmental Conservation Romantic,” is the farm’s vision.

At this small park, Charles Mureithi, a secondary school teacher, receives scores of farmers. He offers free lectures on how to transform a semi-arid parcel of land into an arable piece to enhance food security.

“I try to make agriculture attractive to young people,” Mureithi explains. “If I don’t, our children will hate farming.”

Mureithi envisions his farm turning out the most beautiful in the world. “I know I can make it,” he exudes confidence. “People will come from very far to visit my farm. They’ll pay me a lot of money while I watch television over there,” he says, pointing at the cottage in which he receives visitors.

“There is a very good future in farming. Some years from now, farmers will be among the richest people,” he predicts. “I’ll sell my pineapple at shillings 500 because the demand will be high.”

Mureithi bought the seven-and-a-half-acre land in 2001 and started growing maize and wheat. He chanced on fruit farming after some embarrassment.
“I came back one day from work only to find my two kids eating the peals of pineapples supplied by a certain vendor, “ he recalls. “These vendors were poorer and had smaller farms than mine.” The picture that confronted him was the turning point for him.

When he planted his fruits in 2005, the 150 vines of passion he started with, “had given me so much money that all my input was recovered.” Since then, “I realized there is money in fruits and I have never looked back.”

JICA funded a trip to Japan in 2011 for 19 participants from 11 African countries. Mureithi was among them. They attended a course on the Implementation and Promotion of Agri-business in African Countries.  

It’s while in Japan that he learned of the “one village one product” concept. This implies growing the right crop for the right region. “At times we force ourselves on what is not meant for our regions,” he laments.

Mureithi is convinced that Ng’arua, is not a place for maize and wheat. “Fruits are our products. They can make us very rich.”

Mureithi does grafting himself.  A fruit-tree costs shillings 50 before grafting. After grafting, he makes shillings 100 more. When visitors come over, he imparts these grafting skills on them and even asks them to do it practically as he conducts them on a tour of his farm.

He’s grafted his mangoes in a way that he reaps five or seven varieties from the same tree. “These trees are like my social security fund,” he says, gesturing towards the trees spanning his farm.

“I’m teaching you hoping that you’ll share this knowledge with others. I believe we have the ability but we don’t want to fully exploit our potential.”
He tells all to discard the impression that greenhouses are very expensive to construct. He spent sh. 25,000 on his, using local material.

“My dad doesn’t like it when we throw away seeds,” his eldest daughter, Doreen Maina, 17, asserts. To her father, this is tantamount to throwing away money.  

 If Mureithi spots an avocado seed by the roadside, he picks it. For him this is sh. 150.  

His farm help, Samuel Kamau assists him to plant pawpaw seeds in polythene papers. The seeds germinate a few days later.  “This plant is shillings 50,” from a seed that was initially disregarded. “If one has 50 pawpaws how much is that?”

He believes if he were to sell every plant in his greenhouse, he could easily pay his children’s school fees for a whole year.

In this greenhouse are also coffee, cotton and other plants that are not for commercial use. Many school children have never seen such plants. When they come on a learning tour, they satisfy their curiosity.

“The issue of food security is not the government’s responsibility. It’s ours,” Mureithi says. “Every time we bother the government for aid yet we have land,” he finds it ridiculous.

He guides us to a yam he says he planted in 2004.  Some of us see this for the first time. This is a tuber many read about mostly in West African literature. Every year he harvests a substantial amount.

His farm-help, Kamau, is busy plucking the yams from underneath the surface of the ground. “If there was famine now, my family and I would be safe while others would go to bed hungry,” Mureithi declares.

“I have never used any fertilizer or chemical. I don’t even weed,” he says. He promises to demonstrate his hospitality by feeding all of us with the yams at lunchtime! “Next year I’ll come to the same spot for another harvest.”

Yams are not for ancient people. He pleads with the team to ask how they are grown so that these farmers replicate the crops in their farms.
Everything here is done from a business perspective. “If I take this pawpaw and eat it with my family, I assume I have bought it at say, sh. 100. I record in my diary.”

If he does some work, he assesses how much he would have paid himself and fills this in his diary as well. Even his children know this approach.  At the end of the year he analyzes the data to gauge whether this agricultural venture is viable or not.

“The fruit with the biggest profit margin is the pineapple,” he says, continuing, “It’s drought-resistant. It collects the morning dew and directs it to the plant. It can keep producing for about 7 years.”

Perched on a mound of soil and stones scooped from a deep furrow, he explains how he harvests surface run-off water when it rains and channels it to the desired area. This could be into a ‘storage tank’ excavated from the ground or directly into some furrows. One result is giant, healthy kales. He rarely buys vegetables.

His youngest child, Ivy Maina, 10, says, “We come here, pick some fruits even if it is not harvesting time.” She enjoys helping her father to plant various seeds. Her sister Doreen Maina says, “The best part is harvesting because we harvest as we eat.”

Mureithi’s son, Paul Maina, 13, desires to follow his father’s footsteps. “When I grow up, I must have a farm.” He has been observing his father taking farmers round their farm. The boy believes he can explain what happens on their farm as well as his father does.

Mureithi’s wife, Grace Maina, does marketing of their produce. She says there is adequate market for fruits. “Even locally, our customers don’t get enough.”

“If we had many of us growing fruits, we would export to Japan and elsewhere,” Mureithi wishes. “But mine alone is not enough. It’s just meant for the domestic market.”

Based on what he’s seen, Robert Mwangi says, “I didn’t know that there is a lot more I can do on my farm to earn money. I would like to be self-sufficient.”

Lucy Mwangi has been Mureithi’s colleague and customer. “I have decided to increase the fruits on my farm. I’ll use Mureithi’s methods of preserving the seeds of fruits consumed in my home.” She hopes to realize a marked difference in five years.