The road winds like a river through Katumani, a town in the eastern highlands of Kenya. Past brightly painted churches and beauty salons, past butcher shops and bars, and up through terraced swaths of land cut into sloping valleys, lies the Kenyan Agricultural Research Institute (KARI). This is where Clement and Joseph Kamau come to work each morning. And 10 years from now, if millions of Kenyans have managed to plant quality seeds that help boost their yields and increase their incomes, this will be a place worth coming back to visit.
Clement and Joseph have dedicated their lives to reducing hunger and poverty by improving agriculture. And they are experts in more than agriculture. “We know what it’s like to be hungry. We know what it’s like to not be able to concentrate at school due to an empty stomach,” Clement says.
Clement and Joseph could almost be brothers, even though they're actually not. In addition to sharing a last name, they both grew up in poor farming families in Central Kenya; they both received scholarships—and PhDs—from the African Center for Crop Improvement (ACCI) at the University of KwaZulu Natal, in South Africa; and they are both working to develop improved crop varieties for African farmers with the support of the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA).
KARI is located in a semi-arid region of Kenya where most farmers grow maize. Rainfall is rare, drought is common, and farmers frequently struggle to produce enough maize to feed their families. Every year, approximately 80 percent of the district receives emergency food assistance.
For the last 10 years, Joseph Kamau has been working to develop improved varieties of cassava, a starchy root crop that does much better than maize in harsh climates with little rain. He believes that growing cassava—instead of, or in addition to, maize—would protect farmers from vulnerability and ensure a steady and nutritious diet.
Monica Ndeti, 56, is one farmer in the area who is growing cassava. Ever since her husband passed away 20 years ago, she has followed his example and planted a traditional variety of cassava, along with maize, cowpeas, and several other crops, on three acres of well-tended land. The combination of crops has helped her put seven children through school. Unfortunately, the type of cassava variety she plants is outdated, and is susceptible to pests and diseases. This year, 80 to 90 percent of her cassava crop shows signs of cassava mosaic disease—an affliction that will cost her more than half the potential yield, and income, for each plant.
In a field an hour away from Monica’s farm, Joseph Kamau walks among dozens of different cassava varieties. After listening to farmers like Monica, he comes back to this test field to develop new varieties that solve the problems small farmers face. Then he goes back to the farmers to seek their input and continues refining. This process, called participatory variety selection, is essential to the success of his work. Listening to farmers ensures not only that the crop varieties he breeds meet their needs; it increases the chances that farmers will use them. Joseph explains: “You’ve got to move along with the farmers. If your statistics tell you one thing and the farmers tell you another, you’ve got to go back to the farmers.”
After years of work, Joseph has developed a variety of cassava that is resistant to cassava mosaic disease and produces cassava in nine months instead of the customary 16, ensuring an additional harvest. But will the farmers like its taste, texture, and appearance? To find out, Joseph is off to yet another farm 90 minutes away—a demonstration plot.
Here, he’s met by Francis and Juliana Mutungi, the owners of the farm, and 24 friends and neighbors who are part of a local farming cooperative. Earlier this year, the couple received a sample of Joseph’s new cassava variety. They also received training. Francis says, “We learned to space the plants a meter apart, to check for pests and diseases.”
Francis and Juliana planted their varieties at the same time Monica Ndeti did. But instead of foot-high plants with blighted leaves, today they stand amid plants that are three-to-four feet high, with healthy green leaves. They will have a bumper crop—enough not only to eat, but to sell to the local bakery, which will grind the cassava into flour and make bread, buns, and other cheap and nutritious foods. Francis, standing with his wife and a 3-year old granddaughter, knows exactly what he’ll do with the additional income. “I would like to help my family. The kids are all here at home because we didn’t have the school fees.” He’d also like to buy more land so he can support his 10 children.
As Francis talks about his dreams, Joseph is talking about cassava. The 24 members of the farming cooperative are assembled in a circle, listening as he shares advice and encouragement. He is transformed—no longer a crop breeder, but a teacher. And he knows that his passion can help farmers—those standing in the field with him and millions more throughout Kenya—transform their lives.
The demonstration has been a success. After three farms and hundreds of kilometers, it’s time for Joseph to head back to his office in Katumani. As he leaves, the farmer group says goodbye through a song in Kikamba, a local language. They sing, “This is a blessed day. We are happy to see you.”
Joseph Kamau is happy, too. “It makes me so happy to see them appreciate my work, to see these healthy plants. This is why I am here.”
Next: Producing Enough Seeds to Meet Local Demand in Africa