Mkulima Moments: Farmers’ SMS service turns into a big rip-off

Memories of what happened last week when the foreign farmers visited Mashambani are still fresh in peoples’ minds.

There were lots of mixed reactions and locals have not stopped talking about the event.

Muchiri, my former farmhand, cannot still believe that he shook the hand of one of the visitors.

Mzee Jeremiah, on the other hand, could not believe that he lost an opportunity to be recognised as a village elder after the county government took over the event.

But he seemed happier that Mkulima never hogged the limelight. Wakageorge and Tesh, the lovely but aggressive entrepreneur, were counting lost business opportunity.

Yesterday at Check Point Hotel, there was a heated debate on the event.

“We marketed Mashambani village to the whole world,” Mzee Jeremiah said happily.

“But how does that benefit the farmers of Mashambani?” posed Mzee Kabeca.

“At least niliona Wazungu wakiwa kwa shamba,” Muchiri intercepted.

A commotion outside Check Point Hotel startled us as we all rushed out.

There was a small crowd that seemed agitated. “Where is Kiambati?” Gacheri, a tomato farmer shouted as she saw me. 

Kiambati, the digital guru, had asked several farmers to subscribe to an SMS service through which they would be receiving information, including on prices, market and diseases, on their mobile phones.

DISGRUNTLED FARMERS

“This is the fourth SMS I am getting today on quail farming yet that is not what I want,” Mutamu, a farmer, said in his uncharacteristically loud voice.

“The messages have eaten up all my Sh20 airtime that I bought yesterday,” he continued.

Wakageorge was also among the first people who enrolled to the service after Kiambati convinced him. He showed the messages he had been receiving on various agricultural aspect.

“If you see small holes on your coconut plant leaves, that is a weevil attack. Piga dawa ya Scud!” read the latest message.

Gacheri showed another message. “If you want to buy Kari bred chicken, contact your nearest agricultural officer. Kari bred chicken is the best.”

Another farmer read his message loudly, “Reduce the amount of hay you give to your horse. Give super salt from LIMAT.”

I realised Kiambati had registered the farmers into a digital farming platform but he had not warned them that they would be charged or they would receive all-manner of messages.

The farmers were furious because some of the information they were receiving was not useful or relevant to their ventures.

Although they wanted to exit from the services, no one knew how to do it.

UNABLE TO UNSUBSCRIBE

I tried to help Gacheri exit and noted her Sh35 airtime got over due to the numerous questions one had to answer. “Do you want to unsubscribe from the Digitika na Kilimos Services? Yes or No.” “Have you managed to share with your neighbour about our services? Yes/No.”

“How would you rate our services? Excellent/Good/bad/fair.” “How did you learn about our services?  Through a friend, through a text message/ through the media/through internet.” “Would you like to resume using our services in the future? Yes/No.”

We answered the questions but still we did not manage to unsubscribe.

The crowd was agitated and all they wanted was for Kiambati to unsubscribe them from the messaging service.

One farmer managed to track Kiambati on his mobile phone but he was inaudible. “You must pay for this,” the farmer ranted loudly.

Wakageorge stepped aside from the crowd and called Kiambati. Although he was struggling to talk in a hushed voice, we could hear him say:

“It is about that mobile service. Remove them from it immediately. Don’t come here they might lynch you. All their airtime is gone and they are demanding a refund.”

I slipped out of the crowd upon sensing the farmers might turn on me.