I am staring at huge losses for growing little-known broccoli

As many other villages, Mashambani will welcome their sons and daughters from the city beginning this weekend.

For us, we expect Thamweli, who has now changed his name to Sam because of the influence from the city. He is a big man; he drives a black four-wheel drive vehicle that never has difficulties navigating the rough roads of Mashambani.

Last Christmas, he zoomed into Mashambani in style. Besides the car, the language he spoke and his choice of food just made me feel I have been feeding on garbage.

Thamweli brought exotic vegetables, herbs and spices from the city for his meals. They included broccoli, cauli flowers, lettuce, Chinese giant vegetables and rosemary. “These are imported. They can’t grow on local soils,” he told me.

Mwangi and Tabitha, also my neighbours, who were three years ahead of me in primary school, too had almost a similar package of exotic vegetables.

As I saw them munch the vegetables, I smelt a business opportunity. Sometimes in August, I planted broccoli to cash in during this Christmas period.

Very few farmers know it, and even those who do, would rather grow more locally marketable vegetables like spinach and cabbages.

Before growing broccoli, I contacted our agricultural officer for details and thereafter set out on my project.

I bought 2,500 broccoli seeds from one of the agrovets in the city at about Sh1,800. The seeds were enough for my quarter acre that remained after I planted fodder for my cows.

There was over 90 per cent germination rate in the seedbed.

I transplanted the seedlings at a spacing of 60cm by 40cm and followed the right management practices that included addition of two handful of organic manure in the planting hole. I then added 5g of DAP, then mixed well with manure and the soil. I guided Muchiri on how to control weeds.

All this time, Muchiri thought I was growing sukuma wiki since the two resemble in the initial stages.

I remember Muchiri calling me later when he saw the crops start developing ‘heads’.

“Mkulima, sukuma zetu zimeanza kutoa vichwa,” he shockingly told me. “No, these are broccoli, not cabbages or sukuma,” I informed him.

By last month, I had a healthy crop ready for the Christmas bonus. I spread word in Mashambani, expecting boom.

To market it further, I went digital by downloading from Google play store the Mkulima Young mobile app that helps farmers in marketing their farm produce. I then posted broccoli photos on it.

Out of the many calls I received, I chose the Asian guy who wanted to buy the whole crop. He said he was a manager at a leading fresh produce agro dealers.

We agreed I take some samples to his Industrial Area office, where he has a cold store. Early the following day, I was in the Nairobi bound Maendeleo bus. I got to his office as directed.

Armed with my samples of broccoli in a yellow plastic bag, I was at his reception at 8am.

“What can I do for you?” the receptionist asked me while looking at the big paper bag of samples I was holding.

“I have brought some broccoli samples,” I said with confidence. “Did you have an appointment?” she asked while still typing. “Yes, I talked with your boss, Mr Singh,” I answered.

“Have you ever supplied before?” she asked. “No, but he told me to bring the samples,” I answered while getting irritated with her many questions.

“Ok. Then wait for him, he hasn’t arrived,” he said while she continued typing. I read old magazines placed on an old coffee table for the next two hours.

An Asian guy whom I suspected to be Mr. Singh got into the office and quickly requested for some documents.

Few minutes later, the lady entered his office and I thought she was informing him of my presence.

She came back with some documents and never talked to me for the next three hours.

When I asked, she told me Mr. Singh was in a meeting. I became impatient. Since I had his mobile phone number, I decided to write an SMS.

“Good afternoon, I have been here since 8am to bring broccoli samples as agreed but your secretary is frustrating, Mkulima.”

Immediately I clicked send, the phone on the secretary’s table buzzed. She picked and I noticed a change on her face.

“So unaniita secretary?” she said with anger.

“Then you are accusing me of frustrating you,” she added furiously. “Utajua mimi ni nani,” she said as she sashayed to the water dispenser.

I didn’t know the phone Mr. Singh used was the office line and it is the secretary who manned it. She refused to allow me take in the samples.

I realised brokers do not only exist in the open market places. They are also in offices. All she wanted was me to bribe her, I realised. I did not see Mr Singh and he never came out of the office.

Now all my hope is on the city visitors, starting with Thamweli.