A lab technician carefully cradles a cluster of indigenous seeds at the Genetic Resources Research Institute seed bank in Kiambu, Kenya, Nov. 14, 2024.
KIKUYU, Kenya — Nestled amidst the verdant landscapes of Kikuyu town, the National Seed Bank stands as an unsung hero in the quest to preserve Kenya’s agricultural heritage and future. But why is this unassuming institution so critical?
Behind the walls of this governmental edifice lie two chilled chambers that house over 50,000 varieties of seeds—a veritable treasure trove of genetic diversity. Established in 1988, this facility sprang into existence amidst growing concerns about vanishing seed varieties. Today, it serves not just as a repository, but as a beacon of hope, ready to reintroduce resilient seeds into fields suffering from the unpredictability of a changing climate.
Desterio Nyamongo, the visionary at the helm of the Genetic Resources Research Institute tasked with overseeing the seed bank, narrates, “We’ve realized that some of the traditional seeds, previously sidelined, are surprisingly hardy against climate shifts. In zones on the margins, these seeds not only survive but thrive, outmatching modern hybrids in resilience.”
His sentiment is echoed across the agricultural landscape of Kenya, where the stakes are high. A nation, largely dependent on the whims of rain, finds itself grappling with unpredictable climate episodes like droughts, casting shadows over a sector that sustains a third of its GDP. Could these ancient seeds be the lifeline to fortify the ailing agricultural backbone of Kenya?
Indeed, the nation isn’t solitary in such trials. A 2023 report from the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) alarmingly highlights that more than one billion individuals across Africa are ensnared in the throes of food insecurity, struggling to access nutritious diets.
Yet, within Kenya’s borders, another foe lurks: the counterfeit seed market. An insidious operation, it has drained farmers of millions of Kenyan shillings, leaving behind barren patches where fertile fields once lay.
Recognizing the enormity of the situation, Paul Rono, Agriculture Ministry’s permanent secretary, emphasized the need for unwavering commitment to quality during the inaugural international seed quality convention. “Africa’s enduring challenge is its limited capability to produce robust, certified seeds that adhere to stringent standards,” he remarked.
A sentiment shared by Stephen Muchiri, head of the Eastern Africa Farmers Federation, who pointed an accusatory finger at Kenya’s flawed seed breeding practices. The vigor and vitality of crops waning, leaving many wondering: Is the system itself failing the farmers?
Among those raising their voices is Francis Ngiri. A farmer of great conviction, he bears the torch for indigenous seed practices on his five-acre plot in Gilgil, 120 kilometers from Nairobi. “In our arid lands, indigenous seeds perform miracles when the rain shies away,” he shares with the Associated Press. His farm has become a sanctuary, drawing farmers disillusioned by hybrid seed performance.
Battling against an antiquated 2012 legislation banning seed sharing—a cost-saving tradition embraced by millions—Ngiri’s court challenge with fellow farmers is a cry for change. Their aim: to overturn a law that demands predictability, requiring farmers to purchase new seeds every cycle at a prohibitive cost.
His methods, rich in tradition, include preserving seeds in rustic wood ash as a natural pest deterrent and storing them within earthen pots. A once common practice, now a necessity for those unwilling to break the bank with every planting season.
Maximilla Onyura, a sorghum farmer in Busia, finds an ally in Ngiri. Though not a direct participant in the lawsuit, she finds solace and partnership within the Seed Savers Network. “Rather than celebrate those pioneering indigenous practices, our government hampers their progress,” she laments, a tension that underscores the country’s ongoing legal battle.
In response, the National Seed Bank distributes its viable seed reserves gratis to farmers—a salve for those burdened by costly farming inputs like fertilizers essential for hybrid seeds. Nyamongo is assertive, “To dismiss indigenous seeds as mere relics of the past is a grave mistake.”
Meanwhile, Patrick V. Verkooijen, President of the Global Center on Adaptation, invites governments to consider alternative approaches. “Indigenous seeds, with their genetic mosaic, are exceptional in helping farmers weather climate adversities, though they must overcome hurdles like yield limitations or emergent pest susceptibilities,” he articulates, echoing calls for community-driven seed preservation programs.
Ngiri remains unwavering, “Indigenous seeds owe their resilience to deep roots sunk in familiar soil—remove them, and you’re bound to struggle.” His clarion call is more than mere advocacy; it’s a testament to nature’s intrinsic wisdom, waiting patiently in seed form.
The conversation, at its core, calls for reflection. Will indigenous seeds, with their time-tested endurance, shape the next chapter for Kenyan agriculture? Only time will unveil the answers.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International–Monitoring
