This week, we turn to one of the townships in Kirinyaga County that probably best represents our national economic system. My attention to this town was drawn by a chaotic experience driving through the town on my way to Embu. As fate would have it, I spent most parts of the last two weeks of November in and out of Embu, culminating in an expedition to Mt. Kenya’s Lenana peak last weekend through the Chogoria route.
For context, driving to most parts of Central Kenya has become a pleasant experience after the dualling of the road from Kenol to Nyeri. However, after one branches off at Makutano junction towards Embu, motorists suddenly start struggling with very old, slow-moving private vehicles, pickups, canters filled to the brim with animal fodder, and motorcyclists who use this section of the road with a sense of entitlement. At Mwea, everything grinds to a halt, with donkey- or motorcycle-pulled carts full of rice or fodder taking over either side of the road.
Besides, every available space in the township is converted into a field to dry up harvested rice for processing. As a result, drivers are forced to hold their horses and follow the snail trail as a matter of necessity for safety. For a stranger, this may look like a bout of madness. To locals, however, this is simply another day at work, especially during the rice-harvesting season.
From my economic eye, this was not only a bright ray of hope that bread is being bartered for households in this part of the country, but also a moment to reflect on how this form of economic activity mirrors the broader economic system. Earlier in the same month, I witnessed close to similar scenes at Moiben in the North Rift, but this time with maize harvest.
The questions that have kept bothering me are: one, are there no better ways for farmers to manage their harvests 70 years into the Mwea Irrigation Scheme? Two, with the current system, are the rice farmers optimising their returns on investments? And three, what may explain this penchant for sticking to very old motor vehicles? Is it a representation of lost fortunes from the rice farming business of yesteryears?
Historical context
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For avoidance of doubt, I have frequented this part of the country since 2008. Therefore, I am a witness to the transformations that have happened across this township over the years, especially with devolution. I saw Mwea when the Nice Digital City complex was coming up back in 2013/14. Legend has it that the proprietor of the Nice City, Charles Njiru Kaburu, a.k.a. Mkombozi, frustrated with the inability of the owners of old Mwea to reform and transform the township into a modern city, vowed to build one himself.
This was a sort of battle between old versus new money. Those who know Mwea then and today can attest to how the transformation of Mwea’s economic activity has shifted from the old town area towards Nice City and now to other outer parts of the old town.
Pricked by curiosity, I dug deep into the history of this town. Indeed, there is a historical context as to why the old Mwea may have refused to reform. A casual Google search indicates that Mwea town, specifically the area originally called Ngurubani, was started in the early 1960s and developed as a central hub for the surrounding Mwea Irrigation Scheme. The name Ngurubani was coined from the Swahili word gorofani (inside a storey house), referring to a two-storey building that was then used as a bank where farmers collected their rice payments.
The irrigation scheme itself was started in 1947 on a pilot basis and formalised in 1953/54 by the colonial government to utilize land and provide an economic activity for detainees. Given this historical background, one would expect that folks receiving rice payments in the 1960s would easily have been among the richest in the country.
As a consequence, one may easily understand why they would have a lot of sentimental value for storey structures that are similar to the building from which they used to receive their money in one of the darkest eras in the country’s history. It is no wonder that the old Mwea remains with those old structures, which entrepreneurs like “Mkombozi” sought to challenge in exchange for a modern city.
Recent data from the National Irrigation Authority (NIA) indicates that Mwea has rapidly expanded as an urban center, becoming home to various rice millers, banks, and other businesses that service the surrounding agricultural community, especially with the upgrade of the Thiba Dam. As a result, the land under irrigation has increased from 25,000 acres to the current 30,600 acres. It is targeted to grow to 35,000 acres under irrigation at optimal levels.
Further, the value of rice has grown from Sh10 billion to Sh14 billion presently and created an additional 28,000 jobs. Production of rice is targeted to increase from 114,000 metric tons (MT) to 200,000 MT. At optimal capacity, the value of rice production is projected to reach Sh18 billion. An additional 50,000 jobs are projected at the optimal production level, bringing cumulative jobs from the rice economy in the area to 175,000. In addition, over 13 large private rice millers have set up shop in Mwea, and baling of rice straws as fodder for livestock has expanded.
Mirror for national economy
From the foregoing story of Mwea, while it may easily pass as a small town at the national level, its economic value cannot be underestimated nor its symbolism to the broader economic system. In many ways, the growth of Mwea town is a true representation of what is happening in other parts of the country.
The town’s recent economic hubs have grown organically, from private initiatives of entrepreneurs and investors, as opposed to national or county government master plans. As indicated in an earlier article in this column, this would explain the chaotic negative impacts on utilities like roads, sewerage and drainage systems, electricity supply, and cut-throat competitions that wipe out profit margins for businesses.
For instance, has rice production in Mwea grown that fast to sustain 13 millers? As one drives past the town, there are many empty meat and entertainment joints visible from the road, reducing the entire business competition into a zero-sum game.
Secondly, the huge presence of donkeys as a means of transport explains an economy trapped in agrarian systems of production and transportation in an era of technologically driven economic order. While it is donkeys pulling carts in Mwea, in Nairobi, the capital city, it is people pulling carts who dominate the streets and roads, sometimes causing unnecessary traffic gridlocks.
While some people may argue that these are folks simply earning bread, the bitter truth is that this is a true reflection of an economy that has failed to innovate, adopt modern production systems, and ultimately has trapped millions of its citizens into menial, low-quality jobs. At the macroeconomic level, it translates to a highly informalized economy that undermines the government’s own revenue collection and explains the growing inequality discussed here last Saturday.
Finally, do the high numbers of old cars along Mwea represent the changed fortunes of farmers or agricultural productivity in the country? In my village of birth, the coffee booms (black gold) of the 1980s are a distant memory for farmers today. Is it the same pattern for tea farmers of late? Put together, what do all these scattered indicators mean at micro and macro levels?