My Journey to Becoming a Yam Farming Mogul
By Ifeanyi Okoro
It all began in my village in Anambra, where the sun kissed the earth and the air was thick with the scent of fresh soil. I grew up watching my father till the land, his hands weathered yet gentle, coaxing life from the ground. Those moments in the field, barefoot and carefree, instilled in me a deep respect for farming. But like many young people, I chased the allure of city life, believing that success lay in the concrete jungles of Lagos. Little did I know that my destiny was waiting for me back in the village, planted deep within the very soil I once took for granted.
After completing my education, I landed a decent job in an advertising agency. I wore suits and attended meetings, but something felt off. I was surrounded by a whirlwind of projects and deadlines, yet I felt an emptiness inside. It was during one of those long, tiring days that the thought struck me: “Is this it? Is this what life is really about?” The yearning for the land grew stronger. I missed the feel of the earth between my fingers and the satisfaction of watching something grow.
One evening, as I scrolled through social media, I stumbled upon a video of a young farmer showcasing his bountiful yam harvest. The pride in his voice was palpable, and it sparked something deep within me. I remembered my father’s words: “Yam farming is not just about planting; it’s about nurturing life.” That was my light bulb moment. I decided to return home and embrace yam farming, a decision that would change my life forever.
When I arrived back in my village, I was met with mixed reactions. Some were supportive, while others raised eyebrows and whispered doubts behind my back. “Omo, you don go follow your father’s footsteps?” they'd say, chuckling. I brushed off the naysayers. This was my passion, and I was ready to prove them wrong.
I faced my first challenge before I even set foot in the field. The land was overgrown and neglected, a shadow of its former glory. Armed with only a shovel and sheer determination, I cleared the weeds and debris. I felt a familiar connection to the soil, as if my ancestors were cheering me on. With every tuber I planted, I felt the weight of hope resting on my shoulders.
The first season was a rollercoaster. I had my share of failures—infestations, drought, and self-doubt. There were nights I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, questioning my decision. “What if I fail? What if I can’t provide for my family?” But then I would remember why I started. I wanted to create something meaningful, something that would carry my family’s legacy forward.
As the months passed, I began to see the fruits of my labor. The first time I harvested yams, my heart raced. I dug them up, each tuber a testament to my hard work. I remember holding the first one up, dirty and imperfect, but it felt like gold. I sold my yams at the local market, and to my surprise, people loved them. “You sabi this farming thing well well!” they would say, and that fueled my ambition.
With every sale, I reinvested in my farm. I learned from older farmers, soaking up their wisdom like a sponge. I attended workshops, read books, and even joined online forums to understand the latest agricultural techniques. I discovered organic farming methods, pest control strategies, and marketing tips. It was a steep learning curve, but I was determined to grow, both literally and figuratively.
As my business flourished, I realized that I wanted to do more than just farm. I wanted to share my journey with others. I started mentoring young people in the village, showing them the ins and outs of farming. Together, we laughed, learned, and celebrated our small victories. “If I can do this, you can too!” I would say, watching their eyes light up with hope.
Soon, I became known as the “Yam Man” in my village. My name spread beyond our borders, and I began supplying yams to markets in nearby towns. I found joy in the hustle of selling, negotiating prices, and delivering fresh produce. With each sale, I felt a sense of pride swell in my chest. I was not just a farmer; I was an entrepreneur, a mogul in the making.
However, the road to success was not without its bumps. There were days when pests devastated my crops or when the rains came too late. I learned to adapt. I diversified my farming, exploring new crops and even venturing into value-added products like yam flour. This not only increased my income but also created jobs for others in the village.
As I stood in my thriving fields, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far I had come. I was no longer the boy who ran away to the city. I had returned with a purpose, a vision, and a determination to succeed. My story is a testament to the power of resilience and the importance of following your passion.
Now, looking ahead, I have big dreams. I want to expand my farm, invest in agricultural technology, and create a brand that represents quality and authenticity. I envision a future where young people in Nigeria can see farming as a viable career, filled with opportunities and growth.
Farming has taught me invaluable lessons about life, hard work, and the importance of staying connected to my roots. It has shown me that success is not just about wealth, but about impact. Every time I see a young person light up with excitement about farming, I know I am on the right path.
So, if you’re standing at a crossroads, unsure of which direction to take, I encourage you to look within. Your passion might just be waiting for you, buried under layers of doubt and fear. Take that leap. You may find that the very soil that nurtures life can also nurture your dreams.
What do you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!