Coming Home

Most times, when at the very beginning of a journey, one can hardly tell how it will end. Even in situations where we have a hint of the final destination, it is almost impossible to tell the steps one will follow before reaching it, if one ever does so.

 One can't know the hills and valleys they'll have to go over, or the rivers they'll have to swim across. The ladders they'll have to build, or borrow. Metallic or wooden, for the climb, or descent. The bridges they may blindly burn, maybe to summon light and warmth in those cold, dank and dark nights. In the beginning, it is difficult to know. Take, for instance, moments during the first lecture I attended at the university, back in September 2013.

 At the Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture & Technology (JKUAT), in the school of biosystems & environmental engineering, where l schooled at, you will find a professor named Home. I know what you're thinking of, in English, you funny-minded little villain. I once did so too, making those namely puns you might have in mind. Think of them not, though, for his name is "Home" with a Gikuyu pronunciation, not an English one.

Home is a professor of irrigation engineering. He even taught us a unit on it in 4th year, 2017, right before I was kicked out of the institution for a year for being a dunce. That was the second and last time he taught me. The first instance was at the very beginning, back in September 2013. "Introduction to Agricultural & Biosystems Engineering" was the title of that unit. It was the first of 80-odd units we studied in 10 semesters spread out across 5 years.

 That first lecture took place within a building named Agricultural Engineering Workshop 2. Prof. Home took charge of the lecture, as if to welcome us to the institution that would be home for the foreseeable future. Home it became, however bitter some of the days would be, just like in any other home. We sat, 80 or so students, fresh out of high school, at the very beginning of a new journey of training as agricultural professionals.

 Last Saturday, my own agricultural journey brought me back to that very point, where it began, those 7 years ago. I stood, wearing a luminant green "Anansi Farms" reflector jacket, in front its grilled door. Reminiscing certain moments during that first lecture delivered by Prof. Home. Seven years is a long time, with a lot of water having passed under the proverbial bridge. Still, one might recall some things. I remember 3 items from that first lecture:

 One: Two People

 I remember the two individuals I was seated closest to.

They of the Arabic and English names for Jesus’ virgin mother.

 Directly in front of me was Mariam. I remember her because she spoke, still speaks, with that flowery Swahili accent. I was listening, awed, for she was the first person I ever met who spoke like the coastal characters we read in Kiswahili literature, the Maimunas and Kazijas of this world. That was back way back, before she figured out how to do a Salamba Shirshasana and other difficult yoga poses with long names. Quite a journey she's walked, I imagine, yet it's just beginning.

 To my left was Maryanne, the ever-lasting crush of my long-suffering friend, Gitonga son of Gichuki, who's written long poems in praise of her beauty and poise. I remember her because you spoke sweet words to me. People may forget many things, but rarely do they forget the words spoken to them. Especially when those words are extremely bitter or simply sweet. Sweet, like the ones Maryanne said to me, back before Instagram was a thing. Before she, like many others, converted it into her digital runway, ripe for showcasing the latest fashion she's crafted. She is very good at it.

 Two: One Drawing

"That's quite a good drawing", said Maryanne, as she pointed at the sketch I was working on. Those were such sweet words, I remember. I've always sketched, still do it. All my notebooks are full of sketches, of things I see in my immediate environment or imagined ones. It is one of those habits we all have, like biting nails or twisting and twisting hair. Things we do subconsciously. Lost in our own worlds, without even noticing others noticing what we are doing.

They say, whoever “they” are, that a picture speaks a thousand words. Images oftentimes communicate messages more frankly than words ever could. That is why, sometimes, tutors decide to pass certain messages through images printed in pamphlets. When this happens, some of the students who are inclined towards sketching might find themselves mimicking the printed images in their notebooks. Lost in their own artistic worlds, they barely manage to capture the lesson being taught in front of them.

 Three: A Lesson

Prof. Home is a short bespectacled man with a balding head. Having been at the institution for ages, he has taught some of the people who now call him a colleague. He likes putting on short-sleeved sweaters. He speaks really fast while bursting into intermittent short sprints of laughter, then sporadically proceeding with his rapid-fire lecture. He's like an old manual car which starts and stops, without ever losing much of its power.

 He thinks really fast, I think. If you are slightly distracted in his lectures by things like, say, sketching, you will get lost, easily. Still, you might remember a few details. The first thing Prof. Home did when he entered Agricultural Engineering Workshop 2 was pass around a set of pamphlets. Each student got a copy, with this image prominently printed on the first page:

 That’s a picture of the sculpture titled, “The Thinker” by Auguste Rodin, a French artist. In addition to philosophy, the statue is generally used as a metaphor for critical thinking. It is a great work of classical European-style art, a nude man deep in thought. I couldn’t resist drawing, when I saw it, I just had to get sketching. Got lost in an artistic world, nearly missing out on the lesson, had I not been awoken by the sweet words of the girl seated next to me.

 “Critical Thinking” was the topic of that first lecture. Prof. Home urged us to embrace this mode of thinking, while explaining its principles in his fast-paced lecturing style. Elaborating what it was, why it was important, and how to utilize it. That was the first lesson I gathered at the university, inside Agricultural Engineering Workshop 2. That was back in September 2013, at the beginning of my schooling in agriculture.

 Last Saturday, 7th November 2020, I was once again at the workshop, this time not as a student but as a consultant on production of black soldier fly larvae. Still, I could not help but reminisce about those first moments at the university, those 7 years ago. About that lesson on critical thinking. Appreciating how valuable it has been in my professional life, one of them being the formation of our insect-farming venture, Anansi Farms Limited.

Rearing of black soldier fly larvae as animal feed is a new industry in Kenya, with very little information on how to go about it publicly available in lay terms. It has taken a respectable amount of critical thinking by my partner and I to get the venture going. We have built the production facility from the ground up, analyzing dozens of scientific papers and conducting our own studies along the way.

We have been bridging the informational gap by publishing our findings across social media, with the goal of raising public awareness and encouraging more entrants. Likewise, we have been conducting trainings and providing consultancy services to aspiring BSF farmers. Furthermore, given the novelty of this kind of farming, there is a lot of interest among research institutions.

Some call upon private entities like ours to assist them in setting up colony propagation systems. That is how I ended up in front of the Agricultural Engineering Workshop 2. I was there to help in setting up a facility for a doctoral candidate at the Pan African University Institute for Basic Sciences Technology and Innovation domiciled within JKUAT. Supervising the project is none other than Prof. Home.

It felt good to be back home.

That was our first major consultancy job, and landing it was exciting. To progress further, much more work and critical thinking needs to be done. It is about a year since we set up our BSF larvae production facility. We are still refining it to get to commercial volumes, with every new step demanding new modes of thinking and problem-solving skills. Still, we have made some very good progress far, having solved some of our major barriers. 

 So far, it has been quite an interesting journey driven by the principles of critical thinking, and everything in between. Where this insect-farming journey takes us next, I know not, but I'm looking forward to it. Wherever and whenever it will be, that will be home.