For as long as I can remember, our family land was a symbol of disappointment. Season after season, we planted maize, beans, even vegetables, but nothing ever grew well. Crops withered without reason. Neighbors harvested abundantly from surrounding farms, yet our soil remained stubbornly dry and unproductive.
Elders said it was “bad luck,” and over time, we accepted poverty as our fate..What confused us most was that the land looked perfect. The soil was dark and rich, rainfall was steady, and we followed every farming advice given by agricultural officers.…CONTINUE READING
