40 Chances

by Howard G. Buffett

  Those yield increases would get any farmer’s attention. I wanted to see and hear the details for myself. I drove to Kumasi from Accra, the capital city that is on the coast, and met a group of local agricultural experts. As I often do, I was wearing one of my T-shirts that says “Nebraska” in block letters. A wiry, energetic Ghanaian made a beeline for me, his eyes focused on my shirt. It was Kofi. He smiled, held out his hand, and said, “Cornhusker.”

  That had never happened to me in Africa before. It turned out that Kofi had been in Lincoln, Nebraska, from 1991 to 1993, when he was studying agronomy and reduced tillage at the University of Nebraska. He was a skilled soccer player, but he became a lifelong fan of Nebraska football. I later learned that when he was getting his master’s degree in the United States, he drew such an admiring crowd while practicing soccer by himself in a local park that parents recruited him to coach a local boys’ team that won a championship.

  Kofi’s greeting put me in a great mood, but his passion for conservation agriculture put me in an even better one. I could sense his deep connection to the issues smallholder farmers faced. Perhaps most importantly, he was as fixated on helping farmers take care of and improve their soil. He farms himself, raising citrus and cocoa. “I’m not somebody doing this to get promoted,” he said intently, “I’m doing it for my research and my own farming needs. And I always try to respond to the needs of Ghana.” We traveled together to the town of Fufuo, where he had invited farmers to come and discuss conservation agriculture methods with me. I was impressed with their enthusiasm for the new methods and the good yields they were seeing. As I left, Kofi pumped my hand again and said, “Go Big Red!”

  We’ve been helping to support Kofi’s research ever since. Today he is doing rigorous experiments designed to convince farmers that taking care of the soil pays off in better yields for less labor. He sees his role as teacher and even evangelist. On a demonstration field in Ashanti, he regularly hosts groups of farmers, local extension officers, and students, and discusses the dramatic gains in moisture retention he gets from cover crops and mulch around the maize, taro, and a variety of vegetable crops he has planted on the hillsides of this farm. “This technology is knowledge intensive,” he says. “The farmers benefit from coming here to see these test fields, but coming on their own is hard, so I bring them here.” He sends a bus to pick up farmer groups and walks them around his demonstration fields to show them how and which cover crops to plant and shows them evidence of the healthy productive main crop that results.

  “The three elements we talk about are: minimal disturbance to the soil—just opening it up enough to put in the seed; a diversified cropping system; and crop rotation,” he explains. “We haven’t had rain in two months, but things are still growing.”

  Always a teacher, Kofi tells me he has printed up a banner with two photos: one photo of a green, lush jungle and next to it a photo of a patch of what looks like dry, bare earth. He’ll ask the farmer groups, “If you were to grow maize on these two fields this year, which one do you think will give you a better yield and why?” One of my foundation team staffers filmed a video on a recent visit to Kofi’s demonstration plots. When Kofi asked the group to vote, the majority picked the green patch, which would have required slashing and burning the existing vegetation. Then Kofi pointed to the brown earth. A lone farmer shyly raised his hand.

  “Why are you voting for this?” Kofi asked. I’m told that the translation of what the farmer said was: “Because we can reclaim the brown land, and we came here today to learn how to do that. If we don’t learn, then if we cut down the trees and green to plant, it will just become the brown.”

  Kofi beamed and applauded. “Yes! That is so right!”

  Kofi has several test plots in the region, where he takes soil samples and measurements of ground moisture. He uses a cover crop called Mucuna here because “if you harvest the seeds from it, you don’t have to buy more. For smallholder farmers to make a profit, you have to reduce inputs. We want to put in more biology and bring down the chemistry. With an integrated system, you can bring down use of herbicides and fertilizer.”

  One of the research initiatives we’re helping Kofi with is Sustainable Soil Management for Improved Food Security, a five-year research study conducted in several different climates, or what he calls agroecological regions, in Ghana: coastal savanna, forest, forest-savanna transition, and Guinea savanna. Together those represent the greater part of West African growing conditions. Kofi is evaluating the effects of tillage, cropping systems, and soil amendments (such as chemical fertilizer and compost) on the overall sustainability of crop production. It should provide a comprehensive data set on carbon dynamics and conservation systems in West Africa. The results should also improve farm management and our understanding of carbon sequestration in the various zones. Those results can be of use across the entire continent.

  BEYOND BLIND FAITH

  Reducing the need for farm labor in Ghana may be important in coming years. In some African countries, there is a large supply of labor, but not everywhere. Chinese mining companies have changed the local farm economics in Ghana in the last few years by paying a daily wage almost three times what farm laborers can make. Kofi, worried, says, “If we don’t figure this out, Africa is going to be a mess. Youth don’t want to do farming. They see it as a primitive activity. Early morning in the villages, big trucks come to collect workers for the mines.” He says farmers he works with who would once be able to hire two or three people to help plant or harvest now have to work their fields alone, as the mining companies are paying triple what the farmers can afford. Naturally, everything on a farm with less labor takes two or three times as long. Eliminating steps such as hoeing the field or slashing and burning new land to reclaim it saves these farmers valuable time and money.

  Kofi Boa’s commitment to conservation agriculture inspires me, and the careful studies he performs on these test fields help spread the word that conservation agriculture is serious farming. It’s about increasing yields today and protecting the soil for tomorrow. What’s most impressive about Kofi is his devotion to gathering good data. “What has happened is that arguments have been based on blind faith,” he observes. “Now we are getting the data to support what we are doing.”

  Similar research projects in other areas of Africa are beginning to show the same impressive results about the value of conservation agriculture. In the Maniema Province of the DRC, we supported a three-year effort to get farmers to use methods that don’t involve plowing up soil but instead retain moisture and store carbon. We’re developing hard data consistent with predictions by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations that conservation agriculture can offset up to 1.8 tons of carbon emissions per hectare per year. In the Kailo, Kasongo, and Kabambare territories of Maniema Province, researchers reported a substantial yield increase (up to 100 percent) for cassava, cereals, and some pulses from these conservation agriculture techniques. (Pulses are crops like peas or lentils, harvested only for their seeds.)

  From the moment that Kofi became interested in finding a better way to farm than slash and burn, his motivation has been to educate himself and marshal the resources to help his people: his mother, his family, his community, his region, his country, his continent. I meet more and more smart, motivated, committed African scientists like Kofi, who have come to the United States or gone to Europe for advanced study in agronomics and other disciplines and then gone back home to help their people. The last time I visited College Station, Texas, Dr. Ed Price at the Borlaug Institute introduced me to one of his talented researchers, Dr. Macaire Dobo, a cell biologist. He is an intense, precise-speaking man who was born in Ivory Coast to a plantation owner with sixteen children. He attended the university in Ivory Coast and came to Texas A&M in 2002 to pursue a PhD. Around that time, a civil war between the north and south factions erupted in his country.

  Dr. Dobo never strayed from his goal to return to Africa and help produce
new rice strains that would be hardier and higher yielding, to attack poverty and food insecurity. In 2006 he returned to Ivory Coast and joined the University of Abidjan as an assistant professor of molecular genetics, and he also worked at the West African Rice Development Association (WARDA) facility, where he was trying to develop higher-protein rice strains. Unfortunately, by 2010, conflict over land and ethnic politics flared up again, and his lab was burned down. The universities were closed, converted to military bases, and remain closed today. More than two hundred thousand refugees fled their homes, and another ten thousand people were killed. Dr. Dobo feared for his family’s safety, so he brought them to Texas, and Ed hired him at the Borlaug Institute.

  It’s important that Dr. Dobo can continue to use his talents to battle hunger. He is now working on high-protein rice strains for Iraq with special features that make them more marketable there, such as an appealing aroma. High-yielding ambar rice is highly acceptable on the international market for foreign-exchange earnings, and the hope is that it can bring poor farmers more money and prevent internal tribal conflicts. Ivory Coast’s loss is Iraq’s gain. However, how tragic for that struggling African country that a man with such talents cannot work in his homeland as long as the instability and violence continue.

  Ed Price often makes an important point about this. Westerners have had a tendency to “send in” scientists and saviors to Africa, but they don’t always integrate the talents and knowledge of scientists with the minds and hearts of a Macaire Dobo. Africans such as Kofi and Dr. Dobo are motivated by the idea of permanent change, not just a successful “project.”

  In 2013, I went back to see Kofi in Ghana. I was so impressed with what he’s doing that we have decided to support an idea that Kofi has been thinking about for years: we are going to help him develop Africa’s first Center for No-Till Agriculture, which will be located near Kumasi. The center will not only coordinate and promote research into the techniques that provide the best results for smallholder farmers but also serve as a resource for cross-sector partnerships and agribusiness development. The foundation has developed successful collaborations with John Deere and DuPont Pioneer as well as local Ghana-based organizations to demonstrate a new suite of conservation-based products from these companies. Combined with knowledge sharing of agronomic practices, we hope this will lead to a vibrant market for small-scale conservation-based cropping systems and appropriate equipment for smallholder farmers. Farmers who visit the center to learn about conservation agriculture will also learn about financing opportunities, if they choose to purchase conservation-based equipment. Our goal is to support agribusiness through a demand-based approach to philanthropy, in which charitable dollars catalyze private sector markets. We’re hoping that the center’s outreach activities and Kofi’s dedicated leadership will make the center well known throughout Ghana, and then West Africa, and eventually across the continent of Africa.

  Kofi also wants to inspire the next generation. His son Kwadwo Amponsah graduated from the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology in Kumasi with a degree in economics. He has been working with his dad on our research projects in Ghana. Kofi wrote recently in an email: “I am seeking to get him to do advance studies in the socioeconomics of no-tillage farming to make the two-party team [Kofi and Kwadwo] more solid to continue championing the course of no-tillage farming in Ghana and ultimately in Africa as a whole.” In talking about his father, Kwadwo told one of our foundation’s team members in Ghana, “The thing about him is that he works hard. When it comes to work, there is no joking around. He keeps track of time, and he stays on track. The way my dad farms is attractive to me—but the way others do it scares young people off.”

  Kofi Boa is a hardworking hero of conservation agriculture. And his heart is always in the right place. Go Big Red.

  Story 36

  Buy Local!

  Some opening lines can wreck your whole day. In farming, it’s “You know that tractor part that was supposed to be ready by today . . . ?” or “You know how the rain was supposed to hold off until Friday . . . ?” At the foundation, the phrase usually arrives in an email or letter and begins: “A no-cost extension request is warranted . . .”

  A couple of years ago, I received an email from an NGO with a project we were supporting in South Sudan. This was a well-drilling effort, and the original plan we funded seemed straightforward. The email said that the project was behind schedule, and here is just a partial list of the reasons why the project leader was asking for a change in the original project terms (a “no-cost” extension means the recipient has not spent the money he already has, so he’s asking for more time to complete the project, not more money):

  He had trouble keeping staff focused during a political campaign.

  He had trouble keeping staff focused during the preparation of postelection celebrations.

  He underestimated labor costs, which made it harder for him to hire staff.

  He underestimated how much local material costs would rise.

  Local government offices had a larger turnover in personnel, and so permit processes and other approvals were slower than anticipated.

  There was postconflict psychological depression among the staff.

  Nearby regions had developing conflicts, and that had everyone on edge.

  Unseasonal rainfall had created flooding, which created impassable roads.

  The flooding also made some airstrips unusable.

  The equipment turned out not to have enough horsepower to get the job done.

  The equipment broke, and it had taken six months to get parts.

  With a list like that, I was surprised there was no mention of a dog eating the paperwork.

  I gnash off layers of tooth enamel when I get “updates” like this one. Will development organizations ever learn to anticipate challenges and plan for them in a realistic way? One of the most common flaws of these failed efforts is complexity. The more volatile and fragile a situation, and the less developed the roads and other infrastructure are, then the simpler a plan needs to be in order to work. NGOs sometimes respond that these are difficult environments, and you have to expect such setbacks. Well, that is my point. When I say we need a simpler plan, I don’t mean an “easy” plan. I mean a plan that is not so prone to come apart. I mean a plan that anticipates problems and has built-in backups and options when elements break, as they inevitably will.

  I wrote back: “The current model most are working from is inadequate at best and a failure at worse. This is not an accusation or a criticism directed at [you], it is an observation based on looking at multiple projects that consistently miss their targets. If these were businesses, everyone would be broke by now!”

  On the other hand, every once in a while a surprise shows up that makes me smile and might even help me hang on to my molars for a few more years.

  A BETTER LIFE FOR HONDURANS

  In October 2012 I received a letter from the Republic of Honduras’s president, Porfirio Lobo Sosa. He invited me to visit with him and see the local implementation of a global pilot program of WFP called Purchase for Progress, or P4P, which our foundation helped launch in 2007. We have supported P4P in four Central American countries—Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Honduras—and I have visited them several times to see how the programs are doing.

  This report was the most dramatic I’d ever received from a head of state: “More than half of the grain required by the School Feeding Program . . . is currently supplied by farmers involved in the P4P project,” the president wrote. “The program is now considered one of the most successful programs of our government, covering 85 percent of school-aged children in 20,000 schools across the nation. . . . Our government is aware of the need to promote agricultural development as part of the country’s economic growth and sustainable food security in order to give a better life to Hondurans.”

  In a country like Honduras, where one-third of the population live on less than $1 per day, success
stories are not so common that any of us can afford to take them for granted. The president’s endorsement of the importance of agriculture in a country with huge numbers of subsistence farmers is also significant. But the larger story behind this letter is not just about a promising program. I think it reinforces the importance of a style of philanthropic investment that we call “catalytic funding,” which we think is a better model for more efficient and sustainable progress.

  Honduras, bordered by Guatemala, El Salvador, and Nicaragua, has an extensive coastline on the eastern edge of Central America. That makes it vulnerable to the chaotic storms that spin around the Caribbean. The country’s export revenues come mostly from agricultural products—fruit, coffee, and sugarcane—but it suffered devastating damage from Mitch, the 1998 hurricane that wiped out at least 70 percent of Honduras’s transportation systems and crops.1 Hurricanes and prolonged heavy rains not only wreck agriculture but also can prevent access to food and other basic necessities. As if that’s not difficult enough, prolonged droughts in recent years have affected the food and nutritional security of the most vulnerable populations in the southern and western regions of Honduras. These regions are environmentally degraded and include a high concentration of small-scale subsistence farmers. The droughts have caused a sharp decrease in the production of basic grains—crops much of the population relies on for survival. Chronic malnutrition can reach more than 48.5 percent in rural areas.

  ENTER P4P

  WFP implements P4P through a network of partnerships. In Honduras the main partner is the government. P4P is part of a food assistance program, but it is not about dropping off bags of food or seed and hoping that good gets done. What P4P does is help smallholder farmers do something we take for granted in American agriculture: stabilize their production process and access markets. As we saw with value chain development in Afghanistan, markets are not automatic. Markets do not appear magically when farmers have a surplus. In Honduras, as around the world, a smallholder farmer existing on the brink of food security all year long is never sure whether he or she will have enough surplus to try to sell. If there is a surplus, there is not always a way to get it to a market at a time when it still has value.