The thought that I would not attend university ached me. I had performed well, but my father explained that due to the dire economic situation at home, he could not finance my education.
He was a farmer who considered education an important investment just like farming.
He invited me to join him and made sure he groomed me to be the next in the trade. Unlike boys my age, I had an unconventional childhood where I witnessed workers pick coffee on our farm every morning.
My father patrolled the farm and ensured no one over-picked a particular tree, or left ripe buds unpicked. Then the brokers arrived in their pick-ups and bought the product for distribution. Usually, the brokers determined the prices, and when the prices dropped farmers suffered since they depended on it for income.
Despite that, our family was never short of finances, that's why I was surprised when my father told me I could not proceed to campus. While in High school I had hoped to join a technical university to become an engineer, but fate had decided otherwise. The day I received the news that I wouldn’t go to college, I fell into a mini-depression and stayed in my room for days.
I had two sisters who owned a boutique in town courtesy of my father, and they tried to convince me that things could only get better. They explained that my father had good intentions no matter how unfair his decisions sounded.
Eventually, I harkened to their insistent persuasions and came to terms with reality. I decided to do what the universe had presented to me wholeheartedly. I joined my father on the farm, not as a spectator, but as an active participant.
We woke up at 3 am and found workers ready to harvest. I went around the farm invigilating the pickers while my father invigilated how it was packed. Concurrently, brokers arrived before sunrise because the morning sun wilted the buds, and destroyed their quality. We harvested twice a week to give the buds time to regenerate.
I soon discovered that brokers made more money as compared to farmers. This I learnt when a broker told his colleagues how he planned to buy two pick-ups and expand his operations. Despite us being the producers we could not afford to buy such large assets as fast as he had declared.
I researched the retail price of coffee in major cities such as Nairobi and discovered the prices were quadruple the price we sold. For example, what we sold for Ksh12,000, would make Ksh40,000 for the brokers just because they had access to better markets.
The realisation was eye-opening and I could not sleep well each time we sold our produce to brokers. I didn't fret because they made profits, but because we had a chance to make it too. I proposed to my father that we find a way to transport our own coffee to better markets. He bought the idea but confided to me that the previous bad harvest had destabilised his finances.
It made sense, but I felt sacrifices were inevitable if we were to make four times what we made at the moment. It was funny how I had become attached to our family business despite the fact that I had resisted earlier. I felt we were on the verge of a huge breakthrough that would be made possible if we had a pickup truck. These were big dreams, but I was an elephant that carried its tusk.
I was 19 years old at the time, but my physique gave me the appearance of an adult. This made me prefer the older crowd as they treated me as their mate. They consisted of drivers for hire, middlemen, and loaders.
After a day’s work, I spent the evening with them in the market centre. They played billiards and discussed the future price of coffee in relation to the market demand. They brainstormed on how to get the best out of the business without any extra expenditure.
Among the drivers was a middle-aged man who had just lost his job after his company folded. He was a good conversationalist, and always had a positive input in any discussion. I sat beside him as we watched a game of pool and asked him about the buying price of a new pick-up truck. He said it ranged between Ksh1 and Ksh5 million and that depended on the make and build of the vehicle. Also, I asked what he considered the best transit truck.
"It depends on what you need, but Toyota is on top of the list" he responded with verve. He then described the vehicles like a salesman in a car dealership. He was excited as he regaled me his close shaves and nocturnal escapades as a driver. He was a driver for hire, which meant he had no car of his own but he got paid to deliver in other people's vehicles. I was intrigued by his knowledge about vehicles, and so I goaded him on how his bosses acquired their trucks.
"Most of them buy with cash, some lease from car hire companies, and others are financed by banks," he said with a finality that indicated he had recommended to me all the options. I sat there in deep thought and contemplated my next plot.
I knew we could not afford to buy cash, and leasing would prove expensive in the long run. I asked him how banks financed farmers to acquire vehicles.
"Do you want to buy a car? One day I will, so how does bank financing work?"
"I know of Co-op bank that has entered into a strategic financing partnership with Toyota that will enable customers, to get up to 95% asset financing when purchasing commercial and personal vehicles under Toyota Kenya’s portfolio"
"That sounds convenient, but what's the catch?"
"None, the scheme is simply expected to assist business recover from the ravages of the pandemic"
"Impressive, what about the interest rates?"
"Kijana, you have so many questions, but tell you what, I like that. In fact, when I was your age people called me a genius. Imagine after class eight, I taught at a neighbouring high school and later joined it as a student"
I laughed hysterically, not only because his claims invited derision, but also because he had changed the topic without his realisation. I drifted him back to the shores of reality and nudged him to educate me on matters of finance.
"First, the repayment of the loan is for a long period of up to 60-months. In addition, the Co-op Bank will extend a Ksh 500,000 working capital loan - without additional security. The best part is that customers will enjoy a grace period of two months before they begin paying back the loan"
"Are you allowed to choose the vehicles or they don't consider that?"
"Of course you are allowed to choose, Do you remember those new trucks that picked your coffee last week?"
"Yes, I do, did they come from Co-op or?"
"You have already answered yourself" He laughed, and exposed his missing front tooth that gave him the appearance of a pirate.
The sound of billiard balls knocking on each other snapped me back to reality. I walked out of the shed and took a bodaboda home, and as the bike cruised, I closed my eyes and imagined I was in the front seat of a Toyota pickup.
I got home and shared the story with my father since I trusted him to execute the ideas indubitably. As He listened to me I saw his face light up and his wrinkles smoothen. He asked me to follow him to the farm. I was confused since we only visited the farm with him at harvest time.
He pointed out to me that he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. I felt confused and Imagined that's how Isaac felt when he followed Abraham to the mountain to be offered as a sacrifice. When we got to the edge of the farm, He stopped and paced ten steps lengthwise and twenty across the width, and said "This portion is yours. Save the money from the sales, and take yourself to school. You have made me proud."