When guava season arrives, my office premises become an irresistible magnet for uninvited visitors. Two guava trees, standing proudly outside, bear luscious fruit that beckons like a siren’s call. Groups of giggling girls and boisterous boys take turns swarming the trees, plucking the ripest guavas with eager hands. They sink their teeth into the succulent flesh, their faces lighting up as the sweet, tangy juice drips down, leaving behind a trail of pure, unfiltered delight.
This takes me back to my boyhood days at Nkhoma Mission, when I would join bands of mischievous boys on daring escapades to “borrow” guavas from the orchards of unsuspecting missionaries. South African missionaries living at the Mission had a knack for maintaining thriving backyard orchards, where guava trees stood as irresistible temptations. When guava season rolled around, those orchards became our playgrounds. Under the cover of youthful audacity, we would sneak into their compounds, pluck the succulent fruits, and savor their sweet, juicy flesh as though we had struck gold in a forbidden paradise.
While we relished the thrill of feasting on guavas, it never once occurred to us that we could plant our own trees and, with time, harvest from them. At Nkhoma, not a single one of us ever thought to leave a legacy of guava trees behind. Reflecting on this, I recently asked the guava-loving boys outside my office if they had ever considered planting their own trees in their backyards. Predictably, their blank expressions said it all—such a notion had never even grazed their minds. It seems the allure of plucking someone else’s fruit is far greater than the idea of cultivating your own.
Guava trees laden with fruit are an irresistible magnet—not just for boys and girls but for adults too. The allure of their ripe, juicy treasures draws everyone in. Guava nurseries, however, tell a different story. They stand in quiet solitude, unnoticed and uncelebrated. You will not find bands of eager boys or girls loitering around saplings, dreaming of the day they will bear fruit. The magic, it seems, lies only in the harvest, not in the nurturing.
People are naturally drawn to instant gratification. A ripe guava hanging temptingly on a tree offers immediate satisfaction—it can be plucked and savored on the spot. In stark contrast, guava seedlings demand patience and dedication, requiring years of nurturing before they yield any reward. Traditional guava trees may take up to five years to bear fruit, and while modern varieties mature more quickly, they come with their own challenges. These fast-growing trees are often vulnerable to pests, necessitating careful spraying as they begin to flower. This extra care demands not only effort but also a financial investment. The path to enjoying those sweet, juicy fruits is far from effortless, no matter how advanced the variety.
The Nkhoma missionaries poured immense effort into nurturing their orchards. They even went as far as constructing furrows to channel water from ponds at the base of Nkhoma Mountain—three kilometers away—to keep their trees well-irrigated. It was a labour of love, requiring dedication and ingenuity. Yet, for us, the uninvited consumers, none of this mattered. We couldn’t care less about the sweat and toil behind those flourishing orchards. All we cared about were the ripe guavas dangling temptingly from the branches, ready for our eager hands to claim.
Consumers, by nature, are drawn to products that offer instant gratification. Raw cotton, for instance, holds little appeal compared to its refined counterparts—cotton lint, fabrics, or garments—or even cooking oil derived from its seeds. The allure lies in the finished, ready-to-use products, not in the raw materials. Whether it is maize, tobacco, soybeans, or countless other commodities, their value remains dormant until they undergo processing. Only then do they transform into desirable, market-ready goods. This principle underscores the importance of value addition— it is the key to capturing buyers’ attention and driving demand.
We must urgently embrace the art of value addition if we are to break free from the economic chains that bind us. As a nation, we languish at the bottom of the economic scale because our economy is driven by commodities, not finished products. Year after year, our hardworking farmers pour their sweat into producing tobacco and other raw materials, yet their livelihoods continue to deteriorate. Why? Because we lack the means to transform these commodities into market-ready products that command better trade terms.
How long will we allow the buyers of our raw goods to dictate prices? How long will we endure economic servitude, shackled by our dependence on unprocessed commodities? Let 2025 stir us into considering value addition.
Let us consider value-addition in 2025
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