Zaria — It smells of freshly ground peanuts inside the mud-walled room where Dr. A. A. Oredipe is standing. His eyes are focused, but moving—inspecting the machine that this small village in northern Nigeria uses to crush peanuts before the paste is taken to market.
Three women face Dr. Oredipe. They and 12 other women own the machine and share in the costs and profits. They paid 30 percent of the 40,000 naira ($320) to buy the grinder; the rest of the money came from the National Fadama Development Project which Dr. Oredipe directs.
The machine can grind five bags of peanuts a day, but right now the women say they grind two—only what comes from their own fields. Why not offer to grind other villagers’ nuts too for a small fee? suggests Dr. Oredipe. As he leaves, he looks both pleased and concerned. The machine is being used. Someone’s life is getting better. But there’s still work to do.
In much of Nigeria the Fadama project, which is funded by the government and the World Bank, has become synonymous with agriculture over the last several years. “Fadamas” are the rich lands around Nigeria’s rivers, where accessible water—both from the river and the ground—create ideal conditions for crops. In small towns and bigger cities, the project’s name graces the sides of buildings, storage facilities, and machinery.
But it is not its 500 programs in 18 states that have made Fadama famous. It is the new approach that Fadama coordinators say makes it unique: for the first time, marketing—the selling and delivering of crops—is being taken as seriously as production.
Dr. Oredipe, coordinator of the project for the last several years, wanted to study math at university but took up agriculture and economics because they offered a salary to students. He then worked in the diplomatic service for 23 years before coming to Fadama.
Now his heart and mind are wrapped around the project. “Something about this line of work is that it changes your value system,” he explains.
When he arrived, he knew the job would not be easy. Nigeria was once a major exporter of agricultural crops. An oil boom in the 1980s left the country’s national coffers stuffed, but its other sectors neglected. Agricultural production suffered dramatically. Today, agriculture employs about 70 percent of Nigerians but accounts for only 17 percent of the country’s GDP. The World Health Organization says four of every five Nigerians depend on the subsistence economy to survive.
Hadjara Shibkau, field coordinator for International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) in Nigeria, says the lack of infrastructure is another challenge. Even when farmers have plentiful harvests, transporting crops to market is costly and difficult on pot-holed roads and there are few storage facilities. As much as a third of the crops spoil before they find a buyer.
To each of these challenges—production and delivery—Fadama and Dr. Oredipe have had to find a unique response. Until the project began, farming in Nigeria’s fadama areas in the rainy season filled Nigeria’s markets to the brim with fresh vegetables and staple crops. But the supply at other times of the year was much more limited.
Now the markets are full in the dry season too. “Because of Fadama, you can find onions, tomatoes, anything, all year around,” says Sebastian Okeke of the African Development Bank, one of the donors funding the project. The trick, say the project’s experts, is small-scale irrigation—the kind farmers with half-hectare plots can adopt. In groups of 10 or twelve, they buy and operate small generators that draw water from the fadama areas onto their land.
Higher production, however, achieves little if there is no market in which to sell. As the rainy season in Nigeria comes to an end, vegetable stands line the sides of roads, selling the same thing: all potatoes, all tomatoes, or all onions. The only market is that offered by travelers passing by.
That is why the Fadama project developers pinpointed marketing as half the battle—and developed new strategies to win it. The project has built storage facilities, improved market stalls and revamped livestock centers. To add value to agricultural products, it has helped cooperatives like the peanut growers outside Zaria to buy processing equipment.
Infrastructure also helps. “If we provide an access road to a farming community, we have developed the place,” explains Okeke. Crops can find bigger, more diverse markets and fertilizer and seeds reach villages more easily.
Visiting another village which has benefitted from the Fadama project, Dr. Oredipe steps out of his car to an enthusiastic welcome from villagers who are thrilled that, after unsuccessful attempts in the past, a bridge is finally being built over the river running through the area. Today, construction is moving and people will soon be moving across the bridge. But even with Fadama, there are holdups. The contractor claims he needs more money to finish. What he was given was surely enough, mutter Dr. Oredipe’s assistants. Watching where and how money is spent is a constant challenge for Fadama’s team of operators.
Another challenge is government delays in approving Fadama’s programs. The project relies on the government and local communities to contribute—either in cash, labor, land, or otherwise—to its programs and these donations sometimes come slowly, frustrating the administrators’ plans.
Nevertheless, Fadama—now in its second phase—has proven so successful that both the Nigerian government and its states are clamoring for a third phase. The World Bank has already pledged $250 million, half of what will be necessary. The African Development Bank is also thinking of pitching in again. Success is a long way off, but it is edging closer.