Young Kenyans ditch city life for farming upcountry

The Business Daily spoke to some Kenyans who have left the corporate space to embrace farming. For them, going back to being employed is not an option.

From courtrooms to cattle and bees

In the scorching heat of Kimana in Loitoktok, Njuguna Wangunyu walks among his cattle, goats, and apple trees with the confident ease of a man who is exactly where he is supposed to be. His journey has been one of taking a risk, reinvention, and ultimately, a return to his motherland.

Njuguna, a lawyer by training, left his job in August 2017 to pursue his true calling and desire for farming and conservation. “I just woke up, wrote my resignation letter and left. I had no plans, no savings, only a dream.”

Farming was not always embedded in Njuguna’s heart. Born and raised in Loitoktok, he grew up farming maize and milking his parents’ cows. As a young man, he wanted more than the hard life he saw on his family’s eight-acre farm.

“I didn’t like it. Farming felt like punishment. I was always running away from it. But I loved cows. I remember my mum would leave a cow for me to milk all by myself,” the 32-year-old tells the Business Daily.

Today, he is the owner of Elerai Village, named after his home village and the native yellow-fever acacia tree.

In 2017, after leaving his job, he started off with a beekeeping initiative in his village aimed at supporting indigenous Maasai women to earn an income. His Adopt-a-Hive project distributes beehives to women groups in arid areas, offers training and access to markets for honey and other bee products.

“Beekeeping was a natural fit. It doesn’t require land ownership, something many Maasai women lack and it thrives even in drought. From just a few hives, the project has grown to support 24 groups with over 800 hives across the Amboseli ecosystem.”

At the same time, he began his farming. The early years were not easy.

“It was brutal. I ran broke. I did mjengo (manual labour) in parts of Nairobi to survive. I was trying to save some money to start farming. I kept pushing my ideas online on my X account and eventually got global partners and donors who supported my conservation projects in my home town,” he says adding that the people who knew him thought he was lazy.

“At first, there was condemnation. Some thought I was crazy while others thought that I was lazy.

But over time they saw that this was something that I believed in and started supporting me. My siblings now help me with accounting and community work,” he says.

Today he has six dairy cows, 130 goats and sheep, 30 rabbits, over 50 free-range chickens, and over 2,000 apple trees. He has begun value-addition; producing honey, yoghurt, tallow oil, apple cider, and hibiscus.

Even though he left the corporate space Njuguna hasn’t abandoned law. He now advocates for farmer-friendly regulations in Kajiado County.

“The people writing agricultural policies often don’t understand farming. I want to bridge that gap using my knowledge of the law. We are coming up with very strong bills. I am trying to align myself to engage in policy from a practical sense. I might not be the guy who goes to court but, I’ll be the guy who tries to contribute to the agriculture sector with agroecological practices in mind, especially when working with communities in the rangelands.”

How does his life compare to what he would earn in the city? Njuguna says that today he earns far more than he ever did in the city. While monthly earnings fluctuate depending on the season, he estimates Sh300,000 a month.

“The beauty is that it keeps growing. I plan to increase the sheep and goats to 600 then we can sell atleast 300 of them yearly at an average cost of Sh10,000 per animal. With that, you can easily calculate the income that we would be making. There is still so much value addition we can do with the goat and sheep. We are also exploring agro-tourism where we link farming and tourism especially given that we are very near the Amboseli National Park. We want people to visit the park and also visit the farms. There is still so much potential.”

How did he raise the money to get started? “I started small. I would buy two goats today, and five the next time. I would build one hive this month and then two in the next. It has been a lot of gradual work in progress since 2017. It’s been very organic. I have not gone to any bank to request a loan.”

Today Njuguna does his farming on 50 acres of land, having bought 42 acres to augment the eight acres that his parents own.

Now back home and away from city life, Njuguna says he has had to adapt to the slow life in the village. “Things here are slow. People are not in a hurry to do things.”

Maryam: Once mocked, now a source of inspiration

Maryam Onyango worked as a marketing executive at a real estate company for three years before deciding to call it quits. At the time, she was based in Kisumu’s Central Business District. Today, she is a poultry farmer and the proud owner of Euma Farm in Nyamasari, Kisumu.

“I got tired of the toxic work environment,” says the 27-year-old. “I was the only woman in my department, and my colleagues constantly demeaned me. They set unrealistic targets, expecting me to perform miracles. When the vulgar comments started, that was the final straw. I put down my pen and walked away.”

Although her resignation was sudden, Maryam had always harboured a long-standing passion for farming.

“It felt impulsive at the time, but deep down, I knew I wouldn’t survive another year there. I had hoped to save some money, take out a loan, and start my own venture. The toxic workplace only accelerated that plan,” says the mother of two.

Back home in January, without a payslip or a daily routine, doubt crept in. “I began questioning if I’d made the right decision. I was used to being busy every day,” she recalls.

Seeing her distress, her husband stepped in. “He took out a loan to help me start my chicken-rearing venture. Luckily, we had purchased land two years earlier, so all we needed was to build the coop. That’s how Euma Farm began.”

Slowly, Maryam has adapted to village life, far from the fast-paced rhythms of the city.

“When I was starting out, I had some basic knowledge of chicken farming because my parents used to rear chickens while we were growing up. I’ve also done a lot of online research to learn how to properly care for them,” she says.

Maryam began with layers, aiming initially to sell eggs. “My husband and I started with 100 chickens. The plan was just to sell eggs, but we’ve since expanded. Now we also sell broiler chickens and chicken manure. We even offer poultry training on the farm. Our goal is to grow to over 500 chickens,” she explains.

Her poultry business now earns her more than her former corporate job.

“Right now, we make a profit of about Sh400 per day. We collect around three trays of eggs daily. Farming has also opened doors to other income streams, we charge for farm visits, training sessions, and sell manure. On average, I earn between Sh60,000 and Sh100,000 a month, which is double what I used to earn in employment.”

While salaried jobs come with predictable pay, Maryam says farming income fluctuates.

“Some months are great, others are difficult. Realistically, farming is often praised, but it has its challenges. You can go a whole month without making any profit. These are living creatures, you might wake up one day and find them all sick or even dead. Sometimes they stop laying eggs but still consume feeds, meaning you’re spending without any return. That’s why we’ve diversified our business.”

Looking back, Maryam considers quitting her job a blessing in disguise.

“This is a hands-on job. If I were still working a 9-to-5, I wouldn’t have been able to manage because the chickens need constant monitoring. When I’m not around, my husband steps in to help.”

Her social life hasn’t suffered either. “Most of my biggest clients today are people I used to serve in my corporate job. They even visit the farm because they say I’ve inspired them.”

To young people, she offers this advice: “A payslip alone won’t sustain you forever. Even if you’re employed, consider small-scale farming on the side. Farming is the next big thing; people will always need to eat.”

Swabrina finds healing for heartbreak and financial freedom

When Swabrina Ahmed packed up her life in Machakos, where she worked as a postal officer, and returned to her rural home in Kericho County, she wasn’t running away. She was choosing to start over.

Now, Swabrina is raising chickens and growing bananas on her mother’s land. She had worked for just a little over a year.

“The job gave me stability, but not fulfillment. It was fun and all, but I was at a point in my life where I needed to make serious decisions about my future. So I decided to quit,” she says. “I was also just coming out of a long-term relationship. I needed a fresh start.”

With her mother’s support, Swabrina began again, this time with 200 chickens. She had dabbled in farming before, back in 2016, and always found joy in the routine and reward of caring for animals.

“I like waking up in the morning with purpose. Poultry gives me that,” she says.

After successfully selling off her first batch of chickens in December last year, she scaled up. Today, she keeps about 96 layers and restocks 100 broilers every month.

“It’s still small-scale, but it’s growing steadily. I also plant bananas, which I sell to supplement my income.”

Swabrina’s return home wasn’t without its challenges, both personal and societal.

“People looked at me like I’d failed. I had left a job, ended a relationship, and came back home single. Moving back into my mother’s house was humbling,” she admits. “But over time, those same people have become my biggest supporters, and my customers. I still dress up even when going to the shamba (farm). People stare, but that’s just who I am.”

Adjusting to a slower pace of life and letting go of the independence of her own space was the bigger shift. But financially, her poultry venture has outpaced her former job.

“My postal job brought in about Sh30,000 a month. Farming brings in around Sh36,000,sometimes even more. And the best part is, there are no deductions,” she says.

Still, farming has its hurdles. Rising feed costs, delayed payments from customers, and the unpredictability of small-scale agriculture all present ongoing challenges.

“Sometimes it feels like we can’t catch a break,” she admits. “But we keep going. I’ve learned to set boundaries with customers and to take my work seriously.”

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