Njia Ya Mbegu – Africa’s Way of Seeds

At some point in our lives, we all must return home. But this home is not just the house we retreat to after a long day at work. No—home is origin. It is memory. It is purpose. It is the soul of who we are. To go home is to journey back to the heartbeat of African communities, to the time when history was not written in ink, but lived in song, stories, feasting, and nurturing of life.

There was a time when sharing seeds was a celebration, as sacred and joyful as the harvest itself. No fear, no raids, no Monsanto, no Bill Gates, no false policies enacted by foreign corporations and dumped in our parliaments, no laws that say you cannot share seeds. Only trust, tradition, community, and the rhythm of seasons passed from hand to hand and from one generation to another.

If Africa means the birthplace of the soul, and Alkebulan means the mother of humanity, then the African story did not begin with empty bowls, babies with flies on their faces, and corporate charity. It did not begin with debates over genetically modified seeds and whether we should embrace indigenous organic crops or not. No, our story began with seed bearers, who planted life not just in the earth, but in the future of humankind.

We come from those who sowed hope, who nurtured the land and each other, so that all might eat, and live, and remember. And so, we must return, not just to the land, but to the truth of who we have always been.

Njia Ya Mbegu…we must go back home to learn, unlearn, and relearn the ways of Africa’s indigenous seeds.

Why We Must Plant Indigenous Seeds

To the African people—and the Indigenous peoples of the world—seeds are not merely the yield of a fruitful season, nor are they just the reward for tilling the soil with discipline and care. No. Seeds are living stories. They are the art and songs written from the past, each one a verse in the long poem of survival, a thread in the sacred fabric of memory.

They carry the wisdom of generations—how we endured the hunger of famine, how we danced with the rains and wrestled with the droughts, how we stood firm when floods came or when crops withered under unseen disease.

Seeds are kin. They are part of the family—held close, sheltered, honored, and passed down like sacred heirlooms. They are placed in woven baskets, in clay pots, in quiet corners of the home, because we know: within that tiny vessel, sleeps tomorrow.

So, we cannot help but remember these beautiful gifts of nature to our families and communities. Gifts that have kept the generations of Africans alive and thriving even in the harshest days of drought and famine.

And yet, perhaps the most miraculous truth of all is that seeds do not just return what we give. They return more. In response to love, they offer abundance. In answer to care, they burst into generosity. From a single gesture, they multiply life—again and again and again. Such is the nature of a seed. It remembers. It responds. It rewards.

Ubuntu and the way of seeds

The way of seeds is the way of life. But seeds cannot flourish without the care and love from the community. Why? Nature thrives when communities thrive. Ubuntu, in this instance, becomes the very communal system that we all must return to if we want to save and also multiply our seeds for posterity. We must share them, protect them, eat them, and also teach our children to do the same.

Community Seed banks and seed protection campaigns

Njia ya mbegu – The Way of Seeds, is a concept that highlights the importance of preserving or planting indigenous organic seeds, as well as exploring the philosophical aspect of seeds. That is, when you plant seeds, regardless of their type—whether physical seeds or metaphorical seeds of distrust, greed, corruption—or even love and life—as we observe in Africa, you will not only harvest what you sow but often multiples of it. Therefore, it makes sense for more African communities to rise to the occasion by establishing seed banks and providing farming training for their people.

Kenya’s Traditional Methods of Preserving Seeds

In Africa, and in other indigenous societies of the world, true agricultural practices did not begin with toxic agrochemicals and lifeless GMO seeds; they started with knowing and understanding local indigenous cultures and the way those cultures guide and protect the people of the community. One of the most basic cultures in Africa’s agricultural systems is the indigenous ways of saving and preserving seeds. While modern-day agriculture preserves seeds with chemicals that kill pests, which in turn can cause harm to humans who eat the food, indigenous cultures state that you can preserve your seeds without killing the pests or doing damage to the natural environment and biodiversity. Some of the methods the Kenyan farmers use include: Soot, dried pawpaw leaves ground, cow dung ash, brick dust, and dried tithonia leaves, juiced, and the juice used to soak the seeds before drying the seeds in the sun for storage.

Ghana’s Farmers Say No To GMOs

The war against Africa’s indigenous seeds through the introduction of GMOs cannot be fought by individuals alone; it must be fought and won by the local communities who understand that the way of seeds is the way of life. Communities around Africa are rising to the occasion.

Groups like Food Sovereignty Ghana have been very active in the creation of events and training for their farmers. They have been very vocal in the rejection of GMO crops in the country. This is a laudable thing which more Africans must stand for.

Zambia’s Traditional seeds and food festival

In the course of doing this magazine and making videos about Africa’s indigenous seeds and crops, we tend to connect with various players in the field of organic farming in Africa. Last year, we reached out to the Zambia Alliance for Agroecology and Biodiversity when we saw their Facebook post about the Zambian Traditional seeds and food festival. They shared the video of the event with us, and we have featured it in a new video we just posted on our YouTube channel.

Preserve Seeds, Preserve The Culture Of Life

If we lose our indigenous seeds—we lose the rhythm of life itself. We lose the sacred cycle that makes us who we are. Because nothing—nothing—begins without a seed.

The seed is not just the start of a harvest; it is the start of identity. The beginning of freedom. The pulse of African life.

And here lies the truth, plain and powerful: He who controls the seeds, controls the food. And he who controls the food, controls the people.

So, if the hands that hold our seeds are foreign, if our soil answers to the voice of multinationals, if our farmers must beg to plant, and our children must depend on foreigners to eat—then no bullet needs to be fired in Africa. No war needs to be declared. Because the conquest is already complete. The chains are already fastened—Not around our necks, but around the roots that feed us.

But still, the seed remembers. It waits. It hopes. And so must we. For within the seeds is both our connection to the past and the future.

Watch the video on seeds via the link and thumbnail below: