Support Poverty Alleviation Through Microbusiness Development: Rural Mushroom Production and Distribution

I would like to take a detailed look at the project I am involved in here in Tanzania and help you understand just how the process of growing mushrooms works and how it will help the impoverished.  Also I will offer you an opportunity to get involved and help ensure the success of the project.

(To the loyal readers of my 'regularly' scheduled Motorcycle Diaries I apologize for the wait and promise the next chapter shortly)

So what is my project?  I am teaching local villagers to grow Oyster Mushrooms and secondarily setting up a distribution network to sell those mushrooms fresh to local restaurants, hotels and individuals.

Whenever I tell people here about my project the first question almost everyone asks is, “Where did you get that idea?”  The idea came to me about a week after coming to Tanzania.  We were taking a two-week intensive beginners Swahili course and our teacher was going over the names of fruits and vegetables.  When we came to Uyoga (Mushrooms) she told us that we were unlikely to ever see them in any of the local markets here.  “People here don’t grow them, or eat them, there is a cultural stigma against them here in Northern Tanzania, and people generally don’t trust them, since there are various types that can kill.” She explained to us.  In that moment I had one of those epiphanies.  I realized that even if local people didn’t want to buy them I knew that I did, and there were a lot of other people like me out there who would too.  Northern Tanzania, Moshi and Arusha in particular, are home to an extremely high number of volunteers, tourists and expatriates, nearly all of whom are coming from Western and European countries where mushroom consumption is huge.  Thus there are a relatively large number of restaurants and hotels that cater specifically to the taste of the ‘Mzungu,’ and individual expatriates with the capability of cooking their own food.  Each of these makes a sizable and effectively untapped market for this product.  There are some mushrooms available but nearly no fresh of any kind.  There are occasionally dried Oyster and Shitake Mushrooms to be found, though they are not well distributed and generally less desirable.  There is an abundance of canned button mushrooms, but these are ill tasting, ill smelling and generally ill conceived. Thus there is a serious gap in the market waiting to be filled by locally produced, good quality, fresh mushrooms.

The second question I usually get is, “So, did you know anything about mushrooms before coming here?”  The simple answer is no.  I knew that they are fungus, I knew that they grew on decomposing organic material, and I knew that I really liked eating them.  That was it, the entire sum of my knowledge on the subject.  For the first two months of being here I did a huge amount of research, trying to educate myself and determine the feasibility of growing in the Moshi area.  The more I looked into it the more I was encouraged by what I found, but also I quickly came to realize that I needed professional help and training.  I found that help in Mbeya in Southern Tanzania, about 17hrs away by bus with a small company called Tanmush.  In mid December I made the trek south to spend three days learning all the academics and practical knowledge I would need to train others and to oversee a successful project.  

The knowledge to do something, however, is only half the equation.  I also needed to find a suitable group of people to do the learning and the growing as well as a local organization to partner with.  When I visited Tanzania to do preliminary market research for Royal Roads Microfinance Business Ideas Competition in the spring of 2010, I was introduced to Young Kimaro and the Mwika Development Trust Fund (MWIDEFU), which among many other things helps facilitate microloans in the their community.  Young and MWIDEFU were able to help recruit potential growers and eventually oversee the administration of microloans to them, giving them the resources they needed to purchase startup equipment.  I now have 10 growers in the village of Mwika, about 40km from Moshi, on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, all trained and in the final stages of preparation to grow.

The process of growing mushrooms is relatively simple.  We are focused on growing Oyster Mushrooms (Mamama in Kiswahili), which are exceptionally well suited to growing in tropical climes.  Oyster Mushrooms are grown indoors and thus require a small hut to be built for this purpose.  This hut or Uyoga Banda, allows growers greater control over temperature, humidity, light, airflow, and keeps away pests.  Mushrooms grow on decaying organic material or what we call ‘Substrate.’  In the case of Oyster Mushrooms we are able to use cheap, locally available substrates such as banana leaf and straw.  Some mushrooms like the Button, require that they be grown on carefully managed compost, greatly increasing the labor and technicality of growing.  Oysters, however, are capable of growing on pasteurized leaves, making the process extremely simple.  Growers simply put a few litres of water in the bottom of a barrel, fill it with chopped banana leaf and straw, cover tightly, and then put over a fire for a few hours.  This effectively creates a pressure cooker like environment and the steam will kill any and all microorganisms, which could interfere with the mushrooms growth.  The next day, after things have cooled the substrate is layered into large plastic bags with mushroom spawn.  The spawn must be grown in a lab, as spores are too difficult and unreliable to use for propagation.  Once the bags are packed full they are put into the hut and covered with plastic to create a dark, CO2 rich atmosphere, for two weeks.  During this two-week period the spawn begins to spread mycelium (think of it as mushroom roots) throughout the bag until it is covering nearly all the substrate.  At this point the bag is moved to a shelf in the hut where it will receive a little more light and good air circulation.  Within two to four weeks of coming out of dark the grower will have his first harvest or flush of mushrooms.  The first flush is always the largest and with the 5-kilo bags of substrate the growers use, can be as large 1-kilo of mushrooms.  After harvest the bag will continue to produce successively smaller flushes each 10-12 days for a total of 5 flushes.

I now have 10 growers trained and in the final stages of preparing themselves to grow mushrooms in Mwika, and a very promising list of interested clients.  It would seem that the pieces are all in place and the probability of success is very high.  What does success look like, however?  The impact of this project can be viewed from 3 perspectives: the growers, distributor, and the community at large.

The average blue-collar worker in Tanzania earns approximately 5,000 Tanzanian Shillings (TSH) a day, which roughly equates to $3.45 CAD.  With this money they help support their family, putting food on the table, keeping a roof over their heads etc.  It is not much but it is just enough for most people to get by on; no frills, no extras, but there are few people here who are starving to death.  There are, however, many obvious signs of poverty in the region.  Malnutrition, an HIV/AIDS epidemic, many families living without electricity in houses made of just mud and sticks, children whose parents can not afford to send them to school, the list goes on.  In particular, a majority of the people living in rural areas are farmers of some type, who work very long days for very little reward.

For the growers the project represents an opportunity to supplement their income by an approximate minimum of 3,300 TSH a day, an increase of about 66%.  Consider that each 5kg bag of mushrooms costs about 2,500 TSH to produce, and on average should yield 3-3.5 kilos of mushrooms.  These mushrooms are sold for 3,000 TSH per kilo yield revenues of 9,000 – 10,500 TSH per bag and a net income of 6,500 – 8,000 TSH.  Currently at the outset of the project growers are being encouraged to start a conservative 5 bags every two weeks to help ensure that a solid market exists and to have demand exceed supply.

For the Distributor this will become a nearly full time job.  Aloyce Maletho supports a family of 5 with 4 children ages 6 to 18.  Despite speaking English well and being a genial character, he has been without work for some time now and his savings have dwindled to dangerously low levels.  For him this job represents an opportunity to make enough money to continue feeding his family and continue paying the school fees for his children to ensure they receive a quality education.  Aloyce will purchase the mushrooms from the growers at 3,000 TSH a kilo and then deliver and resell at 5,000 per kilo to restaurants, hotels and expatriates throughout the Kilimanjaro region.  Initial projections of the market suggest that Aloyce should be able to net between 400,000 TSH and 600,000 per month, a decent Tanzanian salary.  As the market grows and production increases so does Aloyce’s potential for earning.

Non-monetary benefits to the growers, distributor, and community exist through the high nutritional value of mushrooms.  On a dry weight basis Oyster Mushrooms contain between 15% - 35% protein and are an excellent source of vitamins A – E, antioxidants, antibacterial properties, and have been shown to help bolster the immune system.  In an area where the average daily diet is rice, beans and maize, the addition of mushrooms has the potential to significantly increase wellness.  All of the growers I have trained thus far have expressed a keen interest to grow extra for household consumption as well as a commitment to introducing others in the community to this food source.  

A snapshot of a few of the people who are now involved in the project: 

Name: Fredrick Mori

Age: 57 yrs

Supported Family: Five Children and a Wife

Current Means of Support: Peasant Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower and Coordinator of Communications amongst growers in Mwika

Name: Frezer N. Shaw

Age: 52 yrs

Supported Family: Four Children and a Wife

Current Means of Support: Peasant Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower

Name: Alex Julius Mariki

Age: 40 yrs

Supported Family: Four Children and his Mother

Current Means of Support: Peasant Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower

Name: Lightness Stanley Kimaro

Age: 48 yrs

Supported Family: Four Children and her Husband

Current Means of Support: Livestock Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower

Name: Crisanta Humfrey Lyimo

Age: 50 yrs

Supported Family: Ten People

Current Means of Support: Peasant Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower

Name: Charles Sofari Nriyo

Age: 58 yrs

Supported Family: Twelve People

Current Means of Support: Peasant Farmer
Project Involvement: Grower

Name: Aloyce Maletho

Age: 43 yrs

Supported Family: Four Children and a Wife

Current Means of Support: Unemployed
Project Involvement: Distributor

How you can Help:

This project was originally funded through a very generous philanthropist in Victoria B.C.  He donated a substantial sum of money to Royal Roads University in a partnership to develop micro-business opportunities in the area around Moshi. I originally came with three other participants who completed their projects and returned to Canada.  I opted to stay on for an additional three months in order to complete the development of my project and better ensure its long term success and sustainability.  Additionally in order ensure the growers have sufficient funds to purchase equipment and build their growing huts we have had to extend microloans of 200,000 TSH to each.  To make these loans available we have had to ‘seed’ money into the local SACCOS (small community banks).  This expense and my extended stay have exceeded the funds granted to me at the beginning of the project.

As a result in order to successfully see this project through to completion I need your help, as do the farmers and distributor I am working with.  Funds are urgently needed in the following areas:

1. Subsidizing micro-loans for the growers - $1,500.  This money will eventually be paid back to MWIDEFU and sit in a revolving fund to support future farmers who wish to begin growing mushrooms.   
2. Partial purchase price of a reliable motorbike for the Distributor - $750.  The Distributor will match this contribution to buy a motorbike which will be used to travel between the village and the end-customers. 
3. Miscellaneous business expenses and supplies, such as travel, printing, additional training and follow up with growers, etc - $1000. 

To donate please follow the steps below

1. Go to http://tinyurl.com/5tf724u 
2. Fill out your contact info 
3. Fill in the amount you wish to donate and select “Tanzania Microbusiness 2011” from the drop down ‘designation’ menu 
4. After completing the process, donors will see a confirmation message on their screen, and receive a letter/tax receipt in the mail

Donations of $20 or more will be issued a charitable tax deduction receipt.

Please consider recommending this to others and thank you for your support.

Andrew Miller

Motorcycle Diaries Day 4 & 5:

That night a serious wind and rainstorm blew through Matema.  Rain pelted the windows like an army of suitors throwing rocks in an attempt to catch the attention of their sleeping interest.  It rained and blew so hard that the next morning I found my bike lying on its side in the dirt, the ground having become so soft that the kickstand had sunk in to the point of toppling over. Despite the violence of the storm I fell asleep rather easily, probably having something to do with being exhausted, and slept peacefully until it was time to leave.  If I thought 7:00 am had arrived ahead of schedule the morning before it was nothing compared to hearing my alarm chime at 5:00.  It is hard to describe the mixture of confusion, sorrow and loathing that can be felt when you are awoken, not fully rested and unable to correct the situation.  I groaned and flailed about under my mosquito net trying to silence the offending alarm.  I eventually managed to connect my hands with my phone and shut it off, sitting up in the bed and glaring into the darkness, eyes gummy and blurred with sleep.  Light was coming from under the door, a sign that Lisa was already up.  I crawled out from under my net and crossed the small room to the light-switch.  Closing my eyes in anticipation I flicked it on.  Suddenly bright light burned its way through my lids, turning my world from beautiful black to an ugly red.  I blinked my eyes a few times, and squinted at my room.  I had packed what I would need for Malawi the night before, and all that was left to do was brush my teeth, get dressed and head out.  I opened the door and walked down the short hall to the living room to find Lisa there with tea and Mandazi, Tanzania’s version of a donut.  I sat wearily for a while drinking scalding hot tea and picking at my mandazi, and not talking as I am wont to do in the morning.

I have never really been much of a morning person.  I never have too much trouble being functional, even highly functional in the morning if I need to be, mostly a product of stubbornness, but it is definitely not my best time of day.  Some people I know and have lived with always seem to greet the morning with enthusiasm and for some reason expect everyone else to share that with them.  There is no easing into the day; they simply hit the ground running.  I certainly don’t begrudge them this; I am perhaps a little envious, but what I cannot forgive is the talking.  I used to work at a kids summer camp on a small island in British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast.  For a number of summers I made my home in a small 8’ x 12’ hut on the edge of a small bluff overlooking the ocean.  It was an idyllic setting in the morning, the sun streaming in through the windows, which dominated the front wall, and the gentle sounds of the ocean against the rocks.  I lived there with one of my good friends Mark, and our morning rituals were highly complimentary.  A typical morning saw us up at around 7:30 as the small room began to become uncomfortably warm and bright.  We would usually stand on the porch for a while in silence until one of us would pull our shorts from the rail and head back inside to change.  From there we would make our way the few steps down the bluff to a small outcropping of rock at the waters edge.  Here we would stand for anywhere from 2 to 15 minutes, depending on how hot the morning was or if there was some pressing appointment; at some point, however, one of us, often Mark, would dive into the water, encouraging, or perhaps shaming the other into joining.  A brief swim followed by a showing under a hose to wash away the salt and we would dress for the day and head up the trail that led to breakfast.  Writing this, years later, this still sounds like a fantastic way to start any morning.  The thing that made it work so well was that through that entire morning ritual Mark and I would maybe speak a total of 10 words to each other, maybe.  There was nothing that needed saying, we just went about our business, appreciated each others company and had the luxury of easing into the day.  Years later Mark was replaced by Theo.  Theo is a passionate and boisterous character, Canadian by birth, Swedish by descent, and 100% big.  Big in personality, big in his actions, big in his words, and not exactly small in stature either.  The morning ritual didn’t really change much with Theo, although there was usually a little less standing around on the porch and the rocks; Theo was just more gung-ho to get going in the morning.  But the real difference was that Theo did not share Mark’s stoicism and reticence to speak in the morning.  If Theo’s eyes are open then his mouth probably is too.  Sometimes it is like a stream of verbal consciousness.  But Theo is also not content just to talk.  Being the friendly and gregarious person that he is he makes every attempt to draw you into conversation.  I would usually answer monosyllabically when necessary and opt for head shakes, nods and shrugs wherever possible.   I think Theo could never really understand why I wouldn’t talk to him in the morning, in the same way that I couldn’t understand how he had so much to say that early, and why he just couldn’t shut up…

So I sat there drinking my tea and not talking, and fortunately Lisa didn’t seem to have anything to say to interrupt my silence.  Pretty soon, however, I had to abandon my tea and finish getting ready to leave.  My bike needed to be picked up off the ground and re-settled, last minute additions to my bag, and then we were out the door and walking through the predawn dark to the bus.  As things are wont to work in Tanzania, because we were on time the Dala was late in leaving.  We sat for about 45 minutes, 45 minutes I could have been sleeping, waiting for the Dala to begin its trek.  I imagine I didn’t look all that awesome, still caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness.  I sat there with something of a blank look on my face, staring away into nothing, mind hardly active.  A couple of times Lisa asked if I was ok, suggesting I looked as haggard as I felt.  There was, however, no reason or need to make the effort to function at a higher level, and so I let myself wallow in my exhaustion.  

Eventually the bus did begin to roll down the dirt track, back towards Kyela.  We had only gone about 500 meters however when we lurched to a stop, unable to go any farther.  A massive branch of one of the trees lining the road had succumbed to the wind of the previous night, splintering from the trunk and falling to lie across the road.  It took them maybe another 15 minutes to clear the road and get us on the way again.  By this time it was just about light outside and the day was beginning in earnest.  Slowly over the next two hours we bumped and rattled our way back along the road to Kyela, eventually ending at a bus station somewhere in the heart of town.

There is surprisingly little helpful information on the internet about getting from Tanzania to Malawi and neither Lisa nor I had made much of an effort to really research exactly where we were going or how to get there.  Between the two of us, however, we had a pretty solid rudimentary grasp of Kiswahili and figured we would muddle through somehow.  Getting off the bus we were immediately approached by several ‘helpful’ locals, all asking us where we were going, did we want a taxi, etc… We were soon directed to another bus, which was apparently headed near to the boarder and hopped on just before it left the station.  The timing seemed excellent, which should have been an indication that something was soon to go at least a little awry, which of course it did.  We pulled out of the bus station and drove back out to the main road and headed onwards.  We had gone maybe 5 km picking up people every few hundred meters, when, abruptly, the bus turned around and began heading back in the direction from which we had just come.  Lisa and I just looked at each other and kind of gave one of those shrugs that speak volumes.  Here in Tanzania you really just have to be prepared to roll with this kind of thing.  It can be frustrating at times, especially if you have no idea why something is happening, but things like this are really pretty commonplace.  The bus headed all the way back to the station, still picking up more passengers along the way.  At the station we took a few more people and then again began to retrace our steps.  We had not even made it as far as our original turn around point when, once again, the bus switched directions, heading nearly back to the station before once again heading in the opposite direction.  By this point Lisa and I were laughing aloud at the situation.  The first time we had passed one particular hotel, Lisa had told me a conversational story about staying there one night.  Each subsequent passing of the hotel heard a retelling of that same story; not something that is really all that funny, unless you are tired and living through such a ridiculous experience.  Finally, however, we did actually leave town and began to head for the border.   

Not too long later the bus rolled into yet another small bus station about 2km from the border.  As we got off a new type of street vendor, offering to exchange our Tanzanian Shillings for Malawi Kwacha, immediately accosted us.  Being the savvy traveler that I am I steadfastly disbelieved anything they told me, generally assuming that exactly the opposite was true.  

“I give you really good rate.” 

Translation: I will rip you off so bad that I will be laughing about it for days.

“There are no Currency Exchanges or ATMs at the border.”

Translation: I need to make this sale quickly before you get there and see all the Currency Exchanges and ATMs offering fair and reasonable rates.  

The one thing that was called into attention at that moment was just how little I knew about where we were going.  I had no idea prior to that moment that the currency was called Kwacha, and even less idea what a decent exchange between my Shillings and the Kwacha was.  In fact I had no idea where we were going in Malawi.  I didn’t know the name of the cities, if there was anywhere good to stay, what language was spoken in the country… I didn’t really know anything.  To some this might seem like a bit of a traveling nightmare, or at least a semi serious slip up.  I have, however, always been a bit of a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy.  I have no issue with making plans, and sometimes can actually be rather exhaustive in detailing the steps to be taken for certain projects. I have also learned, however, that one must never get too attached to plans.  Dwight Eisenhower is quoted as saying “In preparing for battle, I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable."  I like to think that this is true for all aspects of life, not just ‘battle.’  It is impossible to plan for every eventuality and almost impossible to stick to your plan once made.  The real key to success is in being able to roll with the punches, make it up as you go and adapt to ever changing situations.  Having thought through eventualities and formulating desirous goals will help direct which way you roll, as well as the speed and confidence with which you react.  The more knowledge you have on any given situation and forethought that has gone in the more likely that your reactions will be intelligent and well directed.  In this instance, however, I realized that I had never traveled in quite such an uneducated and unprepared fashion.  Truthfully it was both a little exciting and a little frightening, but I figured I have come this far, no sense in stopping or being over worried now.  

We walked the 2km to the border and low and behold, as predicted there were Currency Exchanges offering nearly double the rate the guys on the street were giving and that was still giving them a decent profit.  As it turns out the official exchange rate, which I found out later, is approximately 1 Malawi Kwacha to 10 Tanzanian Shillings, making for the easiest mental conversion ever.  As I recall it I think the guys on the street were offering 1:5… you do the math.  

After exchanging around 100,000 TSH we headed into the immigration office to get our exit stamps, and then walked across the bridge to repeat the process on the Malawi side. Inside the office we were stopped by two women at a small desk who demanded our yellow fever immunization cards.  I stared at the women, eyes a little wide.  My yellow fever card, an expensive little piece of paper, sat securely in my bedroom in Moshi where I had foolishly left it.  I explained this to the women, offering them my best contrite face and pleading eyes, hoping that we might be able to find some arrangement to work around this problem.  Technically yellow fever has the potential to be a rather serious issue and the need to guard against outbreaks very real.  In this case, however, I was fortunate enough to be in Eastern Africa and there are few problems here that a little money can’t help you slide around or blast right through.  In this case one women’s face took on a slightly furtive cast and she said softly, pitching her voice so it would not carry far,

“Maybe you can buy me soda?”

“I think I can manage that I said,” A little tension leaving my body, “where can I get you a soda from?”

“No no,” She replied and made the universal sign for money.

“Ahhh ok.” I said understanding.  Soda was simply code for raw cash.

I pulled out my wallet and removed 60 Kwacha, surreptitiously passing it across the desk.  The women looked down at the money I had slipped her, smiled and shook her head, continuing to look at me expectantly.  I laughed lightly and dug into my wallet again.  The next smallest bill I had was a 500 (about the equivalent of 5,000 TSH or $3.50) and handed it across to her.  Apparently this was sufficient as she smiled and tucked the money away beneath the desk.  When I later learned the proper exchange rate, and the local price of sodas I found that I had essentially given her enough to purchase 11 sodas but all things considered I still feel it was a small price to pay to bribe my way into a country.  At the next desk the man checked our passports and received a nod from the women at the previous desk, indicating that we “had” our immunization cards and that was that, we were in.  

We caught a car into the next town, kind of a mix between taxi and bus service, with people getting in and out all along the way.  The northernmost city/town in Malawi is Karonga, basically famous for well… just about nothing.  To be fair they have a pretty cool museum full of fossils from the rift valley, which we visited the following day, but it is not exactly enough to make this place a destination.  There are basically no hotels and only a couple of local style rest houses.  Of course we didn’t really know any of this.  We were flying blind.  We got into central Karonga and began looking for an internet café which could help us determine our next move.  We eventually settled into a café and began to try and search for hotels, resorts, or the like in the area.  Unfortunately no matter what variations of keywords and websites I used the only likely thing that I could find was located about another hour away.  We tried calling but no one was answering either phone and we had no way of knowing if they had space for us.  Also it was pretty clear that there was nothing else in the area, making a trip down to check it out somewhat risky.  I had noticed a sign for a hotel about 10km before we came into town but couldn’t find any evidence of its existence online to suggest what kind of place it was.  Fortunately we were joined in the café by a couple of German women with whom Lisa struck up a conversation.  They were apparently driving all the way down to the southern tip of Africa from Germany, and had stayed at the exact place that I was thinking of.  They told us that it was a decent place to stay, and thus encouraged we decided to backtrack a little and stay there, at least for one night.  

We decided to walk back, giving us a chance to see a little more of the country, and after all it was not like we were in a rush to get anywhere or do anything.  The walk took us at least and hour and a half under a blazing hot sun and by the time we got in, carrying our bags, we were thoroughly hot and sweaty. 





The hotel was nice, though nothing special, with a small beach area onto the lake, a bar and a restaurant.  Unfortunately the beach, unlike Matema as not really conducive to swimming with its shallow water, muddy bottom and a number of snails suggesting the presence of Schistosomiasis.  

We stayed there two nights, spending much of the time just hanging out on the beach, being gawked at by small children who would gather on the other side of the fence.  The little cove that the beach was in seemed to be a popular place for washing clothes and bathing, and there was rarely no locals around.  At times we felt a little like animals in a zoo, on display as exotic creatures for the amusement of the locals.  When we would walk outside of the compound we were greeted with a mixture of excitement, astonishment and demand.  From over 100 meters away children would yell and wave as we passed, jumping up and down in excitement to witness the mystical Mzungu.  Children closer to us would invariably echo the phrase, “Mzungu, give me money.” Once again proving that they clearly have no concept of student loans and crippling student debt in the developing world.  After trying a few different responses to this demand I eventually settled on, “No you give me money.”  This usually resulted in a slightly confused look, as though they thought that I had not understood the initial demand, and so to be sure they would repeat, “Mzungu, give me money.”  I would respond in kind and we might go back and forth once or twice more before it really sunk in that they weren’t getting anything from me and they would head off to find some other amusement.  

All in all despite seeing very little of the country I had a very favourable impression of Malawi and its people.  The few interactions that we had were quite positive and it was a very relaxing break from my arduous travels to get there.  Soon, however, I would be heading back and little did I know at the time that the most trying adventures were yet to come.