This project in Nairibi wasn’t about building a shed with plastic. It was about making life less stressful for farmers who’ve had to guess what “dry enough” even means. You know the drill — lay it out on sacks, chase the wind, pray the rain doesn’t come early. We showed up to fix that. And we did.

Now let’s talk about something no one wants to admit outright — money.
Because yes, this is about food security, and yes, it’s about safer drying, but it’s also about putting a little more value in people’s hands.

You dry your produce right, you can sell it right. That’s just the game.

So what happens when you dry mangoes and chilies under clean conditions, off the ground, away from dust and animal hair and insect dramas? You move from subsistence to commerce. Local markets will actually want your product. Buyers will look at your dried bananas and say “Ah, these are clean. How much?”

Farmers can now hit the local trade days with bags that don’t stink of damp mold. They can package their goods, slap a small brand name on there, and sell at better prices. Some even explore value addition — grind the dried stuff, bottle it, preserve it. We’ve seen it happen.

Plus — and this matters — buyers from other counties don’t want fresh tomatoes anymore. They want dry. Transport’s cheaper. Storage’s easier. Less spoilage, less loss.

That little structure in Nairibi isn’t just keeping food from rotting — it’s creating a mini economy. One tray of dried vegetables at a time.

And hey, that’s why we do this.
No grand speeches. No “sustainability” buzzwords. Just real tools that give people real options.